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tarotsoul · 6 days ago

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ghost in the wind — part one

summary: all your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. so why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to prythian?

warnings: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

word count: 3.8k

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“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did.

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home.

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe.

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris.

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.”

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you.

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes.

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands.

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them.

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging.

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before.

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs.

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones.

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway.

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you.

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House.

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth.

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears.

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath.

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers.

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face.

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed.

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company.

a/n: thank you for reading!! this is the first instalment of this mini-series that i literally got the idea for two days ago lol. it'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! unfortunately i'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but i'll likely repost the ones i have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them)

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

#gitw #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar oneshot #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #acotar angst #acotar smut

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svt-luna · 4 months ago

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𝜗℘ HIS ENGLISH LOVE AFFAIR

❛ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳. ❜

timeline: 2019

synopsis: What starts as playful teasing quickly spirals into something deeper, where teasing words and lingering touches lead to a line neither of them can ever uncross.

warnings: 18+ mdni, mature content, sexual content, smut, cursing, slightly slow burn, best friends to lovers, sexual tension, flirting, subtle innuendos, alcohol consumption, somewhat reckless driving, kisses!, first times, pet names, piv sex, unprotected sex (girly pop is on birth control), teasing, dirty talk, fingering, Jeonghan the menace, they are both freaky af, pure filth!

buckle up ladies and gentlemen… literally ❤️‍🔥 my first ever smut!! i hope you guys love it and please please please— I cannot stress this enough— please take time to read the warnings and the disclaimer before reading! other than that… enjoy! (yes, this was inspired by ‘English Love Affair’ by 5sos, so you guys can listen to that song as you read if you want.) (also send me one-shot requests you want to see in the future!)

Disclaimer: The following chapter contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. It is intended for adult readers only. If you are under the legal age or find these subjects uncomfortable, it is advised for you to refrain from reading further. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Jeonghan had always taken pride in his composure.

He was the calm in any storm, the serene face in chaos, and the one who could hide his inner turmoil behind the effortless charm that had become his signature.

It was a skill he had honed over the years— a mask he wore with such ease that even his closest friends rarely saw beyond it. It wasn’t that he was emotionless; far from it. He felt everything deeply, but he had always mastered the art of controlling those feelings.

That was just who he was— unflappable, composed, always in control.

But that was before Luna.

The moment she stepped into his life, everything changed.

Luna had a way of breaking down his walls without even trying, a skill that no one else seemed to possess.

He could still remember the first time he saw her— those wide doe eyes filled with uncertainty as she stood in the PLEDIS practice room, the newest trainee among a sea of faces. Her nervous energy radiated off her, but there was something about her quiet determination that caught his attention.

It wasn’t just her looks or her talent, though those were undeniable.

No, it was the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to be holding a storm inside her, a storm she kept under tight control, especially during those grueling monthly evaluations. Her voice, raw and beautiful, would echo through the room, and each time, Jeonghan found himself captivated.

And then, of course, there were her smiles. The first time she smiled at him— truly smiled, not out of politeness or nerves but with genuine warmth— he felt something in him stir. It was a small thing, the way her lips curved upward, the way her eyes sparkled like she was letting him in on a secret only the two of them knew.

His heart had jumped that day, a flutter of something unfamiliar yet intoxicating, something he wasn’t used to. For a man who prided himself on control, that smile felt like a small crack in his carefully constructed armor.

But then, there was the night she confessed.

The memory of it still haunted Jeonghan even after a year or so, her voice quiet yet steady, the way her eyes, usually so bright, filled with heartbreak as he gently turned her down.

He had told her and himself it was for the team, for the sake of professionalism, but deep down, he knew the truth— it had been cowardice.

He was scared.

Scared of what it meant to feel something so intense for someone who was not only part of his world but essential to it.

And seeing the hurt in her eyes, the pain she tried so hard to mask, had been one of the hardest things he had ever done.

Now, as Jeonghan sat at the back of one of their favorite restaurants, watching the members celebrating Wonwoo’s birthday, that same ache returned, gnawing at his chest.

Luna was there, singing her pretty little heart out, a bright smile stretched across her face as she jumped up and down with the others. The room was filled with energy, everyone in high spirits as they belted out lyrics, glasses filled with alcohol raised in the air.

Their own private section, tucked away at the back of the restaurant, provided them privacy, but Jeonghan felt far from the noise as if his world had narrowed to just one person.

Luna.

Her hair flew wildly as she moved to the music, her laughter ringing out above the noise. She looked free— untethered, glowing under the dim restaurant lights, and Jeonghan couldn't help but stare. His eyes tracked her every movement, unable to look away, even though he knew he should. Her smile reached her eyes, that same real, unfiltered joy he hadn’t seen in a while.

It made his heart skip again, just like it always had.

He thought of the way she had looked at him when she confessed, the vulnerability in her eyes, and how, in this moment, she looked so different. So full of life, so happy, surrounded by people who adored her. She was singing, laughing, her body moving to the rhythm of the music, and yet all Jeonghan could do was sit there, glass in hand, silently fighting the urge to stand up and cross the room to her.

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the glass. His heart raced as memories of the past year flooded his mind— how he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since that night, how he had been too afraid to face his own feelings, and how, even now after a year, watching her from afar, the same fear still lingered in his chest.

But this time, something was different. Something had shifted. The control he had always taken such pride in was slipping, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, the cool wood pressing against his back as he watched Luna across the room. He had always been composed, always the one in control, but ever since he realized he was indeed falling for her, his determination to fix things between them had only grown stronger.

He had spent the past year trying to return to normal, to recapture the easy friendship they once shared before the night she had confessed and he had rejected her.

And they had succeeded— there was no bad blood, no awkward tension. They laughed and joked as they always had, nothing between them felt forced or strained.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

But that was what scared him the most.

Was this ease a sign that Luna had moved on? Or was she still pretending, masking her feelings as she always had, waiting for him to make the next move?

Jeonghan didn’t know if he should feel relieved or terrified by the prospect.

This past year, since his own realization, he had been more open about his feelings. He wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. He had been more touchy, letting his hands linger on her arm a second longer than necessary. He had been more clingy, finding reasons to stand close to her during practice or sit beside her at meals. And he had been flirting, playfully teasing her with lines that bordered on genuine affection.

Jeonghan had never denied her anything— anything she asked for, she got.

It hadn’t taken long for Luna to notice.

She wasn’t stupid; she was cautious, of course. She still had feelings for him— Jeonghan could see it in the way her gaze would linger on him, the slight quirk of her lips whenever he said something that surprised her— but she was guarded now.

She wasn’t about to let her heart get broken again.

Yet, despite her caution, Jeonghan could tell she was intrigued by his bolder approach, even drawn to it.

Luna was a little petty, too— he could see it in the way she played along, letting him dote on her, waiting to see where he would take things. She wanted him to work for it, and he couldn’t blame her. He had hurt her, and now he had to prove that he was serious.

Tonight, she looked like a vision, and Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Luna was dressed in a sleek black leather jacket that gleamed under the restaurant lights, cinched at the waist with silver studs. Beneath it, she wore a simple white tee, tucked into high-waisted black shorts that hugged her curves in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. Her legs, long and slender, were clad in sheer black tights, the material shimmering slightly as she moved, and her feet were adorned in knee-high black boots that gave her an edgy, dangerous air. A thin scarf, sequined and sparkling, was loosely tied around her neck, and her hair, an ashy grey color and wavy, cascaded over her shoulders, wild and free.

Her makeup was minimal, but it highlighted her features perfectly, bringing out the depth of her dark-brown eyes, the shape of her cheekbones, and the curve of her plump lips.

With everything else muted, her beauty shone brighter than ever. Jeonghan took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing pulse.

Jeonghan’s gaze raked over her form, slowly, deliberately, as he raised his glass to his lips and took another shot.

He tried to savor the taste, the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat, but all he could think about was her. He avoided drinking too much— he had driven to the restaurant tonight and needed to stay clear-headed— but his senses were already clouded by something much stronger than alcohol.

Luna.

Every fiber of his being was filled with her. She was all he could see as she danced, laughing and twirling with Hoshi, Dokyeom, and Seungkwan. Her laughter rang in his ears like a melody, her voice clear and bright as she sang along to the music, her body moving effortlessly to the beat.

Her perfume— sweet and expensive— lingered in the air around him, wrapping him in her scent, a constant reminder of her presence. He watched as her hand brushed against his arm, a fleeting, accidental touch as she spun past him, but it was enough to set his skin ablaze. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to focus, trying to steady the racing in his chest, but all he could feel was her.

Her energy, her warmth, her light.

There was only one thing missing.

Taste.

Jeonghan rolled the lingering flavor of the alcohol over his tongue, but it was becoming increasingly unsatisfying, especially as his gaze landed on the pink lollipop tucked between Luna’s lips.

She twirled it absentmindedly as she danced, the candy disappearing and reappearing from between her soft lips.

A pang of frustration swelled inside him as he watched, his mind drifting to thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be entertaining— not here, not now. But the longer he watched her, the more his control began to slip.

Soon, Luna finally separated from the whirlwind of dancing, her energy visibly spent, and finally peeled herself away from Hoshi, Seungkwan, and Dokyeom, who were still bouncing around like maniacs with boundless energy. Their bodies moved in sync with the beat, wild and free as if they were drawing energy from some endless well.

She stole one last glance at them, shaking her head with a smile as they flailed their arms in exaggerated dance moves.

Luna, however, had reached her limit. She could feel her heart racing, her legs trembling from the exertion, and her skin was glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Her own legs felt like jelly after keeping up with them for what felt like hours, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to catch her breath.

She laughed to herself as she made her way back to their table, where the rest of the members were seated, the ones who had wisely opted to sit back and enjoy the chaos rather than join in.

Jeonghan’s eyes hadn’t left her for a second. He watched the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the glisten of sweat along her neck, the lollipop twirling between her fingers.

As Luna approached, Seungcheol looked up, his gaze landing on her as he pointed and chuckled. “Tired already?” His voice held a teasing edge.

Luna plopped down into her seat next to Jeonghan, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she pulled the lollipop out of her mouth and pointed toward the trio still dancing like maniacs. “I don’t know how those three do it. That was my limit,” she chuckled, her voice breathless yet light.

The group chuckled softly as they watched Seungkwan throw his head back in wild laughter and Hoshi twist his body with far too much enthusiasm. Dokyeom’s arms were flailing in an exaggerated dance move, oblivious to the stares they were attracting.

“Those three could keep going for hours,” Vernon muttered, shaking his head as he looked over at them.

Luna let out a small, tired laugh, and as she settled into her seat, she felt Jeonghan’s presence beside her.

Jeonghan’s eyes were still locked on her, though. Everything else in the room seemed muted, the voices of their friends blending into the background. He admired the way her skin glowed under the soft lights of the restaurant, how her ash grey hair clung to her slightly damp neck from all the dancing.

Every inch of her was so effortlessly captivating.

He hadn’t stopped watching her since she sat down. His gaze was unrelenting, but not in a way that made her uncomfortable— rather, it was the kind of stare that seemed to pierce through all her usual defenses, a soft intensity that always left her feeling exposed.

Before she could think too much about it, Seungcheol, the ever-diligent leader, straightened up and glanced at the time on his phone. His expression shifted slightly, taking on that familiar responsible tone he always wore when it was time to get serious.

“We’ve been here for three hours,” he announced, his voice cutting through the noise just enough for the group to hear him. “It's late and we have work tomorrow. Plus, I think three hours of dancing is enough for one night.” He cast a glance toward the still-energetic trio with a knowing smirk.

The rest of the group groaned lightly but nodded in agreement. Seungcheol was right, as always. No matter how much fun they were having, they had responsibilities waiting for them in the coming days as they continued to prepare for their comeback with their new song ‘HIT’ next month.

As the leader gathered everyone, Luna, still catching her breath, felt Jeonghan’s presence beside her, his warmth radiating through the small space between them. It wasn’t just his proximity, though— there was something electric about how quiet he had been, his intense gaze fixated solely on her.

It was hard not to blush under his gaze— how long had he been watching her? But then again, she didn't mind being the center of his attention.

She could feel it, a tension in the air that wasn’t there before, and it made her skin tingle.

While Seungcheol was busy with the rest of the members, Jeonghan turned his attention back to Luna, his eyes softening as he leaned just a little closer to her. “You looked like you were having fun out there,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, that familiar lilt in his tone that always seemed to make her stomach do a tiny flip.

Luna huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I was. Until I couldn’t feel my legs anymore,” she replied, her own voice quieter now as the noise around them seemed to dim slightly.

Jeonghan’s smile deepened, a small chuckle escaping him. “Pushing yourself too hard again?” he cooed softly, his voice dropping into that smooth, almost condescending tone he often used when he was in full dote-on-Luna mode.

It wasn’t harsh; it was gentle like he was speaking to a child who didn’t know their limits yet.

Luna rolled her eyes, but there was a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Someone had to keep up with Dokyeomie, and you certainly weren’t volunteering,” she shot back, her tone light but with a teasing edge.

Jeonghan’s eyes glinted with amusement, his hand coming to rest on the back of her chair. The casual gesture sent a shiver of warmth through her, but she kept her expression neutral.

“I’m just smart enough to know my limits,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping into a quieter, more intimate tone. “Unlike someone.”

She could feel the tension simmering between them— subtle, unspoken, but undeniably present. The way he was looking at her, the way his voice seemed to dip into that soft, almost velvety tone whenever he spoke to her— it was enough to make her heart race slightly faster, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“You’re always so full of wisdom,” she teased, letting out a small, tired laugh.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to her lips for the briefest second before meeting her eyes again. “You should listen to me more often,” he murmured, his voice now so low it was almost a whisper. “I only have your best interests at heart, Jiyeonie.”

"Mhm, I'm fine." Luna playfully rolled her eyes at him which Jeonghan caught considering he hadn't taken his eyes off her yet.

Jeonghan carefully eyed her seat and reached for the base and with one quick tug, he pulled her closer before turning his head slightly, his voice smooth and low as he leaned just a bit closer to her, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “Say whatever you want but you seem to have a hard time keeping up with them, Nana-ya,” he teased, his tone both condescending and affectionate, his words laced with a quiet, teasing chuckle.

He used that familiar pet name, one that made her heart skip in ways she tried to ignore.

Luna scoffed lightly, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I was keeping up just fine, thank you very much.”

“Mm, sure you were.” Jeonghan’s voice was soft, but it was filled with amusement as he slowly turned toward her, his body shifting so he was facing her more directly.

His eyes gleamed mischievously, a spark of playful intent. “You should take care of yourself, hm? You should let me take care of you more,” he cooed softly, his tone dipping into that dangerously low, smooth register that always made her stomach twist.

Jeonghan wasn’t looking at her like a friend, not anymore, and it made her blood run warmer.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against the side of her face as he spoke. His tone was so soft, so intimate, it made her heart race even though the words themselves were teasing.

The way he said it, like she was something fragile, something precious that needed looking after— it was disarming.

Luna raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in her seat as if to regain some distance, though the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her. “You'll take care of me?” she repeated, her voice challenging but soft.

Jeonghan leaned in closer, his face just inches from hers now. The scent of his cologne— earthy, slightly musky, and so distinctly him— filled her senses.

“Since you’ve clearly been overexerting yourself. In practice too, you've been overworking yourself,” he said in that smooth, deep tone, his fingers lightly brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. “You know how I hate seeing you tired, Jiyeonie.”

The way he spoke, the way his voice dropped into something so soft and intimate, made Luna’s pulse quicken. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, his eyes drinking in every detail of her face as if she were the only thing that mattered in the entire room.

The others were still laughing, still packing up, but to Jeonghan, none of it existed. There was only her.

Luna swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, though she fought to keep her composure. She knew him too well— knew that behind the teasing, there was something deeper. Something simmering beneath the surface.

“You’re really laying it on thick tonight, Han,” she teased back, her voice a bit quieter now, the nickname slipping out before she could stop herself. “Are you worried about me?”

Jeonghan eyes darkened slightly, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as his gaze flickered down to her lips before slowly meeting her eyes again. “I always worry about you,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper now, intimate and deep.

His words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made Luna’s breath catch in her throat.

She was drawn to it, to him, even though every rational part of her brain screamed at her to keep her guard up. But Jeonghan had a way of getting under her skin, making her want things she knew she shouldn’t.

Before she could reply, his hand brushed against hers, just a light, fleeting touch, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through her. She glanced down at their hands, the small contact sending her heart racing, but when she looked back up at him, his eyes were still fixed on hers, unrelenting, waiting.

“You’ve been acting strange lately,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, as if the weight of the moment was pressing down on her.

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Strange? I thought I was always like this with you.” His tone was playful, but there was a seriousness behind his words, a truth he wasn’t ready to say outright.

Luna narrowed her eyes at him, though her lips twitched into a small smile. “No, you haven’t. Not like this.” She paused, her voice dropping lower, more serious. “What changed, Jeonghan?”

Luna knew what changed... she just wanted to hear it come out of his mouth… she needed to hear it.

The tension between them thickened, palpable, both of them fully aware of what wasn’t being said.

Before she could respond, their conversation was interrupted by the sudden noise of Seungcheol calling everyone to gather up. The leader’s voice cut through the moment like a knife, and Luna could feel the tension between her and Jeonghan dissipate as reality sank back in.

Jeonghan leaned back slightly, his hand still resting on the back of her chair as he gave her a small, knowing smile. “Looks like we’re being summoned,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

The rest of the group began to gather their things, Seungcheol rounding everyone up with the ease of someone used to managing chaos. Hoshi, Seungkwan, and Dokyeom finally stopped their dancing, though they were still buzzing with energy as they made their way over to the group.

“Come on,” Jeonghan murmured, standing up from his seat and offering Luna’s hand.

She took it without hesitation, letting him help her up from the chair, her legs still slightly wobbly from all the dancing. As they made their way to the exit, saying goodbye to everyone as they prepared to head home, Jeonghan kept close to her side.

They exchanged quiet goodbyes with the other members, Seungcheol reminding everyone to get some rest before they had to jump back into work the next day.

Once the farewells were done, Jeonghan gently guided Luna toward his car. “Come on,” he said softly, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back as he led her through the parking lot. “I didn’t drink much, I’ll drive us back.”

The air between them felt heavier now, quieter, as if the rest of the world had faded into the background, leaving only the two of them.

Luna didn’t protest as they reached his car, slipping into the passenger seat as Jeonghan closed the door behind her. The sound of the car door shutting felt final like they were cocooned in their own little world now, separated from the noise and energy of the night.

Jeonghan slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, the low hum of the engine filling the silence. As they pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights reflecting off the windows, the tension that had been simmering between them earlier seemed to settle back in, quiet but palpable.

The hum of the car engine blended with the soft pattern of rain beginning to fall against the windshield. The city lights blurred as droplets streaked across the glass, casting soft reflections inside the car. It was a peaceful silence but charged, like the calm before a storm. Everything felt heightened in this small space— the closeness, the warmth, the electricity between them that neither could ignore.

Luna had leaned back, her eyes lazily scanning the passing scenery as she twirled the lollipop in her mouth. Jeonghan’s hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his focus on the road, but his attention clearly elsewhere.

Finally, Jeonghan broke the silence, his voice soft but cutting through the quiet like the first crack of thunder. “You really do push yourself too hard,” he murmured, the tone carrying both amusement and concern. He glanced sideways at her, just for a second, catching the way her lips tugged into a smile.

Luna turned her head to face him, the corners of her mouth lifting into a playful smirk. “You sound like a broken record,” she teased lightly, her voice tinged with laughter. “Have you forgotten you told me that already, or have you just got nothing new to say?”

Jeonghan chuckled a deep sound that filled the quiet car. “I’m just reminding you,” he said, his gaze flicking toward her briefly before returning to the road. “Someone has to take care of you.”

Luna snorted softly, shaking her head. “I think I’m doing fine. You should worry about yourself.”

“Me?” Jeonghan’s eyebrows lifted in mock offense. “I’m perfect.”

Luna rolled her eyes, the lollipop making a soft clack as she pulled it out of her mouth and pointed it at him. “You and your ego, I swear. If your head gets any bigger, you’ll need to get a bigger car.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Please, Jiyeonie, you like it.”

She shot him a playful glare but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You think you know me so well.”

“I do,” he said confidently, his tone casual yet carrying a weight behind it. “I know you push yourself because you hate being the first to give up. You’d rather collapse than admit you’re tired.”

Luna blinked, surprised at how easily he’d read her, though she shouldn’t have been. Jeonghan always had a way of seeing through her, peeling back layers without even trying. She shrugged, trying to play it off. “Maybe.”

The rain started coming down heavier, drumming against the roof. The windshield wipers moved in a steady rhythm, slicing through the water, but it did nothing to cut through the thickening tension between them.

“You don’t have to impress anyone, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan said quietly, his tone softer now, more sincere. “Not even me.”

Luna felt a warmth spread through her at his words, but she masked it with a grin. “Who says I’m trying to impress you?”

Jeonghan glanced at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh, so it’s just me then?”

Luna scoffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Jeonghan smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Too late.”

Luna groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Why do I even bother talking to you?”

“Because you love me,” he said simply, the teasing tone never leaving his voice.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

There was a pause in their conversation, a lull filled by the steady rhythm of rain against the windshield. The city lights blurred past them, casting soft reflections across Luna’s face, her features illuminated in a soft, almost ethereal glow

Jeonghan wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it— maybe it was the lingering effect of the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t help himself—but the words slipped out before he could stop himself.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful today?” Jeonghan asked, his tone casual as he changed the topic, almost too casual for the weight those words carried.

Luna’s head turned toward him, her eyebrows raising in surprise, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She pulled the lollipop from her mouth, twirling it between her fingers as she gave him a teasing look. “I don’t think you have,” she replied, her voice light, playful. “Is that something you’re just realizing now?”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, I’ve known it all night,” he said smoothly, his voice dipping into that soft, dangerously teasing tone he often used with her. “I just didn’t get around to saying it until now.”

Luna leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs as she twirled the lollipop stick absentmindedly. “Well, thank you for your delayed observation,” she said with a mock-serious nod. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to admire me while I was dancing.”

He smiled, not denying it. “Trust me, I’ve been doing more than admiring.” His eyes glinted with mischief, though his voice remained steady and calm, the type of calm that made her heart skip a beat.

Luna rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the warmth that spread across her cheeks. She looked out the window to hide the smile threatening to break across her face. “Always so smooth, Hannie.”

“You love it when I’m smooth,” he replied, his voice dipping lower, softer, as he glanced at her again. There was something different in his gaze this time—something that made the air between them feel heavier, more charged.

Luna’s smile faded slightly, though not from discomfort. There was something in the way he was looking at her, something that made her pulse quicken despite herself. She didn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to stare out at the rain as it blurred against the glass, her mind racing with thoughts she had tried to push aside for a long time.

Luna knew this game.

She knew how Jeonghan flirted— it was playful, light, teasing, always with a little smirk and a sparkle in his eyes. He had flirted with her before more so these last couple of months and she had always brushed it off, played along, knowing it didn’t mean anything.

But tonight felt different. There was something in the way his eyes lingered on her, the way his voice dropped into that dangerously low tone whenever he spoke to her. It made her stomach twist in ways that scared her.

She told herself it was just him being Jeonghan, that he hadn’t changed, that this was just how he was. But deep down, she couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between them. She had seen it in the way he looked at her tonight, had felt it in the way he hovered near her during the party, the way his fingers brushed hers when he helped her out of her chair earlier.

It wasn’t just friendly. It was something more, something heavier, something that made her chest tighten with a mix of hope and fear.

And yet… Luna couldn’t help herself.

She was drawn to it, drawn to him.

Even though she had promised herself she wouldn’t let her heart win again, even though she had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t let her guard down, she was losing the battle.

It was impossible to resist Yoon Jeonghan, especially when he looked at her like she was the only person in the room— he had a way of making her feel like the center of his universe, even when he was surrounded by others.

It was intoxicating.

Dangerous.

But Bae Jiyeon was drawn to it all the same.

She knew she shouldn’t.

She knew it was risky, that letting herself fall again would only lead to heartache.

But as she sat there, feeling his eyes on her, feeling the warmth of his presence beside her, she wondered if maybe— just maybe— she was willing to take that risk again.

“You’re such a flirt. In fact, you’re bolder than normal,” Luna allowed herself to chuckle.

Jeonghan's fingers tightened on the steering wheel for a moment as her words lingered between them.

Where had this sudden boldness come from?

He didn't know.

Sure, he flirted, teased, and bantered with Luna— it was their dynamic, the rhythm they’d fallen into after years of knowing each other.

But something about these past few months and more so tonight felt different.

Maybe it was the few drinks he’d had earlier, loosening his inhibitions just enough to say the things he’d been holding back. Or maybe it was desperation, the realization that he had been skirting around his feelings for far too long.

Maybe it was because they were alone, away from the rest of the group, the tension between them simmering just beneath the surface.

Maybe it was the way she looked tonight and every day— beautiful, radiant like she didn’t even realize the effect she had on him.

Maybe it was just her.

Maybe it had always been her.

He had always been good at hiding his emotions, at keeping things under wraps, but with Luna… it was different.

She had a way of breaking through his defenses without even trying. He could still remember the way she looked at him when she confessed last year— the heartbreak in her eyes when he rejected her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he had. And he’d been thinking about it ever since.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was tired of pretending he didn’t feel something for her, something more than friendship.

He had spent so long avoiding this, avoiding her, because he was scared. Scared of what it would mean if he admitted to himself that he had feelings for her.

But sitting here, in this small, quiet space with the rain falling softly around them, he felt like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was drawn to her— had always been drawn to her— but tonight, it was different.

Whatever it was, he was allowing himself to be a little reckless.

The rain intensified, the rhythmic sound growing louder as they drove through the quiet streets back to the dorm. The world outside the car was dark and blurred, but inside, the tension was so thick it felt like something tangible.

Every second they spent in this small, enclosed space made the air feel heavier, more charged. Jeonghan could feel it in every breath, in every glance she threw his way.

Tonight, he was ready to risk it.

He wasn’t sure how he had managed to keep himself in check for so long, because right now, all he wanted was her.

Jeonghan cleared his throat, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. “You know, I wasn’t lying when I said you look beautiful. I wasn’t just saying that to flatter you,” he murmured, his tone soft but deliberate. “You really do look beautiful tonight.”

“Mm… thank you,” Luna said as she shifted in her seat slightly, pulling her legs up underneath her as she leaned against the car door.

Jeonghan glanced at her again, his heart skipping a beat when he saw her looking back at him and for a moment, he was gone. She was smiling softly, her eyes bright despite the late hour, her lips still stained from the lollipop she had been playing with all night.

And in that moment, Jeonghan realized he was a goner.

Completely and utterly lost.

The way she looked bathed in the faint glow of the dashboard lights, her lips curling around her words, her eyes dancing with mischief. The subtle scent of her perfume filled the car, a warm and intoxicating mix that tugged at his senses.

Luna was talking, her voice a tantalizing melody yet Jeonghan couldn’t make out what she was saying— he was…. completely and utterly lost. And then, her hand— the gentle, casual touch as she caressed his shoulder while she talked, sending a jolt through his chest like a spark had just ignited something inside him.

How was he supposed to concentrate on driving when every part of him was tuned into her?

Jeonghan realized, with a sudden, amused thought, that there were a few things you absolutely shouldn’t do while driving: use your phone, be drunk, speed recklessly… and have Bae Jiyeon sitting in your passenger seat.

It was dangerous.

The kind of danger that made him wonder if he was more likely to crash the car from being so utterly distracted by her.

Jeonghan’s grip on the wheel tightened as he forced himself to focus on the road ahead. But then he glanced at her again, and his breath caught for a second.

Luna was watching him— no, she was staring at him with a smug look in her eyes, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Of course, she knew. She always knew.

That smugness in her expression, the way her lips twitched as if she was enjoying watching him squirm— it was maddening.

Luna was enjoying this. Petty as she could be, she was reveling in the way he was slowly unraveling under her gaze.

And just like that, Luna decided to throw all of her fucks out the window.

“Am I going to be the cause of our collective demise once you crash this car?” Luna chuckled as she addressed Jeonghan’s focus on her despite driving.

“You think this is funny?” he muttered, his voice low, laced with that familiar teasing edge. He didn’t even try to hide the amusement in his tone, despite the frustration simmering underneath.

Luna twirled the lollipop in her mouth, the little pink candy rotating lazily as she continued to stare at him, her eyes glinting mischievously.

She didn’t even bother to answer him— just smirked and leaned back in her seat as if she had already won this silent game they were playing.

There was something in the way she was looking at him now— something deeper than just their usual playful banter. He could feel the heat of her gaze, the way her eyes seemed to trace over him as if she was daring him to do something.

The tension was unbearable, every word they exchanged adding to the weight of it.

Jeonghan knew, at that moment, that any shred of morality or self-restraint he had left was being thrown out the window.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, not when she was looking at him like that, not when every nerve in his body was on fire from just being near her.

He glanced at her again, and this time, he didn’t hold back the flirtation in his voice. “Nana-ya…” he started, his tone smooth, dangerously soft. “If you keep looking at me like that, we might have a problem.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with challenge as she continued to twirl the lollipop in her mouth. “Oh?” she murmured, feigning innocence, though the glint in her eyes told him she was anything but. “And what kind of problem would that be?”

Jeonghan’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “The kind where I stop caring about the road entirely and start caring about something else.”

The implication hung in the air between them, thick with the tension neither of them was willing to fully acknowledge yet.

Luna giggled, leaning back against the seat, twirling the lollipop between her fingers like she was playing with the moment. “You’re such a flirt, Hannie,” she said, shaking her head slightly. Her voice was light, but there was a warmth there, something knowing as if she was fully aware of the effect she had on him.

“And you love it,” Jeonghan shot back, his tone a mix of teasing and certainty.

He wasn’t even asking— it was a fact between them.

Luna tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe I do,” she admitted, licking her lips as she discarded the stick. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “Too late,” he cooed, his voice slipping into that condescending tone again, the one he knew always made her roll her eyes. “I think you like it when I tease you, Jiyeonie.”

She glanced at him from the side, the soft glow from the dashboard lights catching in her eyes. “And I think you talk too much,” she retorted, though her smile betrayed her.

“Do I?” Jeonghan’s voice dipped lower, softer, almost a whisper as he added, “I think you like it when I talk to you like this.”

Luna shifted in her seat, crossing her arms and giving him a side-eye. “You think a lot of things, don’t you?”

He grinned at her defiance, leaning slightly toward her as he replied, “And I’m usually right, aren’t I?”

Luna let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she watched the rain streak across the windshield. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm,” Jeonghan hummed, his voice a lazy drawl. “But you’re still here.”

“Who would you gawk at if I wasn’t?” Luna smirked.

The rain picked up, soft at first, then heavier, drumming on the windshield in rhythm with Jeonghan's increasingly erratic thoughts. The world outside was blurred, the soft streetlights hazy in the downpour, but inside the car, the tension was palpable.

Jeonghan's fingers tightened around the steering wheel as if holding on for dear life, not because of the rain, but because of the woman sitting next to him, practically radiating smug confidence.

Luna's presence was overwhelming, and the teasing glint in her eyes felt like a challenge he wasn't sure he could resist.

Her fingers idly twirled the lollipop in her mouth. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, and the maddening part was how much she was enjoying every second of it. Her smirk, and her playfulness all gnawed at him in the best and worst ways possible.

Everything about her posture screamed cat-that-got-the-canary— as if she knew exactly how close Jeonghan was to cracking.

If only he knew what would happen if he did.

“Brat,” Jeonghan let out a sharp breath through his nose, trying to focus on the road ahead, though it was becoming increasingly impossible. Every glance her way made his pulse quicken, made the frustration in him grow.

And then, without thinking, his hand left the wheel.

It was quick, almost instinctual, like gravity had pulled him toward her. His palm landed on her thigh-firm, commanding-sending a jolt of heat up her leg. His fingers splayed against the soft fabric of her sheer black tights, the warmth of her skin radiating through the material. His touch was possessive, but his grip remained gentle as if he was testing the boundaries, daring her to stop him.

Luna's breath hitched, just slightly, but she didn't push his hand away. Instead, she shifted in her seat, just enough to press into his touch, amplifying the tension that had already settled thickly between them.

Her eyes flicked down to where his hand rested, then back up to his face, and she bit her lower lip, a smirk still tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Hannie," she practically purred, her voice sweet but laced with mischief. "Is that really the safest thing to do while driving?"

Jeonghan's fingers flexed against her thigh, a slow, deliberate movement that made her feel the weight of his touch even more. He tilted his head toward her, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, the playful tone from before replaced with something deeper, something more intense. His voice came out in a low, velvety murmur.

"Safe?" he repeated, his lips curling into a dangerous smile. "I am holding onto you for safety, Jiyeonie."

Luna's eyes glimmered with challenge, her heartbeat quickening, though she'd never let him know it. She leaned in slightly, her hand drifting toward his arm, her fingertips brushing against his wrist where it rested on her leg. Her voice was just as teasing, if not more, as she shot back, "You seem awfully distracted for someone who's supposed to be focused on the road."

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath, the sound soft and low, the kind of laugh that sent a shiver down her spine. "I am distracted," he admitted, his thumb now tracing a lazy circle on her thigh. His eyes darted from the road back to her, his gaze heavy with desire. "You're not exactly helping, pretty girl."

Luna's lips curved into a smirk, one that practically dared him to go further. "Focus, Hannie," she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jeonghan shot her a look, one eyebrow raised, clearly amused by her brattiness.

"I’m focused," he said smoothly, his voice dropping even lower. He squeezed her thigh slightly, his fingers pressing in just enough to make her gasp, though it was clear from the look in her eyes that she loved it.

The rain continued to pour, the rhythmic sound of droplets against the windshield only adding to the charged atmosphere inside the car. The world outside was quiet, but inside, the storm between them was brewing, and neither of them seemed interested in calming it.

Luna's heartbeat quickened as she shifted in her seat again, crossing her legs, which only served to push his hand higher up her thigh. She gave him a sideways glance, the corner of her mouth lifting in a taunting smile. "Big talk for someone who's barely keeping his eyes on the road."

Jeonghan's jaw clenched slightly, though there was no anger behind it— just the overwhelming desire to wipe that smug look off her face. He could feel the heat rising between them, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

But God, did he love it.

There was something about the way Luna teased him, the way she pushed and pushed until he was at the edge of his control. And maybe that was why he never stopped her. Maybe he wanted her to push him past his limits. Maybe he wanted to see just how far he could fall before losing himself completely

Without thinking, his hand slid further up her thigh, his fingertips brushing against the seam of her shorts, the movement slow, deliberate, teasing. His voice was a soft purr as he spoke, his lips barely moving.

"Do you really want to keep testing me, Bae Jiyeon?"

Luna let out a soft, breathy laugh, her lips curling into a devilish smile. "Why not?" she shot back, her voice playful but challenging. "It's fun watching you angry. I rarely get to see you even remotely pissed off.”

Jeonghan's grip tightened ever so slightly, his fingers digging into her skin, but the way his eyes darkened told her everything she needed to know. He was close— so close to giving in to whatever dangerous game they were playing. His thumb brushed lightly against the inside of her thigh, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down her spine.

The car slowed as they neared finally reached the dorm, the streetlights casting long shadows on the wet pavement. The rain had picked up, turning into a torrential downpour, the sound of it filling the space between them.

But the tension— the crackling, electrifying tension-remained. Neither of them said a word as Jeonghan pulled into the parking lot, the engine's hum cutting off as he switched off the ignition before removing his seatbelt.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the rain hammering against the roof of the car, the only sound between them. Jeonghan's hand still rested on her thigh, his grip firm but not uncomfortable. He turned to face her, his eyes dark and unreadable as they locked onto hers.

Luna met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. The playful banter was gone, replaced by something heavier, something far more dangerous. Her pulse raced as she waited, the silence between them thick with anticipation.

And then, without a word, Jeonghan leaned in. His breath was warm against her skin, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers as he whispered, "Do you know you make me go insane?”

Luna's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she just stared at him, her pulse quickening as she felt the heat of his body so close to hers.

Jeonghan's eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes, a slow smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "But I think you already knew that, didn't you?"

Luna swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she replied, "Maybe. But I like hearing you say it."

Jeonghan's smile widened, his hand tightening ever so slightly on her thigh as he whispered, "Then I'll say it as many times as you want."

Luna's breath hitched, her pulse racing as she felt the tension between them reach its breaking point. But before either of them could say another word, the sound of the rain grew louder, drowning out everything else.

And in that moment, it wasn't the storm outside that threatened to consume them— it was the storm brewing between them, one that neither of them seemed willing to stop.

Jeonghan's breath was hot against Luna's face, his voice dropping into that intoxicating whisper that sent shivers racing up her spine. "What else do you want to hear me say, hm?"

His lips hovered dangerously close to hers, his words soft but laced with that infuriating, devastating sweetness that he always seemed to use to unravel her.

Luna sat frozen in her seat, the weight of his gaze holding her captive as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

She couldn't speak.

Couldn't move.

She could only stare back at him, helpless beneath the intensity in his eyes, the heat of his breath against her skin making her dizzy.

And Jeonghan noticed it all.

The way she was falling apart under him, the way her lips parted just slightly but no words came out, the way her chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath.

It made him smirk, that familiar, cocky smile that she loved and hated at the same time.

He knew what he was doing to her. He always did.

He took pride in being the only one to make the big, bad, and confident Bae Jiyeon crumble.

His hand slid from her thigh to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her skin with such a delicate touch, as though he were savoring the moment, every second of it.

His thumb grazed her bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity straight through her body.

"Wanna hear how breathtaking you are?" Jeonghan's voice was soft, teasing, but there was something darker underneath— something deeper. "How much I love hearing your voice?" His fingers tangled in her hair as his thumb stroked her jaw. "How sweet you smell, Jiyeonie?"

Speechless.

Luna was utterly speechless.

“Anything. I’ll say anything for you, however much you want, pretty angel. Just tell me.”

Jeonghan said it all in that baby-talk voice that always drove her crazy, soft and low and teasing. The tone wrapped around her like a warm blanket, lulling her into a state of pure intoxication. Every word felt like a caress, every breath of his like a temptation.

He was ruining her, and he knew it.

Luna couldn't help herself. She leaned back against the door of the car, her head resting on the window as she stared at him, mesmerized. His fingers trailed through her hair, and his eyes were dark, filled with something she couldn't quite place— scanned every inch of her face, lingering on her lips.

She didn't know how it had come to this.

How she had gone from playful banter to this suffocating, unrelenting tension that made her feel like she was on the edge of something dangerous, something that once started, neither of them could take back.

But maybe she didn't want to take it back.

Jeonghan leaned in closer, his lips inches from hers as he tilted his head, his gaze dropping to the lollipop stick still hanging from her mouth. "Always wanted to know what it tastes like," he murmured, his voice smooth, almost playful.

For a split second, a dumb part of Luna thought he meant the lollipop itself, and her mind raced to think of a witty comeback. But before she could say anything, Jeonghan's hand reached up, gently pulling the stick from her lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

And then, without another word, his fingers caught her chin between them, holding her still as he leaned in closer.

It happened so quickly and so slowly all at once. One second, he was hovering in front of her, teasing her with the nearness of his lips. The next, his mouth was on hers, capturing her in a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs and sent her heart into a freefall.

The first touch of his lips against hers was soft, and tentative, like he was testing the waters. But then, when he felt her lips part beneath his when he heard the soft, almost inaudible gasp that escaped her— he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of her neck as he pulled her closer.

For years, they had danced around this moment. Years of stolen glances, of teasing words and almost-touches. Years of denying what they both knew was there, simmering beneath the surface, too dangerous to acknowledge.

But now, with the rain pouring down around them, the car windows fogging up from the heat of their breath, and the tension that crackled between them like electricity— there was no more denying it.

Jeonghan's lips moved against hers with a softness that belied the intensity of the feelings that had been building up inside him for so long. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging gently as his other hand slid down her neck, caressing the skin there before resting just above her collarbone.

Luna's mind was a blur, her thoughts spinning as she melted into him, her body reacting instinctively to the heat of his touch. She had imagined this moment so many times— late at night, when she couldn't sleep, wondering what it would feel like to finally close the distance between them. But nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it.

Nothing could have prepared her for the way his lips felt against hers, soft but demanding or the way his hand cradled the back of her head like she was something precious. The way his breath hitched when she responded when she kissed him back with just as much hunger as if she had been waiting for this just as long as he had.

At that moment, everything else fell away— the rain, the car, the world outside. All that mattered was him, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hand on her skin.

All the years of pining, of holding back, of pretending they didn't feel what they did— it all dissolved in the heat of the kiss.

Jeonghan groaned softly, the sound vibrating against her lips as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss even further. His fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her closer as if he couldn't bear the thought of even an inch of space between them.

Luna's hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer, her body arching toward him instinctively. The kiss was everything she had imagined and more fiery, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

And yet, there was a softness to it, too. A tenderness in the way his thumb brushed her cheek, in the way his lips softened against hers as if he was savoring every second of it.

Her mind was spinning, her heart pounding in her chest as they kissed, the sound of the rain outside only intensifying the moment, creating a cocoon of intimacy around them. This kiss was more than just a kiss— it was a culmination of everything that had been building between them for years.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they panted softly, the air between them thick with the weight of what had just happened.

Jeonghan's hand was still cradling her face, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as he stared down at her, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn't quite place.

"Jiyeon-ah," he whispered, his voice rough, his breath warm against her lips. He didn't say anything else—he didn't need to.

Everything he was feeling was written in the way he looked at her, in the way his fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against her skin.

Luna's heart was still racing, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. But when she met his gaze, saw the vulnerability in his eyes, she knew.

This wasn't just a moment. This was everything they had been denying, everything they had been too afraid to acknowledge.

Jeonghan didn’t waste a second. As soon as the kiss broke, his lips still tingling from the warmth of hers, he popped the lollipop he was still holding in between his fingers back into his mouth with a smirk, tasting the lingering sweetness that seemed insignificant compared to the taste of her lips.

Without a word, he grabbed her purse from the back seat and pushed open his door, stepping out into the pouring rain.

The downpour was relentless, soaking him to the bone the moment he left the car, but he didn’t care. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his clothes sticking to his skin as he jogged around the front of the car, his shoes splashing in the puddles that had formed beneath him. The rain chilled him, but the heat still simmering in his veins from their kiss overpowered the cold.

Luna was still frozen in her seat, her mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened.

The taste of Jeonghan's kiss was still fresh on her lips, her pulse racing, every nerve ending in her body on fire. She hadn’t even noticed that Jeonghan had left the car, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she replayed the feel of his lips, the way his hand had tangled in her hair, the way he had kissed her like he was claiming her.

She was only brought back to reality when the passenger door opened with a wet, metallic groan, and Jeonghan, drenched and dripping, crouched down to meet her wide-eyed gaze.

His eyes were dark, filled with something unreadable as his hands moved to her seatbelt, carefully unclipping it before leaning in just enough for her to catch the scent of rain and his cologne, now mingling with the smell of wet clothes “Come on,” he murmured, his voice still rough from the kiss.

His fingers found hers, intertwining with them as he gently but firmly pulled her out of the car and into the rain.

The cold rain hit her like a shock, drenching her instantly as her shoes splashed into a puddle beside the curb. She barely had time to register the chill because Jeonghan’s hand tightened around hers, pulling her toward the dorm entrance with a sense of urgency like he couldn’t bear to be apart from her for even another second.

They sprinted through the rain, hand in hand, as it poured relentlessly, drenching both of them until their clothes clung to their bodies. Luna’s breath came in quick, ragged gasps, her heart still hammering from the kiss, from the feel of Jeonghan’s fingers tightly gripping hers.

By the time they reached the dorm building’s entrance, they were soaked, water dripping from their hair and clothes, but neither of them seemed to care.

Jeonghan pulled open the door with one swift motion, leading her inside, their footsteps echoing off the tiled floor as they hurried toward the elevator. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, the tension snapped back into place, stronger and more electric than before.

The rain had done nothing to cool the heat simmering between them. If anything, it had only intensified it.

Jeonghan stood there for a second, his chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, and water droplets running down his face.

And then, without warning, he yanked the lollipop from his mouth and threw it carelessly to the floor of the elevator, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her knees go weak.

In one swift motion, he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her back against the elevator wall, his body pressing against hers, pinning her in place. His lips crashed into hers again, desperate, hungry, like he couldn’t wait another second to taste her again.

Luna’s hands flew to his chest, fingers curling into the wet fabric of his shirt as she kissed him back just as desperately, just as hungrily. The heat between them was unbearable, the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his lips— everything about him was overwhelming her senses, and she couldn’t get enough.

Between kisses, Jeonghan’s breath was ragged, his voice low and rough. “God, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

Luna’s response was a soft gasp as his hand slid up her side, pressing her closer against the wall. “Han– oppa…”

He kissed her again, cutting off her words, his lips moving against hers with a fierce intensity. “You don’t even know how much I wanted this, Jiyeonie,” he whispered, his breath hot against her mouth as he pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire.

Luna couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t think.

All she could do was feel— the heat of his body, the way his fingers dug into her waist, the way his lips moved against hers, demanding and relentless. She had dreamed of this moment for so long, imagined it in a thousand different ways, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

Nothing could compare to the way Jeonghan kissed her like he was starving like he needed her to breathe.

The elevator dinged, the sound almost lost in the haze of their kiss. Jeonghan pulled away just long enough to glance at the floor number before a mischievous smirk tugged at his lips. He grabbed her hand again, yanking her out of the elevator as the doors opened.

Their footsteps were hurried as they made their way to his apartment, water still dripping from their clothes and hair. Without a second thought, Jeonghan typed his password, fumbling slightly as he unlocked the door in his haste.

The moment it swung open, he pulled her inside, slamming the door shut behind them with a loud thud, locking it in one fluid motion. Before Luna could even catch her breath, Jeonghan had her pressed up against the door, his hands braced on either side of her head as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers again, teasing.

“You’re staying here with me tonight, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft, but the heat in his eyes was unmistakable.

Luna barely had time to nod before his lips were on hers again, his hands sliding down her waist, pulling her flush against him as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any space between them.

The intensity of the kiss made her dizzy, her body reacting on instinct, her hands tangling in his soaked hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. They were both drenched, clothes sticking to their skin, hair dripping water onto the floor, but none of it mattered.

All that mattered was this— this moment, this kiss, this connection that had been building for years, finally unleashed with a force neither of them could control.

Jeonghan’s hand slid up her side, fingers grazing her wet skin beneath her soaked shirt, making her shiver despite the heat between them. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, down to her neck, where he left a trail of soft, teasing kisses, his breath warm against her skin.

Luna’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening in his hair as her head tilted back, giving him more access. “Hannie…” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind spinning from the overwhelming sensation of his touch, his lips, his body pressed so firmly against hers.

“Nana-ya…” he hummed back, his voice rough and filled with so much emotion, so much want, that it made her knees buckle beneath her. “I’m never letting you go after this. You know that right?”

Jeonghan couldn’t get enough of her— her taste, her scent, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. Every kiss was deeper, more desperate like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

His hand slid beneath her shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist, feeling the way her body trembled under his touch. He pressed his lips to the soft skin of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her, a mix of rain, shampoo, and something uniquely Luna.

God, she’s perfect.

He couldn't help the thought that ran through his mind, as if seeing her, feeling her like this, up close, made him realize just how breathtaking she truly was. Every inch of her, from the way she gasped softly at his touch to the way her hands clung to him as though he was the only thing keeping her grounded, drove him mad with need.

Luna’s mind was a mess, her body responding to him in ways she hadn’t imagined. Every brush of his lips on her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and the way his hands roamed over her like he was memorizing her made her heart race uncontrollably.

She’d dreamed of this moment countless times— of Jeonghan looking at her the way he was now, touching her like he couldn’t get enough. But now that it was happening, it was so much more than she ever imagined.

He’s really here. This is really happening.

His hands, his mouth, the way he said her name— it all felt too good to be real like she was living in some fantasy she had conjured. But the heat of his breath against her neck, the way his body pressed into hers, was too intense to be anything but reality. And now that they had crossed this line, she didn’t want to stop.

She didn’t want to think about the consequences, the risks, or the years they had tiptoed around their feelings.

All she wanted was Jeonghan.

Jeonghan’s lips moved back up to her mouth, capturing her in another deep, urgent kiss. His hand slid further under her shirt, his thumb brushing against her ribs, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

“I hated what I did to you— I shouldn’t have lied to you about my feelings,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low, almost a growl.

Luna’s heart skipped a beat, her hands tightening their grip on his damp shirt. She looked into his eyes, breathless, her lips still tingling from his kiss. “Then why did you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her eyes searched his, wanting to understand why he had kepthis feelings to himself for so long.

Jeonghan's eyes darkened slightly as he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the small space between them. "I was scared," he confessed softly, his voice tinged with something between regret and longing.

But not anymore, Jeonghan thought to himself, feeling the weight of all the unspoken words they had left hanging in the air for years.

He had been so careful, so patient, but now that he had her here, now that he had tasted what they could be together, there was no going back.

Jeonghan can't let her go. Not now.

Luna’s heart ached at his words, but a part of her understood.

They had always been so careful, always so focused on the group, on protecting what they had built together. But she couldn’t stop the pang of frustration that crept in. They had wasted so much time, so many years dancing around each other, denying what was always there, just beneath the surface.

“We could have had this sooner,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as she cupped his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek.

Jeonghan leaned into her touch, closing his eyes briefly, savoring the warmth of her hands on his skin. “I know,” he breathed out, his lips brushing against hers again, softer this time, almost tender. “But I was afraid… of how much I wanted you.”

Those words sent a fresh wave of heat through her, her body reacting instantly to the intensity in his voice.

She didn’t think she could want him more than she already did, but somehow, hearing him admit that he had been holding back for so long only made her desire for him stronger.

Jeonghan’s hands slid up her sides, pushing the wet fabric of her shirt higher, his fingers skimming the bare skin of her stomach. “You’re driving me crazy, Bae Jiyeon,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and desire as his lips found hers again, their kiss deeper, more urgent than before.

Luna’s hands slipped into his hair, tugging him closer as she kissed him back with equal fervor, her mind racing with the realization that they were finally here, that everything they had held back for so long was finally pouring out between them, unstoppable, uncontrollable.

“I don’t want to stop,” Jeonghan whispered against her lips, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can.”

Luna’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at him, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “Then don’t,” she whispered back, her voice filled with the same desperation, the same need that had been building between them for years.

Jeonghan’s eyes darkened at her words, his hand sliding into her hair as he kissed her again, harder this time, more possessive. His other hand trailed down her side, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Every kiss, every touch, felt like a promise— one that neither of them was willing to break. The world outside their bubble no longer existed. It was just them— Jeonghan and Luna— finally giving in to the undeniable connection they had tried so hard to resist for years.

The heat between them was unbearable, and consuming, and neither of them cared about the consequences anymore.

They had waited long enough.

Jeonghan's lips were relentless, his hands roaming over her with a desperation that mirrored her own. Luna's fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently as she kissed him back with equal fervor. They had waited so long for this moment, and now that it was here, neither of them wanted it to end.

Jeonghan's hands slid down her back, pulling her even closer as if he wanted to merge their bodies into one. Luna's breath hitched as she felt his desire matching her own, his lips moving against hers with a hunger that left her dizzy.

His touch was electric, his kisses like a drug she couldn't get enough of. She wanted more— needed more of him.

Their kisses grew deeper, more intense as if they were trying to communicate everything they had left unsaid for years through their touch alone.

Luna's hands roamed over his chest, and his shoulders, memorizing the feel of him, the warmth of his skin. Jeonghan's fingers traced patterns on her back, his lips trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

Jeonghan pulled away slightly, his breath still mingling with hers, his eyes searching her face for any sign of hesitation.

The tension between them still buzzed in the air, but now there was a softness there, a quiet moment of clarity that hung heavy between their shared breaths. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin as if he was grounding himself in her presence, ensuring she was okay.

“Jiyeon…” Jeonghan’s voice was soft now, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything that had happened between them over the years. “If we do this…” He paused, his dark eyes locking with hers, the intensity in them impossible to miss. “You’re mine.”

There it was— Jeonghan’s possessiveness laid out in a simple, yet potent statement.

It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a plea.

It was a declaration, one that carried the kind of certainty that had always been a part of him, but now it was directed solely at her.

His gaze didn’t waver, waiting for her response.

For a moment, Luna just blinked, still catching her breath, feeling the heat of his words settling into her. She could feel the intensity of his claim, but it didn’t faze her— she wasn’t the type to be overwhelmed. If anything, it only fueled her.

A small, almost mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of defiance he loved so much.

“Yours, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with that quick wit and teasing edge she wielded so well. “Last I checked, I don’t remember signing any contracts.”

Jeonghan let out a breathy chuckle, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you signed it the moment you let me kiss you,” he cooed, his tone smooth and teasing, though there was no mistaking the seriousness underlying his words. “But if you need a reminder, I can always make it official.”

Luna’s heart raced as he spoke, the familiar push and pull between them sending her mind into overdrive. She liked the way he challenged her, the way he never let her have the last word easily.

But she wasn’t about to back down. Her eyes narrowed playfully, and she leaned in just a little, her voice dropping into a near whisper as she fired back, “You’ll have to convince me, Hannie.”

Jeonghan grinned, leaning his forehead against hers as a soft laugh escaped him, the warmth of it rolling through the charged air between them. “That’s what I love about you,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, soft and almost condescending in its teasing tone. “You never make it easy.

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, his breath brushing against her lips again, his fingers gently stroking her cheek as he leaned in, the weight of his words sinking in deeper. “But I wasn’t asking you to make it easy. I like a challenge.” His voice was almost a purr now, each word laced with the kind of softness that only he could pull off while still holding all the control.

“I always win in the end anyway.”

Luna felt a shiver run down her spine at his words, the sensation of his breath on her skin and the teasing tone in his voice doing things to her that she couldn’t fully explain.

Her witty retort died on her tongue, and for the second time today in their back-and-forth, she found herself at a loss for words, simply staring into his eyes.

And Jeonghan knew it— he saw the way her resolve wavered, just for a second, and his smirk deepened, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” he cooed softly, his voice dripping with that condescending baby talk he knew always got to her. “Hm? You okay?”

Luna’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as she struggled to regain her composure, but the look in his eyes, the way his voice curled around her name, had her completely undone.

All she could manage was a quiet, “Shut up, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan grinned, leaning in even closer until his lips were just barely grazing hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "I love when you look at me like that... all helpless. You're not as tough as you pretend to be, are you?"

"Jeonghan, please... stop teasing me." Luna’s voice was soft and breathy, almost pleading as she tugged at his shirt, unable to handle how slowly he was drawing everything out.

“No? You don’t like it? I thought you liked it, hm?”Jeonghan teasingly whispered against her lips, his voice full of knowing condescension, taunting her with the fact that she always gave in to him. “It’s not fun when you’re the one being teased, huh?

Jeonghan lowered his head slowly, the glint in his eyes unmistakable as he taunted her with a soft, knowing smirk. His face hovered just inches above hers, his breath warm against her skin. She felt the weight of his gaze, heavy and teasing, as he tilted his head, pretending to consider her predicament. The moment stretched on, tension wrapping around them like a vice.

"So quiet now..." His voice was a low purr, almost a coo, dripping with condescension. He paused deliberately, letting his words sink in before speaking again. "Where's all that fire from earlier, Nana-ya?"

The nickname came out in a soft sing-song, teasing her further as his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair away from her flushed face.

Luna looked up at him, her wide eyes almost innocent, her lips parted in the slightest pout. Her heart raced in her chest, a mix of frustration and need swirling within her. "I can't handle it when you're like this... you know that." Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a soft, frustrated whine as she pressed her forehead against his chest, her body melting into him, overwhelmed by how effortlessly he unraveled her.

Her words seemed to ignite something in Jeonghan, the way her small, innocent plea tugged at his heart. He couldn't help the way his lips curved into a smirk, his fingers instinctively moving to caress her hair.

"Aw, my poor baby," he cooed, his tone laced with amusement as he stroked her hair, letting his fingertips trace lightly over her scalp. "You really can't handle it, huh?" He whispered into her hair, his voice soft but teasing.

His heart swelled at the way she softened under his touch, completely pliable, like she was made for him to tease, to protect, to hold.

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, giving in to the tenderness that washed over him in waves.

"Alright, alright... come here." His voice softened as he leaned down and scooped her into his arms effortlessly, his strong grip making her feel weightless. She let out a tiny gasp, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck while he lifted her as if she were made of air.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, her body pressed against him as he held her securely, cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in his world. His chest was warm, the steady beat of his heart against hers calming the storm that had raged moments earlier.

Jeonghan pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered, "You know I can't resist you when you're like this." His tone was gentle now, the teasing edge replaced by something softer, more protective. He shifted her weight in his arms as he carried her across the room, their bodies still so close, her head resting on his shoulder as she nestled into the crook of his neck.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot, the soft creak of the door the only sound between them. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of moonlight filtering in through the curtains, casting a pale light over the bed. Jeonghan gently lowered her onto the bed, his hands never leaving her as he carefully settled her down on the plush mattress.

Luna's fingers clung to his shirt, her body still tingling from his touch. She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted as if she didn't want to let go of him just yet.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, "Look at you... so pretty for me. You know I can't resist when you're like this, don't you?" He gently stroked her hair, his voice filled with doting affection, his eyes tracing her features like he couldn't get enough.

Luna's impatient lips found their way along the line of his jaw, teasing, swirling, tasting; her tangled curls brushing against his cheek like a lover's tender caress.

Jeonghan was intoxicated; by her, by this delicious moment that felt like a dream.

His hands, those gentle, long-fingered hands were gently removing her jacket with such finesse, now gripped her hips tightly, pulling her closer against him. He could feel her heat through the thin fabric of her attire, and he groaned, a sound that was swallowed by their ravenous kisses.

Luna gasped, her head tilting back to expose the long, elegant line of her throat. Jeonghan took advantage, his lips and teeth tracing a path of fire down to the hollow at the base of her neck.

Her hands, previously knotted in Jeonghan’s hair, now clawed at his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. He could feel her pulse racing, matching the frantic beat of his own heart.

"Oppa... please. I need you.” Luna’s was voice breathy, a little whimper escaping her as she reached for him, the need in her words almost unbearable.

"Fuck, Jiyeonie," he muttered, his voice a low growl against her skin. "You’re gonna kill me."

"Please, Hannie... I'll be good." Luna breathed out a small, pleading whimper as she promised obedience, her tone soft and submissive, wanting nothing more than to please him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against her. He could feel her, hot and wet even through their drenched clothes, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to grind against her like a teenager.

Bae Jiyeon was trying to kill Yoon Jeonghan.

He was sure of it.

"Han," she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging sharply. "Please."

"Please what? Hm," he teased, his voice a low purr. "Tell me what you want."

Luna’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping open again, meeting his gaze. "I want... I want you to take me… please.”

“Take you where? Disneyland?” Jeonghan couldn’t help himself as he smirked down at Luna who was now looking at him with a look mixed with frustration and agitation. “Tell me.”

"Oppa, I'm trying... but you make it so hard." Luna released a soft, frustrated whisper as she whined, biting her lip in frustration, overwhelmed by the way he is teasing her.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl. You can do it. Tell me and I’ll do anything.” Jeonghan cooed as he caressed her cheeks.

Luna swallowed hard, her eyes darkening with desire.

"Fuck me, Hannie. I want you, please.” Luna whispered, her voice barely audible yet laden with desire. Her words were like a matchstick set alight, igniting a wildfire within him.

A jolt of electricity shot through Jeonghan at her words, his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He gripped her chin, tilting her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough.

“Fuck me,” Luna said in an instant, desperately.

Jeonghan wasted no time. He grabbed her legs which were still wrapped around his waist. With a desperate and impatient flurry of movement, clothes started flying from all over the room, leaving them both bare and even more desperate than ever.

Jeonghan sat down on the bed, pulling Luna upward onto his lap, and straddling him. His hands roamed her body, cupping her breasts, squeezing them gently.

Luna arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. He could feel her nipples hardening, pressing against his palms, begging for his mouth.

Jeonghan gripped her tighter against him, her legs wrapping around his waist, his hands gripping her ass. He could feel her heat against his stomach, her wetness coating him. He groaned, his head dipping down to capture her nipple in his mouth.

He sucked hard, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, making Luna squirm in his arms. She arched her back, pushing herself further into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck, Han," she panted, her hips grinding against him. "I need you inside me.

Jeonghan didn't need any more encouragement. He released her nipple with a pop, his hands shifting to position himself at her entrance. He looked into her eyes, seeing the same hunger reflected back at him. Then, with one swift thrust, he pushed inside her.

"Fuck, Jiyeon," he breathed, his voice ragged. "You feel incredible."

Luna could only whimper in response, her body pulsing around him. She could feel every inch of him, filling her completely. She shifted her hips, trying to take him even deeper.

"Shhh, baby... no need to rush. We have all night. Let me take care of you." Jeonghan cooed softly as he slowed her down, his hands steady on her waist, his voice purring as if soothing her into submission.

“Han…” Luna’s voice was a soft whimper as she buried her face in his neck, feeling exposed and vulnerable, surrendering herself completely to him.

Jeonghan groaned, his control snapping.

He began to move faster, his hips thrusting forward in a steady rhythm. Luna matched his pace, her body rocking against his, their skin slapping together in a filthy symphony. The sound of their fucking filled the room, punctuated by their labored breaths and moans.

"Fuck, Hannie…. feels so good…" Luna gasped, her head thrown back. “Please… fast– fuck,”

"You don't need to say anything, angel. I already know. Just let me hear those pretty little sounds you make for me." Jeonghan spoke softly against her ear, his voice thick with teasing affection as he kissed her neck, enjoying how she melted into his touch.

Jeonghan’s grip on her ass tightened. He slammed into her, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside her, making her cry out.

"Yes! Just like that, Han!" she panted, her fingers digging into his back, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist, urging him on.

“Yeah? Just like this, baby?” Jeonghan was lost in the sensation of her, the way she gripped him, the way her body moved in sync with his. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, his arms burning from the effort, but he didn't care.

He wanted more. He wanted all of her.

"You're driving me crazy, Hannie..." Luna breathed out with a whimper, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as she squirmed on top of him, feeling like she was losing control.

Jeonghan had the audacity to chuckle as shifted his angle, making sure to hit her clit with each thrust.

Luna purred as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. She could feel his heart beating against her chest. She shifted slightly, grinding against him, matching his thrusts making him groan.

"Fuck, Jiyeon," he muttered, his grip on her tightening. "Stop that or I'll cum."

Luna just giggled, her lips tracing the line of his jaw. "You promise?" she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

“Brat,” Jeonghan growled, his cock slipping out of her, making her whimper at the loss. But before she could protest, he grabbed her hips, flipping her onto her hands and knees. Luna gasped, her ass high in the air, her face pressed into the mattress.

"Is this what you want, pretty angel?" Jeonghan asked, his voice a low rumble behind her.

Luna could feel his breath on her ass, his fingers digging into her hips.

"Yes," she panted, her face still pressed into the mattress before she lifted her head up to turn back and look at him, her doe eyes glistening in pleasure.

"I just want to make you happy... don’t you want that?" Luna’s voice was quiet and trembling, filled with vulnerability as she looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, needing his approval.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his fingers caressing the soft flesh of her ass slow and steady. "Yeah? You want to make me happy, pretty girl?" he asked, his voice a lazy drawl. "Give me anything I want?”

“Give you anything you want. Be whatever you want.” Luna arched her back downwards like a cat stretching.

Jeonghan threw his head back, groaning, his hands spreading her ass cheeks apart, giving him a clear view of her glistening pussy. Luna shivered at the exposure, her body aching with anticipation.

He chuckled a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Anything?”

“You're always teasing me, but you know I'll do anything for you, Han…” Luna released a soft, almost resigned whimper as she melted into his touch, accepting her place with a shy smile, letting herself be vulnerable for him.

"Fuck," Jeonghan muttered, his thumb tracing the seam of her pussy, gathering her wetness. "You're so fucking wet.”

“Look at you, dripping for me," He said, his voice laced with desire as he rubbed her wetness, making Luna gasp.

"Aww, baby... you're shaking. Don't worry, I've got you. I always have you. I’ll take care of you like I promised." Jeonghan cooed in a soft, condescending way as he held her leaned down on top of her, his arm wrapped around her neck, holding her close, his other hand soothingly stroking her back while his voice dipped into a protective, possessive tone.

Luna moaned, her face now pressed into the mattress, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her as Jeonghan played with her clit. "Yes please… please take care of me,” she hissed, her body arching against his touch.

Jeonghan smirked, his thumb circling her clit faster, making her gasp. "Like this, Nana-ya?" he asked, his voice soft almost as if he was singing a song to her. "You want me to fuck you like this?”

"Yes," she panted, her body writhing against his touch. "I want you to fuck me like this, oppa.” Luna's voice was a sultry purr, her body still quivering from his touch.

Jeonghan's smirk widened, his thumb was replaced by two fingers now pumping in and out of her hole, making her gasp. "You're a dirty girl, Nana-ya," he said in a tone as if he was scolding her yet his voice also filled with approval. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Luna could only whimper in response, her body aching with need. She could feel Jeonghan's hard cock pressed against her thigh, hot and heavy. She wanted it back inside her, she wanted to feel him stretching her, filling her completely.

"Please, Han," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan growled, his fingers slipping out of her, making her whimper at the loss as he in turn placed his fingers in his mouth. "You taste even sweeter than I thought. Just like I imagined... but better."

But before Luna could impatiently whine once more, Jeonghan grabbed his cock, positioning it at her entrance. Luna could feel the thick head pressing against her, making her squirm with anticipation.

"Baby," Jeonghan muttered, "You're so fucking tight.” His fingers dug into her hips as he slowly pushed himself deeper into her, inch by inch. Luna moaned, her body stretching to accommodate his size, her nails digging into the sheets beneath her.

"Fuck, Han. You're so big," she gasped, her body trembling as he filled her completely in this position. Jeonghan chuckled, his hips starting to move, sliding his cock in and out of her in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Too much for you, baby?" he taunted, his voice laced with desire. "You can take it for me, Jiyeonie. You can take all of me."

Luna moaned, her body adjusting to his size once again as she clenched around him. "Yes, I can," she hissed, pushing back against him, taking him even deeper. “For you.”

Jeonghan groaned, his hips starting to move faster, his cock sliding in and out of her in a steady rhythm. "Fuck, Luna," he growled, his fingers digging into her hips. "You feel so fucking good.”

“Hannie, just like that," Luna panted, her hips moving in sync with his thrusts, taking cock deeper into her. Jeonghan could feel her walls clenching around him, her pleasure building with each thrust.

“Like a goddamn vice, squeezing me," Jeonghan groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he pounded on her.

“Oppa… Han– fuck,” Luna moaned, her body trembling as he filled her, stretching her, hitting places she didn't know existed. “Jeonghan.”

"Such a good girl for me... that's it. Let me hear you say my name." Jeonghan murmured softly as he watched her, his tone gentle but commanding, savoring the control he had over her at that moment.

"Hannie… fuck," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets, her back arching as he started to pick up the pace. “It's too much." Luna gasped, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts as Jeonghan's cock slid in and out of her in a steady, punishing rhythm. Each thrust hit just the right spot, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her veins, making her toes curl and her eyes roll back.

"Too much what, Nana-ya?" Jeonghan gritted out, his fingers digging into her hips, pulling her back onto him with each thrust. "Too much of my cock? Too much pleasure?"

Luna moaned, her head dropping down, her hair hiding her face. "All of it. It's all too much. It's overwhelming," She panted, her body quivering as Jeonghan's cock slammed into her, again and again, each thrust driving her closer to the edge.

He growled, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck to his lips and teeth. "Overwhelming in a good way, right, angel?" he murmured, his voice a low, sultry drawl against her skin. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you? Hm? You're made for me, Bae Jiyeon.”

Luna could only moan and tremble. “Oppa…”

“Does it feel good, pretty?" Jeonghan's question was laced with intent and purpose, and Luna gasped at the sound of it in the dim room. His cock was buried deep inside her, and it was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

It felt powerful, raw, and undeniably intimate.

"Yes...yes, Han," she breathed, her hands gripping the bedsheets as her hips butted against his in rhythm with his thrusts. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Jeonghan paused for a second before placing kisses on her back and spinning her around to lay on her back, catching Luna off guard.

“You’re so pretty,” Jeonghan purred as he placed his arms at each side of her head, laying in between his arms before he started thrusting harder in her.

Every time he thrust into her, she felt a wave of ecstasy surge through her body, building higher and higher with each stroke.

"Baby— Luna, I want to feel you cum," Jeonghan groaned, his rhythm intensifying as he reached for her climax alongside her.

Luna could only whimper in response as waves of bliss crashed over her. Her fingers curled into fists as her body tensed, every muscle tightening, every nerve amplifying the pulsating sensation ripping through her.

"Oh God, Hannie," she moaned, her voice raw and desperate, "I'm there...oh my— fuck, I'm close!" Her body shook and arched, her head thrown back as she came, her cries muffled by the flesh of Jeonghan’s neck as she hid her face.

"Don't look away... keep your eyes on me, Jiyeonie. I want to see every reaction." Jeonghan said in a soft yet commanding voice as his fingers traced the skin on the back of her neck, guiding Luna’s face out of his neck, loving the vulnerability in her gaze as he held her captive with his words.

"Let me see those pretty eyes... There we go. There’s my girl." He purred softly as he tilted her chin up, guiding her to meet his gaze, his tone filled with a tender yet teasing affection that made her heart race as he continued pounding into her.

“I’m close, Han,” Luna moaned as she tightened her grasp on him.

“Let go, baby. Come on, you can do it,” Jeonghan's thrusts became harder and faster, his body slapping against Luna’s. She could feel her breasts bouncing with every movement, and her nipples hardened as she arched her back, moaning in pleasure.

Jeonghan was reaching the edge as well, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his muscles tensing. Luna knew he was on the brink, and she wanted to feel him explode inside her.

Luna dug her nails into his back, urging him on. "Hannie oppa, cum in me please,” she begged, her hips bucking up to meet his. “I’m close.”

“I’ll cum in you, pretty angel. Anything you want.” Jeonghan gave a final, powerful thrust and Luna felt him erupt inside of her, his seed filling him up as she released as well with a shudder. Her body trembled with the intensity of the orgasm.

Jeonghan groaned in satisfaction, his seed pulsing from his cock, spilling deep inside her as she milked him, her walls clamping down on him, working against his thrusting hips. He collapsed onto Luna, their bodies a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. Luna lay on her back, her heart pounding in her chest, her breaths coming in sporadic gasps.

Jeonghan kissed Luna’s neck, his lips moist and soft against her skin. "Fuck, Bae Jiyeon, you make me feel crazy," he murmured, his breath hot on her ear.

Jeonghan's weight on top of her felt heavy and comforting, and she curled her fingers into the fabric beneath her. She looked up at him, her eyes hazy with lust and pleasure. "You…" she gasped trailing off, her voice still ragged with biss.

"You are magnificent, Jiyeon-ah," Jeonghan replied, his voice soft but with an underlying intensity that made her shiver.

He shifted off her, lying on his side next to her. He brushed a loose curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "See? I told you... you’re made for me.” He whispered with a possessive edge as he looked into her eyes, his fingers gently tracing her jawline, the weight of his claim lingering in the air.

Luna let out a soft laugh, her hand traveling down his chest and settling on his hip as she hid her face in his chest, a blushing mess.

“Stop hiding from me, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan placed a kiss on top of her head as his warm fingers drew circles on her hip. “Why are you shy all of a sudden? Hm?”

“Stop,” Luna playful whined, her pout evident in her tone, though the affection lacing her words betrayed how much she loved the attention he gave her.

"You like it when I talk to you like this, don't you? It's okay, you don't have to hide it. I can tell." Jeonghan was practically purring at her, his voice dripping with teasing condescension, savoring the way she responded to his baby talk and teasing words.

“You’re so fucking annoying, Yoon Jeonghan,” Luna huffed as she removed her face off his chest to playfully glare at him only to be met by Jeonghan’s smug face already looking down at her.

A slow, lazy smile spread across Jeonghan’s lips, and he let out a low hum, clearly amused by her response. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “How do you feel, pretty girl?”

Luna could feel her pulse quicken at the nearness of him, but she wasn’t about to let him win this easily. “I’m fine. I feel fine,” she said coolly, shrugging her shoulders like this was just another casual conversation.

Jeonghan chuckled, a low sound that reverberated through his chest. “You’re fine?” he repeated, his tone teasing, almost mocking. “I just rocked your fucking world and made you mine, and all you’ve got is ‘I’m fine’?”

Luna turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she smirked. “What else do you want me to say? Write a love letter?” she quipped back, not missing a beat.

Jeonghan laughed softly, his fingers trailing down her arm in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “You don’t have to say anything, Jiyeonie,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, his teasing tone gone, replaced by something far more direct. “You already did.”

Luna raised an eyebrow at that, a silent challenge in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly did I say?”

Jeonghan’s smirk widened, and without breaking eye contact, he leaned in close— too close, his breath warm against her lips. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

The words hung in the air between them, simple but heavy. Luna didn’t have a quick comeback this time. Her heart skipped a beat, not because of the weight of the situation, but because he said it so nonchalantly like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jeonghan pulled back just slightly, watching her reaction with that same unreadable expression. “So… you tell me. What does that mean?”

Luna stared at him, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She could feel her defenses crumbling, but she wasn’t ready to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Maybe I just didn’t want to leave before breakfast tomorrow morning,” she shot back, keeping her voice light, and playful.

Jeonghan laughed again, shaking his head as he rested his forehead against hers. “Maybe. Or maybe… you’re not quite done with me yet.”

Luna rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

Jeonghan grinned, pulling her closer. “I have an answer for you, yeah.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling back with that same infuriating smile. “Get used to it.”

The words were casual, almost tossed out as an afterthought. But they carried weight— an unspoken promise. And as Luna lay there, wrapped in his arms, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mind getting used to it after all.

In the quiet aftermath, as the weight of everything settled between them, it was clear that this wasn’t just another fleeting moment or a secret whispered in the dark.

And just like that, Luna who started as his English Love Affair had quickly turned into something far less foreign— and far more impossible to forget.

There was no turning back— this was no longer a story of if only, but of everything that came after.

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writing-the-stars · 20 days ago

Text

Unspoken, Unheard

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader; Platonic!Morgan x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a high-stakes case, you face the terrifying task of being bait for a dangerous unsub. As the mission spirals out of control, the unacknowledged bond between you and Hotch is tested, forcing him to confront the risks of letting his heart lead in a world where vulnerability could mean losing everything.

Warnings: Angst (It's Who I Am), Emotional Distance (On Hotch's End. Go Figure), Canon-Typical Violence, Body Injury (Very Minor), No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors, Happy Ending. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 6.6k (This was a BEAST)

A/N: Happy New Year!!! This is my very first Criminal Minds fic EVER AND my first story of the new year!! I have been a fan of this show for such a looong time. So I'm really excited to be introducing this as a fandom I write for. I have been hyperfixating on Hotch for a while now (something about stoic, emotionally unavailable people really gets me). Anyway, this really was a labor of love and a passion project. Thank you all for reading! I truly hope you enjoy. Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

A sudden sharp, insistent knocking echoes through the quiet hotel room, jolting you from your restless sleep. Adrenaline surges through your veins, heart thrumming in your ears, as you instinctively reach for the weapon on your nightstand. Blinking against the fog of your interrupted sleep, your mind races, trying to make sense of what ripped you from your sleep.

You listen carefully, waiting to hear if there is anything that could give you context to your current situation. But the silence returns, as if it had never been broken. You approach the door cautiously, your fingers curling tightly around the handle of your gun. Pressing your eye to the peephole, you freeze when you see Hotch standing on the other side. Relief floods through you and you exhale shakily, but only for a moment as you come to the grim realization that there must be another victim. You set your weapon down, running a hand over your head as you prepare yourself for the bad news and a new case development.

But as you open the door, your rehearsed professionalism falters.

Hotch is far from the professional, composed self he presents to the world. His dark hair is unkempt, the gel that usually holds it perfectly in place seemingly forgotten. His v-neck shirt hangs loose around his clavicle, giving you a glimpse of his defined pectorals, and his pajama pants pool awkwardly at his feet, as if he didn’t pull them up all the way before reaching you. The typical mask of calm authority he wears is nowhere to be found as he stares at you with wide, haunted eyes, face pale and glistening with sweat.

There is clear tension in his posture, his breathing a little too shallow and his expression a little too tight. You’ve never seen your friend like this before. Something unnerved him and quite frankly it was starting to rattle you too.

Hotch hadn’t really thought any of this through. The visceral image of your body disfigured and mutilated just like the victims of this case filled him with raw terror. He needed to see you.

He had to make sure you were safe. He needed to know that you were alive and still intact. To know that you will still look up at him with that wide-eyed gaze filled with so much trust and quiet adoration that it makes his guarded heart falter. To know that when a case is too heavy and you all are exhausted and frayed at the edges, you will still throw him one of those smiles— one that tells him you still believe in him, that you know he will get you all through it. That you are still his team. To know that he will still hear the warmth of your laughter around the bullpen, cutting through the darkest of days at the BAU because you just had that way about you. That quiet, effortless brightness that made the worst days bearable. And he knew it wasn't just the job you were good at; it was the way you kept everyone together.

Most of all, he needed to know that you would still be you. That this job hadn’t taken you away from him— that it hadn’t stolen one more thing he couldn’t bear to lose.

But as the seconds stretch on, the initial terror that gripped him so tightly begins to subside and his mind begins to regain control. The logical Hotch starts to take over, reminding him that everything is fine. That it was only a dream, an irrational fabrication, and he is not the kind of person to allow emotions to overrun his decisions.

He’s being reckless and this moment of weakness could jeopardize the team, and everything he has worked so hard to build. He needs to turn and leave before this situation gets any more out of hand, but it’s too late. The lock clicks. The door swings open and there you are, alive and whole. His breath catches. He had feared the worst— no, not feared, he’d seen the worst in his nightmare— but you’re here, standing right in front of him. The sheer relief almost makes his knees buckle.

“Hotch?”

Your voice is soft but laced with concern, the sight of him so disheveled, so unguarded, sets off a ripple of panic in your chest, “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He stands there, staring at you as though he can’t believe you are standing in front of him. His mouth opens, but no words come out. His chest heaves with uneven breaths, and his eyes dart across your face, taking in every detail as though memorizing it.

“Hotch?” you repeat, your brows knitting together, “What’s wrong?”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hoarse, a shallow attempt at the calm, authoritative tone he usually uses.

“I just… wanted to make sure you’re alright. We’ve been up late. Thought you might need to check in."

His words are careful, almost rehearsed, but you still hear the vulnerability he’s trying to mask. His eyes dart away from yours, down to the floor, and you can almost see him retreating into himself, as if he’s trying to hide from you.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" you press a little, unable to ignore the worry curling in your chest. This isn’t just about the case. Something deeper is going on, and you aren’t going to disregard it.

You step out a little into the hallway, bringing yourself closer to Hotch, trying to gauge if you’re reading him wrong. But this isn’t like him— Hotch wouldn’t show up at your door in the middle of the night without reason.

He looks as if he is barely holding himself together. You know him well enough to know when something is wrong, and in this moment, everything about him screams that he is on edge. It isn’t just exhaustion or stress— it’s something more that seems to be warring with him.

His lips press together in a tight line and you can see the muscles in his neck contract. "I’m fine," he says quickly, urgingly, as if he is trying to convince you and himself.

The wall of his facade is fissuring and, for the first time since knowing Aaron Hotchner, you feel like he might finally let you in. You push a little harder, hoping that acknowledging the crack in his armor will finally shatter the whole illusion.

“Hotch, you’re not fine,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper, “Why don’t you come in for some coffee? I still have some of the good stuff Rossi bought me for Secret Santa.”

Hotch opens his mouth, but the words get tangled, and he immediately closes it again. His throat is tight, seemingly collapsing on itself. There are so many things he wants to say to you. Truths he wants to reveal, but he can’t. He can’t bring himself to venture into that unknown territory, to cross that line that’s already too blurry. There are too many things at stake, too many risks he can’t afford to take. He can not allow his feelings to complicate things any further.

He takes a step back, and in doing so, you watch him fully retreat into himself, restructuring the wall you had come so close to tearing down. Perhaps you pushed too hard.

He regains the professional composure you have grown accustomed to seeing. His usual authority slips into something sharp, more distant. "We’re on the job," he says, his voice harder, defensive, "There’s no time for that."

His words sting and you feel a pang of hurt as he continues to shut you out. But you remember who Hotch is. This isn’t about you. This is about him, about whatever had shaken him. Hotch has built walls higher than you can scale. Walls that even you—someone who knows him better than most—aren’t allowed to breach.

"Get some rest," he adds, the words flat and sterile, "We’ll need you ready tomorrow."

Your window for something more is closing, and you can’t bring yourself to stop it. You know what’s happening.

He’s scared. Scared of what? You don’t know, but you have a feeling that you’re the cause. Or at least a part of it.

“Good night, Hotch,” you resign, hoping to mask the disappointment of being kept at arm’s length.

He gives you one last brief nod before he turns away, heading down the hallway with that same brisk, purposeful stride he always uses when he is trying to put distance between himself and whatever feelings are bothering him.

You stand there, the door half-open, watching him go. Your chest aches at the thought of what could have been.

Closing the door softly and locking it behind you, you begin to process everything that unfolded. Questions pace your mind as you crawl back into bed. What just happened? What just really happened? The moment felt like a confession of sorts. An almost admission of something Hotch has been holding on to, but doesn’t want you to know.

And maybe you just imagined it, but you feel like you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. An indication that the connection you have been feeling is not one-sided, a hint that you mean more to him than just a colleague, more than just a friend. You close your eyes, but the image of Hotch at your door stays with you, etched into the corners of your mind. An unanswered question you’re too afraid to ask.

-*-

The local precinct hums with its usual activity— phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the low murmur of officers exchanging updates on ongoing cases. Yet, the energy is tenser than the previous days of this case.

Hotch’s behavior has been off all morning— sharply professional, overly focused on the case, and oddly reserved. It isn’t just his terse responses or the way he’s deliberately avoiding meeting your eyes— it’s the heaviness in the air every time you are in the same room. The warmth you usually share with him is gone and his quiet intensity has evolved into a coldness that has made you uncomfortable.

An awkward distance has grown between the two of you and you can’t shake the feeling that it’s your fault.

It hurts, but you try to brush it off. You know the job has a way of consuming him. You try to focus on the case, bury yourself in the details, but the weight of Hotch’s distance is becoming impossible to ignore. And you aren’t the only one to feel it.

“Hey Sunshine,” Morgan approaches your work station, voice quieter than usual, “Everything good with you?” His tone carries a warmth that welcomingly contrasts with the chill you’ve been receiving from Hotch today.

You look up at him, trying to mask your unease, but Morgan isn’t fooled.

“You seem a little… off today,” he says, eyes scanning your face with that trademark perceptiveness, “What’s going on?”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, glancing over at Hotch across the room. He’s engrossed in the case files, his posture stiff, his face unreadable. But you feel the weight of his distance press heavy on your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you tell him, trying to diminish the effect Hotch’s behavior is having on you, “Just… tired. The case is taking a lot out of me.”

Morgan doesn’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh. And you didn’t notice Hotch getting all icy on you today?”

You still. You didn’t want to admit it, but it’s true. All of his standoffish behavior is directed at you. The distance, the sharper words, he’s isolating himself from you. And it doesn’t take a profiler like Morgan to see it.

You glance back at Hotch before returning your gaze to Morgan. He’s known Hotch for a while. Longer than you. If there is anyone you can gain insight from, it would be him. Lowering your voice, you confide in your teammate, “I don’t know, Derek… it’s like… he’s pulling away. Like something’s changed. I don’t know what happened last night, but whatever it is, it’s different. I can’t shake the feeling that I did something wrong.”

“What happened last night?”

“He came to my room.”

“Hotch?” He asks astonished, surprised by the uncharacteristic behavior.

“Yeah, he said he wanted to check in with me, but… I don’t know, Derek, something was off. It was like he was hiding something from me.”

Morgan leans in closer, his expression softening with sincerity. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Hotch is going through something. I’ve been around him long enough to know when he’s bottling things up.”

You appreciate the comfort in Morgan’s words, even if they don’t entirely ease your concern. You just wish Hotch would open up to you. Let you be there for him and carry some of the weight of his burdens.

Morgan sighs, seeing the crease still planted in your brow. “Look, he’s been carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders for a while now,” he states, voice turning more serious, “This job— it changes him. Sometimes it makes him pull away from the people he cares about the most, even if he doesn’t mean to. But I’ll talk to him, alright? I’m not gonna let him shut you out.”

You smile up at him, feeling some of the weight lift off of your shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it right now,” he continues, voice morphing into a more professional tone, “We’ve got a case to finish, and we need to focus. But after all this is done, you and I are gonna have a talk, alright?”

You nod, giving him a small, grateful smile, “Thanks, Derek.”

Soon after, the reality of the case takes over again. An officer charges in with a disturbing update: a new victim has been discovered. The pattern is clear, the unsub is escalating. The cooling-off period, which had been a crucial factor in the previous profile, has shrunk dramatically, and you all are running out of time to prevent another murder. The urgency in the room is palpable. The team crowds around the whiteboard and, after analyzing the victims and the unsub’s pattern, you all come to a grim conclusion. You need someone who looks like the previous victims to bait the unsub into a trap.

There is an oppressive silence as the team’s eyes flick to you. The weight of their saddened, knowing gazes is almost unbearable. The fact that you share similar features with the victims of this case had not gone unnoticed by you. In fact, it was one of the first things you noted about the unsub’s victimology. It had been an unsettling realization. One you’d been working through for days, trying to figure out how it would affect your role in the investigation. Now you know.

The air is heavy with the unspoken implication. You had expected this. It’s part of the job. But nothing can prepare you for the moment when the possibility becomes real. Your gaze flicks to Hotch, but he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are fixed on the board, on the files, on anything but you. He was desperate. Looking for an out, for a solution that did not involve putting you in harm’s way.

“Hotch,” Morgan says, cutting through the silence, “We need someone who looks like the unsub’s previous victims. We don’t have time to waste.”

He glances at you, eyes softening, then back to Hotch, sensing the unspoken hesitation. Hotch’s expression darkens. He looks between Morgan and you, his mouth set in a tight line. You can see the internal battle in his eyes—he wants to object, to find another way—but the case can't wait.

“Alright,” Hotch concedes stiffly, his voice potraying none of the inner turmoil he’s feeling, “We’ll set up the trap. We don’t have time for anything else.”

You close your eyes for a brief moment, pushing away the surge of panic that’s threatening to take hold of you. You know it’s the best strategy. It’s what has to be done, and you will do it. But you don’t have to like it.

“You good with this?” Morgan asks, his tone far more personal than professional. He wants to make sure you’re okay, wants to be sure you aren’t being pushed into something you aren’t ready for.

You give a small nod, more for your own sake than his. “I’m good,” you lie, voice steady even though your insides feel anything but.

After your confirmation the team is immediately on, discussing the logistics of setting up the trap. Your gaze flickers to Hotch once more, and for a moment, you think you see something shift in his eyes— something that isn’t just professional concern. It almost looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't. He just turns back to the board, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken.

His mind races, unable to focus on the task at hand. His thoughts are consumed with you— the thought of you being so close to danger. He can’t stand it. The very idea that you will be bait— the possibility of you being exposed to the unsub, potentially hurt— makes his insides twist with dread. But he can’t show it. Not now. Not when the mission is the priority.

He focuses on the details, assigning roles, making decisions. But every time his eyes shift to you, his stomach tightens. Bait. It’s a professional term, a necessary risk. But to him, it feels like a betrayal—one he couldn’t afford to confront.

-*-

You stand near the edge of the scene, trying to focus on the instructions being relayed through your comms. The humid, night air clings to your skin— another layer pressing on the building panic in your chest. You watch as your team slips seamlessly into their positions with practiced precision. You all have done this before, it isn’t unfamiliar territory; however, it’s different when it’s your life on the line.

You’re the one baiting the unsub, alone, vulnerable. There’s no guarantee of your safety, no script to follow that ensures a happy ending. You’re putting yourself directly in harm’s way, and that knowledge frightens you more than you’d like to admit. You try to steady your breathing, but your heartbeat is louder than your thoughts. This is the moment when everything could go wrong, and that thought sets fear, real visceral and terrifying fear, the kind you’ve been pushing down for hours, alight in your bones.

You feel him come up behind you, his presence heavy, solid and grounding. You feel the weight of his eyes on you. The tension from before charging the air around you. Up until now, his focus has solely been on the operation. You know he is just as worried as you are, maybe even more so, but his stoicism doesn't allow him to show it. You wonder if his concern is more focused on the mission going well or on the risk this poses to you. Regardless, he is a comforting presence, one you feel safe to confide in.

“Hotch,” you murmur, almost too quietly for him to hear, turning to face the man who has grown so dear to your heart.

He looks at you, expression unreadable, but his quiet intensity soothes some of your panic.

“Are you sure about this? I- I don’t know if I can do this,” your voice shakes, highlighting the fear you’ve been holding back all night.

Hotch struggles to give you an answer. You are looking at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and all he can think about is last night— the image of you mutilated, the fact he couldn’t save you.

The overwhelming need to protect you surges through him again. He can’t—he can’t let this happen. But he is the leader of this team, it is his duty to see this mission through. To bring this case to a close. He can’t allow his personal feelings to change anything, to interfere with this job.

He forces his voice to remain steady, professional, “It’s the only way.”

You concede with a nod of your head. You don’t argue. You never do. But Hotch studies you, sees the slight tightening around your eyes, the sharp rise in your chest. It makes his heart ache. He feels the weight of this moment. Knows this is a critical point— not just for the case, but for you. He sees how hard you’re fighting to hold yourself together, and for a split second, the professional facade cracks. He takes a step closer.

“You’re not alone in this,” Hotch says, his voice low but steady. He reaches for your arm, gently squeezing the flesh there. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’ve been trained for this. You can do this.”

His words settle over you, your heart rate slowing, and for the first time since this operation started, you can breathe again.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he repeats urgingly, his voice low, protective. It’s a promise. His hand lingers for a moment longer than necessary before he pulls back, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you two. Hotch’s presence, the way he’s always steady, always calm—it gives you the strength you need.

"Alright," you whisper, your voice steadier now, "Alright, let's do this."

As the team readies themselves, you remain in place, trying to keep yourself from fidgeting. Adrenaline courses through your veins, but it’s not just fear— it’s the anticipation. The waiting. You’ve been taught by Prentiss how to manage these moments, how to keep your emotions in check and your senses sharp. You channel every lesson she taught you— stay calm, stay focused, keep breathing. You’ve studied the unsub’s patterns, and every part of you is ready to play your role.

You survey the area, locating your team’s positions. Morgan, Hotch, and Prentiss are stationed inside as backup, Rossi and Reid near the exits, and the remaining local officers are stationed discreetly around the perimeter. You look towards the nightclub, the neon lights, the rhythmic thrum of music faintly audible even from outside. Static crackles in your ear, and you hear Hotch’s voice, calm and steady, “All units are in position.”

The signal to proceed.

You take a deep breath, trying to control your shaking hands. You’re ready. You have to be ready. With one final glance around the perimeter, ensuring your team’s at your back, you steel yourself, stepping into the lion’s den.

The pulsating beat of the music encapsulates you, the bass reverberating around your body. The flashing lights cast strobe-like shadows across the crowded room. It’s loud, chaotic, and full of life— but that only makes it more dangerous. The lights are meant to disorient and the noise to drown out your thoughts. You see how it is easy for the unsub to get away with his victims.

You stand in the middle of it all, heart pounding in your chest as you pretend to enjoy the music, to be just another partygoer in the crowd. Prentiss’s voice crackles in your earpiece, barely audible over the music, “You need to relax. You look stiff.”

You nod to yourself, trying to ground yourself in the role. You watch the crowd around you, mimicking their movements. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Hotch standing across the club, blending into the shadows near the back of the bar, dark and brooding. He’s close— but not close enough. He can’t be. You can’t afford to look too conspicuous.

The rest of the indoors team is hiding in plain sight. Prentiss is near the restrooms and Morgan is in a corner booth. And Hotch is watching from the shadows. He’s waiting, calculating—but something in the way he’s watching you makes your heart rate spike.

You catch his eyes and everything feels different. The professional wall between you two starts to crumble. You feel yourself becoming looser under his watchful gaze and you dance. You dance for him, you dance as if you’re the only two people in the room. And Hotch can’t take his eyes off you.

But then you feel it. A shift in the crowd.

He’s not the tallest man in the room, but he has a presence that immediately commands attention. His gaze is cold, calculating, but there’s something oddly magnetic about him. He moves through the crowd with purpose, like he knows exactly what he’s looking for. His eyes flick over the people around him, assessing each one with the precision of a predator.

As he approaches you, you feel a rush of adrenaline, but you push it down. Emily’s training coming back to you. He stops in front of you, gaze flicking to your face, studying you for a beat longer than necessary.

He smiles— a dark, knowing smile. “I’ve been watching you,” he says, his voice a hair louder than the music, his tone carrying an eerie calm.

You force yourself to keep your composure. "Have you?" You raise an eyebrow, playing the part. The unsub takes a step closer, his eyes flickering down to your body, sizing you up. You know what he’s doing, know exactly how he’s visualizing your body and all the horrific things he’ll do it— just like the previous victims. It makes your skin crawl.

“You’re not like the others,” he says, his voice lower, whispering in your ear, but thick with amusement. He’s toying with you.

You manage a small smile, “What makes you think that?” You tease, pretending to be at ease.

His hand snakes up your body, eyes never leaving yours, “You’ve got a different look to you. You don’t belong here.”

The trail of his hand on your body sends a chill down your spine. He’s not being aggressive— yet —but the interaction feels like an invitation to a game. He’s testing the waters.

“I belong where I want to belong,” you reply, lifting your chin up to appear more confident than you actually are.

He smiles, his eyes lighting up with something darker. “Maybe you do,” he says, voice quieter now, “Or maybe you're just pretending.”

You take a step back freeing yourself from his grasp, his imposing presence becoming overwhelming. The unsub’s smile falters just a fraction. A flicker of suspicion, quick but undeniable, passes over his face.

You take a breath, keeping your face neutral, trying not to let anything slip. “We all pretend sometimes,” you answer smoothly, “What about you?”

For a moment, his eyes narrow, the two of you engaging in some kind of silent battle, each trying to read the other. He’s intrigued, but he hasn’t made up his mind about you yet.

“I’ve seen your type before,” the unsub says, taking a step closer to you, shortening the distance you previously implemented, “You’re always looking for something. People like you—”

You cut him off quickly, hoping to regain control of the situation. “People like me? And what exactly is that?”

He leans in a little closer, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “The ones who can’t find meaning in their lives, so they run to places like this thinking they can find answers. They never do.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as his eyes move over you again, this time lingering on your eyes, like he’s searching for something in you— something real. But you know what he’s doing. He’s trying to find a weakness. A slip.

The air between you two grows heavier, and despite everything you’ve been trained to do, despite the calm that you’re trying so hard to project, you feel the pressure building. Your heartbeat picks up, but you push it down. You can’t let him see you panic.

“Well, I guess that depends on what you’re looking for,” you say, your voice more uncertain than you want it to be. You quickly mask the hesitation with another smile, but this time it doesn’t feel as convincing.

His eyes flicker— just for a moment— across your face. Something about the way you said that, the slight nervousness that edged into your voice— it’s enough to make him pause.

For just a split second, he looks confused, as though something doesn’t add up. His eyes narrow, and you see the shift in his demeanor. The playful curiosity turns into something more calculating.

“You don’t talk like them,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. His voice is softer now, more contemplative.

You feel your stomach flip, but you don’t flinch. Not yet.

“You have a very... observant eye,” you reply, forcing the words out with more confidence than you feel. You quickly change the subject, hoping to redirect his attention. “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter? I can show you just how different I really am.”

The unsub hesitates, his brow furrowing as he watches you a little too closely. He’s not sure what it is yet, but he’s starting to doubt that you’re just another unsuspecting person in the club. The air between you thickens, the tension building.

The unsub steps back slightly, eyes scanning you again, this time with deeper suspicion. It’s like a switch has been flipped— he knows something is off.

“Sure,” he sneers, grabbing your arm roughly and jerking you forward. The action pulls you into his chest as his free hand comes up, producing a blade. The cold metal feels heavy as it presses against your throat— the sharp edge digging into your skin. You freeze, pulse pounding as your fear of this operation plays out before you. One quick jerk and your whole life is over in the middle of a second-rate night club. “What is this? Some kind of trap?” He demands angrily, pressing the knife harder. You can feel the tip against your skin, its sharp edge threatening to break the surface. Every small breath you take makes the blade press in deeper, but you don’t flinch.

Hotch’s voice rings clear through your earpiece, sharp and commanding, “Move in. Now.”

The team springs into action, bursting from their scattered positions, guns drawn, closing in quickly. Chaos erupts as the crowd disperses from the growing conflict— a cacophony of panic and fear echoing around you, mirroring the terror gripping you inside. The moment the unsub sees them, his eyes widen in recognition, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen. He pulls you in front of him like a shield, his body tight against yours, the knife still pressed to your neck. Panic flickers in his eyes, and he becomes more desperate, realizing the window of escape is shrinking.

“Stay back!” He shouts, his voice shaking with rage and fear, “One move and it’s over. You hear me?” His grip on the knife is trembling now. He’s scared, unhinged, not thinking clearly. You swallow, trying to stay composed. You’ve been trained for this, but the simulation is nothing compared to the real immediacy of danger.

“Stay calm,” Hotch instructs, his gaze locked on you. His voice is sharp, but there’s a layer of raw tension there. He’s not just worried about you as a team member; he’s invested. This isn’t just another case— it’s you. He won’t let anything happen to you.

The unsub’s grip on you is relentless, and the weight of the knife against your throat is a constant reminder of how quickly this can turn deadly.

“Why don’t we just talk about this?” You manage to say, your voice steady despite the panic raging inside, “I can help you. We can work this out.” But the unsub isn’t listening. His eyes gleam with madness as he presses the knife harder against your throat.

“You think I’m stupid?” His voice is low, guttural, “You think this is going to end well for me? For you?”

The tension is unbearable and you know it’s only a matter of time before he makes a move, one way or the other.

“You don’t have to do this,” you try again, voice trembling but steady. His grip on the knife shifts slightly, and you catch a glimpse of hesitation in his eyes. It’s a split second, but it’s enough for you to seize the opportunity. You feel the unsub shift slightly, his weight moving in such a way that it opens up just enough space for you to act. You shift your body weight quickly, slamming your elbows into his ribs. The move is sharp and sudden, and you feel him stumble back, losing his balance for a split second. His hold on you loosens, just enough for you to wrench free from his grasp.

In that split second, everything changes.

“Now!” Hotch’s voice explodes. Prentiss and Morgan surge forward, moving swiftly, but not close enough. In a final desperate attempt to regain control, the unsub brings the knife up, swinging it wildly toward you. Your heart stops and you freeze, only for a moment, before instinct takes over and you dodge to the side. The blade grazes your cheek, cutting a shallow line across your skin. The sting is instant, but you don’t focus on the pain.

With the unsub distracted by your move, Prentiss is the first to close in. She grabs his wrist, wrenching the knife away, while Morgan rushes in, tackling him to the ground. As the remainder of the team rushes forward, the unsub struggles, but he is no match for your team

As soon as the unsub is secured, Hotch is there, rushing towards you. He places a hand on your shoulder, his fingers lightly gripping you as though he needs to make sure you’re real.

“Are you alright?” His voice is softer than it’s been all day, but is still tight with concern. You take a shallow breath, trying to steady your heartbeat. “I’m fine,” you answer, though your voice betrays you, a slight tremor you can not control, “Just some scratches.”

Your fingers graze over the thin line of blood from the knife remaining on your neck, before landing on the shallow wound on your cheek where you swipe away some of the trickling blood. It’s nothing permanent, but the sting is sharp. Hotch’s gaze flicks between the small wounds, and his jaw tightens.

“You did great,” his voice is low, but laced with something more. There’s a protectiveness in his eyes now that goes beyond the usual command, beyond the professional distance. Your heart is still racing from the close call, but something in the way he looks at you, something unspoken, makes you pause. It’s more than just concern.

-*-

The case is over. The unsub is in custody, and the adrenaline has worn off, but the weight of the last few days— the close calls, the near-misses— lingers heavily in the air.

The team is scattered around the bullpen, tired but relieved. Some are gathering their things, others are engaged in quiet conversation. But Hotch, who is usually the first to bury himself in case notes and paperwork, is standing near the window of his office, his back to the room, staring out at the city lights in silence.

You’ve just finished checking your emails, last light on in the bullpen, and are about to leave when you notice Hotch still standing there, a silhouette against the dimming light. The intensity of his brooding is almost palpable and you can’t help but feel drawn to him. You approach his office slowly, your footsteps light on the floor, knowing that there’s something unresolved between you— something that needs to be addressed, even if the words seem impossible to say.

When you get to his door, he doesn’t turn to face you right away, but you can tell by the way his posture stiffens that he’s aware of your presence. After a beat, he speaks without looking at you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is low, still carrying the edge of concern. There’s something in the way he asks that you’ve never heard before, a note of uncertainty beneath his usual command.

You stop a few feet away from him, feeling the familiar tension between you two. But this time, it's different— he's different. His usual reserve is slipping, and the emotional weight of the past days is leaving a crack in his armor.

“I’m fine,” you answer, and you mean it, even if there's more left unsaid. The cut on your cheek has been treated, and physically you’re fine.

His shoulders sag slightly, but he still doesn’t turn. He stands there for a long moment, lost in thought, before he finally speaks again, this time quieter, almost hesitant.

“I need you to know something,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Turning slowly, he faces you now, his eyes intense, but there's a vulnerability in them that you’ve never seen before. The walls are down. There’s no hiding it anymore— he’s exposing himself in a way that feels foreign to both of you.

“I...” he begins, but stops. He takes a breath, trying to steady himself. “I... don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you tonight. I can’t— I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt to see you in danger.”

The words hang between you two, heavy and unspoken, as he tries to gather himself. You swallow hard at his words, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s the first time he’s said something this personal, this raw. You can feel your pulse quicken as you wait for him to continue.

“I know we can’t do this... but I need you to know,” he continues, voice thick with emotion. “I care about you. I care about you more than I’ve let on. More than I should.”

You take a breath, feeling your own emotions rising in your chest. You’ve known for a long time that something was there between the two of you. The tension, the quiet moments of connection. You’ve always felt it, even if you were too afraid to acknowledge it.

“I do too, Hotch. I have for a while.”

His eyes soften at your admission. There’s a tenderness in them that makes your breath catch. He takes a step toward you, closing the distance, and you feel the warmth of his presence envelop you.

He reaches out, his hand resting gently on your arm, as if afraid you might vanish if he touches you too hard. You don’t pull away. Instead, you lean into it, letting the moment settle between you. This is uncharted territory for both of you, but it feels right.

“I don’t know what happens now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I need you to know... I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not again.”

You nod, your heart full of so many things— relief, fear, and the growing certainty that this moment is the beginning of something neither of you can ignore anymore.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, voice steady, meeting his gaze with an honesty you’ve both kept locked away for far too long.

He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of everything you’ve both experienced together in those few words. And then, ever so slowly, he leans forward, just a fraction, and the air between you shifts. It’s not a declaration, not yet— but it’s a beginning. A slow, careful bridge being built from everything you’ve been through.

And at long last, the walls he’s built for so long have finally come down.

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tsumuus · 1 month ago

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underclassman!todoroki who…

Underclassman!Todoroki who was quiet and distant when you first met him. Your teacher had announced a mentorship program between the second and first years, and you were paired with Todoroki Shoto- a student with a reputation that preceded him. Some of your classmates whispered about him, mentioning his powerful quirk and the family he came from, but none of that mattered to you. What you saw was a reserved boy who seemed to prefer solitude over company.

At first, he didn’t say much beyond polite responses to your attempts at small talk. He was respectful but distant, treating your interactions as purely transactional. You weren’t discouraged, though. If anything, his quiet demeanor intrigued you. There was something about the way his mismatched eyes watched you, as if he was trying to figure out if you were worth opening up to.

Underclassman!Todoroki who surprised you with his determination during your first joint training session. As part of the mentorship program, you were tasked with helping him refine his combat strategy. He was already incredibly skilled, but there was a certain stiffness in the way he fought, as if he was holding himself back. When you pointed it out, he didn’t argue or brush off your critique. Instead, he listened intently, nodding once before adjusting his movements.

That moment marked a shift in your dynamic. Todoroki began to trust your judgment, and you started to see glimpses of the person behind his stoic exterior. He didn’t talk about himself much, but his actions spoke volumes. Whether it was the way he thanked you after a session or the way he started showing up early to your meetings, it became clear that he valued your guidance.

Underclassman!Todoroki who began to fall first. It wasn’t something he recognized right away; it crept up on him gradually. At first, he chalked it up to admiration. You were kind, patient, and perceptive in ways he wasn’t used to. But then he started noticing the smaller things: the way your laughter lingered in his mind long after you’d parted ways, the way you pushed your hair out of your face when you were focused, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you were passionate about.

He didn’t know what to do with these feelings, so he buried them. You were his mentor, a second-year with your own goals and responsibilities, and he convinced himself that it was nothing more than a fleeting infatuation.

Underclassman!Todoroki who started lingering a little longer after your training sessions. He always had an excuse- questions about strategy, requests for feedback- but you weren’t oblivious. You noticed the way he seemed reluctant to leave, the way he’d glance at you when he thought you weren’t looking. It was endearing, in a way, to see someone so composed and self-assured show these subtle signs of vulnerability.

You weren’t sure when your dynamic shifted from mentorship to something resembling friendship, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his company, even if his stoic nature sometimes made it hard to tell what he was thinking. There was something grounding about Todoroki, something that made you feel like he truly listened when you spoke.

Underclassman!Todoroki who didn’t realize you were falling for him, too. It was slow and subtle, like the way snow melts into spring. You admired his quiet strength, his unwavering dedication to improvement, and the flashes of dry humor he occasionally let slip. You found yourself looking forward to your meetings more and more, not just because you enjoyed working with him, but because you enjoyed being around him.

But you hesitated to act on your feelings. You were his mentor, and you didn’t want to cross any boundaries. Besides, you couldn’t be sure if he felt the same way. Todoroki was hard to read, and you didn’t want to risk ruining the bond you’d built.

Underclassman!Todoroki who finally confessed first, though it wasn’t in the way you expected. It happened during a quiet moment after a particularly intense training session. You were both sitting on the sidelines, catching your breath, when he turned to you and said, “I think I like you.” His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his mismatched eyes, as if he was bracing himself for rejection.

You were stunned for a moment, but then you smiled- a soft, genuine smile that made his heart race. “I think I like you, too,” you admitted, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a small, genuine smile spread across his face.

Underclassman!Todoroki who wasn’t quite sure how to navigate a relationship but was determined to try. He was thoughtful and considerate, always taking your feelings into account, and you found his earnestness endearing. Your dynamic didn’t change too much; you were still the same pair who trained together, supported each other, and occasionally bickered over strategy. But now there was a warmth between you, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to face the challenges ahead alone.

And as the school year progressed, you realized that your mentorship had evolved into something far more meaningful- something neither of you had expected but both of you cherished.

a/n it’s been a while huh

masterlist

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phamapple · 19 days ago

Text

H.S.K.T

Minjeong could rant about her de taste for the song “H.S.K.T” but that song soon became her most played song when she overheard her crush gushing about it

Warnings; fluff, fem!reader, kissing, quiet x outgoing, music freak reader, lmk if I missed anything cuz I think there’s a lot that I missed :P 5.5k WC

The hallways of Seoul High School were always filled with the sound of laughter and chatter, but for Y/N, the only sound that truly mattered was music. She lived and breathed it, spending every spare moment listening to her favorite artists, discovering new genres, and even composing her own songs.

Y/N's love for music was infectious, and it wasn't uncommon to see her walking down the hallway with her earbuds in, a look of pure joy on her face. Her friends and classmates had grown accustomed to her musical obsession, and they often joked that she had a soundtrack playing in her head at all times.

But amidst all the chaos and noise of high school life, there was one person who watched Y/N with a quieter, more introspective gaze. Minjeong, a tall and soft-spoken senior, had harbored a secret crush on Y/N for what felt like an eternity.

Minjeong loved the way Y/N's eyes lit up when she talked about music, the way her entire face seemed to come alive with passion and excitement. She loved the way Y/N's hair curled slightly at the edges when she wore her earbuds, and the way her smile could light up an entire room.

For Minjeong, it was more than just a passing infatuation. She had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with Y/N, and she didn't know how to process her emotions, or how to navigate the complex, terrifying landscape of her own heart.

As the new school year began, Minjeong found herself drawn to Y/N more and more, her feelings growing stronger with each passing day. And Y/N, oblivious to the quiet, devoted gaze that followed her everywhere, simply continued to live her life, surrounded by the music that brought her so much joy.

—

Minjeong rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she sat down at the lunch table with her friend Karina. "I swear, have you heard that trending song by Lee Hi and wonstein ?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

Karina looked up from her phone, a curious expression on her face. "You mean 'H.S.K.T.'?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Minjeong nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's the one! I mean, I get it, the melody is catchy and all, but the lyrics are so repetitive. It's just the same phrase over and over again. I mean, can't they come up with something more original?"

Karina chuckled. "You're just not a fan of rnb, Minjeong," she teased.

Minjeong shook her head. "I'm just saying, there's better music out there. Music that actually means something, you know?"

Just then, Y/N walked by their table, earbuds firmly in place. Minjeong's eyes followed her, a soft smile spreading across her face. She didn't notice Karina watching her, a knowing glint in her eye.

"Minjeong, you're so oblivious," Karina whispered, a grin spreading across her face.

Minjeong turned back to Karina, a questioning look on her face. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Karina just chuckled and shook her head. "Never mind, Minjeong. Just never mind."

As Y/N and her friends sat down at the table next to Minjeong and Karina, Minjeong's breath hitched in her throat. She felt a sudden rush of heat to her cheeks, and she knew she was blushing.

She tried to play it cool, focusing on her lunch and pretending she wasn't aware of Y/N's presence. But it was no use. She could feel Y/N's energy, her infectious enthusiasm, and it was drawing Minjeong in like a magnet.

As she listened, Minjeong heard Y/N start talking to her friend Ryujin about music. Specifically, about the song "H.S.K.T.".

"Oh my gosh, Ryujin, have you heard the new remix of 'H.S.K.T.'?" Y/N asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

Ryujin nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, I heard it yesterday! It's so good!"

Y/N squealed, bouncing up and down in her seat. "I know, right? I've been listening to it nonstop. I'm totally obsessed!"

Minjeong's eyes widened as she listened to Y/N's enthusiastic rant. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Y/N, the girl she had a crush on, was actually a huge fan of the song Minjeong had just been trashing.

As Y/N continued to gush about the song, Minjeong found herself feeling more and more intrigued. What was it about "H.S.K.T." that Y/N loved so much? Was it really as bad as Minjeong thought, or was there something she was missing?

Minjeong's curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself leaning in, listening more closely to Y/N's conversation. She didn't even realize she was doing it, but Karina noticed, and raised an eyebrow.

"Minjeong, you okay?" Karina whispered, nudging her friend with her elbow.

Minjeong nodded, still listening to Y/N's enthusiastic monologue. "Yeah, I'm fine," she whispered back. "I just...I want to hear more about this song."

Karina grinned, a knowing glint in her eye. "Ooooooooooo," she whispered, teasing Minjeong mercilessly.

Minjeong's face went bright red as she realized she'd been caught. But she couldn't help it. She was intrigued by Y/N's passion, and she wanted to know more.

As soon as Minjeong got home from school, she found herself wandering over to her computer, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She had promised herself she wouldn't give in to her curiosity, but she just couldn't help it.

She typed in the name of the song, "H.S.K.T.", and hesitated for a moment before pressing play. The opening notes filled her room, and Minjeong felt a slight wince at the repetitive lyrics.

But as she listened more closely, something strange happened. The first thing that came to her mind was Y/N - her bright smile, her infectious enthusiasm, her passion for music.

Minjeong couldn't help but smile as she thought about Y/N, and before she knew it, she was tapping her foot along with the beat. The repetitive lyrics didn't seem so annoying anymore, and she found herself singing along to the chorus.

As the song came to an end, Minjeong felt a pang of disappointment. She didn't want it to be over. So she did the only thing she could think of - she pressed play again.

And again.

Before she knew it, Minjeong had listened to "H.S.K.T." eight times in a row. She was surprised by how much she had grown to love the song, and she knew exactly why.

It was because of Y/N.

As she drifted off to sleep, Minjeong couldn't help but wonder what other songs Y/N loved, and whether she would ever get the chance to share her own musical passions with her crush.

Minjeong sat on her bed, her laptop open in front of her. She was determined to create the perfect playlist for Y/N - a collection of songs that would speak directly to Y/N's heart.

As she scrolled through her music library, Minjeong's mind wandered back to Y/N. She thought about the way Y/N's eyes sparkled when she talked about music, the way her smile could light up an entire room.

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as she imagined Y/N listening to the playlist, her face lighting up with delight. She pictured Y/N seeking her out, thanking her for the playlist, and maybe even asking her to hang out.

With renewed enthusiasm, Minjeong started adding songs to the playlist. She chose tracks that reminded her of Y/N, songs that captured the essence of Y/N's bubbly personality.

As the playlist grew, Minjeong found herself pouring her heart and soul into it. She added songs that spoke to her own feelings, tracks that conveyed the emotions she couldn't quite express.

Before she knew it, Minjeong had created a playlist that was as much about Y/N as it was about herself. It was a collection of songs that told a story, a story of crushes and music and the power of connection.

Minjeong saved the playlist, a sense of pride and accomplishment washing over her. She knew that she had created something special, something that might just help her connect with Y/N on a deeper level.

Now, all she had to do was work up the courage to give it to Y/N.

—

Y/N's eyes widened as she scrolled through the playlist Minjeong had given her. She couldn't believe the effort Minjeong had put into creating it - the songs were all perfectly curated, each one speaking to Y/N's musical tastes in a way that felt almost uncanny.

As she listened to the playlist, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. It was clear that Minjeong had put her heart and soul into this playlist, and Y/N was touched by the thoughtfulness.

She looked up to see Minjeong watching her, a nervous expression on her face. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.

"Minjeong, this is...wow," Y/N said finally, breaking the silence. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Minjeong's face lit up with a smile, and Y/N's heart skipped another beat. She felt a flutter in her chest, and suddenly, she was seeing Minjeong in a whole new light.

Y/N's eyes scanned the playlist, and her face lit up with a bright smile. "You even put 'H.S.K.T.'!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion.

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as Y/N's face scrunched up, and she pouted, clearly touched by the gesture. Before Minjeong could react, Y/N had thrown her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

Minjeong's eyes widened in shock, and she froze, unsure of how to respond. She had dreamed of moments like this, but she never thought they would actually happen. She was about to hug Y/N back, but before she could, Y/N pulled away, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry I did that," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what came over me."

Minjeong's heart was still racing from the sudden hug, and she felt a pang of disappointment that it had ended so abruptly. But she tried to play it cool, not wanting to make Y/N feel any more awkward than she already did.

"It's okay," Minjeong said, trying to sound casual. "I'm just glad you liked the playlist."

Y/N smiled, looking relieved, and Minjeong's heart skipped another beat. She couldn't help but wonder what had just happened, and whether Y/N's hug had meant something more.

Karina watched the exchange between Minjeong and Y/N with interest, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the tension between them. She had known Minjeong for years, and she could tell when her friend was crushing hard.

As soon as Y/N walked away, Karina pounced, plopping down beside Minjeong on the bench. "Spill," she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Minjeong sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Karina. I think I might have misread the situation entirely."

Karina raised an eyebrow. "Misread the situation? You mean, like, you thought Y/N was into you?"

Minjeong nodded, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. "Yeah. I mean, she hugged me, Karina. Out of nowhere."

Karina's grin grew wider. "That's not out of nowhere, Minjeong. That's a sign. And I'm not just talking about the hug."

Minjeong's eyes locked onto Karina's. "What do you mean?"

Karina leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I mean, Y/N's been watching you, Minjeong. I've seen the way she looks at you. She's interested."

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as she processed Karina's words. Could it be true? Was Y/N really interested in her?

Karina's advice echoed in Minjeong's mind as she watched Y/N walk down the hallway. She had been waiting for the perfect moment to confess her feelings, and she couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

Minjeong took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She quickened her pace, catching up to Y/N just as she was about to turn a corner.

"Y/N, wait!" Minjeong called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N turned around, a smile on her face. "Hey, Minjeong! What's up?"

Minjeong's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into Y/N's eyes. She could feel her pulse racing, her palms growing sweaty. This was it – the moment of truth.

But just as Minjeong was about to confess her feelings, Ryujin appeared out of nowhere, a concerned expression on her face.

"Y/N, baby, I'm not sure I'll be able to follow you to that W2E concert," Ryujin said, her voice hesitant. "Maybe you'll find someone else? I'm quite busy with my family on that day."

Y/N's face fell, and Minjeong could see the disappointment in her eyes. She nodded understandingly, but Minjeong could tell she was trying to hide her true feelings.

Ryujin nodded sympathetically before turning to leave. "Sorry again, Y/N! I feel terrible for bailing on you."

As Ryujin walked away, Y/N let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Minjeong's heart went out to her – she could see how much Y/N had been looking forward to the concert.

Without thinking, Minjeong spoke up, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, Y/N, I'll go with you to the concert! I've heard great things about W2E, and I'd love to see them live."

Y/N's face lit up, and she let out a squeal of delight. "Really, Minjeong? You'd do that for me?"

Minjeong nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Of course, Y/N! I'd love to spend time with you."

Y/N's eyes sparkled with gratitude, and she threw her arms around Minjeong in a tight hug. "Thank you so much, Minjeong! You're the best!"

As Y/N bounced up and down, Minjeong couldn't help but laugh. She felt a sense of joy wash over her, and for a moment, she forgot all about her confession.

Y/N pulled back, still grinning from ear to ear. "I'll make sure to get us the best seats! Thanks again, Minjeong – you're a lifesaver!"

With that, Y/N skipped off down the hallway, leaving Minjeong to watch her go with a dreamy sigh. Minjeong's heart was still racing, but it wasn't just from the excitement of confessing her feelings – it was from the sheer joy of making Y/N happy.

As she stood there, a goofy grin spreading across her face, Minjeong realized that she had forgotten all about her confession. She had been so caught up in the moment, so happy to see Y/N smile, that she had let her chance slip away.

But as she turned to walk away, Minjeong couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she would get another chance to confess her feelings to Y/N. And maybe, just maybe, Y/N would feel the same way.

The weekend finally arrived, and Y/N's excitement was palpable. She had been looking forward to the W2E concert all week, and she couldn't wait to share the experience with Minjeong.

As she waited for Minjeong to arrive, Y/N found herself pacing back and forth in her room. She had spent hours getting ready, trying on different outfits and doing her hair and makeup just right.

Just as she was starting to get anxious, Y/N's phone buzzed with a text from Minjeong. "Hey, I'm ready! Maybe we should meet up somewhere?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she read the text. She quickly typed out a response, but before she could hit send, Minjeong sent another text. "Wait, don't worry about meeting up. I'll come pick you up."

Y/N's face lit up with a smile as she read the text. She felt a flutter in her chest at the thought of Minjeong coming to pick her up.

As she waited for Minjeong to arrive, Y/N found herself walking around her room, checking her reflection in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time.

Just as she was starting to get impatient, Y/N heard the sound of a horn outside. She rushed to the window and pulled back the curtain, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Minjeong's car parked outside.

Y/N grabbed her bag and rushed downstairs, flinging open the front door and sliding into the passenger seat of Minjeong's car.

As she settled into her seat, Minjeong turned to her with a bright smile. "OMG, your outfit is so cute!" she exclaimed, her eyes scanning Y/N's outfit.

Y/N's face flushed with pleasure as she thanked Minjeong, feeling a little self-conscious about her outfit. "Nah, yours is better," she said, taking note of Minjeong's outfit. "Mine is just casual wear."

Minjeong laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Casual wear? You look amazing, Y/N! I love the baggy clothes on you."

Y/N's blush deepened as she smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Minjeong. You always know how to make me feel better."

As they pulled away from the curb, Minjeong glanced over at Y/N, her eyes shining with excitement. "I'm so glad we're doing this, Y/N. I've been looking forward to it all week."

Y/N grinned, feeling a sense of excitement wash over her. "Me too, Minjeong. Me too."

As they drove to the concert venue, the two girls chatted excitedly, discussing everything from their favorite W2E songs to their plans for the summer.

The atmosphere in the car was electric, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and excitement. She was so glad she had agreed to go to the concert with Minjeong.

As they pulled up to the venue, Y/N's heart skipped a beat. The line of fans waiting to get in stretched around the block, and the air was electric with excitement.

Minjeong grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ready, Y/N?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation wash over her. "Born ready, Minjeong."

As the concert got underway, Y/N found herself getting more and more into the music. She was singing along to every song, dancing with abandon, and having the time of her life.

But as the crowd around her grew more intense, Y/N started to feel overwhelmed. The noise, the lights, the sheer number of people pressing in on her from all sides – it was all starting to feel a bit too much.

Minjeong noticed that Y/N was starting to look a bit frazzled, and she quickly grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd to a safer spot near the back.

"Hey, are you okay?" Minjeong asked, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music. "You looked like you were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed."

Y/N nodded gratefully, feeling a bit better now that she was out of the crush of the crowd. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just got a bit too much for me."

Minjeong smiled and put a reassuring arm around Y/N's shoulders. "Don't worry, I've got you," she said. "We can stay back here and enjoy the concert from a distance."

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at Minjeong's thoughtful gesture. She leaned into Minjeong's side, feeling grateful for her friend's support.

As they stood there, watching the concert from a safe distance, Y/N felt a sense of contentment wash over her. She was happy to be here with Minjeong, enjoying the music and each other's company.

And as she glanced over at Minjeong, she couldn't help but notice the way the lights from the stage illuminated her friend's face, making her look even more beautiful than usual.

As the concert went on, Y/N found herself feeling more and more drawn to Minjeong. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about Minjeong's bright smile and infectious enthusiasm that made Y/N feel happy and alive.

At first, Y/N tried to brush off the feeling, telling herself she was just being silly. But as the night wore on, she couldn't shake the sense that her feelings for Minjeong went beyond friendship.

It wasn't until they were walking out of the venue, the cool night air a welcome relief after the hot and crowded concert hall, that Y/N realized the true extent of her feelings. Minjeong was laughing and chatting with her, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

She was in love with Minjeong.

The realization hit Y/N like a ton of bricks, leaving her feeling stunned and disoriented. She didn't know what to do or say, so she just stood there, frozen in place, as Minjeong continued to chat and laugh beside her.

Meanwhile, Minjeong was oblivious to the turmoil going on inside Y/N's head. She was too busy basking in the glow of their wonderful night together, feeling grateful and happy that she had gotten to share this experience with her dear friend.

But as they walked to the car, Minjeong couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Y/N seemed a bit quieter than usual, a bit more subdued, and Minjeong wondered if everything was okay.

"Hey, Y/N, are you doing all right?" Minjeong asked, her voice soft with concern. "You seem a bit quiet tonight."

Y/N hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want to lie to Minjeong, but she wasn't ready to reveal her true feelings either.

"I'm fine, Minjeong," Y/N said finally, forcing a smile onto her face. "Just a bit tired, that's all."

Minjeong looked at her skeptically, but she didn't push the issue. Instead, she just smiled and nodded, her eyes shining with warmth and understanding.

As they drove home, the silence between them was comfortable and companionable. Minjeong chatted occasionally, pointing out landmarks and talking about the concert, but for the most part, they just enjoyed each other's company, the quiet darkness of the night wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

It wasn't until they pulled up in front of Y/N's house, the porch light casting a warm glow over the scene, that Minjeong finally worked up the courage to confess her feelings.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Minjeong asked, her voice soft and hesitant.

Y/N looked at her curiously, wondering what Minjeong wanted to say. "Of course, Minjeong," she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

Minjeong took a deep breath, her eyes locked on Y/N's face. "I just wanted to say thank you," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you for being such an amazing friend, for always being there for me."

Y/N's heart swelled with affection, and she felt a lump form in her throat. "Minjeong, you're an amazing friend too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Minjeong smiled, her eyes shining with tears. "I'm glad we're friends, Y/N," she said. "But I have to be honest with you – my feelings for you go beyond friendship."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she processed Minjeong's words. She had been hoping and dreaming of this moment for so long, and now that it was finally here, she didn't know what to say.

"Minjeong, I –" Y/N started, but Minjeong cut her off, her voice pouring out in a rush.

"I know it may seem sudden, Y/N, but I've been feeling this way for a while now. I was too scared to say anything, but I couldn't keep it inside anymore. I had to tell you, no matter how scared I was."

Y/N's heart went out to Minjeong, and she felt a wave of love and affection wash over her. She knew exactly what Minjeong was feeling – the fear, the uncertainty, the hope.

"Minjeong, I –" Y/N started again, but this time, she was interrupted by her own heart, which was pounding in her chest like a drum.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it was no use. Her feelings for Minjeong were too strong, too overwhelming.

"Minjeong, I feel the same way," Y/N said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Minjeong's face lit up with joy, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against Y/N's in a soft, gentle kiss. Y/N's heart soared as she felt Minjeong's lips on hers, and she knew in that moment that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As they pulled back from the kiss, Minjeong's eyes shone with happiness, and Y/N couldn't help but smile back at her. They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other, the tension between them palpable.

"I'm so glad I told you," Minjeong said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was so scared, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of understanding and connection with Minjeong. "I'm glad you told me too," she said. "I've been feeling the same way, but I was too scared to say anything."

Minjeong's face lit up with a smile, and she reached out, taking Y/N's hand in hers. "I'm so glad we're on the same page," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

As they sat there, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, Y/N felt a sense of happiness and contentment wash over her. She knew that this was just the beginning of their journey together, and she couldn't wait to see what the future held.

The night air was filled with the sound of crickets and the occasional passing car, but Y/N and Minjeong didn't notice. They were too lost in their own little world, a world of love, happiness, and possibility.

As the night wore on, they talked and laughed, sharing their hopes and dreams with each other. They were no longer just friends; they were something more, something special.

And as they sat there, under the stars, Y/N knew that she had found her soulmate in Minjeong. She was excited to see what the future held for them, and she knew that as long as they were together, everything would be okay.

—

Sunday morning dawned bright and early, and Y/N woke up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. She stretched out in bed, yawning widely, and reached for her phone to check her messages.

As she scrolled through her social media feeds, Y/N stumbled upon a video of the H.S.K.T challenge that had been making the rounds online. She had seen it before, but this time, something about it caught her eye.

Maybe it was the memory of Minjeong's bright smile and infectious laughter from the night before, but Y/N suddenly felt a strong urge to share the video with her girlfriend. She sent the video to Minjeong, along with a message that read: "Min, would you please do this challenge with me :("

Y/N couldn't help but add a few pleading emojis to the end of the message, hoping to guilt trip Minjeong into agreeing. She knew it was a bit silly, but she couldn't help herself – she was just too excited about the prospect of doing the challenge with her girlfriend.

Minjeong, on the other hand, was not surprised by Y/N's message. She had been expecting something like this, given Y/N's love of challenges and silly videos. And besides, she couldn't say no to Y/N's adorable pleading face, even if it was just a emoji.

"Of course, I'll do it with you!" Minjeong texted back, trying to sound casual despite her growing excitement. "When were you thinking of doing it?"

Y/N's response came almost immediately. "Thanks, Min! We'll do it when we meet up at the park :)"

Minjeong grinned, feeling a thrill of anticipation. She had been looking forward to meeting up with Y/N all day, and now she had something extra to look forward to. She quickly got dressed and ready, her mind racing with thoughts of the challenge and what they would do.

As she headed out the door, Minjeong couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. She had no idea what the challenge would entail, but she was ready to face it head-on with Y/N by her side.

Meanwhile, Y/N was getting ready on her end, her heart racing with excitement. She had always loved doing silly challenges and videos with her friends, and this one promised to be extra special. She was looking forward to spending time with Minjeong, and she knew that this challenge would be a great way to bond and create some unforgettable memories.

As she headed out the door, Y/N felt a sense of anticipation building up inside her. She knew that this day was going to be special, and she couldn't wait to see what the future held for her and Minjeong.

The park was just a short walk away, and Y/N arrived there a few minutes early, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of Minjeong. She spotted her girlfriend walking towards her, a bright smile on her face, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat.

"Hey!" Minjeong called out, waving enthusiastically. "I'm so excited to do this challenge with you!"

Y/N grinned, feeling a sense of excitement and nervousness. "Me too!" she replied, holding up her phone. "I've got the video all cued up and ready to go. Let's do this!"

Y/N held up her phone, the video of the H.S.K.T challenge playing on the screen. "Okay, Minjeong, watch closely," she said, demonstrating the dance moves. "It's not too hard, I promise."

Minjeong watched intently, her eyes fixed on the screen. She nodded along, trying to commit the steps to memory.

When Y/N finished demonstrating the dance, Minjeong set her own phone down and stood up, a determined look on her face. "Okay, let's do this!" she exclaimed.

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. "That's the spirit!" she said, holding out her hand to Minjeong.

Together, the two girls launched into the dance, laughing and spinning to the music. They stumbled over a few of the steps, but they didn't let that stop them. They kept going, their laughter and joy infectious.

As they finished the final step of the dance, Minjeong let out a whoop of excitement and threw her arms around Y/N. The two girls tumbled to the soft grass floor, holding onto each other tightly.

Their laughter erupted into the air, a joyful sound that echoed through the park. They lay there for a moment, holding onto each other, their hearts full of happiness.

Finally, Y/N managed to catch her breath and pause the video. She turned to Minjeong, a smile still plastered on her face. "You're an amazing dancer," she said, her eyes shining with amusement.

Minjeong grinned, her face flushed with excitement. "Thanks to you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into Minjeong's eyes. She felt a surge of affection and love, and without thinking, she leaned in and gave Minjeong a light kiss on the cheek.

Minjeong's eyes fluttered closed, and she held onto Y/N's waist tightly, her face still flushed with excitement. The two girls lay there for a moment, the only sound their happy sighs and the distant music still playing from Y/N's phone.

It was a moment of pure joy and happiness, a moment that neither of them would ever forget. And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, they both knew that their friendship had blossomed into something more – something special, something true, and something that would last a lifetime.

#aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa fluff #aespa fanfic #aespa winter #winter x reader #aespa winter x reader #aespa imagines

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rosyblooom · 10 months ago

Text

blooming season🌷 (1) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.6k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans. A/N: my first time doing this, so probably has errors. if you've got any thoughts or requests pls let me know xoxo hope u enjoy! :)

part 1 <- | part 2

The scent of salt still lingers in the air, but now it feels different, not as welcoming as it used to be. It's a painful reminder of days gone by, days filled with joy and warmth that now seem distant and unattainable. No matter how hard you try, you can't shake off the memories, replaying them in your mind like a scratched vinyl record that refuses to play properly.

Today marks four years since your father's passing, and four years since you left Monaco. You were just eighteen then, fresh out of high school, when the news of your father's tragic car accident hit you like a ton of bricks. In a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sorrow, you packed your bags that very night and left before the weight of it all drowned you.

You couldn't bring yourself to attend your father's funeral, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't real. But deep down, you knew the truth—your father was gone, and nothing could change that. Even as you threw yourself into your studies, pursuing a nursing degree, the pain never truly went away.

And now, here you are, sitting alone on this deserted stretch of beach, watching the waves crash against the shore in a steady rhythm.

This spot holds a special place in your heart, known only to a handful of locals—a fact you couldn't be more grateful for. Here, away from the watchful eyes of tourist crowds, you find solace as you simply listen to the earth rotate.

You exhale slowly, leaning forward to brush the sand from your palms before reaching into your bag for the bottle of red wine nestled inside. It takes a bit of effort to uncork it completely, but the satisfying pop is worth the wait. With careful precision, you fill a wine glass to the brim with the rich, maroon liquid—something to take the edge off.

"Welcome back, Y/N," you whisper to yourself, lifting the glass in a silent salute. "Thank you, thank you. I can't imagine anything worse."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, a stark contrast to your usual composed demeanour. It's been 1,460 days, yet it feels like your world only just came crashing yesterday.

Needing calm now, you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness, when the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention, pulling you back to the present moment.

"Seriously?" you think to yourself, feeling your heart plummet like a stone sinking into deep waters. You took every precaution to keep your return under wraps—after all, you paid good money for that privilege.

Arriving just last night, you made it a point to rise at the crack of dawn, a time before the world awoke; a time when it's just you and no one else. You couldn't bear the idea of facing the prying eyes that would surely accompany the day ahead. For once, you didn't want to be known as the daughter of one of Monaco's wealthiest families; you simply wanted to be yourself, stripped of titles and expectations—a daughter mourning her father.

Feeling like a trapped animal, you become acutely aware of every sound and movement, your gaze locked on the figure approaching.

A man.

His brown curls bounce with each step until he comes to an abrupt stop just a few feet away from you.

With a small wave and a nod, he greets you with a simple "Hey."

It takes a moment for you to register that the greeting is directed at you, causing you to tear your gaze away without a response. Your eyes flit between the gentle ripples of the sea and the man settling down uncomfortably close, prompting an annoyed grunt to escape your lips.

“Fuck spatial awareness, huh…,” you mutter under your breath, though not quiet enough to evade his notice. He slips off his black headphones, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Sorry, what?"

You clear your throat, then sit up straight and gesture expansively. "All this space, and you have to sit right next to me?”

He smiles.

Your gaze narrows.

"But I'm not right next to you," he retorts with a playful grin. "You're all the way over there." He points towards you and then at himself. "And I'm right here."

"Well, it's still too close," you snap.

"Sorry, did you buy this beach or something?" he counters, his grin widening. "Last time I checked, it's open to all members of—."

Growing increasingly frustrated, you interject, "No, I didn't buy anything. I just want some personal space. But clearly, that's lost on you."

With a scoff, you spring to your feet, snatching up your towel and cramming it into your bag, sand and all.

"Wait, you don't have to leave," he insists, his footsteps drawing closer. But you pay him no mind, tossing your phone into your bag and hastily gathering the rest of your belongings from the ground.

Once everything is crammed into your bag, you snatch up your half-empty glass of wine and stand upright, only to feel a foreign warmth enveloping your hand and glass. The man now stands directly in front of you, invading your personal space completely; you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his piercing green gaze.

"Look, I'm sorry if I did something wrong, but—" he begins, but you cut him off sharply.

"Way too close now," you snap, attempting to pull your hand away, but he refuses to release his grip.

"You do realise I'm trying to apologise, right?" he asks, confusion evident in his eyes.

"I don't care."

His grip remains firm. "There's plenty of space for both of us here."

"It doesn't matter anymore," you respond, your patience wearing thin.

The struggle continues, your voice growing louder with each tug. "Let go of the fucking glass!"

Suddenly, a sharp yell pierces the air, followed by the hollow thuds of broken glass hitting the ground. Shock washes over you as you barely register the sticky liquid trickling down your hand and onto your toes.

"Ah, shit," he exclaims, snapping you out of your daze. You quickly assess the situation, noticing the shattered remnants of the wine glass scattered on the ground, staining the sand crimson.

Panic sets in as you frantically check your hand and feet for any injuries, your eyes wide with fear. After several anxious moments, you breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm okay.

The tranquillity is abruptly shattered by deep groans echoing through the air, drawing your attention to the man's slumped figure with his back turned to you. His face remains hidden from view.

Though he's clearly in pain, you're tempted to slip on your shoes and make a hasty escape. Today is already burdened with its own weight; you're not sure you can handle any more. You even take a step back, ready to flee, but then something stops you.

A pang of guilt washes over you, weighing you down like heavy bags strapped to your legs. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly admit to yourself, "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"Okay, fine. How about you put on your big boy boots and let me take a look at that?" you say, crossing your arms expectantly.

There's no reaction from him, not even a response.

Rolling your eyes, you drop your bag onto the sand and cautiously circle around him until you're face-to-face with his unruly brown curls.

"Hello?" you tap his shoulder, frustration creeping into your voice. "Earth to the stranger who doesn't understand personal space?"

"Seriously?" he retorts, his tone sharp.

His eyes meet yours as he straightens up, his expression guarded, but you simply shrug, maintaining a neutral demeanour, and extend your hand.

"Let me see," you say calmly.

For a moment, he simply stares at you in bewilderment, but then he tentatively extends his hand towards yours.

"I see," you breathe, examining the large cut in his palm with care, mindful not to dirty it with your fingers. Despite the blood seeping from the wound, you release a relieved sigh after a thorough inspection—it's not as deep as it initially appeared.

"Alright," you announce, dropping his hand and clapping your hands together. "Go home, make sure nothing touches that hand, clean the cut, and bandage it. Keep it dry for a couple of days, and then reassess."

Without waiting for a response, you turn towards your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and shoot him one final glance.

"This has been... unpleasant," you remark dryly. "I really hope our paths don't cross again. Goodbye."

"Wait!"

You shake your head and ignore him, determined to continue onward.

"Wait!" he calls out again, desperation evident in his tone. "I don't have any bandages!"

You stop walking, considering his words, but still don't turn around.

"And... I don't have any sanitising stuff either," he adds, his voice trailing off slightly.

Slowly, you turn around and wave your hands dismissively in the air, shouting back, "That's what supermarkets are for! I guess it's time for a shopping trip!"

Just as you're about to spin on your heel and leave again, his voice cuts through the distance.

"Look, you seem like you know what you're doing. Can't you just help me out here?"

Shielding your eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, you squint at him as he begins jogging toward you. "That advice," you shout back, "was me helping you out. Trust me, I wanted to leave way earlier."

For a moment, neither of you speaks as you watch him closing the distance between you. When he finally comes to a halt in front of you, you instinctively take two steps back—you need your personal space.

"So?" he says between pants, waiting for your response.

You furrow your brows, deep in thought. "Well, I don't have anything on me, sorry to disappoint. But like I said, there are shops around here."

You resume your walk, but to your dismay, the guy falls into step with you almost immediately.

"So, what? You have nothing at home?" he presses, his gaze burning into the side of your face.

Refusing to meet his eyes, you increase your speed.

"Right, because I'm just going to invite a stranger," you emphasise, "who I didn't want to be around in the first place, into my home."

His hand suddenly grips your arm, causing you to instinctively rip out of his grasp, both of you coming to an abrupt halt.

"What?" you bark, irritation seeping into your tone.

"You can google me," he offers, his voice calmer now. "Lando Norris, Formula One driver. Search my name up. You'll see pictures—every single detail about me, you'll probably find on the internet. Now I'm not a stranger anymore, right?" he suggests, his gaze pleading.

You remain silent, shifting your focus toward the calm waters as you breathe in and out. It feels as though the world has paused, waiting for you to come to a decision, to reach a conclusion.

Today, the anniversary of your father's death, is a day you've been dreading yet anticipating for so long. Its disruption unsettles you, but deep down, you know you can't simply ignore it. As much as you wish to skip over this chapter of your life, tear out its pages, and never look back, you can't. It's not healthy.

Still, that doesn't mean you can't delay it for a little while longer.

"Fine," you sigh, relenting to the situation, and begin rummaging through your bag until you locate your phone.

Quickly, you extract it and raise it to Lando's face, snapping a photo of him with the flash on.

"What the hell?" he exclaims, blinking rapidly.

"For my protection," you state matter-of-factly. "Just because you're famous doesn't mean you can't be a bad person."

Once his gaze meets yours again, he runs a hand through his hair and offers a sheepish smile. "Fair enough."

You nod, acknowledging his words, and continue your walk toward the car park.

"I'm not a bad person, though," he adds quickly, catching up to you.

"Colour me convinced," you reply dryly.

*********

As you approach the car park, annoyance bubbles within you at the sight of it: filled with cars and swarmed by dozens of people.

"You said you're a Formula One driver, right?" you ask, tilting your head up at Lando.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

Instead of answering, you grab the hood of his jacket and pull it over his head.

"Why did you do that—" Lando begins, but you cut him off.

"The last thing I need is a mob of your fans, okay?" you interject firmly. "The quicker we get this done, the sooner we can go our separate ways."

Lando chuckles as he adjusts the hood. "I'm really that bad, huh?"

"Worse," you deadpan.

"...Right."

With your raven car in sight, you quicken your pace, relief flooding through you. The last thing you want is for people to realise you're back, especially not today.

However, as if your luck has run out, a woman steps in front of you, blocking your path. You immediately turn your focus to Lando, motioning for him to take a picture with his fan and hurry up.

But instead of the attention falling on him, a weight suddenly falls onto your shoulder, catching you off guard. You clear your throat, preparing to speak, but the woman beats you to it.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N. It's you, isn't it?" the woman exclaims, her voice filled with recognition and sympathy.

You can't reply; your mouth feels dry, your tongue heavy with unspoken words.

No, not today. Please, not today.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/N," she continues, her expression radiating pity. It's uncomfortable—the way she looks at you, the way she touches your shoulder so gently. It feels like you're being burned alive, yet you're immobilised, just as you were four years ago when you first heard the news.

"Your father was such an amazing man. And you, I mean, you've been missed. My daughter loves you—"

Suddenly, you're being pulled forward, jolting you out of your trance. You struggle to keep your balance as you try to comprehend what's happening—the woman is gone, and Lando's hand is firmly clasped around yours, pulling you closer to him.

Your personal space has been completely invaded, yet you don't feel the usual urge to pull away. Even if you did, you're not quite sure Lando would let you.

"Your car's the black one, right?" you hear him ask, but the words don't immediately register.

"Huh?" you mumble, still reeling from the encounter.

"That black car over there," Lando points and leans in close, his gaze locked with yours, "that's yours, right?"

You nod, still not quite ready to speak.

Lando releases your hand and holds out his palm to you. "Okay, car keys, please?"

"What? No," you shake your head, rejecting the idea. "There's no need for that."

"Come on, I'm a Formula One driver, remember? I won't crash it."

"It would be irresponsible of me to let you drive in this state," he adds, his voice firm.

"And what about your hand?" you nod toward the injury.

"Like I said," Lando smiles slyly, cocking his head to the side, "I drive race cars; I think I can handle driving with one hand."

Rolling your eyes, you relent, "Okay, fine."

With a sigh, you fish out the car keys from your bag and hand them over to him.

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

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gor3-hound · 8 months ago

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resident evil works (dark content)

☆ can't fight this feeling ▪︎ part one ▪︎ part two

ft. incel stepbrother!leon x reader

tw: stepcest, non-con/dub-con, somno

He'd been rejected more times than he could count, leaving him a little bitter. He's in his twenties, and he hadn't even had his first kiss. It was fine… totally fine. He wasn't mad about it at all. Women just didn't understand how nice he was. He'd treat his girlfriend so good if a girl would just give him a chance! He's started to give up on his exploits, coming to terms with the fact he'd probably just die a virgin. That is, until he's blessed with a miracle. Must be divine intervention, he can't believe he got this lucky. His dad ends up telling him he's getting married to the woman he's been seeing for a while, and drops the fact that she has a daughter that's just a few years younger.

☆ are you lonely?

ft. real dad!leon x reader

tw: incest

His gaze finds you again before long. His eyes flick over your form, hovering on your curves for a moment before he frowns. Jesus. Since when did he look at his daughter like that? Since when did his daughter look like that? Must of been a while, but he's only really noticing it now He's only been gone for a week, but it feels like a lifetime. You're always so happy to see him, always acting so domestic. You cook for him, clean for him and cuddle up to him after he's had a particularly tough day. You'd make a good wife for someone one day.

☆ sweet creature

ft. wolf!leon x bunny!reader

tw: slight dub-con, predator/prey dynamics

“If you listen to me, I'll be gentle.” He coos, licking a stripe up your cheek, groaning at the salty taste of your tears. “If you don't… well, I'll sink my teeth into the back of that pretty neck of yours and take what I want.” He growls, the expression on his face darkening. “We don't want that, do we?”

☆ meant to be yours

ft. rookie!leon x obsessive!reader

tw: self-mutilation, cannibalism

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed. If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

☆ i apologise if you feel something

ft. leon kennedy x reader

tw: non-con, domestic abuse

“Cute. Real fucking cute.” He hisses, grabbing your jaw roughly so you're facing him. He seems to get even angrier when he sees how terrified you look. “Aww… baby. You're scared?” He coos, a mocking pout making its way to his lips. “You should be grateful. I'm keeping you safe. You have no right to be scared. If you knew what I've seen, what I've been through-”

☆ don't hold your breath (nobody's home)

ft. uncle!leon x niece!reader

tw: incest, non-con

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you. Fuck this. He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

☆ teacher's pet

ft. professor!leon x student!reader

tw: power imbalance, dub-con

He's sick of it. He's sick of you. He retired and took on teaching college kids in the hopes he'd finally have some time to relax, but you seemed to enjoy making his life a living hell. He'd had enough of it. As you're packing up once he dismisses the class, he makes his way to your desk, his footsteps echoing across the lecture hall. “Not you, miss. I need to have a word with you. Please come to my desk once you're packed up.” He tells you, tapping two fingers against your desk as he leans in to speak before he's returning to sit at the desk at the front of the hall.

☆ over again

ft. kidnapper!leon x reader

tw: forced ddlg, heavy dub-con

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

☆ cry for absolution

ft. priest!leon x reader

tw: non-con

”Please,” he whispers, voice cracking as he gazes at you fully, your face slowly coming into focus. What did he do to deserve this? He was a good man, wasn’t he? He’d tried his best to help the less fortunate, to be kind to everyone he spoke with. Had he committed some sin without realising it? Some blight against God that meant he deserved this? "Please, I don’t want this. You’re misguided, that's all. I can help you. You don’t have to do this.”

As always, his protests fall on deaf ears. He feels the steady stream of tears running down his face, brows pinching together as you back him up into the confessional. His chest continues to grow tighter and tighter until his lungs constrict painfully with each breath. The air gets caught in his throat and makes him choke, his brain shutting down as he just lets you free him from his vestments and tug down his trousers. He's glad to be rid of the collar, at the very least. It feels less like God was bearing down on his throat to drag him to Hell for letting this happen.

#masterlist #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #dead dove do not eat #tw dark content

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majinael · 27 days ago

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You’re not going anywhere.

Michael Kaiser and I met during the final years of my high school. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I was captivated. I became his biggest supporter, his unwavering believer. In time, he fell for me too, even if it took him longer to realize it.

But as we grew together, doubts began to creep in. I found myself wondering if he saw a future with me. He never spoke about moving in, marriage, or anything remotely long-term. At first, I dismissed it, thinking it was normal for someone who struggled with emotions, especially romantic ones. But as time passed, I started confiding in my closest friends. Listening to them talk about their partners planning apartments and futures together, I couldn’t ignore the sharp sting of jealousy.

That night, I sat alone on the couch in his dimly lit room, wrestling with my thoughts. Should I bring it up? Or bury it like I always had?

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled me from my reverie. Michael stepped out, fresh from the shower, a towel slung carelessly over his neck. He glanced at me, sensing the tension in the air immediately.

“You’re quiet,” he observed, slipping into a pair of shorts.

I sighed, avoiding his gaze.

He crouched in front of me, resting a hand on the edge of the couch to meet my eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

I muttered a weak, “Nothing.”

He didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

I slid past him, standing up and putting distance between us.

“I feel like…” I hesitated, then took a steadying breath. “I feel like you’re not taking this relationship seriously anymore. We’ve been together for three years, Michael. Three. And yet, we haven’t moved in together, you never talk about the future. Is this… not what you want?”

The silence that followed was heavy, deafening.

“Do you even imagine a future with me? Or are you just waiting to.. leave?” I added, my voice cracking despite my attempt to stay composed.

He stepped closer, his hand gently landing on my shoulder, trying to turn me toward him in vain.

“It’s not that,” he rectfied “You know my career doesn’t allow me to think about that kind of stuff yet, princess.”

His words only fueled the fire burning inside me. I pushed his hand away, my fists clenching as anger and despair warred within me.

“Then I don’t want this,” I snapped, my voice sharp and unforgiving.

Michael’s eyes widened in shock, his usual composure slipping. Anger flickered across his face as he grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face him. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, but I turned away, unable to hold it.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, his voice carrying a faint tremor of pain beneath its intensity.

Tears threatened to spill as I bit my lip, cursing myself for letting frustration drive my words. I didn’t mean it. Not truly. But it was already out there, and I couldn’t take it back.

He pulled me closer by capturing my wrist in his hand. Lifting it to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of it.

“You’re not going anywhere, not because of this stupid fucking reason” he murmured, his tone firm , commanding.

I yanked my hand away, my movement harsh. For the first time, I saw uncertainty flicker in his expression, a rare crack in his confidence. He was losing control of the situation, and it was unfamiliar territory for him.

I understood his reasons. Deep down, I knew he was right. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. My desires, my expectations, felt so far away, and the bitterness was suffocating.

In one swift motion, Michael cupped my face in his right hand, forcing me to look up at him. His touch tilted my balance, leaving me on my tiptoes as he leaned in.

“Stop being unreasonable,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “You’re smart enough to understand.”

I squirmed in his grasp, the position almost unbearable, a frustrated moan escaping my lips. His, curled into a grin -a maddening, knowing grin- before he closed the distance between us, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

And just like that, my resistance crumbled. His kiss melted away every ounce of rebellion in me, leaving only the raw ache of love and longing.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered against my lips, breaking the kiss only to claim them again.

My back met the wall as he deepened the kiss, his desperation palpable.

“You're not going anywhere.” he murmured, his lips brushing against my jaw, trailing down to my ear in soft, butterfly kisses.

“Tell me you’re not going anywhere.” His voice trembled, a faint whimper betraying his vulnerability.

I couldn’t fight him anymore. Wrapping my arms around him, I pressed myself against him, burying my face in his shoulder.

“I’m not,” I whispered, my voice shaky but resolute.

#blue lock #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #blue lock x you #blue lock angst #bllk kaiser #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #gender neutral reader

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reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

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Too Damn Young: Part Two

Summary: You and Spencer have been separated for three years, is that enough time to move on? For you, it would appear it is. Spencer doesn't know what to do when he gets your save-the-date in the mail.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

Warnings/Includes: talks of divorce, keeping secrets from partner, alcohol consumption, impulsive decisions, breakups, argument with intoxicated Spencer, happy ending

Word count: 14k

a/n: sorry this took so long i got a very specific case of writer's block for this story ://

main masterlist part one

Three years had passed since Spencer Reid had moved away from you, but despite the physical distance, the love and bond you shared had managed to survive. Though the romantic part of your relationship had ended, your friendship remained strong and unbreakable.

Spencer kept you updated on his work at the BAU, sharing stories from the field and the challenges he faced. When your mom got married, knowing how difficult that event was for you, Spencer took time off from work to attend the wedding with you. His support was unwavering, even when he couldn’t be there in person. You would visit Diana when Spencer couldn’t, helping out in ways that kept you connected not only to him but also to his family.

Spencer continued to speak with your father regularly, keeping that connection alive even as your lives had diverged in different directions. In all, the two of you remained close, and your friendship had evolved into something even more profound, built on shared experiences, trust, and the deep understanding that comes from truly knowing each other.

A rock was thrown into the friendship you shared with Spencer, however, when he received a save-the-date card in the mail, addressed to him. As soon as he saw your name on it, so many emotions swarmed through his body that it made him physically ill. He scanned the card, his hands trembling as he tried to process the words. You were getting married. Again.

Spencer hadn’t even known you were seeing anyone, and now you were marrying someone? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His stomach twisted, and before he could stop it, he wretched and threw up, the shock and emotions overwhelming him completely.

He knew, logically, that the two of you were long since over. He had tried to move on. He had seen people off and on, but never took anything too seriously, never fully allowed himself to fall. Because, in the back of his mind, Spencer had always assumed that the two of you were destined to find your way back to each other. He never let go of that hope, and now, seeing your save-the-date, that hope was shattered.

In a moment of sheer panic and desperation, Spencer dialed Derek’s number, his voice breaking as he begged, “Please, Derek… come over, I—I need you.” He was crying, the words tumbling out incoherently, leaving Derek no choice but to rush to his best friend’s side, not knowing what had caused such an outburst of emotion.

When Derek arrived, Spencer had managed to somewhat compose himself, though the distress was still written all over his face. He motioned for Derek to sit, and with shaky breaths, he spilled everything. From the day you and Spencer met in Tahoe, to the whirlwind of dating, to your marriage, and ultimately, the divorce. Spencer had kept this part of his life hidden from the team, only ever referring to you as a “friend from college,” never revealing the deep connection the two of you once shared.

Derek listened, taking it all in with wide eyes, surprised but trying to make sense of it. Spencer had never been one to open up about personal matters, let alone something this big.

Then, Spencer threw the save-the-date card onto the table in front of Derek, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place. Derek picked it up, his face softening with understanding. He could see why this had devastated Spencer, why the younger man had broken down.

“Man… I didn’t know,” Derek said quietly, his voice filled with empathy. “I didn’t know you were still holding onto that.”

Spencer rubbed his eyes, his whole body slumped in defeat. “I thought… I thought maybe one day… we’d find our way back to each other. But now… she’s marrying someone else.”

Derek shook his head, unsure of what advice to offer. How do you console someone who’s just realized the future they’d been holding onto no longer existed?

“I’m sorry, Reid,” Derek sighed, pulling Spencer into a tight hug, feeling the weight of his friend's emotions. He didn’t know what else to say. He could feel how deeply this was hurting Spencer, and it pained him to see his best friend like this. “What are you going to do?”

Spencer leaned into Derek’s embrace, his body still trembling slightly as he huffed out a breath. “I guess… I’m going to the wedding,” he said, his voice filled with resignation. “She’s my best friend. I can’t… not be there for her.”

Derek, trying to find a way to lift the mood, jolted Spencer a bit, grinning mischievously. “Excuse you? I thought your best friend was sitting in front of you right now.”

A small laugh escaped Spencer, a brief moment of light in the middle of his turmoil. “You're right,” he admitted, chuckling softly. “Thank you, Derek. Really.”

Derek smiled, glad to have gotten a laugh out of him, but he knew it would take more than that to pull Spencer out of his spiral. So, for the rest of the day, Derek stayed by his side, doing whatever Spencer wanted—whether it was playing chess, watching documentaries, or just sitting in silence. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that the love of his life was getting married to someone else.

And, perhaps worst of all, she hadn’t told him anything about it until the save-the-date arrived. That, Derek knew, was what was really eating at Spencer—the idea that he wasn’t as much a part of your life as he once thought.

—

Spencer hadn’t reached out since receiving your save-the-date, unable to find the right words. Instead, he threw himself into spending more time with his colleagues and friends, agreeing to every social outing they planned. He was trying to distract himself, to drown out the constant noise in his head about what your upcoming marriage meant for him.

Tonight, he found himself whiskey tasting with Rossi, Hotch, and Derek. As the evening wore on and the whiskey flowed freely, their conversations grew looser, more personal. Rossi and Hotch began comparing their divorce stories, laughing about their past pain and the fleeting joys of their marriages. Derek looked over at Spencer, knowing full well the turmoil going on beneath his quiet exterior, being the only one who knew about Spencer’s secret heartbreak.

Spencer seemed to be somewhere else entirely, lost in his own world, not really listening to the conversation. Derek wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he was silently relieved when Spencer excused himself to go to the bathroom. Maybe it was better if he didn’t hear the rest of this conversation.

But instead of heading to the bathroom, Spencer stepped outside, pulling out his phone and making a decision he would soon regret. His fingers fumbled as he dialed your number. The alcohol had loosened his inhibitions, and all the pent-up frustration and hurt were boiling over.

The worst part? You answered.

“Spencer? Hi!” Your voice was warm but slightly distracted. “I’m still at work, is everything okay?”

Of course. The time difference. He hadn’t even thought about that. “I’m fine, Y/N,” he hiccuped, clearly not fine at all. “Well, no, I’m not. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?”

You were silent on the other end for a moment, the weight of his question hanging in the air. Finally, you sighed deeply. “Spencer… can we not do this right now? I can call you tomorrow.”

“No!” Spencer's voice was louder than intended, his frustration rising. “We need to do this now. I deserve an explanation.”

You sighed again, and Spencer could hear you moving around, likely retreating to a quieter place in your office. “Okay. Fair enough. I started seeing Noa about two years ago. They’re amazing, Spence. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you thought sending me a save-the-date was better?” Spencer’s voice raised again, the whiskey fueling his anger. “That’s messed up, and you know it.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I was scared. I’m sorry.”

Spencer’s brain was spinning, but one thought stood out. “Wait… you’ve only been together for two years?” His voice had grown darker, accusatory.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay?” you said, your voice strained but still calm, trying to diffuse the situation.

“You’re just rushing into marriage again!” Spencer shot back, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His frustration, his heartbreak, everything he had buried for the last five years, it all came pouring out.

“What?” you asked, your voice coming out small and weak, despite the fact that you wished it had been strong, confident, maybe even cold. But it wasn’t. The hurt you felt made it tremble.

Spencer scoffed, his frustration bubbling over. “You’re just jumping into another relationship without thinking about the consequences.”

You blinked, shocked at the accusation. “How would you know what I’m doing? I haven’t seen you since my mom’s wedding… that was three years ago,” you shot back, your voice firmer now, though still tinged with hurt.

“Right, how could I forget?” Spencer’s voice grew louder, his emotions spiraling out of control. “You were flirting with every pair of long legs that walked by, in front of me!”

You were taken aback, your heart pounding in disbelief. “What? No, I did not! And besides, what would it matter if I did?” you spat out, the pain in your voice evident now. “You left me, Spencer.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and full of unresolved heartache.

“Is that how you remember it?” Spencer asked, his heart breaking even more, his voice softer now but filled with sorrow.

“That’s how it happened,” you said, a tear slipping down your cheek, because as much as you loved him, as much as he had been a huge part of your life, the wound of his departure was still raw.

“Well, I’m very sorry that’s how you see it,” Spencer said, his voice steadying now as the alcohol-induced haze began to lift, leaving behind the weight of reality.

You nodded, even though you knew Spencer couldn’t see you, and tried to keep your voice from breaking. “Mhm,” you managed, holding back the sob that was lodged in your throat.

“That’s it?” Spencer pressed, his frustration giving way to something closer to disbelief.

“Mhm,” you repeated, not trusting yourself to say much more without unraveling completely.

“You don’t have anything else you want to say to me?”

A quiet, almost broken, “Mm mm,” was all you could offer. The tears were too close now, and speaking felt impossible.

There was a long pause on Spencer’s end, the tension between you both palpable even through the phone. “Bye, Y/N,” he said finally, the weight of those two words heavier than you’d ever imagined. And with that, Spencer hung up.

He returned to his friends at the whiskey tasting, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. He opted out of the rest of the drinks, choosing instead to just sit in their company, trying to find some comfort in the camaraderie, even though his mind was miles away, back with you, replaying the conversation in his head.

—

As you sat in your office, the weight of the conversation with Spencer bearing down on you, the flood of emotions finally broke free. Your body shook with barely concealed sobs, and as much as you tried to hold it together, it was too much. The truth was painfully clear—you knew why you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Spencer about Noa. How could you possibly tell the man you were still in love with that you were marrying someone else, someone who was there to fill the void he left behind?

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Noa. You did—deeply. They were everything you could ask for in a partner—amazing, generous, loving, and you were genuinely ecstatic to marry them. But that didn’t change the fact that Spencer was still there in your heart, occupying a space that no one else ever could.

A knock sounded at the door, breaking through your thoughts. “Y/N? Sweetie, can I come in?” Alexi’s voice came from the other side. Your assistant manager, your number two, and more importantly, your best friend.

You wiped at your tear-streaked cheeks, trying to pull yourself together. “Yeah.”

Alexi pushed open the door, taking one look at your broken figure and immediately coming over. “Oh baby, what happened?” they asked, their voice soft with concern.

You sighed, pushing yourself up to sit on the desk beside them. “Spencer called… he’s upset.”

Alexi didn’t need you to explain more. They knew everything—they had been there after Spencer had left, helping you pick up the pieces of your life. They wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close in a comforting embrace. “I told you he wouldn’t react well,” they said, never one to sugarcoat the truth.

You let out a tearful laugh, nodding. “You did. And I should’ve listened.”

Alexi rubbed your back, offering silent support before they asked, “Are you going to tell Noa?”

You shook your head immediately. “No. Noa doesn’t need to know.”

Alexi’s sigh was deep, full of the understanding but firm truth they always brought to your conversations. “Yes, they do, sweetie. Spencer is always going to be a part of you. Noa deserves to know all of the person they’re marrying.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the truth of their words but resisting it all the same. “Spencer is… he’s mine, you know?” Your voice cracked slightly. “He’s a part of my past, encapsulated like a snow globe just for me. I don’t want Noa to know all the details. What if they don’t want to marry me if they do?”

Alexi squeezed your shoulder gently, looking you directly in the eyes. “Y/N… keeping secrets isn’t a good way to start a marriage. If Noa decides they don’t want to marry you because of what happened, then that’s how it’s going to be. But they deserve to know the whole person they’re committing to.”

The weight of their words sank in, but it didn’t make it any easier. You knew they were right. But admitting the depth of what Spencer still meant to you, and risking ruining another relationship because of it, felt impossible. Spencer was yours—a part of you that no one else could touch. And you didn’t want to lose anyone else by dragging him into your present, when he was meant to stay in the past, locked away safely in your heart and mind.

So you went along with the wedding planning, trying to stay present, but the excitement you had once felt for this kind of event was dimmed. Your moms, both of them now, took charge, pulling you and Alexi along for dress shopping. You went through the motions, smiling when you were supposed to, but in the back of your mind, it felt like something was always missing. Maybe it was because you had done this before—planning a wedding, preparing for a future you thought was set in stone. That time, you were marrying your best friend, your soulmate. Nothing could have brought you down.

Now, though, it felt like everything was falling apart.

You found a dress you didn’t hate, but when you discovered it wasn’t made in your size, your heart sank. The tailoring bills would be through the roof. And there was no way you could ask your parents to help with another wedding, let alone explain that to Noa. So you settled for a different dress, something more practical, less special. It was a compromise, and one of many.

Then there were the flowers—your (second) favorite flowers, the ones you had dreamed of having at your wedding since you got engaged. But you couldn’t have them. As it turned out, Noa was allergic. How that had eluded you for two years, you’d never know, but it felt like another loss, another thing you had to give up.

The food? That was another issue entirely. Noa was vegan and gluten-free, which was fine—you supported them in that. But it meant you couldn’t have any of the dishes you wanted at your wedding, and the excitement over picking a menu disappeared entirely. It wasn’t about the food; it was about the mounting compromises that made you feel like you were losing more of yourself in the process.

Then, as if the universe wanted to add insult to injury, the live band you’d booked canceled last minute. They refunded half the deposit, but it wasn’t nearly enough to book a new band, and you were left scrambling for a backup.

It was all a mess. And through it all, the only RSVP that mattered to you��Spencer’s—still remained unanswered. Even Diana had agreed to come, and your father had offered to travel with her from Nevada. But Spencer’s name sat unmarked on the list, and the weight of his silence felt heavier than everything else combined.

—

It was late, and the bullpen was eerily quiet—long after everyone else had gone home for the night. The soft, dim glow of desk lamps was the only light illuminating the space, and Spencer sat hunched over at his desk, staring blankly at a stack of files, though his mind was miles away. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t shake the thoughts of you that had been circling his mind like an endless loop ever since that phone call. The way your voice had cracked, the words you hadn't said hanging heavy in the silence afterward.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the weight of it all pressing down on his chest like a vice. Spencer didn’t notice Penelope walking out of her office until she was standing right in front of him, her bright pink coat draped over one arm, a concerned look etched on her face.

“Hey, Boy Wonder,” she said softly, leaning against his desk. “What are you still doing here? It’s way past your bedtime.”

Spencer glanced up at her, forcing a small, weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Just... thinking, I guess,” he murmured, looking back down at the files in front of him, though he wasn’t really reading them.

Penelope’s eyes narrowed slightly. She knew Spencer well enough to recognize when something was wrong, and this didn’t look like his typical bouts of insomnia. “Uh-uh, that won’t fly,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “What’s really going on, Reid?”

He hesitated, his fingers nervously tapping against the edge of his desk. He didn’t know where to begin, how to explain the mess of feelings tangled up inside him—the regret, the longing, the fear that he’d lost you for good. But Penelope had a way of pulling things out of him, and before he knew it, he was talking. Telling her everything.

“It’s... it’s about someone from my past,” Spencer admitted, staring down at his hands. He could feel the heat rising in his face, the weight of the secret that he’d kept for so long bearing down on him. “Her name is Y/N. We... we were close.”

Penelope’s eyes widened as she quickly pulled out the chair across from Spencer and sat down, leaning in closer. “Wait, wait, wait, slow down,” she said, a look of shock and curiosity flashing across her face. “Who is Y/N? And how do I not know about her? You’ve never mentioned her before, Spencer!”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, fidgeting nervously. “That’s kind of the point. I never told anyone. Well... except Morgan, recently. But... it’s complicated, Penelope.”

“Complicated how?” Penelope’s voice was gentle, but there was an urgency to it—a desire to understand. “How... close were you two?”

Spencer hesitated, his fingers tapping anxiously against the edge of his desk. He knew he couldn’t keep everything bottled up any longer. “We were... really close. We met when we were both eighteen, and we... got married. And then divorced. And then stayed friends,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out all at once. “And I never told anyone because it felt like... like this part of my life that didn’t fit with everything else. Like a different person I used to be.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped, and for once, she was speechless. Her eyes darted around his face, as if trying to comprehend the enormity of what he’d just shared. “Spencer Reid, you were married?” she finally managed to say, her voice squeaking at the end. “And divorced? And you never... you never said anything?”

Spencer gave a small, helpless shrug. “Yeah. I know, I should’ve told you all a long time ago. But it’s... it’s a lot to explain, and I guess I just... buried it.”

Penelope blinked a few times, trying to process everything. “Okay, okay,” she said, holding up a hand to stop herself from spiraling. “So... Y/N. You were married to her. And now you’re... friends?”

Spencer nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety at finally sharing this part of his life. “Yeah, friends. We kept in touch over the years. But she’s... she’s getting married again. And I... I found out through a save-the-date in the mail.”

“Whoa, wait, wait,” Penelope cut in, holding up her hand. “She’s getting married? Like, married married? And she didn’t tell you?”

He nodded, the pain in his chest tightening at the memory. “Yeah. And I got upset, and I—I probably said some things I shouldn’t have. And now... I can’t stop thinking about her, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Penelope’s expression softened, her eyes filled with understanding. She reached across the desk, placing her hand over Spencer’s. “Spencer,” she said softly, “you know why you can’t stop thinking about her, right?”

Spencer sighed, biting his lip as he nodded. “Because I still love her,” he admitted, the words feeling both like a relief and a weight off his shoulders. “I never stopped. I thought I was fine with just being her friend, with us being apart, but...”

“But you’re not fine,” Penelope finished for him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “And you don’t have to be. She was your first love, and that kind of thing doesn’t just go away.”

“I know.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “But she’s engaged, and she seems happy. I can’t just... disrupt her life like that.”

Penelope let out a soft huff, her eyes full of determination. “Spencer Reid, I know you like to overthink things, but this is one of those times where you need to be honest. If you have feelings for her, if you think there’s a chance—any chance—that she feels the same way, then you owe it to yourself to tell her. Before it’s too late.”

Spencer looked up at her, a flicker of hope mixing with fear in his eyes. “But what if it is too late? What if... what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I just make everything worse?”

Penelope’s smile was soft but firm, her voice steady as she spoke. “That’s a risk you’ll have to take, Reid. But it’s better to take that risk than to spend the rest of your life wondering what if. You deserve to be happy. And if she’s the person who makes you happy, then you need to fight for that.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away, the weight of her words settling over him as he considered them. He had spent so long running from his feelings, trying to bury them under the guise of friendship, trying to convince himself that he was okay with you moving on. But the truth was, he wasn’t okay. And maybe, just maybe, he needed to do something about it.

“Thanks, Penelope,” he said quietly, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I... I think I needed to hear that.”

She grinned, standing up and patting his shoulder. “Anytime, genius. Now go home, get some rest, and think about what you’re going to say. You’ve got this.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving Spencer alone in the quiet bullpen, but with a sense of clarity he hadn’t felt in years. He knew what he needed to do. It was terrifying, it was messy, but it was right.

He needed to talk to you. To tell you how he felt. Before it really was too late.

—

The hours of the night ticked by slowly as Spencer lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his apartment. Every attempt to sleep had been thwarted by the constant thoughts of you—the weight of the conversation with Penelope, the memories of your time together, and the sharp, raw feeling that he was running out of time. He couldn’t shake it. Every breath felt heavier than the last, and the silence of his apartment only amplified the whirlwind of emotions crashing around in his head.

At some point, the moonlight gave way to the faintest hint of dawn, but still, Spencer didn’t sleep. He just lay there, feeling like a boy again, filled with that same sense of panic and yearning he hadn’t felt in years. But there, in the early morning light, it finally hit him—what he had to do.

He shot up in bed, heart pounding, the idea forming fully in his mind. He had to tell you. He couldn’t wait any longer; he couldn’t let the fear, or doubt, or whatever this was, stop him. He had to tell you how he felt, face-to-face. Whatever happened, whatever you said, at least then he could say he tried.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, pacing the length of his room, grabbing his phone, his wallet, hastily packing a bag. He barely had time to think the plan through—there was no plan. There was only the need to see you, to make things right, or at least to make his feelings known. He booked a flight to California within minutes, his hands shaking as he entered his credit card details, the urgency pushing him forward with every click.

The airport was a blur of noise and motion. The world seemed to move around him while his focus remained narrowed to a single thought—you. Spencer sat in his seat on the plane, the hours of the flight feeling endless as his knee bounced restlessly, and his fingers drummed against the armrest. He had no idea what he would say to you, how he would find the words to make sense of everything. He only knew that he had to see you.

When the plane finally landed, the sun was bright and warm, the California heat a stark contrast to the cool air of Virginia. He didn’t even take a moment to collect himself; he just grabbed his bag and rushed through the terminal, out into the familiar streets he hadn’t seen in years. The world around him blurred with motion and sound, but none of it registered. His only thought was getting to you.

But as Spencer stepped outside of the airport, the rush of determination he felt on the plane quickly started to fizzle out. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he had no idea where you lived anymore. The apartment you had shared when you were married was long gone, and though he kept up with you through your phone calls and letters, he didn’t know if you and your fiancé had found a place of your own, if you were living together at all.

He stood on the sidewalk, the California sun beating down on him, making him feel both restless and lost. There was no time to panic, though; he had come all this way, and he couldn’t just stand there like a fool. He needed to find you. And fast.

The next best thing was to hail a cab and give the driver directions to the one place he knew you would eventually be—your bookstore. He paid the fare quickly and grabbed his bags, rushing inside the shop, his eyes darting around, scanning the familiar shelves, the worn floorboards, the comforting smell of old books.

A bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside, and a young employee behind the counter looked up, offering a polite smile. “Hi, welcome in,” they said, but their voice didn’t really register. Spencer was too caught up in the whirlwind of his thoughts, in the desperation that had brought him here.

“Is Y/N here?” he rushed out, his voice high with nerves, his hands clenched tightly around the strap of his bag.

The employee’s smile faltered slightly at the urgency in his voice, and they gave him a curious look, one that seemed to ask who the hell he was and why he seemed so frantic. “Um, no, she’s not here,” they said slowly. “She’s wedding planning today.”

Spencer’s heart sank further. Of course, you’d be busy with wedding planning—it was all you were doing these days. But the reality of it stung, like a reminder that he was too late, that you were already too far gone into your new life.

“Do you know where I could find her?” he asked, trying to keep the pleading tone out of his voice but failing. He was holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could track you down.

But the employee just shook their head, their face softening into a look of pity. “No, sorry. I really don’t. I think she’s meeting with a wedding planner or looking at venues, something like that.”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the walls of the bookstore closing in on him. He had been so sure of what he needed to do, so convinced that coming here would give him the answers he was looking for. But now, standing there, with no clue where to go next, he felt like a man adrift, a stranger in a place that was once so familiar.

“Okay,” he managed to choke out, trying to keep his voice steady. “Thank you.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” the employee replied, their eyes still fixed on him like he was a puzzle they couldn’t quite figure out.

Spencer turned on his heel and walked out of the store, the bell chiming behind him as he left. He stood on the sidewalk, taking a deep breath to steady himself, to fight back the rising panic. He didn’t know where you were. He had no idea how to find you. And he had no plan.

But he wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

Spencer stood on the sidewalk, the desperation clawing at his chest like a living thing. His heart pounded, the reality of his situation finally starting to sink in. He had come all this way, but he didn’t know where to find you.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his fingers shaking as he quickly dialed Penelope. She picked up on the first ring, her voice chirping through the line. “Hey, genius, what’s up?”

“Penelope,” he said quickly, the urgency in his voice making it clear that this wasn’t a casual call. “I need your help. I need to know where Y/N lives. Can you find her address?”

“What? Wait, why? Spencer, what’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was full of confusion, and he could hear her clicking away on her keyboard in the background.

“There’s no time to explain. Please, just... please, Penelope, can you find it?” He knew he was asking a lot, putting her on the spot like this, but he didn’t know what else to do. He needed to see you.

“Okay, okay, hang on,” she said, the rapid clicking of her keyboard growing louder as she searched for your information. “Got it. She lives at XXXX S Higuera St.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said, the words rushing out of him like a breath he’d been holding in. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” Penelope said, her voice somewhere between worried and annoyed. “Now go get her, cowboy.”

Spencer hung up and flagged down another cab, rattling off your address to the driver, who sped off in the direction of your house. The drive felt longer than it should have, every minute dragging on like an eternity, the silence in the car filled only with the beating of his heart and the hum of the engine. He watched the city rush by in a blur, every moment bringing him closer to you.

When they finally pulled up to the row of houses, Spencer fumbled with his wallet, throwing bills at the driver and mumbling a hurried “Keep the change,” before jumping out, his bag slung over his shoulder. He stood in front of your house, staring at the navy-blue door that stood between him and you. This was it. There was no going back now.

He lifted his hand and knocked, the sound echoing louder than he anticipated, every thud ringing in his ears. And then he waited, holding his breath as he heard footsteps approaching the door, his whole body tense and shaking with anticipation.

The door swung open, and there you were. You looked different than he’d remembered, yet exactly the same. Your eyes widened in shock, your phone still pressed to your ear.

“Uh, Alexi, I’m going to have to call you back,” you said into the phone, your voice thick with surprise. “Yeah, I’m fine.” There was a pause, and then you said softly, “Thank you, love you too. Bye.” You hung up, your eyes never leaving his, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between you.

“Spencer? What the fuck?” you finally said, and the sound of your voice hit him like a punch—familiar, angry, bewildered, and all of it wrapped in a painful confusion.

He took a breath, trying to steady himself, to find the words he’d rehearsed in his mind a hundred times, but they all fled as he stood there, face-to-face with you. He was speechless, overwhelmed by everything he felt, and everything he hadn’t let himself feel for so long.

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. He took another breath, gathering his thoughts. “I know this is... a surprise. I know you’re mad. But I had to come, Y/N. I had to see you. I just... I need to talk to you.”

“You couldn’t call?” you asked, the mix of surprise and annoyance evident in your voice. You were clearly caught off guard by his sudden appearance, and you had every right to be. Spencer was out of breath, the tension between you almost unbearable as he searched for the right words.

“It’s too important,” he managed, his voice a blend of urgency and regret. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the desperation to make you understand why he was here.

You stared at him for a moment longer, a storm of emotions flashing across your face—confusion, frustration, and something softer that he couldn't quite place. “Okay... come in.” Your voice was softer now, but guarded.

You stepped back, allowing him to walk into the foyer. The smell of your home washed over him—familiar, yet different from the last place you shared together. He followed as you led him into the living room, the warmth of the space feeling like an extension of you. The cozy seating, soft lighting, and small personal touches made it welcoming and lived-in.

“Just... stay here for a minute,” you said quietly before disappearing into another room, leaving Spencer standing awkwardly by the couch. He took in everything—the framed photos on the walls, the plants that seemed to thrive under your care, the comfortable arrangement of the furniture. It all felt so you, and so foreign to him at the same time.

After a few minutes, you returned, carrying two cups of tea in your hands. You set one down in front of him and sat down across from him, holding your own cup tightly, as if it was anchoring you. “Sorry,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t have your brand anymore.”

Spencer gave a small, understanding nod, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay,” he said softly. He cradled the cup between his hands, feeling the warmth seep through his fingers. He didn’t know how to start, how to break the silence that felt so loud between you. All he knew was that he needed to be here, to find the right words, to make sense of this tangled mess of feelings.

The only sound was the faint clinking of the spoon against the porcelain as you stirred your tea, neither of you looking at each other, both waiting for someone to break the silence.

Spencer glanced down at the steam rising from his cup, feeling the burn of your words more than the heat of the tea. He knew you were right—the last time you spoke, things were... ugly. Painful. He had been angry, and confused, and felt like he was losing you all over again.

“Why are you here, Spencer?” you sighed, your voice carrying the exhaustion of all the times you’d thought about him, about the complicated knot of your past. “Last time we talked, you seemed pretty pissed.”

He winced, gripping the cup tighter, feeling the porcelain edge bite into his skin. “I know,” he said quietly, finally daring to look up and meet your eyes. “I was... I was angry. And I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to take it out on you like that. I—” He paused, fumbling for the right words. “I shouldn’t have called you, not like that. It wasn’t fair.”

You stayed quiet, your eyes searching his face, waiting for the explanation you knew was coming. Spencer felt himself shrinking under the weight of your gaze, but he pressed on, knowing this was the only chance he had to make things right. “I came here because... because I need to talk to you. To see you.” He took a breath, the words coming out more rushed now, desperate. “And I know it’s selfish, but I couldn't stop thinking about you—about us. About everything we never said.”

The tension hung in the air, like a line pulled taut between you, ready to snap. He leaned forward, his voice pleading. “Please, just hear me out. Let me say what I came here to say.”

You felt your blood drain from your face, a cold, tingling numbness spreading through your body. This was it, the conversation you’d been dreading—and yet, somehow, you knew it was inevitable. Your heart hammered against your ribs, your skin prickling with anxiety as sweat began to bead on your upper lip. You swallowed hard, gripping your cup tightly, using it as your anchor, grounding yourself in the reality of this moment.

All you could do was nod. There were so many things you wanted to say, to shout, to demand from him—but the words lodged themselves in your throat, refusing to come out. So, you stayed silent, allowing Spencer to speak, knowing you needed to hear whatever he had traveled all this way to say.

He took a deep breath, his fingers shaking slightly as he set his cup down on the table. He couldn’t look at you directly; it was too much. Instead, his eyes darted around the room, focusing on anything but your face, as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“I know this is... a lot,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I know that I have no right to come here and just... drop all of this on you.” He ran a hand through his hair, a familiar nervous gesture that made your heart ache. “But I need to be honest, because I can’t keep living with these... feelings and regrets.”

He finally forced himself to look at you, his eyes searching yours, pleading silently for you to understand. “When I called you that night, I was angry. Not only at you, but at myself. Because I realized I’ve never let you go. I thought that maybe if I stayed away, if I just... buried everything, it would go away. But it hasn’t.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, his words hitting you like a wave, pulling you under. Your heart pounded harder, hope, fear, and dread swirling in your chest.

Spencer’s voice shook as he continued, the vulnerability in his words cutting through the tension. “I came here to tell you that I still love you,” he said, his eyes burning into yours, his face a mask of raw emotion. “I don’t know what that means for us, or if it changes anything. I just... I needed you to know. Because I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least tell you the truth.”

The silence that followed was deafening, your mind racing as you absorbed his confession. This was the moment you had both avoided for so long, the moment where everything hung in the balance. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribs, each beat echoing in the room as you processed his words.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Just... tell me what you’re thinking. Say something. Anything.”

“What do you want me to say?” you choked out, your voice strained and small, the whirlwind of emotions clawing at your insides making it impossible to find the right words. Everything he was saying felt like it came from a different lifetime—a different you, a different him, a different version of the love you used to share.

“Anything, please,” Spencer begged, his eyes wide and frantic as he searched your face for a hint of what you were feeling. “What are you thinking?”

You swallowed, feeling the words spill out before you could stop them. “I’m getting married,” you said, the reality of it crashing down on you like a wave.

Spencer’s head dropped immediately, his shoulders slumping as if all the life had drained out of him. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, sounding as if saying the words broke something inside him. “I just thought maybe—”

“Maybe?” You couldn’t keep the sharpness from your voice, the anger and pain flooding through your system and finding their way into the space between you. “Maybe what?” You snapped, your emotions boiling over, unable to place what exactly you were feeling—love, anger, guilt, sadness, all at once, and none of them making sense. “You think you can just show up here and what? That I’d—”

But before you could finish, before either of you could continue spiraling down this road of raw and messy confessions, the jingle of keys being put into a lock pierced through the tense air, and both of your heads snapped toward the front door. Your blood ran cold as you realized what it meant.

Noa was home.

Your fiancé stepped inside, the warm light from the hallway spilling in behind them, painting the moment in a surreal glow. They were smiling, the familiar, comforting smile that you had come to know so well—one that could normally bring you peace. But now, the sight of them there, standing in the doorway while Spencer sat on your couch, made your heart plummet.

“Hey, babe,” Noa’s voice was light and warm as they shrugged off their jacket, the smile still on their face, though it faltered slightly when they saw Spencer sitting in the living room. “Who’s this?”

Your throat tightened, your mouth suddenly dry, and you felt your voice catch as you tried to find the words to explain, to introduce, to do anything that made sense.

Spencer, too, had gone completely still, his face pale, as if the reality of your life without him had hit all at once. This was the moment he hadn’t prepared for, the part of your life that he didn’t fit into, and it was staring him straight in the face.

“Hey, baby,” you said, the words catching in your throat, but forcing them out with a smile that you hoped looked normal, even as you felt Spencer flinch beside you. He knew that phrase all too well—the way you’d say it when you greeted him after a long day, the warmth and comfort that came with it. But now it was meant for someone else, and the reality of that cut through him like a knife.

Noa’s eyes darted between the two of you, clearly trying to make sense of the situation, their smile wavering. “This is Spencer,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to make the introduction sound casual, like this wasn’t a huge, life-altering moment. “Um, he’s an old friend. He was in the neighborhood and... stopped by.”

You hated the way the lie sat on your tongue, the way it felt so heavy, so wrong. But what choice did you have? How were you supposed to explain who Spencer was to you—what he was to you? Especially now, when everything was in chaos and your heart felt like it was being split in two. So, you forced yourself to smile, to make it seem like there was nothing more to it than a surprise visit from someone you used to know.

Noa’s face softened a bit, their guard dropping as they took a step closer, holding out a hand to Spencer. “Oh, nice to meet you,” they said kindly, their eyes gentle and curious. “I’ve heard a lot about Y/N’s friends from back in the day, but I don’t think your name ever came up.”

Spencer managed a tight smile, shaking Noa’s hand as he fought to steady himself. “Yeah, it’s... nice to meet you too,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, the discomfort and awkwardness bleeding into every word. It was all so surreal, so painfully normal on the surface when everything underneath was chaos.

Noa looked between the two of you again, oblivious to the tension, and then smiled wider, turning their attention back to you. “I picked up takeout from that place you love on 5th. Figured we could have a low-key night in.”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat. “That sounds perfect. Really... perfect.”

Noa’s hand slipped around your waist, and you could feel Spencer's eyes burning into you, the unspoken words swirling around all of you like a storm. You knew you had to get him out of here—this wasn’t the time, and now was definitely not the place for whatever this was.

“Actually, um, Spencer was just leaving,” you said quickly, turning to him with pleading eyes. “Right, Spence?”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable, so many emotions passing through his eyes that it made you dizzy. But finally, he nodded, standing up slowly, the movement heavy with everything left unsaid. “Yeah... right. It was, um... nice seeing you, Y/N. Thanks for the tea.”

“Nonsense,” Noa cut in with a laugh, and you felt your stomach sink. “Join us,” they insisted, their voice warm and friendly as always. “I got enough for leftovers, but we’re fine with sharing, right, Y/N?” They gave you a light squeeze around your waist, completely unaware of the tension in the room, or the storm that had just been brewing moments before.

You felt your throat close up, the air around you becoming thin as panic gripped you. This was not supposed to happen—Spencer wasn’t supposed to stay, wasn’t supposed to be a part of this cozy, intimate meal with you and Noa. Your lives had already diverged, the gap too wide to bring together in a setting like this.

“Uh...” you started, your voice wavering, trying to find a way out of this without raising suspicion. But Noa’s hand was on your back, rubbing comforting circles, and they were looking at Spencer with nothing but open hospitality in their eyes.

“Come on, the more the merrier,” Noa urged, already turning to set their bags down on the counter, oblivious to the pleading look you gave Spencer.

Spencer’s face twisted with hesitation. He looked at you, then back at Noa, clearly torn between what he wanted and what he knew was best. “Really, I don’t want to intrude. I just... came to say hi.” His voice was small, and the vulnerability in it broke your heart all over again.

“No intrusion at all,” Noa said, already moving to unpack the takeout, arranging it on the table with a careless ease that made the whole situation seem almost normal. “I insist. Besides, you came all the way here. At least let us feed you before you head back.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, the pressure of everything unsaid building up to a point you could barely contain. You could see the strain on Spencer’s face, the conflict in his eyes as he glanced between you and Noa. He didn’t want to be here, and you didn’t want him here either—not like this, not when it felt like every word spoken was laden with a secret.

But Noa’s smile was so open, so genuine, and your fiancé was already pulling plates out of the cabinet, laying them out for the three of you. You didn’t have it in you to make a scene, to start an argument you didn’t know how to finish.

“Spence... please, stay.” The words felt foreign as they left your mouth, and you hoped the slight tremor in your voice wasn’t noticeable. Noa didn't seem to pick up on it, too focused on setting the table and serving the food, but Spencer’s eyes caught yours, and you could see the depth of confusion and pain swimming behind them.

After a long moment, he gave a reluctant nod, sitting back down on the couch, his movements stiff and uneasy. “Okay... yeah, sure,” he said, forcing a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll stay.”

“Great!” Noa’s voice was bright and full of excitement as they motioned for you both to come to the table. “Let's eat.” They sat down, already starting to pass out food, while you and Spencer found seats across from each other.

The table felt small, impossibly so, as if there was no space for all the emotions crammed into the room. And as the three of you sat down to eat, your mind raced, wondering how you were supposed to navigate this impossible dinner, with the man you once loved—and maybe still loved—sitting across from you, and the person you were supposed to marry right by your side.

“So, Spencer,” Noa began as they served out portions of food onto each plate, completely oblivious to the tension coiled like a spring between you and Spencer. “How long have you and Y/N known each other?”

You nearly dropped your fork, your hand trembling as you pretended to focus on your plate. You couldn’t look at Spencer; you didn’t know what expression he’d have or what he might say. All you could do was silently will him to keep it vague, to stick to the basics and not let anything slip that could unravel everything.

Spencer cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat, poking at the food on his plate with his fork. “Uh… a while,” he said carefully, his voice steady but low. “We, um, met when I moved for college.”

“Yeah? That’s awesome!” Noa beamed, seemingly thrilled to learn more about your past. “What did you study, Spence?”

You winced at the nickname, one you’d used so many times before but now sounded wrong coming from someone else. You could see the way Spencer’s eyes flickered at the mention of it, but he smiled tightly, glancing over at you for the briefest second before looking back at Noa. “I, um, studied a few things. Math, engineering, some psychology…” He trailed off, clearly trying to keep it as bland as possible, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Noa continued, blissfully unaware of the underlying currents in the conversation. “Wow, that’s impressive! And you’re just in town for a visit? Or work?”

Spencer hesitated, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he searched for a response that wouldn’t set off alarms. “Uh, just… passing through, actually. Thought I’d… catch up with Y/N while I was here,” he finally said, each word feeling carefully weighed, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to hide the slight tremor in his voice.

“That’s so nice,” Noa said warmly, looking between the two of you. “Y/N always talks about her old friends, but it’s great to finally meet one in person. I’m glad she keeps up with people from back then.”

You gave a tight, forced smile, your stomach churning as you felt like you were teetering on a knife’s edge. “Yeah, you know me, always staying in touch,” you said quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from Spencer, away from the past, away from everything that felt like a ticking time bomb ready to explode if prodded too much.

“So, how long are you staying?” Noa asked, turning their attention back to Spencer, still friendly and curious. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, hoping Spencer would take the hint and not make this any more complicated than it already was.

“Oh, not long,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Just a short trip.” He paused, glancing at you again, the weight of his gaze almost too much to bear. “I, um… didn’t plan on staying long.”

“That’s a shame,” Noa said, completely missing the tense undercurrent between you two. “It would’ve been nice to spend more time getting to know you. Seems like you two must have been pretty close back then.”

“Yeah… something like that,” Spencer said softly, his eyes drifting down to his plate, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, every second of this conversation digging you deeper into a pit you weren’t sure how to get out of. You just prayed—silently, desperately—that Spencer would keep his words guarded and that Noa wouldn’t start connecting any dots you weren’t ready to explain.

“Y/N, sweetums, you’re being awfully quiet,” Noa teased with a playful nudge to your side, and you saw Spencer’s eyes flicker as he tried to mask a cringe at the pet name. You never liked that one; it felt odd to you, and Spencer could tell. But Noa had started calling you that long ago, and it was one of those things you’d grown used to.

You forced a smile, praying it looked genuine. “Just letting you and Spencer get to know each other,” you said, but your voice came out strained, barely holding up under the weight of the situation. You could feel your nerves fraying, as if every word that left your mouth was the wrong one.

Noa, still blissfully oblivious to the palpable tension, brightened with an idea. “Oh! Spencer, are you coming to the wedding?” they asked, and you felt your stomach twist in knots. You knew Spencer hadn’t RSVP’d, and you were terrified of how he would respond. You could see him falter for a moment, looking like a deer caught in headlights, and you quickly jumped in before things could get worse.

“Spencer works for the FBI,” you said, hoping your voice sounded casual, steady, anything other than what you were really feeling. “He said he’d come if he doesn’t have a case.” You looked at him meaningfully, praying he’d go along with it, hoping he wouldn’t take this opportunity to say something more revealing.

“Oh, wow!” Noa’s eyes lit up in admiration, turning to Spencer with genuine curiosity. “That’s incredible! We’ll save a spot for you just in case.”

“Uh… yeah, thanks,” Spencer mumbled, the awkwardness in his tone barely masked by the polite smile he forced onto his face.

Dinner went on like that—Noa doing most of the talking, you scrambling to keep things on track, and Spencer struggling to navigate every question without giving too much away. You couldn’t stop fidgeting, feeling like every minute was an hour as you tried to balance between keeping up appearances and making sure nothing slipped that would reveal the tangled web of your history.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, dinner ended. Noa, always the gracious host, brought out tea and ushered everyone to the living room. The three of you settled onto the couches, the warmth of the tea doing nothing to ease the tension in your body. You noticed how close Spencer was sitting to you, his knee almost touching yours, and how Noa, in contrast, seemed so relaxed, not sensing any of the chaos swirling beneath the surface.

“I should probably get going,” Spencer said suddenly, setting his cup down on the coffee table and pushing himself up from the couch. He looked between you and Noa, the tension clear on his face, the evening clearly wearing on him.

“Where are you staying?” Noa asked, genuinely curious. “Do you need a ride?” They sat up straighter, eager to be helpful, and you held your breath, knowing that Spencer likely didn’t have a plan—he rarely ever did.

Spencer hesitated, clearly trying to come up with a response. “Oh, um… I’m not sure. I, uh… hadn’t really thought that far.”

The silence stretched thin, your heart pounding as you prayed Noa wouldn’t say what you were terrified they would. But they did, without a second thought, without hesitation. “You can stay here!” they offered brightly, smiling at Spencer. “We have a guest room—it’s no trouble at all.”

Spencer froze, glancing over at you, his eyes wide with surprise. And you were sure yours mirrored the same panic. This was not part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to have him here, under the same roof. And yet, it was all happening too fast to stop it.

“Uh… that’s really generous, but I don’t want to intrude—” Spencer started, but Noa waved a hand dismissively.

“Please, it’s no trouble,” they insisted, their smile still warm and inviting. “You’re more than welcome to stay. Right, Y/N?” They looked to you for confirmation, and you could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, begging for an out.

“Yeah… of course,” you managed to choke out, your voice weak, betraying every emotion you were desperately trying to hide. “It’s, um, fine.”

And with that, Spencer was staying for the night, and you had no idea how you were going to get through it.

The three of you sat in the living room, forcing your way through some show on TV. But the tension in the air made it impossible to focus on anything other than the uneasy silence and the occasional awkward attempts at small talk. You laughed at all the wrong times, and every time your eyes met Spencer’s, you felt your stomach twist into knots. Noa, oblivious as ever, eventually declared they were ready to call it a night and headed to take their nightly shower.

You took the opportunity to help Spencer get settled in the guest room, your movements jerky and stiff, the weight of the day pressing down on you. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as you pulled spare linens out of the closet. The silence hung heavy between you, every unspoken word echoing through the small room.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer whispered finally, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t plan any of this… obviously.”

“No shit,” you replied, your tone sharper than you intended, but it was impossible to hide the anger and frustration building up inside you. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

Spencer hung his head, staring down at his hands. “I’ll leave tomorrow,” he said quietly, like he was admitting defeat.

“I know you will,” you murmured, the words hollow as you hugged yourself, arms crossed tightly around your torso as if that could hold everything together.

With nothing left to say, you left the room, and went to bed. But sleep eluded you, the feeling of Noa’s arms wrapped around you offering none of the comfort you desperately needed. Their touch felt so different from Spencer’s—where he’d been gentle, familiar, their embrace felt confining, and the sound of their breath on your neck was a steady reminder of all the ways it wasn’t him. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, and you felt the guilt flood through you for even comparing them.

Eventually, Noa must’ve felt you finally drift off, because when they woke in the early morning, they carefully slipped out of bed, planting a kiss on your forehead before heading down the hall to start their day. They hadn’t forgotten about Spencer staying over, but they didn’t expect to hear his voice so early in the morning.

“Penelope, what do I do?” Spencer’s voice was muffled through the guest room door, and Noa’s hand froze on the doorknob to the bathroom as they listened. “I told her I love her, and then before she could even tell me how she felt, her fiancé came home. It’s… it’s a mess.”

Noa’s blood ran cold, their stomach dropping as they tried to process the words. Their breath hitched, and they pressed their back against the wall, suddenly afraid to be seen. They knew they shouldn’t be listening, but they couldn’t stop now.

Penelope’s voice came through faintly from Spencer’s phone, but they couldn’t make out her response.

“No, they don’t know Y/N and I were married. She clearly hasn’t had the guts to tell them.” Spencer’s words came out raw, full of frustration and sadness.

The confession hit Noa like a freight train. Married? They felt the walls of the hallway close in on them, the realization that they had never known the full truth of your relationship with Spencer, the truth that you’d never shared. It made their mind spin, and they backed away from the door, desperate to escape the overwhelming emotions crashing over them.

Noa didn’t confront you then, didn’t barge into the guest room or demand an explanation. Instead, they made their way out of the house quietly, slipping out like a ghost. They moved through the motions of their morning like a zombie, their mind racing, heart aching with every step. They needed to be alone, to think, to understand what they had overheard. And they would talk to you, eventually—but only once Spencer was gone.

When you woke up to the sharp sound of your phone ringing, you felt like you were swimming up through murky water, the events of the day before crashing back to you all at once. You squinted at the screen—it was Alexi, their name flashing insistently. You didn’t need to answer to know they’d be demanding an explanation for yesterday’s abrupt hang-up.

“Hey,” you croaked out, voice heavy with sleep and emotion.

“What the hell happened?” Alexi’s voice was stern, a mix of worry and frustration. “You hang up on me, and then I don’t hear from you all night. Spill.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you leaned back into the pillows. “Spencer showed up at my door yesterday… unannounced. He’s… he stayed the night,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Alexi’s reaction was immediate. “He what? Y/N, what is going on?”

You spilled everything—how Spencer had flown out to see you, how Noa had unknowingly invited him to stay, how you’d spent the whole night on edge, and how every touch, every word, every look seemed to tear at your carefully built life. Your voice wavered as you confessed how hard it had been, the emotions you’d buried for years bubbling back to the surface in a way you couldn’t control.

“Okay,” Alexi’s voice softened. “So… do you still love him?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and you felt your breath hitch as a tear slipped down your cheek. You’d spent so long avoiding the answer to that question, convincing yourself that everything had changed, that you’d moved on. But when you finally spoke, it felt like the words had been buried for years, clawing their way out.

“I think I do,” you whispered through the tears, your voice trembling. “It’s like… being with Noa was always so easy, you know? I never had to compare the two. But seeing them together… talking to Spencer again… I see how much love he still holds for me, and I know I’ll never be able to give Noa that. I can’t… I can’t love them the way I loved Spencer.”

Alexi was silent on the other end, and you could hear them carefully thinking over their response, searching for the right thing to say. But before they could get a word out, you gasped, cutting them off mid-thought.

“I gotta go,” you said in a rush, sitting up so quickly that the room spun around you.

“What? No—Y/N, you can’t just hang up again! What is going on—?”

“Spencer,” you breathed, staring wide-eyed at the doorway. He was standing there, framed in the early morning light, his expression one of utter disbelief, and you knew instantly that he’d heard every word you’d just said.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, stepping into the room with slow, careful movements like he was approaching a fragile creature. His voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, you felt like it was wrapping around your heart and squeezing. “You still love me?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. All you could do was sit there, your phone slipping from your fingers as you met his gaze, your heart pounding like it would break free from your chest. And you knew, in that moment, there was no more hiding, no more pretending that everything was fine. It was just you and Spencer, standing on the precipice of everything you’d left unsaid.

“Yes,” you whispered, voice cracking as tears welled in your eyes.

Spencer felt his own tears begin to blur his vision, his breath catching in his throat. “I love you too,” he said, the words spilling out like they’d been buried for years, his voice thick with emotion.

You let out a wet giggle through your own tears, and before you knew it, Spencer was sitting on the bed next to you, his hands reaching out to clasp yours. The warmth of his touch was comforting, familiar, and for a moment it felt like all those years apart had never happened. The weight of everything you’d both been holding in pressed down, making this moment both heartbreaking and hopeful.

“Can we… can we try again?” he asked, his voice hopeful, eyes searching yours as if waiting for a lifeline.

You shook your head, sniffling softly. “I’m still engaged, Spencer.”

His face fell slightly, but he stayed close, not letting go of your hands. “You just said you’ll never love them like you loved me.”

“I know,” you admitted, your voice a fragile whisper. “And it’s true… but I still have to talk to them, figure out what to do.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles, grounding himself in the contact. “Do you… do you want to be with me?” he asked, voice trembling with the fear and hope of what your answer might be.

You stared into those beautiful, familiar eyes, the ones that once held your world, the ones you thought you’d never see again. “I think so,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips. “But, Spencer, I have my whole life here now. More so than ever… and you, you have a life in Virginia.”

“I don’t care,” he said with finality, his voice strong and certain, all doubt gone. “I don’t care, I will go anywhere to be with you. No job is more important than you.”

“Spence…” you murmured, your heart torn between what was and what could be, feeling the pull to him so strong it almost hurt.

“Sweetums,” he teased, the familiar grin spreading across his face, a flicker of the boyish charm you remembered.

“Too soon,” you laughed, shaking your head, but the sound of his voice, the way he said it, made it impossible to hold back the smile tugging at your lips. Even as your heart wrestled with the enormity of the moment, the warmth of Spencer’s presence wrapped around you like a comfort you never wanted to let go.

True to his word, Spencer left that morning, but he didn’t go back to Virginia. Instead, he checked into a hotel nearby, giving you the space he knew you needed while not quite ready to leave you behind.

When you finally heard the jingle of Noa’s keys in the door that evening, your stomach twisted with nerves. You had spent the entire day pacing, replaying the conversation with Spencer in your head, wondering what you would say to Noa, trying to untangle what you really wanted.

“Hey, baby,” You called, your tone neutral as they entered, hanging up their bag.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” Noa asked casually, turning to face you, their eyes sharp with an edge you hadn’t heard before.

“What?” you stammered, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of you. “I didn’t—”

“To Spencer,” Noa clarified, cutting you off, their voice still eerily calm. “You know, the man that I invited to dinner, who I let stay the night. The man who I made an absolute fool out of myself in front of. The man who told you he’s still in love with you.”

You felt your throat tighten, words failing as the weight of Noa’s calm anger pressed down on you like a heavy stone. Noa had never yelled—they didn’t need to. The steady, even tone made every word land like a blow.

“I didn’t—I don’t…” You struggled to form a coherent thought, desperate to defend yourself, but the truth was right there, undeniable.

“Do you love him?” Noa asked, and for a moment, their voice cracked, the tears finally shining in their eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Do you love me?” they pressed, and the desperation in their eyes broke your heart all over again.

“Yes,” you said again, your own tears falling freely.

Noa took a shuddering breath, looking at you like they were seeing you for the first time. “Do you want to get married?” they asked, and the question hung between you like a fragile thread.

You shook your head, your voice breaking as you whispered, “No.”

Noa nodded, silent tears streaming down their face, and the acceptance in their expression was devastating. “Well,” they said softly, swallowing hard as they looked away, their world—your world—crumbling with that single word.

“Noa, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice trembling as you took a tentative step closer, hoping to reach them somehow through the hurt.

Noa nodded, but the gesture was more resigned than understanding. “It’s… what are we going to do?” they asked, their voice thick with uncertainty.

“What?” you asked, your confusion breaking through the tension.

“The wedding,” they clarified, their words heavy with practical sadness. “We have people coming, we paid for everything, we have a house together.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, feeling the weight of all the things that needed to be undone. “You, um, you can keep the house. And I’ll pay you back for the wedding… somehow. I’ll figure it out. And, uh, I’ll send out the cancellations… this is all my fault.”

“It is,” Noa agreed bluntly, and the truth of it stung. “Was the whole relationship a lie?”

“No! God, no,” you panicked, reaching out as if the truth could stop the pain. “Everything was real, I… I didn’t realize I still loved Spencer until I saw him again.”

“That’s it?” Noa’s voice wavered between disbelief and bitterness. “One night, and you’re calling off a whole wedding?”

You sighed, the exhaustion of the situation weighing you down. “I know it’s crazy, but… I’ve already been divorced once. I don’t want to do that again.”

Noa let out a hollow laugh, and for a moment, you saw a glimmer of the person you’d spent years with, a flash of understanding in their eyes. “You’re already planning our divorce?”

The ridiculousness of the whole situation caught up to you both, and despite the pain, you found yourself laughing too—softly, helplessly—as the tension cracked just enough to let some humor seep in. “Maybe?” you offered with a weak smile.

You both laughed then, a bittersweet sound that hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt almost okay—like the world wasn’t falling apart around you. When the laughter faded, you looked at them, your voice soft and hesitant. “Are you… are you going to be okay?”

Noa paused, looking down at the floor before meeting your eyes again. “I mean, this sucks,” they said honestly, their voice raw. “But yeah, I’ll be okay.”

Noa was still possibly the best person you knew, even in the midst of everything falling apart. The two of you sat down together, canceling everything for the wedding, each phone call and email pulling at your heartstrings. But Noa was calm and patient, working through the logistics with you, getting deposits back where you could, dividing your shared assets. Luckily, the separate bank accounts made that part easier.

“What are you going to do now?” Noa asked one day, after you’d gone through another round of cancellations. “Are you moving?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, trying to mask the uncertainty. “I hear Virginia is lovely…” You know it is, you’ve visited many times.

Noa nodded slowly, a teasing scoff escaping through the lingering hurt. “Like, where the FBI is?”

“Is it?” you said with a laugh, playing innocent.

“And what about your stores?” they pressed, leaning back as if to put some distance between the weight of the question and the reality of your situation.

You groaned, the stress of it all hitting you at once. “I don’t know… I could sell them? Then give you the money for the wedding.”

Noa laughed softly, elbowing you gently in the ribs. “Y/N, you don’t have to pay for the whole wedding—just, like, ¾ of it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with them, grateful for how easy they were making this break. “Okay, deal,” you agreed, grinning through the heaviness. “Maybe Alexi would want to take over.”

That night, you called Alexi, filling them in on everything—Spencer, Noa, the wedding, the whole mess you were working through. They listened patiently, and when you finally finished, they couldn’t hold back their excitement.

“I knew it!” Alexi practically shouted, causing you to laugh, the tension melting away as you shared the absurdity of your current situation with them. After laughing and joking together for a while, you brought up the idea of selling your business. To your relief and surprise, Alexi was more than willing to buy it from you, excited at the opportunity. And just like that, another piece of your life clicked into place as you prepared to move forward.

While all of this was going on, Spencer paced his hotel room like a caged animal. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t concentrate on anything except the racing thoughts of what could happen—what your decision would be. His phone sat untouched, and though his fingers itched to call someone for support, he was too scared to share any good news before knowing the final verdict. He couldn’t let hope take root, not yet.

The hours dragged on until, late at night, his phone buzzed loudly in the quiet room, lighting up with your contact photo—the one he had never changed, with that adorable smile he couldn’t forget. His heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled to answer, pressing the phone to his ear urgently.

“Hello?” he asked, trying to steady his voice, but the anxious excitement was impossible to hide.

“Hey,” you breathed out, the sound of your voice washing over him like a wave of relief.

“How’d it go?” Spencer’s voice trembled with hope, his nerves hanging on every word.

“Good… good,” you said, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice, something lighter than he’d heard in days. “Um, remember when I visited a while back? And we saw that beautiful red house with the flowers out front?”

“Yeah?” he replied, holding his breath, his mind racing to piece together what you were saying.

“Should we see if it’s on the market?”

Spencer’s chest tightened with joy, and for a moment, the world stood still—just the possibility of a future, of a home, of everything he’d ever wanted with you.

—

“Spencer!” Derek yelled from down the hall, wiping his hands on a rag after finishing up some work.

“Yeah?” Spencer poked his head in the door, dust smudged on his face from their hours of labor on the house.

“I finished this room,” Derek said, gesturing to the newly painted walls and freshly installed trim. “Which one’s next?”

“Let me check,” Spencer said, ducking out for a second before coming back with a checklist. “Bathroom.”

Derek grinned, wiping his forehead. “Y/N’s really calling all the shots, huh?” he teased.

Spencer’s smile softened, his eyes reflecting nothing but warmth. “This is her dream home.”

“What about your dream home?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

“She’s my dream home,” Spencer said simply, the words carrying a sincerity that Derek couldn’t help but appreciate.

“That’s sweet, man,” Derek said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder with a smile. “But I’m never letting you live that down.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up a paint roller, knowing full well Derek meant every word. And that was fine with him—because this was where he wanted to be, building a life with you, step by step.

“Spencer!” you called out urgently from the other side of the house, your voice ringing through the hallways.

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat as he rushed over, worried you might have hurt yourself. “Yeah, baby? Everything okay?” he asked breathlessly as he rounded the corner to find you standing by the bedroom window.

You turned to him with a playful smile, holding up two curtain swatches. “Which curtain do you like?”

Spencer let out a relieved chuckle, shaking his head at his own worry. He walked over to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Whatever color you pick will be perfect, my love,” he murmured against your skin.

“Well, obviously I have the final say,” you teased with a grin, “but I still wanted to know what you like.”

“Thank you for considering my opinion,” he laughed, looking thoughtfully at the swatches. “Uh… that one,” he said, pointing to the one in your left hand.

“Thank you! Correct choice,” you teased, dropping the swatches on the floor as you grabbed Spencer’s shirt, pulling him close for a deep, lingering kiss.

He hummed softly against your lips, smiling into the kiss. “Mmm… what was that for?”

You broke the kiss just enough to whisper, “I just love you.”

“Yeah?” Spencer asked with a soft smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Enough to marry me again?”

You laughed, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Was that your proposal?” you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Spencer leaned back, pretending to consider his words thoughtfully before nodding with a chuckle. “I think it was,” he admitted, laughing at himself. “So… how’d I do?”

Giggling, you pulled him in for another kiss, your lips meeting his with warmth and certainty. “Amazing. But we’re eloping this time,” you said, resting your forehead against his as the words slipped out between kisses.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Reid,” he murmured back, his voice full of affection and promise.

—

After months of hard work, the renovations on your new house were finally finished. It had taken time, effort, and a lot of patience, but with Derek’s hands-on help and guidance, you and Spencer transformed it into a home that truly reflected both of you.

The front of the house, a charming red structure framed by an explosion of colorful flowers, felt like something straight out of a storybook. A mix of vibrant yellows, pinks, purples, and reds surrounded the quaint porch, and the white picket fence added a classic touch, making the entire exterior feel warm and inviting.

Inside, the home had become a true sanctuary. Your bedroom was bright and serene, with airy, light-filtering curtains draped over wide windows that bathed the room in soft, natural light. The bed was draped in a red and white blanket that matched the cheerful energy of the house, and shelves lined with books and little mementos from your life with Spencer filled the walls.

The kitchen was a dream—a beautiful, open area filled with pale blue cabinets and golden fixtures that glinted under the soft morning light that poured through the wide, farmhouse-style windows. Wooden open shelves displayed dishes and decor, and the island in the center was the perfect place for shared meals, morning coffee, and cooking side-by-side, something that you and Spencer cherished.

Spencer’s office was a space of calm concentration, tucked into a corner of the house that offered peace and quiet. The walls were painted a deep forest green, and vintage touches—like the rustic wooden desk and traditional-style chair—gave it a classic, studious feel. The large windows allowed in just enough natural light to make it a comfortable, thoughtful workspace, while the thick greenery just outside provided a sense of privacy and focus.

After the renovations were done, you and Spencer knew there was no better way to celebrate than to invite all your closest friends and family for a “housewarming” party. The BAU team, your parents, Alexi, and a few other close friends gathered at the house to tour the renovations, see all the changes, and share in the excitement of your new beginning. Laughter filled the rooms as everyone admired the work you’d both put into the home and marveled at the way it reflected both of you so perfectly.

But the tour was just the beginning. As everyone made their way to the backyard, the sun started to dip below the horizon, the sky turning into the golden hour glow of soft oranges and pinks. The moment felt magical, and you knew it was time to share your real surprise.

You stood beside Spencer, a wide smile on your face as you addressed your loved ones, your voice carrying across the yard. “We’re so happy that you all could come to celebrate our home with us,” you started, your eyes twinkling as you looked to Spencer. “But, actually, that’s not the only reason we asked you all to be here today.”

There were murmurs of curiosity and excitement, eyes darting between you and Spencer as he took your hand. “This is our version of eloping,” he announced, his voice warm and steady, and there was a collective gasp from the crowd as they began to realize what was happening.

“We’re getting married,” you added, barely able to keep from bursting into laughter and tears all at once. And as you turned to Noa—your now close friend and recently ordained officiant—you saw the beaming smile on their face as they stepped forward to take their place at the center of the garden, ready to join you and Spencer in marriage once again, this time surrounded by the people who meant the most to you both.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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muzansfangs · 3 months ago

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thirst request ✨

i have always loved the concept of the reader secretly dating byakuya and teasing the hell out of him during work. thinking about how much the composed captain can take before he snaps 🤭

hes too pretty to not tease

Enough is as good as a feast.

Starring: Kuchiki Byakuya x f!reader; mention to Gin Ichimaru and Renji Abarai;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: vaginal sex, quickie, semi-public sex, brat taming, secret affaire, creampie, teasing the partner, jealousy, language, dirty talk, talk about wedding, dom!Byakuya, sub!reader;

Plot: You have recently been promoted Captain of the Third Division, filling up the position once belonging to your treacherous former Captain Ichimaru Gin. Exuberant for your achievement, you asked your fellow Captain and boyfriend to celebrate together and come out as a couple. Too busy to listen to your pleadings and still kind of reluctant to tell his comrades he had opened up his heart again, Byakuya tried to avoid you and suggested you to just meet up later that night at his Estate, safe from prying eyes. Your wild side, though, did not quite agree with his decision and you turned his day into a living Hell, until he decided you had truly crossed a line.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The bulbous tip of your lover’s cock stretching you open unforgivingly brought tears of pleasure to your half-lidded eyes, already glittering in sheer pleasure and visions of ecstasy. You should have seen it coming. If you push a situation too far, something’s got to give. And sure enough, you were pinned up against the wall, thighs squashing your boyfriend’s narrow hips as he thrusted up into you with a stern expression plastered over his sharp features. His beautiful light-blue eyes, glazed over in frustration seemed greyish in the dimly illuminated alley you had been cornered to, as he took sharp intakes of breath.

“I wonder what got into your head. — he asked you through gritted teeth, watching in inward glee and immeasurable satisfaction the way your mouth fell ajar, while he roughly abused your pussy — A skimpy skirt as a uniform, tsk. You do realize decorum is important, when this is draped over your shoudlers?” he reprimanded you, tugging at your white Captain haori to emphasize his solemn words.

Seldom Byakuya Kichiki, the head of the prestigious clan of noble men and women serving the Gotei 13 for centuries now, had displayed such a lack of self-control. He felt ashamed of himself. His grandfather was probably scowling in disgust, staring down at him, wherever his spirit was. How was he supposed to repress his unbridled hunger for your flesh, though, when you had been swaying your hips so seductively before his eyes for hours?

Byakuya had even caught his Lieutenant, Renji Abarai, gulping in distress, when you had bent over his desk to strike up a frivolous conversation to simply punish him for having turned down your offer of throwing a party and spreading the news of your relationship among your friends and comrades. Not to mention how the lower ranks neglected their duties to leer at your form, snickering and murmuring dirty remarks about your ass. He had fought for his life in his own barracks, thanks to the tantrum you had thrown. He had almost committed a mass murder, killing the officers of his own Division for appreciating your curves so impudently in front of him. However, how could he even justify his jealousy if no one knew about your secret affaire? On the other hand, his cock throbbed so painfully in his hakama he had been forced to lock himself in his office and pretend to be swamped with piles of reports to check.

Frankly, you deserved such a rough treatment. He had been worshipping you since the day he had met you, kissing every inch of your body when you were warming his bed at night. Still, he always knew you had a sneaky side. How was it possible you had not been influenced by your former Captain, Ichimaru Gin, during the years spent at his service?

“He really taught you how to act like a prick, didn’t he? The jig’s up, darling. — he continued, perseverating his onslaught on your body by grasping you by your hipbones and impaling you onto his length — Dressing like that, acting like one of the girls from the brothels is unbecoming of my future wife” he firmly rebuked you, making your walls clamp down around his cock and earning a guttural groan from him.

Your mind went blank for a couple of seconds, your heels digging onto the small of his back as you cupped his smooth cheeks between your hands. Had he just let the words ‘my future wife’ escape his lips? Did he really mean it? You felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach and you let a breathy giggle leave your lips.

“You can’t be serious…” you whispered above his lips, but he stunned you in silence by rotating his hips up onto yours, deeply, the tip of his dick accidentally brushing your cervix.

Too occupied to endure the fleeting moment of pain caused by his action, you missed the resemblace of a soft smile on his lips. His words reached you, anyway, and when they did you milked him in your essence instantly.

“Marry me”.

Byakuya Kuchiki, a man who had even questioned his morals about the decision of dating another woman after years of mourning his deceased first love, was now about to make you his new official reason to be alive, to come back safe and sound after every mission, to spend the rest of your life by his side. A privilege you had not anticipated to happen relatively soon.

Byakuya grunted, a masculine ramble coming from deep within his chest, as he cradled you better in his arms. Your back was pressed against the wall, your now numb legs dangling at his sides, as you stared into his eyes as if you had just witnessed to the spectacle of a pouring rain in the desert. His cock came to an halt abruptly, his hot semen pumped out in thick ripples coating your insides in a whitish patina warming you deliciously.

He nipped at your jaw affectionately, your labored breaths mingling as he quickly checked the entrance to the cramped alley to assure himself no one had seen what had just happened between two people who should have incarnated the epitome of royalty and pride in battle. He would have definitely paid a visit to the shrine to ask his grandfather for forgiveness.

Once he let you down on your feet, you hastily retrieved your underwear from the pocket of your creased haori and made sure to waste no time in wearing them “If the offer is still on the table, my answer is ‘yes’, you know” you broke the ice again, your eyes gleaming in happiness while he fixed his pants and hummed softly, partially still dazed from the powerful orgasm he had just experienced.

The raven-haired Captain took a step closer to you, hand reaching down to grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger “I’m glad you won’t decline my offer in front of the entire Gotei, darling”.

You arched your eyebrow “The entire Gotei?” you quizzically inquired, watching him close his eyes to collect his thoughts before he replied.

“I intend to ask for your hand officially the next week. I would have loved to make it a surprise for you, but I am unfortunately unable to control myself around you. I’m sorry”.

You gaped, blinking a couple of times before wrapping your arms around his neck and stealing him a kiss he had not considered receiving all of a sudden. Your stolid man was sweeter than you had esteemed him to be.

“Shh! Don’t ruin the moment. My answer will still be the same, Byakuya Kuchiki. It’s a ‘yes’ now and so it will be for the rest of my life” you whispered and you could swear you had caught a glimpse of his lips curving into a timid smile.

All you knew was that soon enough nor you, neither him would have been forced to hide in the shadows anymore for you were his wife.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Oh, I made it kinda sweet… I think all those wedding I’ve attended mellowed me. Gosh, anyway, I hope you enjoyed this drabble. The next one will probably be one of the Shinji thirsts I have received. I needed some good Byakuya on my feed though.

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Luce

TAGS: @sashi-ya (because I know you love this Captain) @villainsrtasty @noirfan12 @velaenaa @j-u-u-z-o

#kuchiki byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya smut #byakuya x you #bleach smut #bleach x reader

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angrykittybarbarian · 2 months ago

Text

Things that bother me about Dragon Age: The Veilguard part 3 (final thoughts)

I have finally finished the playthrough. I endured because I wanted to give this game a fair chance. I wanted to see it from start to finish in the hopes it would deliver something, anything capable of redeeming it. But it just didn't. Or more precisely, not in a way sufficient to make its flaws easy to overlook. These are my closing impressions on the game. I have already done two posts about this in which I documented my observations and comments as I progressed. I will link the posts here: Part 1, Part 2.

Let's finish this ride for now.

!Spoilers below the cut!

The music

I don't know what the direction of the music was meant to take. When it was announced Hans Zimmer would compose the OST I had high hopes. Hans Zimmer is a houshold name in Hollywood and skilled at what he does. I listened to a number of movie OSTs of his making and they were all excellent. So what happened here?

The music sounds generic most of the time without a clear theme or a unique piece that got me searching for it on youtube.

The main theme has sort of a recognizable composition but isn't anything outstanding. Emmrich's theme sounds like a halloween piece written for Wednesdsy Adams and the rest of the OST seems to mimic Trevor Morris' work for DA:I, namely the Lost Temple and In Hushed Whispers themes, but without the emotional impact the original pieces created.

It's as someone has already pointed out and I agree: Bioware has bought the name Hans Zimmer but not his quality. It sounds like he didn't even seriously create something but half heartedly whipped something out of his sleeve and called it a day.

The facial animations

The main problem with these is they often don't fit the emotions the VAs are communicating.

The VAs actually did a fantastic job. The scene that touched me the most was the one Rook confronts Solas in after they escape the regret prison in the fade. That was the first time Rook felt involved, raw and real.

But what broke the atmosphere in an otherwise flawless scene was how unmoving their facial expression was. There was the VA shouting their lung out and the animation couldn't even give half a fuck about it.

I don't even see an excuse for this lack of facial animation. It was possible to do since DA:O, hell, even since the first Mass Effect back in '07. Why is it not possible in the year of our Lord 2024, when technology is presumably better?

The handholding of the player

The plot is tightly paced. This is not necessarily a bad thing as I didn't really like the Open World approach of DA:I since it stretched the main plot too thinly and the maps created weren't filled with interesting side content but boring and pointless fetch quests.

But Veilguard went into the opposide extreme as it leaves only little room for the player when and how to do things. The quests are activated and must be completed in a specific order. They have also only one outcome without room to make different decisions.

Rook can never be truly ruthless. They can never disagree and butt heads with their companions.

And I hate how on the side of the screen the game exactly tells you what you have done and how it affects your companions' behaviour. It doesn't bake it into the interaction organically. Instead it has yet again, explained to me what I did and why it has this very specific effect without any of the characters discussing it. But the beauty of consequential decisions lies in the very unpredictability of its outcome. That's what creates the emotional impact. It doesn't work if I am being warned and explained to like a small child.

It's this lack of trust the game puts into the intelligence of its players that is so experience breaking, insulting even. It doesn't trust its players to figure stuff out themselves. It assumes we are too stupid to get any of the things it tries to tell us.

The ting is though, dear Bioware writers, if you think you have to overexplain your story because you think your audience won't get it then that's a telltale sign of the story being actually badly written.

Another area where this becomes appearant are the "puzzles". I used the quotation marks because there isn't really anything to solve. The solutions are obvious and at times your companions go out of their way to tell you.

The romances

Romances have always been a nice bonus on top of the otherweise amazing game content. They added some enjoyable extra fluff purely for enjoyment and some cases even deepened the main storyline.

In Veilguard they don't do that. In almost all of them the flirting is so meaningless that your cutscene with them just proceeds as if nothing happened.

There is no shift or change to their tone towards Rook. You don't build up the relationship with them. There is no last goodbye kiss before the last mission or passionate affirmations of love and trust. It just leaves you cold.

The only romance that seems to have that old depth is Emmrich's. The rest however, they don't add anything significant. There virtually is no difference to the game without the romances.

Companion relationships

Let's begin here with the simple fact that all deeper interactions Rook has with the companions are strictly scripted which ties back into the handholding part of this criticism. Rook cannot initiate a conversation and ask them some general questions about their histories and opinions on certain matters.

Rook only gets to interact with them when they happen to want something from them. Otherwise they cannot be bothered to acknowledge Rook with more than a one sided oneliner.

And then there are the relationships between the companions themselves. They either get along swimmingly or the game feels the need to stage some immature conflict between them without any deeper purpose.

Like Harding not understanding why Emmrich brings so many books on the road despite it literally not being any of her damn business bevause it doesn't personally affect her in any way.

Or Taash not understanding his profession as a Mournwatcher as they call him names so Rook has to point out Taash in turn likes dragons which is an interest he doesn't share only to culminate the discussion with a "We need to respect our differences" sort of statement.

These are not conflicts, these are squabbles of children and like children Roik talks to them which is brought ad absurdum with Emmrich because he is literally old enough to be Rook's father.

Why bother at all with writing conflict if it is only to be something as inconsequential as this?

Varric's death

This one is a .... choice.

I won't go into why the decision to let him die or not is good or bad because I feel like this is highly subjective.

However the impact of the reveal of this fact is only partly executed well.

Why?

Because it only hits hard when the player has known and cared about Varric at least since DA:I if not DA 2. The execution of this plotpoint thus relies too heavily on nostalgia instead of building the tension up within its own setting.

When thinking about Bioware also wanting to be newcomer friendly with this game I am left to wonder then why they didn't introduce Varric properly and didn't give the players time to build up the relationship? Why would a new player care about Varric? They don't know him.

Bioware cannot in good conscience claim they designed the game to be new player friendly while simultaniously heavily relying on knowledge from previous games, dlcs, comics, novels and other spin-off media. They cannot claim this and have anything but DATV do the heavy lifting when it comes to executing their plot.

The final mission

For my final point I also want to lose some positive feedback about this game.

The ending was actually well written.

In relation to Solas it comes full circle. You can actually feel what's at stake and the decisions Rook makes actually matter.

The final questline roughly follows a Mass Effect 2 approach where it is classified as nothing short of a suicide mission.

Companion quests essentially function as loyalty missions and Rook gets to assign various posts in battle. Just like in Mass Effect 2 assigning a companion a post completely outside of their expertise may get them killed.

The dialogue is actually written well at this point in the game. There isn't really much to complain about.

But even this part is not entirely without faults.

For one I don't like the non negotiable sacrifice that has either to be made by Harding or Davrin. Rook doesn't even get a chance to save any of them. But again these non negotiable companion deaths where you only make the choice who's it's going to be isn't anything new (i.e. Hawke and whatever Warden you happen to get, Kaidan/Ashley in ME 1). So maybe a bit if a bummer but nothing experience breaking.

A stronger point however is that Rook will always keep the Veil intact in the end.

I suppose this outcome already is part of the game title itself but was it necessary to take it so literally?

With everything the elves have lost and the discrimination they faced it should absolutely have been an option to agree with Solas and tear the Veil down.

But since we don't talk about racism and slavery I guess Rook doesn't reflect on these points either. So I guess keeping the Veil intact is in line with the game's general sanitization of the world.

So in conclusion?

The game is far from great, not gonna lie. It feels like the devs actually wanted a new IP but were too afraid of the risks that come with such an endeavor and thought gutting an existing franchise that already did the heavy lifting of building a fanbase and using it as a package would save their ideas from flopping. Surely no one will notice it is actually something else if we market it as Dragon Age, right?

But we are not that stupid. This behaviour is insulting to put it plain and simple and I am heartbroken, angry and said that this was done to Dragon Age. I wanted to love this game. I was optimistic before the release. Everything looked fine, nothing in particular to worry about.

But I cannot continue to defend this without breaking my basic brain function.

The most frustrating part is that with the ending the devs showed they can write a story and meaningful dialogues. It left me wondering why it couldn't be done like this for the rest of the game and living with the reality that I will never get what this game could have been.

All in all this is not a good Dragon Age game. It is a massive disappointment and does not live up to the promises made by the devs.

I am sorry for everyone who preordered.

I am sorry for everyone who paid the full release price.

Nominating it for Game of the Year is not justified no mattee how you look at it.

If you are genuinely enjoying the game, I hope you continue to do so and all power to you.

For the rest: let's stop excusing Bioware's disrespect towards the fans and enabling them by paying them too much money for it.

Don't buy at release. Don't buy spin off media. Wait for sales. These people only understand the problem when you give them a good run for their money.

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #datv #datv critical #bioware critical #emmrich volkarin #taash #scout harding #solas #long post #this is the end of my critical long posts #i will post some thoughts and ideas on how this game could have been improved #this is my way of coping with the sheer betrayal this game release was to me #like it was my groom and left me the bride at the altar on our wedding da #after feeding me all these empty promises #i can never trust bioware again

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woniedarlin · 7 months ago

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A Sister's Shadow: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You love your sisters—Yeri, Hana, and Narin—truly, and you’ve learned almost everything from them. But you can never forget the day when Yeri introduced Jungwon to your family. That day changed your life forever. Ever since you were little, you loved Jungwon. However, you couldn’t help but feel envious of the friendship between Jungwon and Yeri. But what will happen when Jungwon decides to propose to Yeri years later?

warnings: This is inspired by the 2019 movie “Little Women” and is set in the 1860s. It includes historical references to the societal roles and limitations placed on women during that period, including themes of gender inequality and the pressures of marriage for security. Reader discretion is advised. It also has mentions of injuries and kissing. Let me know if there is more!

note: Hello darlings, I couldn't help but take inspiration from the ‘’Little Women’’. Please know that it won't follow the exact events. The characters except for you and Jungwon that are mentioned in the story are just something I made up. I haven’t read the novel yet so I really apologize to those who were truly a fan of it. This is inspired by Amy and Laurie’s story, and I really hope you will like it. Happy reading!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @13tter @chlorinecake

Growing up as the youngest, you were often shielded by your three older sisters—Narin, Hana, and Yeri—in the home you shared. You were raised in modest circumstances, finding your way through life as you learned and listened from your older sisters.

It was the afternoon when Yeri burst through the door of the home, her cheeks flushed. “Y/n, guess who I’ve brought to meet us!” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling.

You followed Yeri into the parlor, where a 15-year-old tall boy with a cute smile stood confidently by the doorway. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his eyes sparkled as he glanced around the room.

“Everyone, this is Yang Jungwon,” Yeri announced proudly, gesturing towards him. “He’s just moved into the neighborhood, and I thought it would be wonderful for him to meet the family.”

Jungwon gave a smile, his dimples showing, and a nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he said warmly while glancing at you and the rest of your family.

From the moment you laid eyes on him, you felt a strange fluttering in your stomach. At twelve years old, you were used to being seen as the baby of the family..but something about Jungwon’s presence made you want to prove yourself more grown-up.

As Yeri chatted animatedly with your parents, Jungwon’s attention turned to you. “So, Y/n,” he began, his tone friendly “do you enjoy living here?”

You nodded, a small smile forming. “Yes, it’s nice. We’ve lived here for as long as I can remember.”

Jungwon chuckled softly. “That’s great to hear. It must be fun having Yeri as your sister.”

“She’s the best,” you replied with a grin, glancing over at Yeri who was sharing a playful look with Jungwon.

Throughout the gathering, you couldn’t help but notice between Jungwon and Yeri. They kept exchanging glances and shared inside jokes that spoke of a deep friendship. You admired and envied it at the same time.

🌱

It was winter, and everything was covered in frost. The air was cold, and the ground was slippery with ice. You walked through the snowy streets, carrying a basket of warm bread. You hurried along, trying to stay warm.

Suddenly, your foot slipped on a patch of hidden ice and you tumbled to the ground, the basket of bread scattering across the snowy path. Pain shot through your knee as you landed hard, and tears welled up in your eyes from the shock and the sting of the fall.

‘’A-ah.. ouch‘’ Clutching your injured knee, you tried to compose yourself, but the pain was unbearable. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to get up, feeling helpless and alone.

Then, you heard footsteps approaching. Through blurry eyes, you saw Jungwon walking briskly towards you, his brow furrowed.

“Good heavens, are you hurt?” Jungwon asked urgently, kneeling beside you and gently placing a hand on your arm.

You nodded, trying to stifle your sobs. “I-I fell,” you managed to say, your voice trembling with pain.

Jungwon’s expression softened as he examined your knee. “Let me see,” he said softly, carefully lifting your pant leg to inspect the wound. “It appears you’ve taken quite a spill.”

You winced as Jungwon touched the tender skin around the scrape, but his touch was gentle. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a clean handkerchief, using snow to dampen it before gently cleaning the wound.

“The cold will help soothe it,” Jungwon reassured you, his voice calm and steady despite the urgency of the situation.

“It hurts terribly,” you admitted, feeling the sting intensify now that the initial shock was wearing off.

“I understand,” Jungwon replied sympathetically. “But you’ve been brave thus far.”

You managed a weak smile. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling warm despite the icy ground beneath you.

Jungwon finished bandaging your knee with care movements. “There,” he said finally, tying a secure knot in the handkerchief. “That should suffice for now. You must take care to keep it clean and avoid putting too much weight on it.”

“Thank you,” you said sincerely, looking at him with gratitude.

Jungwon smiled warmly, helping you gather the scattered bread, and offered to carry the basket for you. “It was my pleasure, Y/n. Pray, be more cautious in the future, won’t you?” he then patted your head.

That day fully changed what you saw in Jungwon.

🌱

As the evening descended softly, you sat by the flickering fireplace, nervously twisting your hands as you watched Yeri and Jungwon prepare for a night at the theater. The thought had been on your mind all day, and you finally gathered the courage to ask.

“Yeri, could I come with you to the theater tonight?” you ventured, your voice marked by hope.

Yeri turned to you, her expression gentle yet firm. “Oh, Y/n, it’s too late for you to be out. The theaters are no place for someone your age at this hour.”

“But I’m not that young,” you protested quietly, trying to hide the disappointment that threatened to surface. “I promise I’ll behave.”

“I know you would,” Yeri replied gently, kneeling beside you and patting your nightgown affectionately. “But mama would be worried, and it’s past your bedtime.”

You nodded sadly, knowing she was right. Despite your best efforts, jealousy crept into your heart as you watched Yeri and Jungwon gather their coats and hats, preparing for an evening of entertainment.

“I understand,” you murmured, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Yeri reached out and squeezed your hand warmly. “I love you, Y/n.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at her words, and you nodded sadly. “I love you too, Yeri,” you whispered. You do love your sister so much…

Jungwon, sensing your disappointment, offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Y/n. We’ll tell you all about it when we return.”

As they left, the door softly closing behind them, you sank back into the chair as you felt envy and guilt.

🌱

Summer arrived fast.

The warm sun kissed your cheeks as you sat on the sandy beach, a light breeze carrying the salty scent of the ocean. It was a rare outing with your sisters—Narin, Yeri, and Hana—and Jungwon.

Yeri and Jungwon raced along the shoreline, their laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. Bursts of gleeful shouts as they chased each other through the sand.

Meanwhile, you sat quietly on the blanket spread out on the beach, a sketchbook resting on your lap. Your eyes followed Jungwon as he ran. With each stroke of your pencil, you drew all the small details that made your heart race.

“He’s quite a sight, isn’t he?” Narin remarked, noticing your focused gaze.

You nodded silently, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “He’s… he’s fun to draw,” you managed to say, trying to hide what you were feeling inside.

Hana, giggling beside you, leaned over to peer at your sketch. “You’ve captured him perfectly,” she commented with a smile.

You continued sketching as a few hours passed. The sun started to sink, then, Yeri and Jungwon returned with their faces flushed from their games.

Jungwon glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of your sketch. “What’s this?” he asked curiously, crouching down beside you.

You felt your heart skip a beat as he leaned closer to examine your drawing. “Um, just something I was working on,” you murmured shyly, unable to meet his gaze.

Jungwon studied the sketch intently, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re talented,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you,” you replied softly.

Yeri, noticing the exchange, chuckled playfully. “Looks like someone has a secret talent,” she teased, giving you a look.

Jungwon laughed, his eyes meeting yours. “You should draw me more often,” he said warmly, his words sending a flutter through your heart…

🌱

Years already passing by.

It was a quiet evening, the gas lamps flickering softly as twilight settled over. Yeri returned home with tear-stained cheeks, her usually vibrant spirit subdued. Your heart sank at the sight of her, knowing something had gone awry.

“What happened, Yeri?” you asked softly, your voice full of concern as you approached her.

Yeri turned to you, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Y/n,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Jungwon… he tried to propose to me today.”

Your heart skipped a beat as her words hung in the air, the weight of their implications sinking in. “But… why are you crying then?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yeri shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Because I had to refuse him,” she confessed, her voice cracking with sorrow. “I love him, but not in that way… everything would be horrid if we married.”

Your heart shattered at her words, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the depth of her sacrifice. But more than that, you were crying because you saw how deeply Jungwon loved Yeri,

Enough wanting to marry her.

The realization pierced your heart, knowing that the love you held silently could never be.

“I’m so sorry, Yeri,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you pulled her into a tight embrace.

Yeri buried her face in your shoulder, her sobs mingling with yours as you held each other, sharing the weight of a love that could never be. Through tear-stained eyes, you both grieved for the dreams and hopes that had collided with harsh reality.

It was a scene of quiet sorrow, a moment frozen in time amidst the hustle and bustle of a world in transition.

“I never wanted to hurt him,” Yeri muttered softly. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of a marriage built on anything less than true love.”

“I understand,” you replied gently, your heartache echoing in your voice. “Sometimes, the hardest choices are the ones that break our hearts the most.”

🌱

Months had gone since you said goodbye to your family and went to Europe with your grandmother.

Yes, you left, but with a purpose.

There, you learned from skilled artists and improved your painting techniques.

Sitting at your easel with a palette in hand, you focused on painting the colorful spring flowers. The park was lively with other painters, families having picnics, and couples walking together. You didn’t realize that someone familiar was about to reappear in your life.

He approached quietly, a smile tugging at his lips as he observed you in your element. His heart swelled with pride at how far you had come since the last time he saw you.

“Y/n?” Jungwon’s voice broke the peaceful silence, his tone filled with surprise and delight.

You turned at the sound of his voice, eyes widening in disbelief before breaking into a smile. “Jungwon!” you exclaimed, setting aside your paintbrush and palette as you rose to greet him.

He closed the distance between you in quick strides, his grin widening as he reached out to boop your nose playfully—a familiar gesture that you remembered so well.

“You surprised me!” you laughed, your voice filled with genuine joy as you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Jungwon lifted you effortlessly, spinning you around in a whirl. “You’ve grown up,” he remarked with a soft chuckle, his arms still wrapped around you as he gently set you back on your feet.

“I… I didn’t expect to see you here,” you admitted, feeling a rush of happiness and fondness as you looked up at him.

“I wanted to see you,” Jungwon confessed, his gaze tender as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “You look… incredible.”

Heat crept into your cheeks at his compliment, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. “Thank you,” you murmured shyly, feeling a surge of gratitude for his presence.

You almost forgot to introduce Jungwon to Minhee. Someone you had been with for a while. ‘’Oh, I want you to meet someone,’’

‘’Jungwon, this is Minhee,” you said warmly, gesturing to the young man standing beside you. “Minhee, meet Jungwon.”

Minhee extended his hand with a smile, his demeanor polite yet reserved. “Nice to meet you,” he greeted Jungwon.

Jungwon shook Minhee’s hand, a polite smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Likewise,” he replied, his tone cordial yet distant.

You sensed a subtle shift in Jungwon’s face before he masked it with a neutral expression.

“Minhee and I were just about to head out,” you explained, breaking the silence that followed the introductions. “It was wonderful seeing you, Jungwon.”

“Yeah, it was great catching up,” Minhee added with a nod, sensing the tension.

Jungwon nodded slightly, his gaze flickering between you and Minhee. “Take care,” he said quietly, with a bit of sadness.

You felt a pang of sympathy as you looked at Jungwon, wishing you could ease the unease that went between you. “We should talk more often while you’re here,” you suggested gently, hoping to bridge the gap that had unexpectedly arisen.

Jungwon nodded again, a faint smile touching his lips. “I’d like that,” he replied, his voice softer now as he met your gaze with gratitude.

With a final wave, you and Minhee turned to leave. As you walked away, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling—a reunion with Jungwon, colored with unspoken words and a connection that spanned time and distance.

🌱

The room felt heavy as you carefully packed away your painting supplies, the scent of oil paint lingering in the air. Jungwon leaned against the doorway, his eyes studying you with curiosity and concern.

“Why are you giving this up?” he asked gently, breaking the silence that hung between you.

You paused, turning to face him with a small, sad smile. “It’s not about giving up,” you began, your voice marked by resignation. “It’s about practicality. There are things in life we must consider.”

Jungwon furrowed his brow, sensing the weight of your words. “But you love painting,” he insisted softly.

“I do,” you admitted, nodding slightly. “But loving something doesn’t always mean it’s the path we can afford to take.”

He stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “What do you mean?”

You sighed, setting down a brush with deliberate care. “You see, Jungwon,” you started, choosing your words carefully, “Women here are often powerless unless they marry. Even then, everything they have belongs to their husbands.”

Jungwon frowned, his expression pained as he took in the implications of your words. “That’s… unfair,” he muttered, his voice laced with sympathy.

“It’s reality,” you replied quietly. “And Minhee… Minhee is different. He’s wealthy, and he can provide security. I’ve always known I would marry a rich man.”

Jungwon’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. “So, if Minhee went down on one knee to you, would you say yes?”

You met his gaze squarely, the weight of your decision hanging heavy in the air. “Yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because marrying Minhee means security, stability… a future I can’t achieve on my own.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, the reality of your words sinking in. “I understand,” he said softly, though you detected a hint of disappointment in his tone.

As you resumed packing, the room hung heavy with silence.

🌱

The park felt peaceful as you and Jungwon sat, you had just finished drawing him, the lines on the paper capturing him with careful detail.

“You have a remarkable talent,” Jungwon remarked with genuine admiration as he studied the sketch, his eyes flickering between the paper and your face.

“Thank you,” you replied softly. The air around you felt charged with unspoken words.

As you both stood up and began to walk, having a lighthearted conversation. Yet, amidst the ease of your exchange, Jungwon’s demeanor turned thoughtful, his gaze distant for a moment.

“How is Minhee?” he finally asked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

“He’s busy with business,” you replied casually, though the words carried a weight you couldn’t ignore.

Jungwon nodded silently, his expression unreadable as he turned away slightly, staring into the distance. The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves overhead.

“You deserve more than just security,” Jungwon said suddenly, his voice low yet with earnestness. “You deserve happiness, love… a future where your heart is truly fulfilled.”

You paused, taken aback by his heartfelt words. “Why are you telling me this?” you asked gently, a mix of confusion and vulnerability in your voice. “You know the reality of life.”

Jungwon met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion. “Because you deserve to hear it,” he replied softly, his voice trembling with sincerity. “Because… I love you.”

Those three words hung in the air, stirring emotions within you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to touch his hand, your heart overflowing with unspoken longing.

“I’ve loved you, I’ve always had,” you confessed softly, your voice trembling with raw honesty. “Every moment, every sketch… it was you.”

Jungwon’s breath caught, his eyes glistening with tears as he held you close. “I never knew,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I should have told you sooner.”

With the weight of years of unspoken love and missed chances hanging between you, you leaned into his embrace.

But you knew that despite the tender moment, the reality of your circumstances remained unchanged. With a heavy heart and tears streaming down your cheeks, you gently pulled away from Jungwon.

“I can’t,” you whispered brokenly, your voice cracking with emotion. “Not when… not when Yeri didn't choose you. I won’t settle for being someone’s second choice. I won’t allow myself to be that’’

"Love, please listen-" Jungwon pleaded, trying to hug you, but you interrupted him right away.

“You are being mean Jungwon...” you muttered to him as you felt your tears running down to your cheeks.

Jungwon’s expression softened, his tears mingling with yours as he watched you walk away, each step echoing the ache in your heart...

🌱

Returning to your hometown brings a lot of memories and emotions. The sights and sounds welcomed you back into the embrace of your family and home. Amongst the laughter and chatter, there was a quiet moment when you found yourself alone with Jungwon after a while.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you admitted, your voice soft with surprise as you looked at him, feeling a rush of emotions at seeing him again.

Jungwon’s eyes searched yours, his gaze with longing. “I had to see you,” he confessed quietly.

As you both walked through the old familiar streets, the conversation turned to recent events. The mention of Minhee brought a pause, a hesitation crossing your face.

“You didn’t say yes,” Jungwon observed gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked down in shame, your heart laid bare in that vulnerable moment. “Because I don’t love him that way….the way that I should,” you admitted, your voice tinged with emotion. “Not like… like I love you.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, his eyes shining with tears of joy and relief. Your eyes met him as tears slowly went down. “You don't have to say anything-’’

But without a word, he moved closer and gently held your face before kissing you...

🌱

Years had passed since that reunion when love had finally found its way back to you and Jungwon. Now, you were sitting while painting the beauty of the park.

Beside you, Jungwon watched with a tender smile, his gaze brimming with admiration and love.

“You’ve captured it perfectly,” he murmured, his voice soft with pride as he knelt beside you, gently placing a hand on your growing belly.

You glanced down at the swell of your abdomen, a smile gracing your face. “Our little one,” you whispered. “Can you believe it?”

Jungwon’s eyes sparkled as he leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead. “I can’t wait to meet our baby,” he replied softly, his hand resting protectively over yours.

In that moment, you knew that you had found love that had grown against all odds...

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