#trust me the actual scene is way better

[alexiethymia]

"Mr. Osananajimi want to praying with Ayase."

I love him. I love him so much. He is so babygirl. There are so many things I love about that scene.

Getting to hear, 'Momo' in his normal-mode (as opposed to his Turbo-mode) voice!

Knowing Okarun actually draws quite well! And that he actually likes drawing (and then subsequently laughing because Momo, Turbo Granny, and Acro Silky are pretty detailed while Jiji is this barely formed shape).

And yet! He still draws Jiji with abs. I really can't with him.

Him spelling out barbecue so many times. BearberQ is very cute.

And yet I admit the slightly manic, "Happy, Happy, Happy" is very concerning.

I mean I don't remember this scene in the manga, so it's a nice peek into what makes Okarun, Okarun.

[itwoodbeprefect]

stoic illiterate unwilling assassin deeply in love with unfailingly kind rich sad gay man almost stabs his crush's brother because the brother cares so much and so genuinely for the gay man that he searched assassin's room out of worry and found knives and a mysterious letter before being interrupted by the assassin who then does not want to show him the letter which seems incredibly suspicious, only for a later scene (after the gay man interrupts them and thus stops any escalation from happening) to quietly reveal that the very sus letter in possession of this illiterate assassin is not in fact a sign he's lying about being illiterate.... it's just two pages of him practicing the gay man's name over and over in neatly spaced lines...... a reveal which he was going to STAB a man over because he doesn't know that the gay man's brother knows the man is gay and loves him with his whole heart and would never ever do anything to hurt him........ i will never get over this, how could i ever get over this, everything else ever is going to be downhill from here

[mirrortouchedsea]

dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 

the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 

the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?

the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 

--- 

how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 

--- 

a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 

the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 

slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 

the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 

--- 

when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 

his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 

the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 

it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 

the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 

once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 

the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 

he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 

the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 

at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 

the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 

all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 

the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 

despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again. 

[s0fter-sin]

less a continuation and more of a thought bubble but ghost would hate price in this au

when he pulls him out of the gulag, so many of soap’s new behaviours click into place. things that never made sense to him as a natural progression of who soap was, that aren't just a product of walling himself off and turning his heart to stone

his soap never smoked. always complained when ghost lit up about the damage it did to the lungs, how it would slow him down in the long run

his john, always trying to be the best soldier

that's why seeing him suck on a cigar like it's second nature is so jarring. even more so when he'd only take a few puffs; enough for a taste and to make smoke coil through the air around him. always the same brand, always left to burn down in his fingers

then ghost sees him gift his cigar box to price, something that took pride of place on his desk practically before the man clears medical and seeing the way they both relax as he sets a match to one makes him realise

in an effort to run away from soap, john had tried to mould himself into price

god forbid ghost ever reads soap's journal. he's heard the "what the hell kind of name is soap” story from him, of the first time he'd ever met the captain and if he ever saw his words echoed in john's hand? saw just how far the man had wormed his way, so deep into him that he was speaking with his tongue?

price's monologues, making himself larger than life all in an effort to make this shitstorm feel more grand than just another war they're all trying to live through, acting like he’s being profound when he’s really just dodging anyone that questions him

letting price take roach out from under his wing like soap didn't identify with the kid the second he saw him, all of his self-deprecative habits hitting tenfold as he blames himself for every stray bullet; as if price could've plucked them from the very sky

the way soap steps back without a word of protest to let price command the team he handpicked and price just accepting? like his years of leadership mean nothing, like john means nothing after trying so hard to follow in his footsteps, just to be tossed aside

the rage ghost would feel at his indifference, as if soap’s behaviour is to be expected and not a series of red flags. add the nuke mission and his actions during and after shepherd’s betrayal? ghost would despise him

[fearandhungies]

i have typed out and deleted four different posts getting mad about dungeon meshi fans today i truly have the buddha nature. im literally gonna have to blacklist the tag it sucks so much because i love dungeon meshi So Much but the fandom is so fucking crazy racist and so unbelievably frustrating when it comes to character readings and SO INCREDIBLY PROJECTING so so SO much onto the themes and i literally cannot stand it anymore. if i see one more person paint laios as completely in the right and totally helpless victimized in the toshiro-laios conflict im actually gonna start sending bombs through the mail

[crossbackpoke-check]

nosy anon again making a return because i think what my brain did was read that i helped find some kind of writing and then did not fully process what the writing was?? but upon rereading i am very intrigued if you ever get the urge to share i will be all eyes/ears/senses required to enjoy things!!

I GET TO DO WIP WEDNESDAYYYYYY!!! the writing exists mostly in the form of a tag (fantastic! 'verse) and also a thirty-two page doc of snippets and planning, so the sense you will be using most is imagination:

don't think i have ever actually formally written out anything about fantastic! 'verse but! the tl;dr of it is that it's a semi-college au: joel is still a hockey player for the lv phantoms, but morgan is a college student-athlete. it's incredibly relevant to the plot that joel falls in love with morgan in the check-out line of a wegman's, lies a little bit, and ends up going back to get his degree.

most of it is just good fun about college kids growing up, but i think there's a lot of parallels between making your way through a development system where traditional "success" isn't always guaranteed (ahl -> nhl, completion of higher education -> pursuit of a career) because that development system isn't always designed for you to "succeed" or have opportunities. heavy quotation marks around success because part of that struggle is learning what you want in life and how you define success. are your dreams achievable? are they still the same dreams you always used to have? it's infinite branching universes of would you still love me if i was a worm (ahl player forever) (a college dropout) (a college graduate) (older) (realizing the fallibility of your body) (uncertain of the future) (human).

silly little snippet:

[frogmascquerade]

Doctor who spoilers in the tags ! Empire of death

[reshinless]

Hiii, it's me again, I'm here to ask abt kinich- anyways, Reader is kind of insecure and self conscious and she's dating kinich, and she sees how good mualani is to kinich and starts to ask herself if she should actually be with him (+I would appreciate it you somehow turn this into smut because I'm a dog for him🤭)

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD UTC.

you knew kinich was close with her too, but you couldn't help but feel like you weren't as good as she was.

you saw the way she looked at him, what were you supposed to do? you knew she'd never pursue someone in a relationship but she always asked about your relationship with kinich.. was she hoping you'd break up?

well i'll be glad to answer that no she does not! but ill explain more later.

you continued to feel like you weren't a good partner, therefore distancing yourself from the man you fell in love with.

maybe he was better off with her. or at least so you thought. you see, mualanj was giving him advice on how to treat you, she always smiled whenever her and kinich spoke about it.. because.. well.. it was funny to her how he doesn't know how to talk to you.

you have barely had your first kiss with him, and he's never had anyone else like you before.. so he had to ask a professional (mualani plus her 0 relationship experience advice)

"just remember to make them feel at home! you notice if they've been sad or anything recently?" mualani puts up her surfboard up on a tree, sitting on the soft grains of sand on the beach.

"i.. feel like they've been running away from me.. did i do anything wrong?"

mualani realized immediately why you'd distance yourself; you were jealous. kinich has a dense sense for romance, so he wouldn't notice immediately unless.. well professional couplw therapist mualani ensures it doesn't happen again!

once kinich realizes what he's done, he goes to find you as soon as possible. not even hearing out more of mualani's words. she was sure you both would figure it out anyway.

but trust me kinich is quick on his feet to tell you how you're everything to him.

when you tell him you didn't believe him.. well i guess he just had to show you.

kinich who learned a few things from the books mualani threw at him, she didn't realize one of them was basically sex in a book, as he read on, he wanted to try out a specific scene.

laid out in front of him, taking his gloves off carefully tossing them to the side. prepping your hole for him to treat you good. your wetness already all over his fingers as he added another digit progressively.

he who hums into your ear, hearing how well you whimpered, and whined out his name. he could only praise you for how good you took him.

your cunt sucked him inside so well, the sounds of pleasure echoed throughout the hallway in the gap of the unlocked door.

your walls started to tighten around his cock, but that wouldn't stop him from penetrating you. he'd make sure by tonight that no one other than you could make him cum.

kinich who likes to put you into a mating press, your legs held high above your head, he slaps the soft skin of your ass, before laying a kiss onto your wet cunt, mixed with cum of your own and his.

kinich will make sure you know that he loves you more than anyone else. and he wants you to do the same (not that you weren't already doing that.)

but when its all over, his words are sweet, learning a thing or two from whatever mualani discussed with him. clearing the air on why he had been talking to mualani more recently.

he just meant to ask her about advice on what to get you for your next anniversary 🩵

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[kawareo]

Sceleritas Fel. Your loyal, and ever-adoring, butler.

I love this guy but to me he is one of the scariest part of the Dark Urge story

When I first met him, I thought he was hilarious and silly and that it was cute how much he genuinely loved Durge, and then it hit me just how fucked up the fact that I thought so was.

I find Sceleritas as a concept so interesting! He is there to provide someone for Durge to talk to, someone he can think he can trust - but can he, really? Sceleritas is, in the end, an extension of Bhaal. Everything he does he does in a way that pushes Durge towards Bhaal. The way he babies Durge is funny at first but then it scares me; Durge is not allowed to grow up and mature emotionally so that he has to always stay daddy's special boy. Durge's concerns are brushed off and he's scolded like a child. Slayer form gets called 'jimjams' and even that is babied. Scel compliments him all the time and at the same time never takes his actual words as something serious. Durge isn't even allowed to make up his own mind about anything - i'm thinking back to Sceleritas telling him that his Urges are his true nature, his own thoughts that are trying to claw their way outside, when I'm pretty sure it's canon that the Urge is Bhaal's will that is implanted in Durge's mind.

Another thing is what Scel says when you kill him as a Slayer - every death brings out a smarter, better Sceleritas. No wonder he enjoys you killing him, it literally makes him better!

He's also a pretty shitty butler, as you can tell from the flashback scene where he fucks up and accidentally slices a vein of a victim Durge was dissecting alive. Why? Because he was 'drunk on the job, again'. That kind of goes against everything Scel leads you to believe about himself and is so interesting to me.

Scel exists to make sure Durge doesn't have a need to talk to or trust or be with anyone else, his social and more mortal needs are satisfied in a way that is no risk to bhaal or his dogma. Everything around Scel screams gaslighting and something extremely icky and the worst part is that it is really easy to see how Durge would fall for what Scel appears to be at first glance.

But then again, this is just my interpretation, and I do tend to prefer to look at darker side of things especially when it comes to the Temple of Bhaal, I do want to explore this take on Sceleritas and Durge's relationship more in my fics, just how smothering and toxic it actually is. Again, just my interpretation, but Scel is also part of why Strike is the way he is when it comes to sex, the butler played a big role in normalizing sexual abuse in the temple to the point where Strike isn't even aware of it being abuse in the first place.

[space-blue]

Fixing Vander and Silco's story (a bit)

Using canon events! Sadly we can't actually fix it, but I hope this makes it a little better. I make my own edit proposal at the end that changes the bar scene to include Felicia without issues.

They meet in the mines, and meet Felicia and her partner there too. They end up together somehow (I think we can put the brotherly allegations to rest now, eh?) and one of them (or both) inherit/buy a bar.

Although Vander is the barman, there is no indication Silco doesn't own or co-own the place. After all he comes to take it eventually as his own, and he's still not bartending. That's just not his gig.

It's implied that Vander and Silco made it, as in, got away from the mines, while Felicia clearly didn't, as she comes home to both her daughters with mining gear and gloves.

So despite Vander and Silco building the Lanes together, the mines aren't closed, and the work "isn't done".

Felicia says they've done it, and Vander is happy to celebrate their success. Meanwhile, Silco has his "NoZ" Nation of Zaun book in which he's scribbling, still planning.

Vander's first memory that Viktor sees even has Silco holding that book.

Later, in season 1 episode 3, we see that Vander tells Silco that he had Vander's respect, the Lanes' respect, but it "was never enough".

There's also this fakeout moment in the memory at the bar, where Vander says they're done, and Silco replies with "You're gravely mistaken". And I thought he was going to go all zealous and say "We'll only be done when we have the Nation of Zaun", but no, he claims he's Bozo 1.

And imo, he is probably right. He calls out Vander in act 1 saying "I trusted you and you betrayed me", and Vander does not contest this. It makes the most in character sense as well that Silco is the brains of the operation while Vander is the brawn.

And we can conclude that Silco's goals were always "bigger" and that the Lanes were indeed not enough.

Years pass, during which we can only assume Silco keeps building his Nation of Zaun and Vander happily bartends and manages the Lanes with Silco. Felicia keeps working the mines and raises Vi, then Powder.

Vi is at least 11, if not more, by the time she's on the bridge. This is just consistent with her model, but also to make her 18+ by the time of act 2.

It's a long ass time for Vander and Silco to be running a bar and the Lanes together. Even assuming Vi is more 8 or 9yo, Vander and Silco spend all that time being together.

Sadly, their models aren't aged very well.

We are also forced here to make some unfortunate assumptions.

It's not a problem, IMO, for Silco to know Felicia and be close to her. It's a problem for him to not be close to Vi and Powder too. Close enough to recognise them at least.

It's easy to say, "Well, Felicia went back to the mines and raised her kids and wasn't super involved with Vander and Silco, who lived much higher up in their bar." Adult friendships and all that.

IT MAKES SENSE, but then it makes zero sense that Vander would murder his life's partner, a man he's been with 10 years at MINIMUM (fuck knows how long they were together while in the mines), over the death of a friend in a revolt they allegedly BOTH participated in.

The memories also imply that Silco is responsible somehow, for throwing a molotov. And yet the molotov doesn't kill the enforcer.

But Vander is shown in the opening of Act 1 season 1 pummeling one to death himself, long after the rest of the revolt has died down. That enforcer wasn't getting back up lol

So whatever we pick, because the writers made Felicia and Silco close, they create a plot hole either way.

Either Vander is whacko and murders his husband over a dead friend at a revolt he set up (since he repeatedly apologises for what he did, and claims he "lost his head after she died" and had that guilt on his hands too)

Or Silco and Vi and Powder spend ALL of season 1 acting like they don't know each other at all. Then Silco takes in Powder and somehow never comments on the fact he was friends with her mom.

Everything being triggered by Felicia's death also means that Vander's emotional thematic moment dropping the gauntlets after seeing what his violence led to is then followed up by a horrible attempted murder on the love of his life, which is... you know. Bad writing.

So I propose that they indeed drift apart. Silco knows of Felicia's kids, and they hangout a bit, but they aren't that close. She's busy mining and being a mom, and Silco is busy making the safe Zaun he promised to deliver.

The creation of that Zaun leads them to act out revolts and uprisings. Vander is happy to follow. He's angry, like he tells Vi. And this manifests in violence. Silco points his violence. It's how they create the Lanes and the moniker of Hound of the Underground. A hound usually has a master, after all.

Vander is Silco's hound, and I think, in Vander's mind this absolves him of some of the consequences of his actions.

So when his friend dies on the Bridge, even if they haven't been that close in a while, well, it's easy to put the blame on Silco.

Since we're following the new canon timeline... we'll have to have him go back with the girls, ready to turn a new leaf.

I think the best way here is to have him either dropping them at an orphanage, or back at their home (trusting Vi to look after Powder for a while) or with friends.

That way, Vi and Powder aren't immediately in Silco's legs back at the drop.

Then Vander and Silco take part in the "clean up" at the bridge. They go get bodies, and since they have no real estate in the fissures, they commit them to the sea (we have canon monsters in there, so I'm sure it all gets gobbled up).

That way, we explain why Vander is weirdly shaved, and why Silco and him are at in the Pilt: they just commited the bodies of the fallen to the waters.

There may have been many others, but Silco and Vander stay there, in the shallows, as they talk.

Vander is done. He doesn't want more of this. He thinks Silco went too far with pushing this one to the bridge. Piltover got defensive and they lost too many people.

Silco doesn't get it. Where he goes, so does Vander, but Vander is his own man, he decided to come too, and he killed enforcers too. Felicia's death is tragic, but as he later will tell Renni about the death of her son: at least she died fighting for the cause, and not some petty infighting, or worse, an accident at the shitty mines.

Vander, the Hound, is not only mad with grief, he refuses to carry the blame of his own actions. It's a character flaw and that's fine! The angry man channels that anger with violence, the only way he knows how.

Silco is probably shocked, and may not say the right things to calm Vander down.

Silco is under the assumption that Vander BELIEVES IN HIS DREAM. That he's a true believer of the Nation of Zaun, like Sevika turns out to be. A true believer would understand sacrifice. A true believer would understand too, that stopping now, after Felicia's death, would make THAT VERY DEATH POINTLESS.

So maybe he screams at Vander! What do you MEAN abandoning the fight? What do you mean, being content with the Lanes? How dare you? You'd make her sacrifice meaningless! You'd make Felicia die a pointless death!

And Vander would bellow that it's over. No more death. No more bloodshed. He rescued her kids from that bridge, and they don't deserve to die too, they don't deserve to see more death.

And Silco screams back that it's their job to create Zaun so these children won't have to see more death. Vander is just delaying the struggle.

And then, perhaps, Silco may even mock him. Say that Vander can't change like that. That he's not that sort of person, to just hang up his gauntlets and go peaceful. That Felicia's blood is on his hands too, and that the only way out is through more blood, more sacrifice.

It would be a horrible point to make, if then Vander truly loses it. Silco runs, and Vander's hound comes out, just grabbing Silco and trying to drown him.

It would be poetic, because then Vander goes home in shame. Gets his arm patched up, hides the scar under a brace, collects the kids and tries to pretend like HE CAN BE THAT MAN. Even though he surrendered his gauntlets and metaphorical violence, and tries to lean into the bartender chill persona, there's what he did to Silco.

And later he'll tell Vander "I'll show you what you really are". Because Silco knows that Vander's promises of being a peaceful good dad are flimsy at best.

Anyway, Vander goes home, and eventually the impact of what he's done really hits him. He's single now, and with kids, and the Lanes to run, and nobody knows where Silco is.

Vander slowly realises Silco was right about one thing. Just because Vander followed, doesn't mean he wasn't behind that event on the bridge. Becoming the solo leader of the Lanes has to have hammered that home for him. Suddenly so much responsibility thrust on him.

So Felicia's death was on him too, and his actions against Silco are the proof that he is indeed the sort of man Silco said he was. At any rate, surrendering violence as his first reaction to any trigger will take a lot of work.

He goes to their old hideout and leaves a letter for Silco.

In the happy AU, Silco finds it, and returns to Vander BEFORE ever meeting Singed. There is no glowing eye, no shimmer, and no cannery.

In our AU, Silco never finds the letter. He finds Singed instead. Starts helping him develop shimmer.

I've been thinking that since the goal of shimmer is a form of "keeping alive" and also "bringing back to life", then it's possible that Silco's glowing eye is a byproduct of shimmer experimentation.

And that the only way to keep it alive and function is more shimmer injections. It would otherwise be grey and dead like in the Nice AU.

So Singed is also a factor here. He gives our Silco a real way to deal scary violence to Piltover. And this changes our Silco. He's more radicalised, and more opposed to Vander, having discovered that Vander works with Grayson to keep Zaun under Piltover's boot (basically making sure the boot stays, but doesn't press down too hard).

Vander is, as always, the enforcer of the status quo.

And though this works for them timeline wise, it sadly doesn't change the fact that Silco should know who Vander's kids are.

Vi and Jinx can be excused for not recognising him, what with him being one of their mom's adult friends, and scarred. But Silco doesn't have that luxury. His great friend Felicia had two very distinctive kids, ONE OF WHICH VANDER FUCKING NAMED! And her death triggered his husband so badly he tried to kill Silco over it. If anything, Silco would be hyper-aware of Felicia's kids.

And no amount of alternate fix-its changes that. It's permanent damage to season 1's Silco.

I feel like we can fix Vander's side of things by inventing an entire scene at the Pilt as I did above, but we can't fix 10 years of knowing your friend's kids and then a lifetime of acting like you don't know them.

I think it also cheapens the found family aspect of both Vander and Silco's adoption. You're left to wonder if they took in the girls only because they were friends with the mom.

Silco's adoption of Jinx and co-dependence with her was great because it spoke of the similar shape of their traumas, and how unexpected their bond seemed.

But now it's redolent of friendly obligation. And lies.

How would I fix it by keeping Felicia in the picture?

I would fully remove Felicia's one-on-one with the boys. That night at the bar? It's a party. Young Sevika is here too!

Felicia and many others are there, all congratulating Vander and Silco over the creation of the Lanes. Eventually Silco tires of the social niceties and goes to write in his notebook at the bar. Or maybe there's a montage of the night as the crowds thin.

In the end, Silco is writing, and Vander is still socialising. He talks to 3 people--Felicia, her husband, and a random person. They thank him for all his work. They've done it! And the conditions in the mines are so much better now thanks to XYZ!

Vander is beaming, he's just so pleased. It's clear for him this is the end goal. Felicia asks him, pointing to Silco, if he's okay.

Vander laughs, says Silco is fine, but he's already got his head back in the clouds. You see, Silco doesn't just want the Lanes, he dreams of a free Nation of Zaun.

The other 2 laugh, but Felicia sobers up. She rubs her belly, thoughtful. Then she says "Sounds like a dream worth fighting for."

I don't think she even needs to say anything about being pregnant, but she could go on with something like "I'm expecting. A girl, I think. I know. And I would love if she could grow in a safe city. I'm so scared she'll have to live the way I did, growing up.'

And Vander smiles sadly and tells her, 'We've gotten this far, and we're not going back. We'll make Zaun safe for your kiddo, I promise you that.'

And that's it.

Vander knows OF Felicia. She is a community member. He knows her enough, maybe from Lanes meetings, that eventually he can recognise her children. But they're not friends, and SILCO definitely isn't friends.

And the disagreement after the bridge is fully about where to go from then on, and Vander deciding he wants to run the Lanes and keep them safe, that what they have now is good enough, while Silco wants "more".

That disagreement can turn nasty, and the fact Vander tried to drown Silco becomes a statement about how violent and temperamental he is as "The Hound of the Underground". Something he'll regret soon enough and spend the next few years working hard to try and change.

What do you think?

[potofsoup]

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

[cocobeanncteez]

Ateez Wooyoung — Between the Lines of Us

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut (mdni / 18+), Drama, non-idol au, university au

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x reader (f)

Word Count: 24k

Warnings/content: Mention of cheating (not by Y/N or Woo), jealous Wooyoung, alcohol consumption / bar + club scenes, arguments, sassy Wooyoung, miscommunication / lack of communication, trust issues, emotional scenes, dry humping, clit play, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex for a bit before using protection (don't risk it, use protection always), multiple orgasms, sorry if I missed anything else! Please note that other than Ateez, all other names used here are fictional.

Engineering had a way of chewing you up and spitting you out, leaving behind a weird mix of pride and exhaustion. Senior year was supposed to be the calm before the storm of real life—at least, that’s what everyone told you. “Your hardest classes are behind you,” they’d said. And technically, they were right. But no one warned you about the infamous one-year course known as Senior Design.

You stared at the whiteboard in your team’s lab space, the markers bleeding dry from overuse. A timeline of deadlines and half-finished ideas mocked you from the board. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt ahead.

Being a biomedical engineering student at Ateez University had always felt like wearing a badge of honor. It still did, but lately, that badge felt heavier than ever. Between your part-time job at one of the dining halls, your Senior Design project, and keeping up with life outside of school, you were running on low energy and low motivation.

And then there was your… situationship, Jung Wooyoung.

You met Wooyoung about five months ago at a bar while celebrating your bestfriend’s birthday. It was the middle of summer, and the night hummed with warm air and the kind of energy that only comes when you’ve got nothing urgent hanging over your head.

Chaerin, your best friend and unofficial social coordinator, had chosen one of the trendiest bars in the city for her celebration, and needless to say, it was incredibly packed. The music thumped in your chest, the faint scent of citrusy cocktails and spilled beer mixing in the air. Chaerin had gone off to play darts with a couple of your friends, leaving you at the bar with a drink in hand, effortlessly chatting up the bartender about his favorite local spots.

That’s when Wooyoung slid into the empty seat beside you.

“Do you always charm strangers this easily, or is it just bartenders?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You glanced at him, your eyebrows raised. He had an easy grin, the kind that said he was used to making people laugh, and eyes that sparkled like he was already planning his next joke. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most attractive man you’d ever seen around here.

“Only the ones who give me free drinks,” you shot back smoothly, smirking when the bartender snorted at your response.

Wooyoung chuckled, resting an elbow on the bar table surface. “Fair enough. But if you’re looking for free drinks, you might be wasting your time here. I’m much better at drinking them than paying for them.”

“Oh, good,” you quipped. “I was worried you might actually be useful.”

His laugh came louder this time, and before you knew it, the two of you were deep in conversation. He told you he was a Computer Science major at the same university as you and he’d just wrapped up an internship at a local tech company and was enjoying a brief break before his co-op started in the fall. You matched his energy effortlessly, sharing stories about your summer adventures and making him laugh so hard at one point that he nearly spilled his drink.

By the end of the night, Chaerin was tugging you toward the dance floor, and Wooyoung was scribbling his number on a napkin with a dramatic flourish. “In case you ever get bored of charming bartenders,” he said, slipping it into your hand with a wink.

The next day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment, the napkin still sitting on your kitchen counter. You’d told yourself you weren’t going to text him. He was funny and definitely, well… hot, but he also seemed like the kind of guy who knew exactly how to get people to like him. You weren’t sure if he was just playing around with you, and you weren’t one to waste your time on boys.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d grinned when you fired a sarcastic line back at him, or how easily he’d kept up with your humor. Against your better judgment, you picked up your phone.

You: Hey, it’s Y/N, the one who’s apparently too good for bartenders. Hope you didn’t get kicked out of the bar for spilling your drink

His reply came almost immediately.

Wooyoung: Kicked out? Please. I was the highlight of the night. But glad to see you haven’t forgotten me yet

You: Hard to forget someone who almost ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes

Wooyoung: What can I say? I always make an impression

One text turned into two, then ten, and before you knew it, you were swapping jokes and stories like you’d known each other for years. Two weeks later, you subtly dropped hints that you were going to a popular club near campus, hoping he’d show up.

The bar was alive with energy, music thumping through the walls as groups of friends and strangers laughed and danced under dim, colorful lights. You walked in with Chaerin, ready for the night.

It didn’t take long for Chaerin to spot someone she knew, dragging you along to meet them. While she chatted with her friend, you excused yourself to grab a drink. As you approached the bar, a familiar voice called out over the crowd.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Wooyoung, leaning casually against the bar with that ever-present smirk. He looked effortlessly good, dressed in a fitted black shirt that rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his forearms. His hair was slightly messy, like he hadn’t planned to show up but somehow still managed to look perfect.

“Wooyoung,” you said, feigning surprise but already feeling your pulse quicken. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah? Or did you secretly hope I’d be here?” His smirk deepened as he pushed off the bar and stepped closer, just enough to invade your space without being overbearing. Of course you hoped he’d be here.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “In your dreams, Woo.”

“Ah, but dreams come true sometimes,” he quipped, leaning against the bar again. “What are you going to drink?”

“Whatever’s strong and cheap,” you replied with a laugh.

“Cheap?” He shook his head in mock disapproval. “You deserve better than that. I’ve got this one.” He signaled the bartender, ordering something with a sly confidence that told you it’d probably be delicious—and a little dangerous.

You leaned your back against the bar, facing him. “Big spender tonight, huh? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just… saw someone worth treating,” he said, his voice low but loud enough for you to catch over the music. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded, the beat of the music syncing with the thrum of your heartbeat.

The bartender handed over two drinks, and Wooyoung slid one toward you. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against yours. “To… unexpected meetings.”

“To unexpected meetings,” you said, like as if you hadn’t dropped subtle hints of your whereabouts for the night. The drink was smooth, sweet but with a bite that lingered on your tongue—just like him.

As the alcohol worked its way through your system, you found yourself laughing more, leaning in closer to hear him over the noise. He leaned in too, his voice brushing your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The space between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

The music shifted, a sultry bass-heavy track taking over, and Wooyoung straightened, holding out a hand. “Dance with me?”

You hesitated for only a second before setting your drink down. “Why not?”

The dance floor was packed, bodies moving to the rhythm, the lights flickering in time with the music. Wooyoung pulled you into the crowd, his hand firm but gentle on your waist. The space between you disappeared as you began to move together, your bodies naturally finding the same rhythm.

His hands lingered on your hips, guiding you closer, his touch deliberate but teasing. You met his gaze, and for a moment, the air between you thickened. His lips curved into a wicked smile, and before you could overthink it, he leaned in, carefully watching your expression to see any hesitation.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he murmured in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin.

You pulled away to look at him. “Have I ever told you that you do too?” This time, you leaned in, brushing your lips on his lightly, testing the waters. But the moment he responded, it deepened. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him, and your fingers found their way into his hair. The music pulsed around you, but it was distant compared to the pounding of your heart.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the haze of the music and the heat between you. When you finally pulled back, realizing that things were getting hot and heavy and you were still in a public setting, his eyes were dark, searching yours.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice rough and low.

You smirked, still catching your breath. “My place or yours?”

Presently, Wooyoung somehow managed to juggle his co-op, his friendships, and his relentless optimism without breaking a sweat. While you were pouring coffee at midnight twice a week for fellow college students at your job, he was asleep. While he was debugging code at a sleek office desk in the morning, you were asleep. While you were buried in your senior design work and other classes, Wooyoung was busy at his co-op or catching up with his friends. He was supposed to graduate a semester early, but he got this co-op last minute, so he decided to push his graduation to the next semester. He liked it better this way as you and most of his friends were graduating during the spring. His co-op was a 20-minute drive away from campus, so he was glad he didn't have to go through the trouble of finding another place to stay and subleasing his apartment for the semester.

You were proud of him—you really were. But the cracks in your schedules meant seeing each other less and less. The only time the two of you could actually spend some quality time together was on the weekends.

It was late on a Friday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your small one-bedroom apartment. The apartment was quiet except for the low murmur of the TV, where an old rom-com played in the background. Wooyoung sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, his laptop open as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for hours,” you said softly, reaching out to run a hand through his silky black hair that he’s been growing out. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

He turned his back to look at you, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Of work? Constantly. Of being awesome? Never.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, appreciating the glimmer of his usual charm. “What are you working on this time?”

“Just polishing some scripts for a demo on Monday,” he said, his voice tinged with focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

Nodding, you left him to it, but the silence between you felt heavier than it used to. Late nights like this had become routine—him buried in his co-op responsibilities, you juggling your courses and your part-time job. Time together had dwindled to brief moments like this, where the companionship was comforting but fleeting.

After a few more minutes, Wooyoung finally shut his laptop with a decisive click and turned to face you. “Hey Y/N? So… I’ve got something to tell you.”

The seriousness in his tone made you sit up a little straighter. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to Busan next week,” he said, his words careful but casual.

“Busan?” you repeated, curiosity flickering across your face. “For work?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s this company event—networking, panels, that sort of thing. I wasn’t expecting to go since it’s mostly for full-time employees, but they extended the invite to co-ops too.”

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. “That’s great, Woo. It sounds like a big deal.”

“It is,” he admitted, though his smile didn’t quite match the excitement in his words. “But it’s over the weekend.”

Your heart sank a little at that. Weekends were precious, the only time you both had to really reconnect amidst the chaos of your schedules. Still, you refused to let the disappointment show.

“Well, you should go,” you said sincerely. “It’s a good opportunity, and you’ve worked hard for this.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened, a small crease forming between his brows. “I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.”

Your relationship with Wooyoung was… straightforward and complicated at the same time. The two of you weren’t dating, weren’t committed to each other, and yet things between you both were exclusive. Your friends referred to him as your “boyfriend,” claiming that’s how he acts. Honestly? You’d be lying if you said you didn’t act like a girlfriend too. There was just no tag for this relationship. Wooyoung only briefly mentioned one time that he doesn’t do relationships but also doesn’t like to fuck around. But feelings? He never really said anything about it. Were you FWBs? Were you… well, let’s just say it’s complicated.

His offer caught you off guard, and you laughed lightly, though your tone was gentle. “That’s sweet, but you know I can’t. I’ve got Senior Design deadlines next week, and one of my teammates is already slacking. If I disappear for three days, I’ll come back to double the workload.”

He nodded slowly, though his smile faded at the mention of your project, knowing how stressed you can get over it. “Who’s the teammate giving you trouble?”

“His name is Minhyuk, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, “Yongha and I have been picking up the slack for him.” You noticed the way his posture stiffened. “Jina is doing fine too, but she’s taking so any credits and has three hard classes, so we offered to ease her load a bit.”

Wooyoung’s expression relaxed slightly, but the way his jaw tightened when you mentioned Yongha didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Lee Yongha, right?” he asked after a moment, his tone light but probing.

You raised an eyebrow slightly. Your university was huge in terms of the number of enrolled students, and you knew Yongha grew up in the other side of the country, so you wondered how Wooyoung knew of him. “Yeah. Do you know him?”

He shook his head quickly, though the flicker of unease in his eyes told a different story. “Not really. Just heard the name around, I guess.”

The shift in his mood was subtle but noticeable, and it lingered in the air even as he changed the subject by asking if you wanted to go to the mall with him tomorrow. You didn’t press him on it, but something about the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes left you wondering.

-x-x-x-

The weekdays came and went, and you found yourself in the thick of the chaos. Your team’s project was barely hanging by a thread, and Minhyuk’s lack of participation was only making things worse. Despite your best efforts to keep everything together, it felt like you were drowning in deadlines. On top of that, Wooyoung was gone to Busan for his company event, and the days felt longer without him.

Saturday morning, you found yourself in the library, headphones plugged in, buried in your laptop and scribbling notes. You could barely keep your eyes open, but there was no way you could afford to fall behind. Your phone buzzed, a message from Wooyoung lighting up the screen.

Woo: Hope you’re surviving the weekend without me

You smiled, a soft warmth spreading through you. You missed him, even if you hadn’t admitted it yet. After a few moments of deliberation, you replied:

You: Surviving… barely. But I’ve got enough caffeine in me to last until Monday. How’s Busan?

Woo: It’s great. The event’s been interesting. I met some cool people. Don’t drink too much coffee

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to ask him more about his trip, about his thoughts on the event, but you couldn’t stop thinking about your team, about the mess you were still trying to clean up.

You: I’ll try. I’ll be glad when you’re back!

You hit send and leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. The library was quiet, but it felt like the walls were closing in. The pressure was mounting, and all you wanted was a chance to breathe.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed again. You expected a simple reply from Wooyoung, but this time it was a voice message. You clicked on it, holding your breath as his familiar voice filled your ears.

"Hey, I just wanted to say, I know things are tough right now, and I’m sorry I can’t be there to help. But just remember, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got this. I believe in you. And if you ever need a distraction, I’m only a call away. I love—ah, um, the ocean here, I love the sea, yeah, I wish you could see it."

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. It was exactly what you needed to hear. There was something about the way he spoke, the confidence in his voice, that made you feel like everything would eventually work out. The end of it made you catch your breath, thinking he was going to tell you he loves you.

Your phone buzzed again, this time a text from him.

Woo: Take a break for me, okay? You’ve earned it. I’ll be back soon, and we can catch up

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart feeling a little lighter. As much as you had to focus on your work, you couldn’t ignore the fact that Wooyoung had a way of making you feel like you weren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.

You were just about to stand up for a much-needed break when your phone buzzed on the table.

It was a message from the senior design team group chat. You quickly reached for your phone, and your eyes landed on Yongha’s name.

Yongha: Guys, I have AMAZING news!

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. With the project feeling like it was slowly spiraling, good news seemed like a distant dream. You tapped the message, intrigued.

Yongha: I just got off the call with the sensor supplier. They confirmed the prototype sensors we ordered will be ready ahead of schedule. We’re good to start testing next week if everything goes as planned!

A wide grin spread across your face. Ready ahead of schedule? That was huge. Testing next week? That was exactly what you needed to keep this project on track and show your professors the progress you were hoping for. For a moment, you let the excitement wash over you, imagining how the timeline would change.

You typed quickly, not wasting a second.

You: No way! That’s amazing! When can we start testing?

Yongha: Next week for sure. We might even have enough time to do a demo for the end of the semester. I’ll need you here to help with the setup. Can you come over to the lab later to go over everything?

Your heart skipped a beat. A demo? That was more than you expected. Things were looking up, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to feel the excitement.

You: A demo before the end of the semester? That’s incredible! Yeah, I’ll come later. Let me know what time works best

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you sent the message. This could be the breakthrough you’d been waiting for, the moment everything fell into place. After all the stress and late nights, things were finally moving forward.

But then your phone buzzed again, a message from your slacking teammate.

Minhyuk: Sorry, I’m behind on my part of the project. I’ll catch up soon

You stared at the screen for a moment, the smile slowly fading. Another excuse. It always seemed like it was the same thing, promises of catching up, but no action. You let out a frustrated breath and quickly closed the message. You didn’t have time to dwell on it right now.

You had to message Wooyoung about this though.

You: Good news! The sensors are ahead of schedule! We can start testing next week

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen. You really didn’t want to complain about Minhyuk, but you couldn’t keep everything bottled up.

You: But… Minhyuk is still slacking off

You pressed send and put your phone down for a moment, running a hand through your hair. You couldn’t let this bring you down now—not with the progress the team had made. You had to focus on the positives, on the opportunity ahead.

A minute later, your phone buzzed again with Wooyoung’s reply.

Wooyoung: I’m proud of you, seriously. But I get it. You’ve been pushing so hard. Take it one step at a time, okay? And if you need a break, just call me. I’m here for you

The words were simple, but they grounded you. You felt a little lighter, like you could breathe again. With the good news about the sensors, maybe there was a way forward after all.

You: You’re the best, Woo! I’m heading to my lab now

You grabbed your jacket and stood up, ready to head out to the lab.

As you walked across campus, the air felt crisp, and a quiet energy hummed through your steps. Campus was relatively calm as it’s a Saturday. Normally, you’d be half-dragging yourself through the day, but today felt different. Today, something good was happening. You couldn’t remember the last time the project felt like it was on the right track.

When you entered the lab, you were greeted by the familiar sound of the soft whir of machines, but the place was noticeably more organized than usual. Yongha was already there, pacing by one of the tables, a laptop open in front of him. He looked up as you walked in, his face breaking into a grin.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with enthusiasm, “Glad you could make it. I’ve got everything ready for us to go over the prototype designs.”

You smiled, nodding as you dropped your bag on a nearby counter. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’re telling me we’re actually getting these sensors ahead of schedule?” Your voice almost had a note of disbelief in it, but you were genuinely excited. It felt like you’d been waiting forever for a breakthrough, and now it was finally here.

Yongha laughed, clapping his hands together. “Yes, ahead of schedule. It’s almost like everything we’ve been working on is finally paying off. I mean, look at this!” He gestured to the sleek-looking box on the counter, a small screen and a set of wires connecting it to the main unit. You walked over to get a closer look.

“Is this the sensor prototype?” you asked, leaning in.

“Yep! This is the first iteration. It’s not perfect, but it's a start. The suppliers said they’ve managed to miniaturize everything, so it should be portable. We’ve got everything we need to start testing today.”

You ran your fingers over the surface of the device, inspecting it closely. It was smaller than you expected, much more compact. The potential was clear. A wave of excitement rushed through you again. This could be the thing that would make your project stand out.

You turned to Yongha, eyes bright. “So, what’s the plan? How do we get started with testing?”

Yongha gestured to the table, where several test tubes, samples, and the rest of the lab equipment were laid out. “First, we need to calibrate the sensor, make sure the readings are accurate. I’ve got some control samples here. We’ll run a few tests and make sure everything works before we try with real biological samples. I’ve already set up the software—just need to input the parameters for each test.”

You nodded, walking over to the table to take your place beside him. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get this show on the road.”

As you both dove into the work, the lab began to feel alive with purpose. You were no longer bogged down by the frustration of Minhyuk’s lack of effort. The pieces were finally falling into place. For the first time in a long while, everything felt like it was moving forward in the right direction.

As you calibrated the sensor, the rhythm of your work was interrupted by a soft buzz from your phone on the counter. You glanced over, seeing that it was another message from Wooyoung. You smiled briefly, thinking of him in Busan.

Wooyoung: How’s the lab going?

You quickly tapped out a response, not wanting to lose focus on the task at hand but appreciating his check-in.

You: It’s going great! The sensors are ahead of schedule. I’m at the lab with Yongha now, testing everything. Hopefully, we’ll have good results today!

After a beat, another message popped up.

Wooyoung: That’s awesome

You: Yup, I’m gonna get back to work now

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, refocusing on the task at hand. You and Yongha continued working through the calibration and fine-tuning of the sensor, running test after test. There were some hiccups along the way—a few misreadings here and there, a few software glitches—but with each iteration, it became clearer that the sensor was working exactly as it should. The readings were more accurate with each test, and the excitement in the lab built with every successful result.

By the time the afternoon stretched into the evening, you were both buzzing with energy. The data was promising. The prototype sensor was functioning very well. This could really be the breakthrough you needed.

“I think we’re ready for the real samples next week,” Yongha said, leaning back in his chair and wiping his brow. His voice carried a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “What do you think?”

You stepped back, surveying the lab table strewn with equipment and data printouts. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close—closer than you’d dared to hope. “Yeah,” you said, a grin spreading across your face. “I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Yongha chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re more patient than me. I’d start testing tonight if I could.”

You laughed. “That makes one of us. I’m ready to celebrate getting this far without setting something on fire.”

“Well, speaking of celebrations…” Yongha stretched his arms over his head and stood up. “I’m heading to that café down the street for a frappe before I call it a night. Want to join me? My treat.”

The mention of caffeine perked you up instantly. “A frappe sounds good, but I’m paying for my mocha cream bread,” you said, grabbing your bag.

“Deal,” Yongha said with a smile. “Let’s go before they sell out.”

The evening air was crisp as you and Yongha stepped out of the lab. The café wasn’t far, just a short walk down the cobblestone path lined with trees that rustled gently in the breeze. You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, glancing at Yongha.

“So, how are your other classes going?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Not too bad,” Yongha replied, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “Biomechanics is killing me, though. I can’t tell if it’s the material or the professor’s monotone voice.”

You laughed, nodding knowingly. “Dr. Kim? Yeah, he could make winning the lottery sound like a tax seminar. I survived his class last semester with copious amounts of caffeine and an unhealthy attachment to Quizlet.”

“That sounds about right,” he said with a grin. “How about you? What’s your least favorite class this semester?”

“Easy. Biostatistics,” you groaned. “I get the concept, but the actual analysis makes me want to curl up and cry. It’s like the numbers are personally attacking me.”

Yongha chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re handling Senior Design, work, and Biostatistics? You’re a masochist.”

“Or just really bad at prioritizing my sanity,” you joked, earning another laugh from him.

Before long, the café came into view, its cozy interior lit by soft, warm lights. The rich smell of coffee and freshly baked goods greeted you as you stepped inside. You both ordered—Yongha sticking to a frappe, while you opted for your favorite mocha cream bread and a white chocolate frappe. You found a small table near the window.

The conversation shifted as you sipped your drinks, veering between shared frustrations about classwork and lighthearted teasing about your group’s quirks. You were genuinely enjoying yourself—it wasn’t often that you got to talk to Yongha outside of project stress, and it was nice to connect on a more casual level.

Then the door swung open, and you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Wooyoung’s friends, Yeosang and San, walking in. Their laughter trailed off as they spotted you. They looked surprised, their gazes flickering between you and Yongha.

You’ve hung out with them a couple times and they were genuinely amazing people. You weren’t very close to them yet, but your friendship was blossoming. You knew Chaerin had a thing for San and planned to make a move on him soon.

“Yeosang! San!” you said, smiling. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Grabbing a bite after the gym,” Yeosang said, his tone light but his eyes curiously scanning the scene. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Ah, yes,” you gestured to Yongha. “This is my classmate and senior design teammate, Yongha.” He smirked, and you noticed San and Yeosang didn’t seem… impressed. “Yongha, these are my friends, San and Yeosang.”

Yongha nodded. “Pleasure to meet you.”

San raised an eyebrow, but there was a serious expression on his face. “Likewise.”

“Well, we should let you get back to it,” Yeosang said after a beat, nudging San. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

“Yeah, see you around,” San added, giving you a wink before following Yeosang to the counter.

As they moved away, Yongha exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Your friends are… interesting.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “They’re good guys. Don’t take it personally… I think they’re just exhausted from the gym.”

“I won’t,” Yongha said with a small smile, though his eyes followed the pair as they ordered their drinks.

You remembered how Wooyoung tensed up when you mentioned Yongha before. Taking a sip of your drink, you watched Yeosang and San grab a table on the other side of the café.

You didn’t really know what was going on, but you had a feeling that they all knew each other.

-x-x-x-

The open group floor of the library buzzed with life, a mix of chatter, the tapping of laptop keys, and the hiss of the nearby espresso machine filling the air. You sat cross-legged on a worn couch, sipping a frozen hot chocolate drink as Chaerin scrolled through her phone beside you. Siya perched on the armrest, her legs swinging slightly, her energy as vibrant as her orange blazer.

“I’m telling you, it’s perfect,” Siya said, holding her phone out to show a picture of the dress she’d been obsessing over. It was a sleek, floor-length black gown with a thigh-high slit and an intricate beaded neckline. “Isn’t it gorgeous? Classy but with just enough wow factor to make people remember me.”

Chaerin leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “It’s beautiful, but are you sure it’s appropriate for a business club event? The slit is a little… daring.”

“Exactly!” Siya beamed, clearly unbothered. “What better way to make an impression? I’ll be memorable and professional. Win-win.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Siya, you’re not making an impression; you’re making a statement. Don’t be surprised if someone asks you for a red carpet interview.”

“That’s the goal,” she said with a dramatic hair flip. “Honestly, we were going to call this event ‘The Business Ball’ but our club’s president didn’t like it. Besides, this event is less about stuffy networking and more about showing off and rubbing elbows with people who matter.”

“Who matter… like Song Mingi?” Chaerin teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Siya gasped, clutching her chest. “How dare you call me out like this! But, yes, I might want him to notice me. You don’t just let a tall, sexy man with a voice like that go unnoticed.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes, smirking. “If Mingi doesn’t notice you in that dress, he’s blind and not worth your time.”

“Exactly!” Siya pointed at you triumphantly. “See, Y/N gets it.”

Chaerin grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Fine, but if you end up stealing the spotlight from the guest speaker or get caught in an oops moment with that slit, don’t come crying to us.”

“I won’t!” Siya waved her hand dismissively. “I’m a professional. I know how to handle a slit.”

That sent the three of you into a fit of laughter, drawing a few curious glances from nearby students. You didn’t care—this was one of the few times you could let loose after a weekend of work and lab stress.

When the laughter died down, Siya sighed wistfully, looking at the dress on her phone again. “Anyway, I still need to buy it. It’s a bit expensive, but it’s worth it, right?”

“Totally,” Chaerin said, nudging her. “Think of it as an investment in your future—and your love life.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Just make sure you don’t outshine the actual event. We wouldn’t want the business club talking about your dress more than the keynote speaker.”

“Let them talk,” Siya said with a grin. “Isn’t that the whole point of black-tie events?”

Siya set her phone down and leaned forward, clasping her hands dramatically. “Okay, enough about me. What’s new with you two? Chaerin, have you figured out what to wear for your cousin’s wedding yet, or are you still pretending you’ll find something last minute?”

Chaerin groaned, dropping her head back against the couch. “Ugh, don’t remind me. My mom keeps sending me links to these over-the-top hanboks that make me look like a walking flower arrangement. I love her, but I’m not trying to outshine the bride.”

“Just go modern,” you suggested. “There are some stunning minimalist designs that would make your mom happy and still let you breathe.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chaerin retorted, poking your arm. “You’re not dealing with a family that’s convinced weddings are the Olympics of fashion.”

“Touché,” you said, grinning.

Siya smirked, nudging Chaerin. “You’re stressing for nothing. You could show up in a potato sack, and people would still talk about how good you look.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” Chaerin said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, what about you, Y/N? Anything exciting from your end?”

You hesitated, swirling the remains of your iced coffee. “Not much, honestly. Just the usual—Senior Design, work, and trying to stay sane.”

Chaerin raised an eyebrow. “No drama with your Jung Wooyoung situation? You both have been unusually quiet.”

Siya’s eyes lit up. “Girl, how are you surviving that? He’s fine as hell. If it were me, I’d catch feelings in, like, a week.”

“Oh she has feelings for him, that’s for sure,” Chaerin chipped in.

You laughed, but the mention of Wooyoung brought an odd flutter to your stomach. “It’s not that deep,” you said, brushing it off. “We both know what it is, and we’re keeping it casual.”

“Hmm,” Chaerin hummed, unconvinced. “And how’s that working out for you, really?”

“Honestly? It’s fine,” you said, leaning back. “We don’t get to hang out much because of his co-op and my schedule, so it’s not like we’re in each other’s faces all the time. It works.”

“Does it, though?” Siya pressed, tilting her head. “I mean, you’re cool with it now, but what happens when one of you starts wanting more? It’s been a couple of months already and y’all low-key act like a couple anyway.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I think we’re both too busy for that kind of drama.”

Chaerin exchanged a glance with Siya, who smirked knowingly but let the topic drop.

“Alright, if you say so,” Chaerin said, sitting up.

You glanced at the time on your phone and sighed. “Speaking of busy, I should probably head out. I’ve got a ton of work to do before lab tomorrow.”

Siya groaned dramatically, flopping against the couch. “You’re leaving us? Who am I supposed to talk to about my fashion emergencies?”

“You’ll survive,” you said with a grin, grabbing your bag. “And for the record, buy the dress. It’s a power move.”

Siya beamed, giving you a thumbs-up. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

Chaerin nudged you lightly as you stood. “Don’t work too hard, okay? And let us know if you need help with… well, anything.”

You hesitated, her words making you pause. For a second, you thought about telling them everything—about Yongha, the awkward café encounter and the way it seems like there’s some sort of history between the boys. But the thought of unpacking all of that now felt exhausting, and you weren’t even sure where to start.

“I will,” you said instead, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “See you both later.”

As you stepped out of the library, the cool evening air hit you, a welcome contrast to the stuffy warmth inside. The conversation about Wooyoung lingered in your mind as you walked, mingling with the memory of Yeosang and San’s frosty reception toward Yongha.

You shook your head, as if physically trying to dispel the thoughts. It wasn’t your problem, you reminded yourself. Whatever happened between them was their business, and you had more pressing things to focus on—like preparing for tomorrow’s lab session and making sure the project stayed on track.

When you got to your apartment, you were surprised to see Wooyoung leaning casually against your doorframe, his phone in hand. He looked up as you approached, a grin spreading across his face.

“Woo? What are you doing here on a Tuesday night?” you asked, punching in your passcode to unlock the door.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied smoothly, slipping his phone into his pocket.

You gave him a skeptical look as you pushed the door open, taking your shoes off. “Seriously. Did you lose a bet or something?”

He followed you inside without answering, kicking off his sneakers by the door. The moment you turned to close it, he was on you, pressing you gently but firmly against the wood.

“Woo, what—”

“I just had to see you,” he interrupted, his voice low and breath warm against your cheek. His hands rested on either side of you, caging you in but not making you feel trapped.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him see that. Instead, you smirked, sliding your arms around his neck. “Can’t wait three more days, can you?”

His laugh was soft and breathy, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, their usual mischief laced with something heavier. “Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone teasing but edged with sincerity.

You tilted your head, brushing your lips lightly along the side of his neck. “You’re lucky I don’t mind breaking my no-midweek-visits rule.” A rule you had in place solely because you had to get up quite early on Wednesdays and you would struggle if you didn’t sleep early due to certain… distractions.

“Lucky?” He let out a soft scoff, his lips curving into a smirk as he dipped his head closer. “I’d say I’m very lucky.”

Before you could retort, his mouth found yours, the kiss warm and demanding. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, as if daring him to show you exactly how much he’d missed you.

Wooyoung’s hands tightened on your waist as the kiss deepened, his body pressing against yours in a way that made it hard to think straight. His lips trailed along your jaw, down to your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

“Woo,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady despite the haze settling over your thoughts. “I thought you were busy with work this week.”

“I am,” he said between kisses, his voice a little breathless. “But I needed a break. And you.”

The bluntness of his words made your chest tighten, though you weren’t sure if it was because of how easily he said it or how much you liked hearing it.

You tugged lightly at his hair, making him look up at you with those dark, teasing eyes that always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He grinned, cocky as ever. “Impossible to resist?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands sliding up to frame your face. When the kiss broke, you rested your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. “You’re such a distraction,” you muttered, though there was no bite to your words.

“Good,” he said softly, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “You work too hard anyway.”

You couldn’t argue with that, but you also couldn’t let him think he could just show up and derail your week. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” you teased, poking his chest lightly.

“Or maybe you’re just always in a good mood when I’m around,” he shot back, smirking.

“Don’t push it,” you warned, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He stepped back reluctantly, giving you a little space. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave… for now.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Behave? That’s new for you.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, walking into your kitchen to grab something to drink. You took this opportunity to hang your jacket and freshen up a bit in the bathroom, changing into a new sleepwear set you ordered online.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the faint sizzle and savory aroma of something cooking drew you toward the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as you turned the corner, your breath hitching just slightly. There was Wooyoung, standing at your counter, sleeves rolled up—well, lack of sleeves entirely, as he’d taken off his hoodie and was now wearing a loose black tank top. The fabric hung low enough to hint at his toned chest, and his arms, lined with prominent veins, moved with practiced precision as he chopped up whatever vegetables he could find in your kitchen.

He didn’t notice you at first, focused on his task. His brow furrowed slightly as he tossed the freshly chopped vegetables into the sizzling pan with a flick of his wrist. The sound of the oil crackling filled the air, mixing with the scent of soy sauce and garlic. You stood there, watching him cook. You couldn’t help but blatantly check him out. You wanted to run your hands over his veiny arms and watch his abs harden while he’s fucking you, and— the sound of running water interrupted your thoughts. Wooyoung finished cooking what you were certain of was fried rice and was now washing his hands.

Mentally reminding yourself to pull it together, you walked into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” you asked, leaning casually against your small, 4-seater dining table, trying to appear unaffected.

Wooyoung looked over his shoulder while drying his hands with a towel. For a moment, you swore you saw his jaw tighten, like he was trying to hold something back. His eyes scanned you slowly, from head to toe, and you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering just a second too long on the way your sleepwear clung to your body. The shorts were undeniably short, and the crop top left a little too much exposed skin, but you didn’t expect his reaction to be this… intense.

The look in his eyes shifted, almost imperceptibly, as if he was battling with something inside. His fingers tightened on the towel, and you could see the slight twitch of his jaw as he tried to keep himself composed, his usual cocky smirk faltering for just a second.

Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung made his way towards you. He placed his hands on the dining table on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. “I think the question is what are you doing to me, Y/N?” he said in a low tone. You moved slightly to sit on the edge of the dining table.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said innocently, though your next action of pulling him closer by the waistband of his sweatpants was anything but innocent.

“I—fuck, Y/N. If you keep doing this to me,” his hand moved into your hair, gently grabbing it to tilt your head back to look at him, “I won’t be able to behave anymore.”

“Then don’t,” you said daringly, spreading your legs to give him the space to stand in between them. Wooyoung wasted no time in crashing his lips onto yours. Your hands were around his neck, trying to pull him even closer if that was even possible, while his hands were moving up and down the exposed skin of your thighs. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down your neck to the exposed skin of your chest before he came back up.

“May I?” he asked, his fingers at the hem of your top. You nod and try to take it off, but Wooyoung stops you. “Keep it on, it looks so good on you.” He pushes your top up only enough to free your boobs so that he could latch onto them. His tongue swirls around your nipple while his hand plays with your other boob, giving it a gentle massage. He switches sides and mimics his actions. Once he’s done, he trails kisses down to the waistband of your shorts and looks up at you for consent.

“On the dining table?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. Wooyoung smirks. “Dessert on the dining table, why not? Besides, you never use it anyway.” That was true since you always eat on your couch while watching something. “Now lean back and relax for me, sweetheart.”

You did as he said, and he slid your shorts along with your underwear down your legs. “So eager for me,” he states, noticing the wet stain on your panties before tossing it onto a chair. He gets down on his knees to be at eye level with your pussy, and moves your thighs to rest over his shoulders. He trails kisses along your inner thighs before reaching your heated core. Your hand moved into his hair and your body feels so warm. Wooyoung licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, letting out a small moan at your taste. He repeats his actions a couple of times before latching onto your clit, gently sucking the nub. You squirm, bucking your hips up. Wooyoung smirks, moving his arms around your thighs to hold you down in place so you couldn’t move.

“Woo… god, fuck,” you moan. He hums before lapping at your clit in a faster pace that had you gripping the sides of the table. He let go of one of your thighs to bring his hand to your hole, slipping a finger inside while continuing to lap at your clit. Your free thigh moved to squeeze his head once you felt the pressure building up in your lower abdomen. Wooyoung added another finger and pumped it in and out in a similar pace to the way he ate you out. “I… Woo, I’m—” Before you could finish your sentence, your orgasm crashed over you, rattling your body. Wooyoung slowed his pace while you rode out your high, savoring the taste of your cum on his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean before lifting you up, grabbing your clothes from the chair, walking to your bedroom.

Wooyoung set you down on your bed and took his tank top and pants off, leaving himself bare in front of you. He reached for the drawer on your nightstand, taking a condom from it. He set it aside as usual since you both went a little raw for a bit.

He pumps his hard cock in his hand before running it along your wet folds to lubricate it. You whimper when the head of his dick rubs against your sensitive clit that was still pulsating from his previous actions. “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” he asks and you buck your hips, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“I want to ride you,” you say and Wooyoung felt like he would bust at your words.

He moved to lie down on your bed, and you straddle his lap. You reconnect your lips to his, kissing him in a heavy way, slipping your tongue in his mouth. He matches your pace while his hands move along the sides of your body, feeling every inch of your skin. Without breaking the kiss, you take his dick in your hand, aligning it with your hole before sinking all the way down. You moaned at the stretch and the mild sting you felt. You gave yourself some time to adjust, pulling away from the kiss. Wooyoung’s hair was disheveled and his lips were swollen, and he looked so, so sexy. You rolled your hips against his, placing your hands on the wall in front of you while you moved up and down his length, your warm walls squeezing his cock.

“Always so tight no matter how much I fuck you,” he comments, his hands grabbing your ass. “I’m gonna need that condom now, Y/N.”

You smirk, ignoring his words to move faster on him, teasing him dangerously the way he teases you. Wooyoung’s bites his lip, the thrill of letting you him raw brings goosebumps to his skin every single time. But you had to get off him, and you quickly ripped the square packet, taking the circular item out, wasting no time in unrolling the condom onto his dick. You climbed back onto his lap and sank back down on his cock. This time, you placed your feet flat on the bed and bounced on his dick, your bed squeaking at the movement.

“F-fuck Y/N,” Wooyoung moans, his hips bucking up to meet yours halfway, skin slapping hard against each other. He reached between your legs to rub your clit in circular motions while you slammed down hard on his dick, chasing your orgasm.

“Woo, you feel so fucking good.” Your core tightened and you let go, moaning loudly while letting yet another orgasm wash over you.

“Almost there,” Wooyoung groans, fucking up into you faster before coming to a still, spilling inside the condom in you. You felt his dick pulse with every load he shot, and you slumped down against his chest, breathing heavily. He kissed your forehead, letting you lie down on his chest until you moved to get off him.

“You good there?” he asks and you hum in response, getting up to go pee and wash your hands. Wooyoung follows you to the bathroom to clean up and dispose the used condom before throwing his clothes on. He waited for you to get dressed before engulfing you in his arms.

“Let’s have dinner now, hmm?” he says, kissing your head before taking your hand in his, dragging you to the kitchen.

-x-x-x-

Chaerin’s apartment smelled faintly of vanilla candles and coffee, the cozy vibe a perfect contrast to the slightly chaotic retelling of your night with Wooyoung. You were curled up on her couch, legs tucked under you, while Chaerin sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from a steaming mug of tea.

“So, let me get this straight,” Chaerin began, her tone dripping with exasperation. “He shows up unannounced, cooks for you, fucks you, and then stays the night on a Tuesday? And you’re still not dating?”

You shrugged, twisting the edge of a throw pillow between your fingers. “It’s not like that. We’re just… having fun.”

“Having fun?” Chaerin repeated, raising an eyebrow so high it practically disappeared into her hairline. “That man is head over heels for you. And you’re just letting it slide because…?”

“Because we’re busy,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “He’s got his co-op. I’ve got my own stuff. Adding dating into the mix would be like asking for trouble.”

Chaerin gave you a pointed look, her tea forgotten on the coffee table. “Y/N, you’re literally living the plot of every rom-com ever. Boy likes girl, girl pretends it’s casual, drama ensues, and then—bam! You realize you’re in love with each other. Just skip the drama part and go straight to dating. Y’all already act like a couple, so I don’t see how things would be any different.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is, though!” Chaerin leaned forward, her enthusiasm contagious. “You already spend all your free time with him. He clearly adores you. What are you waiting for, a neon sign?”

Before you could argue, she shifted gears, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Speaking of signs, I made a move on San. I, um, waved at him at the east dining hall.”

You chuckled. “That’s it?”

Chaerin tossed a throw pillow at you, laughing when you barely dodged it. “Shut up! It’s not that easy, okay? San’s… intimidating.”

You raised a brow. “San? Intimidating? He’s like the human embodiment of a golden retriever.”

“Yeah, but a hot golden retriever,” Chaerin argued, her cheeks flushing. “Every time I see him, my brain just… short-circuits. It’s embarrassing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, sitting up straighter. “You’ve got to shoot your shot, Chaerin. What’s the worst thing that could happen? He says no? I doubt it though.”

She groaned, flopping onto the floor dramatically. “Why do you have to be so reasonable?”

“Because someone has to be,” you teased.

Chaerin propped herself up on her elbows, giving you a sly grin. “Fine, I’ll make a… stronger move on San if you admit that Wooyoung is more than just a hookup.”

You rolled your eyes, getting to your feet. “Not happening.”

“Then I guess we’re both cowards,” Chaerin called after you as you headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Guess so!” you shouted back, though your chest tightened a little at the thought of Wooyoung and everything he made you feel—feelings you weren’t quite ready to unpack just yet. You knew you had strong feelings for him, but you didn’t know if he felt the same and for now, you liked the way things were between the two of you, so why ruin it?

After spending an hour with Chaerin, you headed to the dining hall for your work shift. Then, you made your way to the engineering building, the familiar buzz of fluorescent lights and faint hum of lab equipment greeting you as you entered.

You glanced at your phone, checking the time. 6:06 PM—not bad. You weren’t expecting much from today’s meeting; it was supposed to be a quick check-in with the team to discuss next steps, but you were going to stay back for a while with Yongha to get some data collected.

As you approached the door of the lab, you noticed Jina walking in at the same time. She gave you a polite smile, clutching her laptop to her chest.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, holding the door open for you.

“Hey, Jina,” you replied, stepping inside, thanking her for holding the door for you.

Your eyes immediately landed on Yongha, who was already seated at the lab bench, scribbling notes in a notebook. His sleeves were rolled up, and his focus was so intense he didn’t even look up when you and Jina entered.

What surprised you, though, was seeing Minhyuk in the corner of the room, fiddling with a piece of equipment. It was a rare sight.

“Minhyuk?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He turned at the sound of his name, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Hey. Thought I’d show up for once.”

You exchanged a glance with Jina, both of you equally stunned. Minhyuk had been the notorious ghost of your team, always finding excuses to skip meetings or leave work undone. Seeing him here felt almost surreal.

“Did the universe shift while I was gone, or are you actually here to help?” Jina teased, setting her laptop down on the table beside Yongha.

Minhyuk laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I deserve that. But seriously, I’m here to pull my weight tonight. Promise.”

Yongha finally looked up from his notes, his expression unreadable as he glanced between you and Minhyuk. “Guess miracles do happen,” he said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled as you set up your laptop, the tension easing slightly. “Well, it’s good to have all hands on deck. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

As the team settled into work, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. With everyone present and seemingly motivated, maybe—just maybe—tonight would actually be productive.

The hum of the centrifuge joined the soft clatter of keyboards as everyone found their rhythm. It was almost unsettling how focused Minhyuk seemed, diligently taking notes and double-checking calculations with Jina. For once, it felt like a proper team effort.

Yongha stood by the biosensor prototype, carefully adjusting the settings on the connected monitor. He looked up, catching your gaze. “Hey, Y/N, can you double-check the calibration? I think we’re close, but I don’t want to risk any errors.”

You nodded, moving to stand beside him. The device gleamed under the lab’s fluorescent lights, the culmination of weeks of late nights and stress. “Sure. Let’s see.”

As you worked, Yongha leaned slightly closer, his focus entirely on the screen. “By the way,” he said softly, “I’m glad Minhyuk showed up, but I’ve got to admit, it’s a little suspicious.”

You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the screen. “Suspicious? Or are we just not used to seeing him do actual work?”

“Probably both,” Yongha replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Still, I’ll take what I can get.”

You hummed in response, working on adjusting the calibration.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, glancing at you as you adjusted the monitor. “How is it that you’re so good at this? Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Flattery won’t get you out of work, Yongha.”

He grinned, leaning just slightly into your space as if to check the monitor, though there wasn’t really a need. “Who says I’m trying to get out of work? I love being here. Or… maybe I just like watching you work.”

You paused, fingers hovering over the controls, your brain scrambling to process his words. Was he being serious, or was this just Yongha’s way of lightening the mood?

“Uh-huh,” you said, trying to sound unaffected. “Maybe you should focus on not breaking anything.”

He chuckled, his voice low enough to make your stomach flip. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare ruin your work.”

You smile, quickly shaking his words off, choosing to focus on the calibration instead of the sudden shift in his tone. It wasn’t the first time Yongha had been playful, but tonight it felt… different. You were his teammate in a couple of shared classes before and he never really said anything out of the ordinary. Maybe he was more comfortable with you now that you had to work with him for two whole semesters.

Once the calibration was complete, you stepped back. “Numbers look good. We’re ready for the test.”

“Nice work, as always,” he said, his voice softer now, almost private despite the others being in the room.

“Thanks,” you replied, not quite meeting his eyes. You could feel his gaze lingering, and it sent a weird feeling in your stomach. Not butterflies, no, but uneasiness. You hoped he was just being friendly today.

Jina and Minhyuk joined you at the bench, their chatter breaking the moment.

“Calibration’s done?” Jina asked.

“Yep,” you said, grateful for the distraction. “Let’s run the test.”

As the prototype whirred to life, everyone fell into their roles. Yongha stayed close by your side, occasionally brushing past you to adjust something. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable—except you noticed.

When the results appeared on the monitor, a wave of relief washed over the team.

“Detection’s on point,” Jina announced, her excitement evident. “We’re exactly where we need to be.”

“Finally,” Yongha said, glancing at you with a smile. “I’d say that calls for a small celebration.”

Minhyuk laughed. “If by celebration, you mean heading home to sleep, I’m all in.”

The group chuckled, and Jina clapped her hands together. “Let’s call it a night. We can fine-tune everything tomorrow.”

As you packed up, Yongha lingered nearby, helping you put away the equipment.

“Good work tonight,” he said, his tone softer now that the others were preoccupied.

“You too,” you replied, trying to keep things casual.

He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m glad we’re on the same team. Makes the late nights easier.”

Your breath caught, and you gave him a small smile, unsure how to respond without reading too much into his words.

“See you tomorrow, Yongha,” you said instead, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“See you, Y/N,” he replied, his eyes lingering on you as you walked out the door.

As you stepped into the cool night air, your mind raced. Was Yongha just being friendly, or was there something more to his words and lingering glances? You shook your head, brushing the thought aside. You didn’t have time to overthink this—not with everything else on your plate.

Your feet faltered when you noticed a familiar figure leaning casually against his car parked at the curb.

“Wooyoung?” you muttered, blinking in surprise, wondering what he was doing here. Was he waiting for you?

He straightened up as soon as he saw you, a grin spreading across his face while you walked up to him. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “How was your—”

“Y/N!”

The sound of Yongha’s voice made you turn, catching sight of him jogging toward you, a blue notebook in his hand.

Wooyoung immediately stood taller, his expression sharpening as his eyes landed on Yongha. You didn’t miss the way his posture shifted, suddenly alert.

“I forgot to give this to you,” Yongha said, stopping in front of you and holding out the notebook. “It’ll help with your part of the write-up for the paper. I made the notes… especially for you.” His tone was light, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze flicked briefly to Wooyoung, and you felt the tension between them before a single word was exchanged.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you said, accepting the notebook. You glanced between the two of them, the air growing heavier by the second. “You two know each other?”

“No,” Wooyoung replied coldly, his voice a stark contrast to the easy warmth he’d shown earlier.

Yongha chuckled, tilting his head slightly as if sizing him up. “Oh, but I believe I’ve seen you around. Jung Wooyoung, am I right?”

His cocky tone made Wooyoung’s jaw tighten, and you quickly stepped in. “Uh, Yongha, thanks again for the notes.”

Yongha didn’t move, his smirk deepening as he looked at you, though his eyes softened which Wooyoung immediately noticed. “How are you heading home, Y/N? I drove here, so I can drop you back if you’d like.”

Before you could even open your mouth, Wooyoung let out a low, dark chuckle that made your stomach flip. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with an unmistakable edge. He stepped closer, positioning himself between you and Yongha. “I’m here to take my girl home. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken challenge. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden tension crackling in the air and the way Wooyoung claimed you as his. Yongha’s smirk widened, clearly relishing the moment, while Wooyoung’s jaw tightened, his stance growing more assertive.

“Your girl?” Yongha repeated, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. He crossed his arms, the smirk never leaving his face. “Interesting. I don’t think she mentioned that during our late-night lab sessions.”

Wooyoung took a step forward, his posture calm but his eyes sharp. “Funny. I don’t think she mentioned you at all,” he shot back smoothly, his voice steady but tinged with a dangerous edge.

Your eyes darted between the two of them, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. “Okay, that’s enough,” you said firmly, stepping between them before things could escalate.

Yongha held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Y/N. I’m just making sure you’re taken care of.” His gaze flicked to Wooyoung one last time, his smirk fading into something more serious. “Guess I’ll see you in our lab tomorrow.”

He gave you a final glance before turning and walking away, leaving the tension thick in the air.

Once he was out of sight, you exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “What the fuck was that, Woo?”

Wooyoung turned to you, his expression softening slightly, though the irritation lingered in his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing, Y/N. What’s with him?”

“He’s just a teammate,” you said quickly. “We work together. That’s it. I’ve literally told you this before”

Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t waver. “He doesn’t look at you like it’s just it.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Woo, you can’t just show up out of nowhere, act territorial, and pick a fight with someone you don’t even know.”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “I wasn’t picking a fight. I just don’t like the way he talks to you.”

You tilted your head, giving him a pointed look. “And why do you care so much? We’re not—” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Dating, you wanted to say. And he knew that all too well.

His eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. “Because I do,” he said simply.

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, he let out a small sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

You hesitated but nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time to push the conversation further. As you got into his car, you couldn’t help but glance back toward the building, wondering what Yongha’s smirk and Wooyoung’s reaction really meant.

The silence in the car was deafening, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of your jacket as you adjusted uncomfortably in your seat. Wooyoung’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles faintly white under the dim glow of the dashboard lights. You wanted to say something, to break the heavy quiet between you, but every time you opened your mouth, the words died in your throat.

When he finally pulled into the parking lot of your apartment, he parked in one of the guest spots and pressed the button to turn the engine off. Neither of you moved right away.

You sighed. “Woo, we need to talk about—”

He unbuckled his seatbelt abruptly, the click echoing in the confined space, and turned toward you. Before you could say anything more, he leaned over, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was intense, urgent, as if he’d been holding back all night and couldn’t anymore. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as he poured everything into the way his lips moved against yours. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t hesitate to respond, your hands gripping his red hoodie as if to ground yourself.

His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, and you felt the heat radiating off him as his body leaned closer. The world outside the car faded, leaving only the sound of your quickened breaths and the electricity buzzing between you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths uneven. “I couldn’t wait,” he admitted, his voice low and gravelly.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “I can tell.”

A small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but the fire in his eyes remained. “He gets under my skin,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “The way he talks to you, the way he looks at you—”

“Woo,” you interrupted gently, your voice soft but firm. “It doesn’t matter. He’s just a teammate.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze searching, before nodding slightly. “I know, and I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. But I just… I needed him to know you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and though a part of you wanted to protest the possessiveness, another part couldn’t deny the thrill it gave you.

You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his again in a softer, lingering kiss. “Do you want to come inside?” you whispered against his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Lead the way, beautiful.”

-x-x-x-

Chaerin’s living room was cozy as always, with its mismatched throw pillows and faint scent of vanilla candles. You were curled up on the couch, nursing a cup of hot cocoa while Siya sprawled out dramatically on the rug. Chaerin sat cross-legged in her oversized armchair, scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

“So,” Siya began, her tone teasing and suspiciously triumphant. “Guess who got a ride home from Song Mingi last night?”

You and Chaerin turned to her at the same time. “No way,” Chaerin gasped, leaning forward.

“Details,” you demanded, pointing at her with mock seriousness.

Siya grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, we were at the business club event, right? We got all chatty and flirty and he offered to drive me home after. You know, all polite and gentlemanly.”

“Uh-huh,” Chaerin interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “Cut to the good part.”

Siya pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Fine. We started talking about music on the way back, and I wanted ice cream, so he took me to this place up the hill. He parked at a viewpoint, and we were sitting in the truck of his car. Next thing I know, we’re making out.”

“Making out?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Siya’s grin widened. “Okay, fine. He fucked me in his car.”

Chaerin clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did,” Siya said smugly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And let me tell you, Mingi is not shy once he’s into it.”

“Girl!” Chaerin exclaimed, half-scandalized, half-impressed. “In public?! In his car?”

“Well, I mean it was pretty late and there were no cars around and the area was dark too. No clothes were taken off though, ugh. He lifted my dress and pushed my thong aside. He’s got a big dick though as I expected.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “Okay, Siya wins this week’s tea spill, hands down.”

“Obviously,” Siya said with a wink. Then, her gaze flicked to you. “Speaking of tea, what’s going on with you? Anything juicy?”

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to last night: the tense encounter with Yongha and Wooyoung, followed by the way Wooyoung has kissed you in the parking lot.

“Y/N,” Chaerin prodded, leaning forward, sensing you did, in fact, have something to share. “Don’t make me beg.”

You sighed, setting your mug down. “Okay, fine. Something kind of… weird happened yesterday.”

Both girls straightened up immediately, their attention locked on you, a look of concern evident on their faces.

“So, I was leaving my lab, right? And guess who’s waiting outside for me—Wooyoung.”

“Wait, Wooyoung?” Chaerin interrupted, her eyebrows shooting up. “Since when does he wait for you?”

“Exactly,” you said, gesturing for emphasis. “It totally caught me off guard. But before I could even process it, Yongha called out to me.”

“Oh no,” Siya groaned, already sensing drama.

“Oh yes,” you said with a nod. “He came up to give me some notes for our project, but he was being all… flirty about it.”

“Flirty how?” Chaerin asked, narrowing her eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “You know, the usual. Saying he made the notes especially for me, smirking like he’s the king of the world.”

Siya whistled low. “Bold move. What did Wooyoung do?”

“That’s the best part,” you said, your lips twitching into a smile despite yourself. “He just steps in, all dark and broody, and says, ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m here to take my girl home.’”

Both girls gasped, Chaerin practically sliding out of her chair. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he did,” you confirmed.

“That’s… kind of hot,” Siya admitted, fanning herself dramatically.

Chaerin leaned forward, her eyes wide. “And? What happened next?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Honestly, I was worried they might start a physical fight. But Yongha backed off, and Wooyoung drove me home. End of story.”

“Yeah, right,” Chaerin said, crossing her arms. “We know you. There’s no way that was the end of it.”

You hesitated for a split second too long, and the knowing look they both gave you made your cheeks heat up.

“Spill,” they said in unison.

“I mean… he got kinda possessive and kissed me in his car. We had sex and he stayed the night again,” you said, your cheeks heating up and both the girls squealed loudly.

You leaned back into the couch, feeling the weight of your thoughts as you looked between Chaerin and Siya, trying to explain the unease you were feeling. “But girls… Something’s off,” you said, your voice quieter now, more serious. “It’s like... I don’t know how to put it, but everything’s been weird lately.”

Siya tilted her head, intrigued. “What do you mean ‘weird’?”

“Okay, so the other day, Yeosang and San were acting super weird when I introduced them to Yongha,” you started, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’ve never seen them act that way before. It was as if they knew him—like, knew him well—but they didn’t acknowledge it.” You leaned forward, your eyes scanning their faces for understanding. “And then Wooyoung? He... his reaction was weird too. It felt like he was trying to hide something, like he didn’t want me to get involved with Yongha.”

Chaerin raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so you think Wooyoung and the others know each other? Like, they’ve all met before?”

You nodded slowly, the confusion in your mind spilling out. “Yes! It’s like there’s some secret, and no one’s telling me. I mean, Yeosang and San were cold, but they were still polite. And then there was the way Wooyoung... I don’t know, he just shut down when I mentioned Yongha. Like, something snapped in him. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t want to push him.”

Siya’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, but that’s suspicious. Why wouldn’t they just tell you if they knew each other? It seems like they’re hiding something.”

“I don’t know. It’s like a weird tension between them,” you said, exhaling a frustrated breath. “And I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of something I don’t understand. It’s all so strange.”

Chaerin gave you a reassuring look. “Well, you’re right about one thing: something is definitely going on. They’re all acting like they’re trying to keep their distance from each other, but it’s clear that there’s history.” She tapped her chin, thinking. “But what if this is more than just them being weird around you? Maybe there’s something deeper there. Something... they don’t want you to know about.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I want to trust them, especially Wooyoung, but it’s hard when everyone’s acting like there’s something I’m not supposed to know. I’m caught in the middle of this... thing, and it’s driving me crazy. I have to work with Yongha for a couple more months until we graduate, so I really don’t want to be in this weird situation.”

Siya pursed her lips, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “If something’s off, there’s a reason for it. If Wooyoung’s keeping something from you, or if he’s acting shady, you need to find out what it is.”

Chaerin nodded in agreement, looking at you seriously. “But don’t stress yourself out. If you want to get to the bottom of this, you have to stay calm. Don’t let them pull you into something you don’t want to be part of.”

“I know,” you said softly, but the knot in your stomach remained. “It’s just... I’m starting to feel like I’m missing something big, and I’m not sure if I want to know what it is.” You looked at your friends, the weight of it all sinking in. “But I also feel like I don’t have a choice but to find out. How I will do that, I do not know… yet.”

After hanging out with the girls for a while, you decided to head to your lab instead of going home despite it being nearly 8PM. You weren’t expecting anyone else to be here so late, but as you turned the corner, you spotted Yongha, seated at one of the workbenches. His head was bent over a stack of papers, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, setting your bag down on the table across from him.

Yongha looked up, startled, but quickly composed himself. “Oh, hey. I could say the same to you.”

“I’ve completed my work for the day,” you admitted. “Figured I’d get a head start on next week’s data.”

He nodded, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then he spoke, his tone softer than usual. “About last night... I wanted to apologize.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Apologize?”

“For the way I acted. Outside the lab, with Jung Wooyoung.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “It was out of character for me, and it definitely wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just... lost my cool a bit.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Yongha wasn’t one to show vulnerability often, and the sincerity in his voice threw you off. “It’s fine,” you said slowly. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what was going on, but... it’s not a big deal.”

Yongha gave a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe not to you. But to me...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

You frowned, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Yongha, if there’s something bothering you, just say it.”

He hesitated again, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw some sort of worry flash through them. “It’s just... Are you two… you know…” He let the question hang in the air, his meaning clear.

You felt your face heat up. Honestly, you didn’t know what to say since Wooyoung preferred to keep his… situation with you strictly between his friends and yours. “Uh, we’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking,” you said quickly, though the words felt awkward on your tongue. “Why?”

Yongha’s lips quirked into a small, almost wistful smile. “No reason. I was just curious.” He leaned back again, crossing his arms. “He’s protective of you. I noticed that much.”

You shifted in your seat, unsure how to respond. “Wooyoung’s just... like that. He looks out for the people he cares about.”

“Hmm.” Yongha’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, grabbing his pen and pretending to focus on his notes. “Well, I’ll leave it at that. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Right,” you said, suddenly feeling the need to busy yourself with something. You pulled out your laptop and started typing, but your mind was racing.

You had your messages linked to your laptop, and a notification popped up from Wooyoung.

Woo: Are you home yet?

You: I’m at the lab

Woo: Oh. With Lee Yongha?

You: Yeah, he is here. Why?

Woo: No reason. I’m sure you’re having a great time.

You stared at the message on your laptop, the tone unmistakably sarcastic. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your stomach twisting. What was his problem?

You: What’s that supposed to mean?

The typing indicator popped up immediately, and then his response came through like a slap.

Woo: Nothing. Just seems like he’s got everything handled. Don’t let me interrupt your night.

You let out a sharp exhale, your jaw tightening as you reread the message. The passive-aggressive tone wasn’t like him—or maybe it was, but it was usually cloaked in humor. This wasn’t funny.

“Everything okay?”

Yongha’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him watching you, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. He had his hands tucked casually in his pockets, but there was an edge to his expression, like he was waiting for an opening.

“Yeah, all is well,” you muttered, locking your laptop.

Yongha tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Ah. Trouble in paradise?”

“There’s no paradise,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “And definitely no trouble.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his smirk widening. “He seems pretty bothered, though. Can’t imagine why.”

You glared at him, feeling your frustration bubbling over, mentally reminding yourself not to open your texting app on your laptop while he’s around again. “Why are you so interested?”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Just curious. He’s not usually the kind of guy who loses his cool. But then again...” He paused, stepping closer, his voice dropping slightly. “I can see why he might.”

You froze under the weight of his words, your heartbeat quickening. Was that a compliment? A challenge? You couldn’t tell, and it only made the tension in the room worse. The fact that he mentioned that Wooyoung wasn’t the type to lose his cool was enough to confirm your suspicion that they, in fact, knew each other and were pretending otherwise.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice quieter now, but firm.

Yongha stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. Just making an observation.”

You didn’t respond, turning your focus back to your notes in an attempt to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. After a moment, Yongha grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, pausing in the doorway, “I don’t think he’s mad at you. He’s mad at me.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the door swung shut behind him.

You stared at the closed door, your thoughts spinning. What did Yongha mean?

When you glanced back at your laptop, the last message from Wooyoung still sat there, burning into your mind.

No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you knew you currently were caught in the middle of it all. You decided to push your thoughts away for now while you walked back home.

When you got to the hallway outside your apartment, you spotted Wooyoung waiting, leaning against your door. He was dressed in business casual attire today and you knew he came straight from work. His arms were crossed, but his posture was stiff, his expression unreadable.

You sighed as you approached him. “Woo?”

“Just wanted to talk,” he said casually, but there was an edge to his voice.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it open for him to follow. He did, shutting it behind him, the click echoing in the silence.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you turned to face him. “Okay… talk.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the floor before meeting yours. “What’s going on with you and Yongha?”

You blinked, thrown by the question. “Seriously? We’ve been over this, Wooyoung. He’s my teammate. Nothing is going on.”

He scoffed, his jaw tightening. “You say that, but it’s like every time I turn around, you’re with him. At the lab, at the café...” Of course, Yeosang and San would tell him about the café. You were surprised he’s only bringing it up now when he clearly has an issue.

“Of course, I’m with him!” you shot back, exasperated. “We’re working on a project together. A project that will take a whole academic year. You knew this from the beginning!”

“And he’s making it more than that,” Wooyoung snapped, stepping closer. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re blind to it.”

“And what if I’m not?” you countered, your voice rising slightly. “Why does it matter to you? You’ve made it pretty damn clear we’re not together, so why do you care so much?”

He flinched at your words but recovered quickly, his frustration mounting. “You know why I care!”

“No, I don’t!” you said, the emotion bubbling over. “Because you keep dancing around it, Woo. You act like I belong to you, but you’re the one who set the rules. You’re the one who doesn’t want this to be anything more than... whatever this is!”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he processed your words. “You think I don’t want more?” he finally said, his voice low but heated.

“Then why aren’t we dating?” you demanded, your voice cracking, though you’re the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around in a rapid pace. “Why are we stuck in this limbo? If you care so much, if you want me the way you act like you do, then why won’t you just say it?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is that simple!” you fired back. “You’re just too much of a coward to admit what you want. Or maybe you don’t know what you want at all.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone dropping to a whisper.

“No, what’s not fair is you showing up at my door, acting possessive, and then refusing to give me anything real,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Woo.”

“You agreed to be with me like this, Y/N,” he muttered, taking slow steps towards you before resting his forehead against yours. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Wooyoung pulled away after a moment to look at you, his eyes softening slightly, but the anger was still there. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “Then stop. Stop confusing me. Stop... God, Woo, I know there’s some history between you and Yongha and you won’t come clean to me about it. You’re all acting like you don’t know each other and it’s tiring me out. Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

He didn’t move, his gaze locked on yours. “I can’t, Y/N.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But I don’t know how to... I don’t know how to… I would rather you not know. I don’t know what to do.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy and unsteady. You swallowed hard, your emotions swirling. “Then figure it out, Wooyoung,” you said softly. “Because I don’t want to be caught in this. I do not know what’s going on. I have to work with him for couple more months. Please… don’t make things difficult for me.”

You turned away, leaving him standing there in the middle of your apartment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Y/N,” he called after you, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop.

“Lock the door on your way out,” you said, disappearing into your bedroom, shutting the door.

And with that, the conversation was over, but the unresolved tension lingered, a storm waiting to break.

-x-x-x-

You didn’t hang out with Wooyoung over the weekend like you usually do. For the first time in months, you found yourself with nothing but your own company and an endless list of tasks you had no desire to complete. You went to work, cleaned your apartment twice, even reorganized your closet, and attempted to binge-watch a show, but your mind refused to focus. Every time your phone buzzed, you checked it instinctively, but it was never him.

By Sunday afternoon, you gave up pretending you didn’t care and texted Chaerin instead.

You: Free? I need to get out of this apartment

Chaerin: Always free for you babe. Lunch at the kimbap place near campus?

You: Sounds good, see you in 30

You arrived at the small restaurant, spotting Chaerin instantly. She waved you over, already halfway through an iced tea. “You look exhausted.”

You sighed, sliding into the seat across from her. “I am.”

She arched an eyebrow. “This is about Wooyoung, isn’t it?”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, what else can it be when you look like this?” she said, sipping her drink. “So, what happened?”

You told her about the argument, the frustration bubbling back to the surface as you recounted every word. Chaerin listened attentively, her expression growing more serious as you went on.

“And then he said he didn’t want to lose me,” you finished, slumping back in your chair. “But he still couldn’t give me a real answer. He said he doesn’t want me to know what’s up with him and Yongha, and he said he doesn’t know what to do. So I told him to figure it out.”

Chaerin shook her head. “Wow, that boy is a mess.”

“I know,” you said, exasperated. “But I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep thinking maybe I was too harsh, or maybe I should’ve pushed him more—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “You said what you needed to say, Y/N. He’s the one who needs to get his act together.”

You nodded, though her words did little to ease the ache in your chest.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, leaning forward.

“The plan?”

“Yeah,” Chaerin said. “Are you going to wait for him to figure it out, or are you moving on?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. The truth was you had feelings for him. You were in love with him. You wanted things to work out.

“I guess I’ll see what he does,” you said finally. “But I’m not putting my life on hold for him.”

“That’s my girl,” Chaerin said, raising her iced tea in a toast. You smiled faintly, but the knot in your stomach remained.

After lunch, you took the bus to Jina’s apartment to work with your team on one of the project reports. Jina lived in the same building as Wooyoung, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering if he was home right now and if you should go to his place after. A part of you wondered if that was a terrible idea, considering the fact that he hasn’t texted you at all since the argument.

When you reached the lobby of the building, you noticed Yongha had just arrived too. You greeted him while waiting for the elevator. “Hey, you’re here a lot earlier,” you said, remembering that he said he would be an hour late on the group chat.

“I got off my shift early,” he replied with a grin. “Did you see the graphs on the report? If Minhyuk mixes up the axes on one more graph, I might just lose it. I swear he’s trying to set a record for how fast he can make me question humanity.”

You laughed, a genuine belly laugh that echoed through the quiet lobby as you both stopped in front of the elevator. “It’s the way he does it so confidently that kills me,” you said between giggles. “Like, ‘Oh yeah, that Y-axis? Totally accurate.’”

Yongha joined in, chuckling softly. “At least it keeps things interesting. Who needs peace of mind when you can have chaos?”

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open—and your laughter abruptly died when you saw who was standing inside.

Wooyoung.

He was leaning casually against the elevator wall, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. His sharp eyes immediately landed on you and Yongha and his casual demeanor shifted ever so slightly, tension creeping into his stance.

“Y/N,” Wooyoung greeted, his voice calm but unmistakably cool.

You blinked in surprise. “Wooyoung?” Why haven’t you texted me at all, you wanted to ask, but remembered Yongha was here too.

“Hey,” Yongha chimed in, stepping into the elevator with you, his confidence undeterred. “Didn’t know we’d get the pleasure of running into you here.”

Wooyoung’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Life’s full of surprises.”

As the elevator began its ascent, Yongha leaned slightly toward you, his head tilting as his eyes zeroed in on your hair.

“Hold still,” he said softly.

“What?” you asked, confused, glancing at him as Wooyoung’s gaze sharpened.

Yongha reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your temple as he plucked something from your hair. His movements were deliberate, almost slow, as if savoring the moment.

“There was a leaf stuck,” Yongha explained with a small grin, holding it up for you to see.

“Oh,” you said and smoothed your hair reflexively. “Thanks.”

Wooyoung, who had been watching the exchange with a darkening expression, shifted his weight slightly, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“A leaf, huh?” Wooyoung said, his voice low and edged with sarcasm. “Good thing you were here to save the day.”

Yongha chuckled, clearly amused by the tension. “What can I say? I’m observant.”

The elevator dinged, signaling your floor, and you stepped out quickly, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Before the doors closed, you turned back to Wooyoung, who hadn’t moved from his spot. His dark eyes met yours, a storm brewing in his expression that sent an uneasy shiver down your spine.

“See you around,” he said, his tone clipped. The doors shut, and you exhaled slowly, the knot in your stomach tightening as you walked toward Jina’s apartment.

Yongha, however, seemed completely unaffected, his usual easygoing grin still in place. “That guy has quite the glare,” he commented casually.

You shot him a look, but he only laughed.

“Let’s just get to work,” you muttered, though your thoughts were already tangled in the intensity of Wooyoung’s gaze—and the unspoken tension that seemed to grow heavier with every passing moment.

-x-x-x-

5 days later

It was a typical Friday night, and you were more than ready to unwind. Chaerin, Siya, another friend named Maya, and you had decided to head to your favorite bar for a much-needed girls’ night. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was just the kind of distraction you needed from the stress of school and all the drama. Wooyoung had ignored your messages, and you honestly did not know what to do anymore. For now, you decided to focus on girls’ night.

Chaerin laughed as she raised her glass to make a toast. “To surviving the week and pretending we have it all together!”

Siya clinked her glass against yours. “To good times and great friends!”

You joined in with a grin, feeling the weight of the week start to lift as the alcohol started to take effect. You weren’t sure how much you’d had already, but you were definitely starting to feel more relaxed. You weren’t a lightweight drinker and sobered up pretty quick too. Sometimes, you hated it.

The night continued with music, laughter, and the comfortable camaraderie you’d come to expect with Chaerin, Siya, and Maya. You were enjoying yourself, letting go of the stress for a while—until you noticed a familiar face entering the bar.

San.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t unusual for people from your university to end up here. But then came Mingi, Yeosang, and Yunho, and finally, Wooyoung.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down. You hadn’t expected to run into him here tonight, especially not after everything that had happened the past week. You tried to look away, but your gaze was drawn back to him again.

“Y/N?” Chaerin called out before following your gaze. “Oh… Fuck, he looks so hot!”

“Who?” Maya asked following her gaze. “Oh Kang Yeosang? I agree.”

“I meant Choi San,” Chaerin said with a chuckle. “But well… I suppose all the men of their group are quite the eye candy.”

“And so are we!” Siya squeaks out, her face flushed pink from the alcohol. “Look at us, girls! We’re so sexy! We’re so stunning! We’re so smart! We’re so beautiful!” The three of you laughed at drunk Siya’s words, and you patted her head affectionately. “Hey! Could I get a chocolate martini?!” she called for the bartender.

“I’ll have one too, thank you,” you told the bartender who nodded and headed off to make your drinks. You decided not to turn back and look at Wooyoung, not wanting to ruin your night by feeling sad over the fact that he chose to ignore you.

But moments later after having yet another drink, you turned back to see where he was. You caught sight of the booth where the rest of the guys were, but Wooyoung wasn’t there. Your eyes scanned the area, trying to find him, but struggling due to the flashing-colored lights.

And then you saw him standing against a pillar… with a girl. She was leaning so close to him and from the angle where you were at, it appeared that she could be… kissing his neck? You watched them more carefully. It seemed like they were just talking.

“Uh oh. Double trouble,” Chaerin announced, catching your attention.

Before you could ask her what she meant, you heard someone call out your name. “Y/N!”

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart already sinking. Standing a few feet away, wearing his usual confident smirk, was Yongha. Flanking him were his two friends, Jaehyun and Taemoo who you’d briefly met once when they were waiting for Yongha outside one of your shared classes.

“Yongha?” you blurted.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, stepping closer with that familiar air of nonchalance. His eyes, however, scanned your face like he was trying to read your mood.

Jaehyun and Taemoo greeted your friends with easy smiles, and soon enough, introductions were exchanged. Chaerin immediately latched onto Jaehyun’s arm, chatting him up like they were old friends, but she was just sociable like that. Siya, meanwhile, was too occupied with her martini to pay much attention, but Maya caught Taemoo’s attention after recognizing that they were in the same major.

“Jung Wooyoung’s back with his ex again?” You heard Taemoo say to Jaehyun, causing the girls to glance at you. You didn’t react, though your stomach dropped. So that girl was his ex?

“Are you surprised?” Jaehyun said with a laugh. “Dude should move on. I can’t imagine running to the same girl that cheated on me thrice.”

You immediately glanced at Chaerin who looked at you. Wooyoung was cheated on thrice? If that’s true then why is he talking to his ex again?

Yongha kept his focus on you. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but still loud as the music was blasting.

You hesitated. It was clear he’d caught onto your distracted state, but you weren’t about to spill your emotions in the middle of a bar. “I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a small smile.

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn’t believe you, but he let it go. “Well, let me know if you need anything,” he said, leaning in just enough to make the gesture feel intimate.

Before you could respond, Chaerin called out, “Y/N, you have to come dance with us!”

You glanced back at Yongha, who gave you an easy shrug. “Go. Have fun.”

You allowed Chaerin to pull you toward the dance floor, but as you moved with the beat of the music with the girls, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in your chest. You tried to focus on the rhythm, the lights, the energy of the crowd, but your eyes kept drifting back to that pillar where Wooyoung had been.

He wasn’t there anymore. Neither was his ex.

Frustration and something sharper—jealousy, maybe—pricked at your thoughts. Was this really what you were to him? Someone he could ignore all week and then end up with another girl, his ex of all people, at the club?

Chaerin pulled you closer to her. “Can you come with me to the bathroom?” You nodded, letting Maya and Siya know you were headed there before Chaerin dragged you along. You waited in line, grateful that it was moving faster than you’d expected. Once you and Chaerin used the bathroom and washed your hands, she took a picture of both of you at the mirror.

“Let’s go take a shot before we hit the dancefloor again. Be a bad bitch, Y/N, come on,” she said, making you raise an eyebrow. “Wooyoung noticed you. I saw him looking at you and Yongha.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he probably thinks I’m here with Yongha. But… I can’t believe he was with his ex.”

Chaerin chuckled. “Well… take advantage of that. Make him jealous and he’s gonna come crawling to you. Besides, I saw that girl leave, so I take it that maybe she was trying to go after him again.”

You sighed, leaning against the bathroom wall for a moment, though Chaerin’s last sentence relieved you. “I don’t know if I want to play those games, Chaerin. He’s been ignoring me all week. What if it doesn’t even work? What if he doesn’t care?”

Chaerin gave you a pointed look as she fixed her lipstick in the mirror. “Oh, he cares. The way he was staring? Trust me, he cares, and let me tell you girl, that man has always had feelings for you. He just doesn’t want to admit it yet.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you hoped she was right. “Still. This whole thing feels... exhausting. I don’t know if I have it in me tonight.”

Chaerin put her hands on your shoulders and spun you to face her. “Y/N, look at me. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re fun. If Wooyoung can’t see that, then screw him. But trust me, he does see it. And if making him sweat a little gets him to step up, why not? Worst case, you have a good time, take some shots, and enjoy yourself with your girls.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “You always know how to hype me up.”

“Damn right I do,” she said with a grin. “Now come on, let’s grab that shot and show everyone—including Wooyoung—how bad bitches have fun.”

With renewed energy, you followed her out of the bathroom and back to the bar. Chaerin ordered two tequila shots, handing one to you with a wink. “To being the main character,” she said, raising her glass.

You clinked your shot glass against hers, downed the tequila in one go, and let the burn energize you.

As the two of you made your way back to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but glance around the bar. Your eyes automatically sought him out—and there he was. Wooyoung was back at the booth with the rest of his group, but his focus wasn’t on his friends.

It was on you.

You felt Chaerin nudge your arm. “Told you,” she whispered before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the crowd of people dancing.

The music pulsed around you, and for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to let go, swaying to the rhythm and matching Chaerin’s energy. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yongha and his friends near the bar, watching you with amused smiles.

And somewhere in the mix of lights, music, and glances, you realized Chaerin might’ve been right. Maybe it was time to make Wooyoung sweat.

Yongha was making his way toward you, the smoothness of his steps betraying his drunk state. His friends remained at the bar, chatting amongst themselves, but Yongha was solely focused on you.

Chaerin grinned, noticing his attention on you. “Looks like someone’s got their eyes on you,” she teased, nudging you playfully. “Let loose, my girl. Be the bad bitch you are. Show Wooyoung what he’s missing!”

You laughed loudly, running a hand through your hair while you danced to a remixed upbeat song that had the whole dance floor moving.

"Mind if I join you?" Yongha asked, his voice slightly slurred but still carrying that flirty edge that made you think he wasn’t exactly sober.

You raised an eyebrow, but with a playful smirk, you stepped closer to him, the music pumping louder as it filled the space between you two. "I suppose so." You were playing a dangerous game, but you had too much to drink and at this point, you did not give a fuck.

Yongha didn’t waste any time. His hands found your waist with a confidence that almost made you forget the tension earlier in the night. You let him guide your movements as the music shifted into a new song that had the crowd cheering, his grip firm yet gentle. You could feel the heat from his palms on the exposed skin of your waist. As you both moved together, his eyes never left yours. He pulled you in closer as you swayed together, and you were reminded of the way you had danced in this very club with Wooyoung before.

But amidst the heat of the moment, your eyes flicked to the side, catching sight of Wooyoung. He was standing in the same spot near the booth with his friends, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense. The slight furrow of his brows was all you needed to see to know he wasn’t happy. However, San looked incredibly amused and he leaned in to whisper something in Wooyoung’s ear.

Something shifted inside you, the cocktail of emotions from earlier mixing with the alcohol buzzing through your veins. You knew it was very petty, but in this moment, you didn’t care. You weren't about to let him have all the control over this situation. You weren’t going to be the one left wondering what could have been, while he played his little games.

Without breaking eye contact with Wooyoung, you dropped it down low, your body moving in sync with the rhythm of the music, your movements slow and deliberate as you bent at the waist, inching down to the floor. The look in Wooyoung’s eyes shifted immediately—surprise, anger, maybe even a flash of jealousy—but you didn’t look away.

Yongha’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you back up, and as you stood upright, you let your back press against his chest for a brief moment. The heat of his body against yours, combined with the thrill of making Wooyoung watch, sent a surge of adrenaline through you.

You let your gaze hold Wooyoung’s for just a few seconds longer before you finally broke away, returning your attention to Yongha, who was still grinning at you, clearly enjoying the game that was unfolding.

Wooyoung, though? He wasn’t smiling. The tight set of his jaw said it all.

As soon as the song finished, you excused yourself. “I’m going to get a drink upstairs,” you let Chaerin know. The club had a mezzanine floor that was a lot less crowded and didn’t have a dance floor.

“Good job out there, babe!” she drunkenly yelled, pulling you into a hug before you pushed through the crowd to make it upstairs.

You moved to where a window was open, and you relaxed when you felt the chill air hit your heated body. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heartbeat.

When you felt a presence behind you, you turned around, surprised to find that Wooyoung actually followed you upstairs. The white button up shirt he was wearing had most of the buttons unbuttoned, exposing his toned chest.

Wooyoung’s eyes flashed with something dark and unreadable as he stepped closer to you, making you take a step back, your back hitting the wall beside the window. The tension in the air thickened, and you could feel your pulse quicken, though you didn’t want to admit it. He stood inches from you, his presence overwhelming.

“What the hell were you doing with him?” Wooyoung’s voice was low, rough. The irritation, the jealousy, all bubbling to the surface now that he had you cornered. And yet you found it hot.

Hot that he definitely cared about you. Hot that there was a vein popping on the side of his neck from the clear anger he was feeling. Hot that his eyes were scanning your body the same way it does when he wants you.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the fire burning in your chest. “You’ve been ignoring me all week, and now you want to get all possessive?”

His lips curled into a tight smirk, but it was empty, edged with frustration. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Y/N. I was giving you space.” He emphasized the word, his eyes flicking over you. “But it looks like you moved on from me already, huh?”

You chuckled in an unamused tone. “Moved on? I could same the same about you, Wooyoung. Weren’t you chatting up another girl?”

“She means nothing to me,” he said quickly. “I don’t care about her.”

“She’s your ex girlfriend.”

His eyes darkened at the mention of her, and he stiffened, clearly not expecting you to know that much. “Oh, so I guess your precious little Yongha told you about her and I, hmm?”

You felt a sharp sting in your chest at the way Wooyoung said ‘your precious little Yongha.’ The bitterness in his voice, the way it rolled off his tongue, left you with a sour taste in your mouth. You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure, but your patience was running thin, and the anger was bubbling in your chest. “What, are you jealous now?”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched, but instead of answering you directly, he took a step closer, reducing the space between you two. “You wanna know why I’m pissed?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Because I can’t fucking stand seeing you with other guys. Especially him. Especially anyone who isn’t me.”

You froze, feeling your heartbeat skip. This was the first time he was being this... honest. Vulnerable, almost. But instead of giving you comfort, it made everything feel more complicated. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me, Wooyoung,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone.

Wooyoung sighed, his eyes darkening as he reached out to touch your arm, his fingers barely brushing your skin. “You think I want this? Think I wanted to let you go all week without talking? You think this is easy for me?”

You were about to respond, but the words got caught in your throat when Wooyoung stepped closer to you. His body was suddenly right in front of yours, invading your personal space, and all you could do was look up into his eyes, the fire in them burning bright. The heat between you two was palpable, thick enough that it made it hard to breathe.

“I’m not blind, Y/N,” he continued, his voice more intense now. “I saw the way you moved with him. You looked good together. Too good.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the possessive edge in his tone, but it only added to the frustration that was now boiling over inside you. You couldn’t help but feel the same anger—anger at yourself for letting him get under your skin, and anger at him for pushing you to this point.

“Stop making this about him,” you spat, stepping closer to him, your body finally reacting to the proximity. You jabbed your finger into his chest. “You’ve been acting like I’m nothing to you, and now suddenly, I’m supposed to be okay with—”

Wooyoung didn’t give you time to finish. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him, his lips crashing down on yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. For a moment, you froze, but it didn’t take long before you kissed him back, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him even closer. The kiss was hot, desperate, the frustration and the jealousy all pouring out into this one explosive moment.

He pulled away just long enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous, something you weren’t sure you could handle—but you didn’t care.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You shuddered at the intensity in his words, but you couldn’t deny it. You wanted him. You wanted all of it. “I do,” you breathed out. “I want you, Wooyoung. I only want you.”

A low growl escaped him, and before you could react, he pressed your back against the wall and his lips were back on yours. His hands were on your hips, pulling you into him, grinding against you in a way that made your pulse race.

The heat between you two was undeniable now, a wild, consuming thing that neither of you could fight. The tension, the unresolved anger, and the attraction all mixed together in a way that had your body aching for more.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, the friction between you making your head spin. The music in the club faded as you focused on the way Wooyoung kissed you with such urgency, such intensity.

But as much as you wanted this—wanted him—the words were still hanging in the air, thick with meaning.

He pulled away after a moment, setting you back down on your feet, holding you steady. “Why’d you pull away?” you whispered, your hands still tangled in his hair. “Why don’t you just tell me what this is, Wooyoung?”

He stopped for a moment, looking you dead in the eye. “Because I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what this means. I don’t know how to make this work between us, but God... I want you.” His voice cracked slightly, but the raw honesty made your heart skip a beat.

Your lips brushed against his again, more gently this time, but still charged with the same intensity. “Then stop overthinking it,” you whispered against his mouth. “Let’s just figure it out.”

“I can’t, Y/N. Not when you’re around him most of the time.” You stared at Wooyoung, his words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Your chest tightened, frustration flaring in your veins. “What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, shoving him back just enough to create space between you. “Are you seriously blaming me for working with Yongha? For doing what I’m supposed to do for my project?”

“It’s not about the project,” Wooyoung shot back, his voice strained as he ran a hand through his hair. His eyes darted away for a moment before locking onto yours again. “It’s about him, Y/N. I can’t stand seeing you with him. I can’t stand knowing you’re laughing with him, spending time with him—letting him get close to you.”

Your eyes narrowed, the anger bubbling over. “You’re acting like I have a choice, Wooyoung! He’s on my team! What am I supposed to do? Avoid him? Quit my project? Is that what you want?”

“No,” Wooyoung growled, his voice dropping low, his frustration palpable. “I just... I don’t trust him, okay? He’s not who you think he is.”

You froze for a moment, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “And what does that even mean? If you have something to say, then just say it, Wooyoung. Stop dancing around the truth!”

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might finally spill whatever he’d been holding back. But instead, he shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You’re unbelievable. Do you know how exhausting this is? You can’t just drop cryptic hints and then expect me to read your mind. I’m not a damn mind reader, Wooyoung!”

“I’m trying to protect you, Y/N,” he snapped, his voice rising. “I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt, but you just don’t see it!”

“Then help me see it!” you shouted back, stepping closer to him. “Tell me why you hate him so much. Tell me why this is such a big deal to you. Or are you just too scared to be honest with me?”

Wooyoung’s eyes burned with frustration, but underneath it, you caught a glimpse of something else—pain, raw and unfiltered. His lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but then he stopped, shaking his head again.

“I can’t,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t need to know.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You can’t even trust me enough to tell me the truth,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “How do you expect this to work, Wooyoung? How can we have anything if you keep shutting me out?”

“It’s not about trust,” he said quickly, his voice desperate now. “It’s about me. About what I can’t deal with. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. But I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” you pressed, tears threatening to sting your eyes. “Can’t let yourself care about me? Can’t let yourself get close because you’re too scared of what might happen?”

Wooyoung’s silence was deafening, and the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“This isn’t fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “It’s not fair to me, and it’s not even fair to you. If you can’t trust me, if you can’t let me in, then what’s the point, Wooyoung? What are we even doing?”

His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need.”

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. “Then maybe we’re better off letting this go,” you said softly, turning away from him. “If you can’t communicate with me…” you shook your head with a sigh, “then let’s stop whatever this is, Woo. I… I’m done trying.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, hoping—praying—that he’d stop you. That he’d fight for this, for you.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, his head bowed, his silence cutting deeper than any words ever could.

-x-x-x-

Nine days had passed. Nine long, agonizing days since you last spoke to Wooyoung. Since you walked away from him—since he walked away from you.

You tried to keep yourself busy, pouring your energy into school, work, and anything else that could distract you from the gnawing ache in your chest. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his words, his silence, his absence.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and you had just finished your shift at the dining hall. Your body ached from the long hours, and the emotional weight you carried didn’t help. You trudged home, trying to focus on mundane tasks to keep the sadness at bay.

In your apartment, you loaded the washer with your laundry, throwing a detergent pod into it when you heard the doorbell ring. Frowning, you quickly start the washer, the sound of the machine filling the silence as you headed to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and it was rare for someone to show up unannounced. When you opened the door, you froze.

Wooyoung stood there, looking like a shadow of himself. His hair was disheveled, covering most of his eyes, and his face was pale, his usual sharp features softened by exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn’t been sleeping.

Before you could say a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could smell his usual perfume, and you couldn’t help but take in a deep breath. His body felt heavy against yours, as if he was on the verge of collapse, and the way he clung to you made your heart ache.

“Wooyoung…” you breathed, your voice shaky.

He didn’t respond right away. His head rested against your shoulder, and you felt the uneven rise and fall of his chest as he tried to steady himself.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, your hands hovering for a moment before you let them rest gently on his back. “What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

“I didn’t know how to face you after everything. I thought if I stayed away, it’d be easier,” he said, his voice barely audible. “But it wasn’t. It only made everything worse.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, his face inches from yours. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying—or fighting not to.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continued, his hands trembling as they gripped your shoulders. “I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it. With you. With… everything.”

Your heart broke at the sight of him like this, so vulnerable, so raw. But the hurt you’d felt over the past week wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“I was scared,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’m still scared. But I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the washing machine.

“What are you scared of?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Of history repeating itself,” he said finally, his voice trembling. “Of you being around him. Of him… taking you away from me, just like before.”

You felt a pang of confusion mixed with sadness as you pieced together his words. But before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t give up on me. Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the rawness of his plea cutting through the ache you’d carried for days. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before moving slightly away from you, just enough to meet your gaze fully.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making your breath catch. “I want this to work. I’m ready to talk to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his confession settled in. For a moment, the weight of everything—the silence, the confusion, the pain—seemed to dissolve in the warmth of his words.

“You’re ready?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his eyes searching yours. Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm but hesitant. He led you to sit on the couch with him, and for a moment, there was only silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts.

Wooyoung exhaled deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said, his voice low. “But if I’m going to do this, I need to tell you everything. No more hiding.”

You nodded, your heart pounding.

“When I started college, Yongha and I were roommates,” he began, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “It was a random assignment, but we clicked almost instantly. He was funny, easy to talk to, and we had so much in common. It didn’t take long for us to become best friends. We did everything together—parties, late-night food runs, you name it.”

He paused, looking down at your hand in his, as if drawing strength from your touch.

“At the time, I was dating my ex, Sohee, the girl you saw me with,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “We’d been together since senior year of high school. She goes to another university nearby, but we made it work. Or at least, I thought we did.”

You felt the tension radiating from him as he tightened his grip on your hand slightly.

“The first time she cheated on me was during her freshman year,” he said bitterly. “She got drunk at a party and hooked up with some random guy. She swore it was a mistake, begged me to forgive her, and like an idiot, I did. I told myself it was just a one-time thing cause she was drunk.”

You stayed silent, letting him continue at his own pace.

“The second time was during spring break,” he said, his jaw clenching. “She hooked up with one of her friends while I was visiting my family. I didn’t find out until weeks later when her other friend accidentally told me about it. By then, I was already questioning everything, but I was too scared to let her go. She was my first love, you know? I thought I could fix us.”

His eyes darkened as he continued, his voice filled with pain and anger.

“But the third time…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “That’s when everything fell apart. It was during the start of junior year. I came back to campus earlier than planned after a weekend trip. Yongha had texted me saying he’d be at Yeosang’s place, so I figured I’d swing by and hang out. When I got there…”

His voice cracked, and he looked away, his eyes glistening. “I walked in on them. Sohee and Yongha. They were making out in Yeosang’s living room, like I didn’t even exist. Like what they were doing wasn’t the ultimate betrayal.”

Your heart ached as you listened, the rawness in his voice cutting deep.

“I ended it with both of them right there,” he said firmly. “I told Sohee we were done, and I told Yongha I never wanted to see his face again. Yeosang had gone to the nearby convenience store to get beer and when he came back just as I was about to leave, he told them to get out.”

He turned to you then, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear. “That’s why I’ve been so distant, Y/N. That’s why I’ve been so scared to let you in. Because I know what it feels like to be betrayed by the people you trust the most. And when I saw you with Yongha constantly…” He shook his head, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t handle it. It brought everything back.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you absorbed his words, the weight of his past hitting you like a tidal wave. “Wooyoung…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I’m not saying this to make excuses,” he said quickly, his gaze locking onto yours. “I just… I needed you to know. I needed you to understand why I’ve been such a mess. But I swear to you, Y/N, I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want my past to ruin what we could have.”

His vulnerability broke something inside you, and without thinking, you reached out, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. “You won’t lose me,” you whispered fiercely. “But you have to let me in, Wooyoung. I can’t fight for this alone.”

He held onto you like you were his lifeline, his head buried in your shoulder. “I’ll try,” he promised, his voice muffled. “For you, I’ll try.”

You gently pulled back from the hug, your hands still resting on his shoulders. Wooyoung’s eyes were heavy with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“Wooyoung,” you began softly, your voice steady but full of feeling. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. No one deserves to be betrayed like that, especially not by the people they trust most.”

His jaw tightened, and he glanced away, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on his lap. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I trust you, Y/N. I do. It’s him I don’t trust.”

You nodded, understanding his perspective. “I get that. What Yongha did to you was unforgivable, and I’m not here to defend him. But Wooyoung, I need you to know that whatever he and I share—it’s strictly professional. I’m his teammate. Nothing more.”

“I know that,” he said quickly, his eyes darting back to yours. “But it doesn’t stop me from… hating that you have to be around him. It’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near you.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I can’t change the fact that we’re on the same team,” you said gently. “But I can promise you this: Yongha doesn’t mean anything to me. You do. And I would never let him come between us.”

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on your hand as if anchoring himself to you. “I want to believe you,” he admitted, his voice strained. “And I do. I trust you. But the thought of him…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You’re allowed to feel that way,” you said softly. “I’d probably feel the same if I were in your shoes. But this—what we have—it’s worth figuring out, isn’t it?”

His gaze softened, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease just slightly. “It is,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re worth it. I’m just…”

“Scared,” you finished for him, a small, understanding smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded, his eyes glimmering with the weight of unspoken fears. “Yeah. Scared of losing you. Scared of… him trying to ruin this.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you said firmly, cupping his face with your free hand. “And as for Yongha, I’ll handle him. He doesn’t get to ruin anything—not for you, not for us.”

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now.

You smiled back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Well, too bad,” you whispered against his mouth. “You’re stuck with me.”

For the first time in days, the tension between you seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but genuine sense of hope.

“So… you want to date me?” Wooyoung asked in a sheepish tone, though there was a tinge of insecurity and vulnerability to it.

“I do, Woo. I’m in love with you too,” you admitted, and his eyes widened. “But I’d rather not rush into anything right now.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his widened eyes softening as he absorbed your words. There was a flicker of relief, though it was quickly accompanied by a slight furrow of his brow. “Not rush into anything?” he repeated carefully, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You nodded, keeping your gaze steady. “I want to make sure we’re both ready for this, Woo. I’m in love with you, and I know you feel the same, but after everything that happened, I don’t want us to start something that might get tangled in unresolved feelings or doubts.”

His lips pressed together as he considered your words, his thumb unconsciously stroking over your knuckles. “I don’t doubt how I feel about you,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the vulnerability in his voice.

“I know,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. “But it’s not just about feelings. It’s about making sure we’re in a good place—both of us.”

Wooyoung���s gaze dropped for a moment, his lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. When he looked back up, there was a flicker of determination in his eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted, though his voice was tinged with reluctance. “I just… I’m scared that if I wait too long, I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, leaning closer so your foreheads nearly touched. “I’m not going anywhere. We can take things slow, figure this out together. There’s no rush, Woo.”

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile, though the vulnerability lingered in his gaze. “Slow, huh?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Does that mean I still get to kiss you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound lightening the mood between you. “You already kissed me, genius,” you teased, brushing your nose against his.

“Yeah, but that was before the whole ‘taking it slow’ thing,” he countered with a grin that was quickly becoming more playful.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “Does that answer your question?” you whispered when you pulled back.

Wooyoung grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Crystal clear,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, though there was a new softness to it—a promise of patience and understanding.

-x-x-x-

2 months later

The rooftop of Wooyoung’s apartment building was a winter wonderland, blanketed in fresh snow that crunched under your boots as you ran. Your hectic semester had just come to an end, and with it came heavy snowfall, much to your delight.

Wooyoung had been relentless, pelting you with snowballs and laughing with childlike joy as you tried to dodge them. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his grin wide and mischievous as he chased you.

“Truce!” you called out breathlessly, holding up your hands.

“Truce?” he echoed, feigning suspicion but dropping his snowball nonetheless. He stepped closer, his dark eyes glimmering under the soft glow of the rooftop lights.

You nodded, smiling as you tried to catch your breath. “Yeah. I surrender.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk, leaning in close. “Because I was going to win anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” you replied, laughing as you playfully shoved him.

His arms wrapped around you in a swift, warm hug, pulling you against him. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his breath visible in the icy air.

“Whose fault is that?” you teased, but your words softened as you looked into his eyes.

He smiled at you, tender and full of something deeper. “Let’s go inside.”

The elevator ride down was quiet, your hands still entwined as warmth slowly returned to your fingers. By the time you reached his apartment, your cheeks were pink from the cold and from the way Wooyoung’s gaze lingered on you.

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, handing you a blanket before sitting down beside you. “I, uh… have something for you,” he said, his voice a little unsure.

You raised an eyebrow. “Something for me? What’s the occasion?”

“Just… stay here,” he said, quickly getting up and disappearing into his room.

When he returned, he was holding a small box wrapped neatly in silver paper. He sat down beside you again, his knee brushing yours as he handed it to you. “Open it.”

Your fingers were slightly trembling—not from the cold anymore—as you carefully unwrapped the box. Inside was a delicate necklace with a small heart pendant wrapped in the infinity symbol, the metal catching the light beautifully.

“Wooyoung…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I wanted to give you something that shows how much you mean to me,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “The heart is for… well, my heart, because it’s yours. And the infinity symbol… it’s because I want this to last. Forever.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked at him, your eyes already glistening with emotion. “Wooyoung…”

He reached out, gently taking the necklace from the box. “Can I?”

You nodded, turning so he could clasp it around your neck. His fingers were steady, but when he finished, he let them linger on your shoulders.

“I love you,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his words. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. And I want to ask… will you be my girlfriend?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you turned back to face him. “You’re such an idiot for even having to ask,” you whispered with a watery laugh.

His face fell slightly. “Wait, is that a no—”

You didn’t let him finish, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. He froze for a moment before melting into it, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, and you smiled. “It’s a yes, you idiot. Of course, it’s a yes.”

His grin broke out like sunshine, bright and pure, and he kissed you again, more passionately this time.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

The warmth of Wooyoung’s embrace enveloped you as you sat together on his couch, the delicate weight of the necklace now resting against your collarbone. His kisses softened, turning into small pecks on your lips, your cheeks, and even the tip of your nose, making you giggle.

“You’re in a good mood,” you teased, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

“I just secured the best girlfriend in the world,” he said smugly, his arms tightening around your waist. “Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

“Flatterer,” you replied with a mock roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His tone shifted slightly, becoming softer, more sincere. “These past two months… you’ve been my light. Even when I was being a coward, you stuck by me. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll spend every day trying to prove myself wrong.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his face in your hands. “Wooyoung, don’t say you don’t deserve me. We both have our flaws, our scars, but that’s what makes us stronger. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Stuck with you, huh?” He opened his eyes, a playful glint returning. “I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” you said with a grin. “Now, how about we celebrate? Hot chocolate and a cheesy rom-com?”

“Cheesy rom-com?” he groaned dramatically, though his lips twitched with amusement. “I thought we were celebrating, not torturing me.”

“Hey, I’ve endured enough action movies for you,” you shot back. “It’s your turn to compromise.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But I’m picking the snacks.”

“Deal.”

As you both moved to the kitchen to prepare for your cozy night in, you couldn’t help but glance down at the necklace again, your fingers brushing over the pendant. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was a promise, a symbol of the love you both were willing to fight for.

And as Wooyoung pulled you into another unexpected hug, whispering “I love you” into your ear, you realized that this was it—this was the beginning of your forever.

The End.

A/N: Precious readers, you have made it to the end! I want to sincerely thank you for taking the time to read yet another fic of mine, or if this is your first one, I hope you enjoyed it! I am working on a new story that will come out this month, so stay tuned! <3

[guardianspirits13]

Ok. I’m still trying to gather my thoughts and settle my hyperfixation after episode 3 of the Percy Jackson show, but one of my conclusions is that this is one of very few adaptations that actually understands the term ‘adaptation’ and furthermore what makes one successful.

On a fundamental level, understanding and respecting the source material is a must. You need to not just know the bullet points of the story, but you need to know the ‘why’s’- why does this story need to be heard, why do people like it, why does it stand out from the others in it’s genre, etc.

Second, you need to deconstruct the source material and piece it back together in a way that makes sense for the new format. Copy-pasting almost never works, since there will inevitably be discrepancies between the readers’ imagination and the adaptation that can distract from immersion.

Third, you need to provide something new. Why does this story deserve to be told in a different format? What can this add to the original themes of a story? What can we change to make the message come across more on screen? Will this dialogue really be as funny when it’s said out loud?

We’ve seen a lot of terrible “adaptations” of animation and books and musicals into movies/tv shows, and I think even among the better ones there is a dissonance between the desire to stay faithful to the source and the desire to make a good adaptation, with whatever changes that may necessitate.

I think while we’ve watched the casting of this series, the hints here and there, and final the premiere with bated breath, they’ve been playing the long game. They cast Walker as Percy before he was in the Adam Project. Many people expressed…unsavory…feelings when Leah was cast as Annabeth, but those of us that trusted the team behind this project- including the author himself- did our best to welcome her and were repaid tenfold with her performance in this episode particularly.

Most of the scenes in this episode were not at all how I imagined them in the book, but I adored it. They took what they were given and expanded on it. They created a mini-arc for the trio learning to trust each other. They gave Medusa a labyrinthine lair. Annabeth is a 12 year old walking into a convenience store for the first time in 6+ years with $200 in her pocket, of course she’s gonna buy as much as she can carry.

The love and care and artistry that went into this single episode brings me so much joy and gives me so much hope. Like I was already excited for a faithful adaptation, but seeing these characters come to life on screen, once you see their chemistry with each other and how they speak and push and pull at each other’s emotions, it has never been more clear to me the amount of care and foresight that went into this show.

Rick said that these kids are the characters he created and for like 2 years I’ve trusted that that was true, but today it was proven beyond the shadow of a doubt.

I am just…in awe.

[vitalverstappen]

Cassandra - C. Leclerc

summary: when everyone believes you, what's that like?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x platonic teammate! reader

warnings: Mattia Binotto, swearing, some sexist comments

word count: 3k

a/n: in honor of max winning the WDC, i figured i'd post something. in honor of charles finally losing his shit on the team radio, i figured i'd post this. also it takes place during the 2022 season

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

2022 was supposed to be your year. You broke onto the F1 scene in 2020 with Haas after working your way up through F3 and F2, championing both levels of racing with ease. You proved yourself time and time again by consistently placing within the points in a less than superior car. 

That’s how you got the attention of Ferrari. They offered you a one year deal, and you couldn’t turn it down. You were okay with being the second driver, because you were racing for the most historic team in F1. 

Things started out great. The car was a major upgrade from the tractor you were driving with Haas, and the team actively listened to your input and took having a woman in the car seriously.

You and Charles also clicked instantly, which led to some amazing content for the social teams. 

“Anything you need, or feel needs changed, let us know. We’re a family here” Mattia said as he gave you the tour of the Ferrari factory.

You couldn’t have drawn up the first two races any better. Both you and Charles were on the podium and it looked like you two were going to give Max and Red Bull a run for their money in the championship races. 

The downward spiral started in Australia. From the moment you hit the track for the first time, something felt off. The car was sluggish, it took all of your strength to accelerate and brake properly. 

“There’s something wrong with the car.” you told the team, your frustration mounting. “It takes forever to accelerate and then when I do, I can’t break”

“Have you tried leg day?” Mattia asked, a smirk forming on his face, causing you to storm away and find your mechanics. 

The Australian Grand Prix ended up being a disaster. You struggled through the laps, barely able to keep up with the field. The car was just too much of a handful. Thirteen laps in, you hand no choice but to retire from the race. The speed was gone, and your confidence was shot. 

“I cannot believe he looked me in the eyes and said ‘try leg day’” You fumed as you barged into Charles’ driver room. The frustration was evident in every word, your anger still fresh from the weekend’s events. 

Charles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. “Well hello to you too” he said with a small chuckle. “What’s going on?” 

You let out a deep sigh and recounted the car troubles and the interaction with Mattia. “He actually said ‘try leg day’ to me, like it’s some kind of joke. What happened to ‘if you need anything, let me know’?”

Charles listened intently, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Hopefully it was just an assembly issue” he said, trying to ease your frustration. ”Imola should go smoothly for the two of us. We both know you’re a hell of a driver.” 

Imola was next, and that was somehow even worse than Australia. Instead of acceleration and braking problems, the new issue was the engine. It had to be replaced between practice 3 and qualifying, only for the new one to fail during the race in Imola. 

“I have the utmost trust in my team.” You said during your press interviews “We’ve tried upgrades, but they’ve fallen flat. Hopefully Miami provides some better results” 

For Miami, the team had reverted your car back to the original set up, the one it had when the season started. The difference was night and day. The car felt responsive, alive in ways it hadn’t in the past few races. As you flew through all three practice sessions and qualifynig, you could feel the weight lift from your shoulders. You had been pushing the limits all weekend, and it had paid off - P2, only behind Charles. Things were looking up. 

The problem now was the strategy. As the number two driver, you knew your strategies were mostly going to be defend defend defend but you didn’t realize how badly Ferrari’s lack of adaptability would come into play 

The race was shaping up to be intense. Charles had led most of it, with Max behind him. You were right behind Max, keeping a steady pace, but always aware of the massive pressure from the drivers behind. Then, when Charles pitted, you thought, for sure, you’d get the green light to battle Max for the lead. After all, you were right there, in prime position.

Instead, the radio crackled to life. 

“Y/n keep defending. Leclerc will be back up there in no time.” Your engineer said

You blinked, incredulous. “I’m sorry what?” You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

“Defend Max. Charles will be back up there to take over. Hold your position” he repeated as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious?” you barked back, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. “I can overtake him for the lead and you want me to defend?!” 

Before your engineer could respond, Mattia’s voice boomed over your radio “Defend y/n. Team orders.” 

You could feel your irritation building, but there was no choice. Ferrari had spoken. You stayed behind Max, holding position, and waiting for Charles to catch up. Sure enough, Charles had soon found his way back to you, but by that point, Max was far enough ahead that any shot at victory was all but lost. 

Later, in the media pen, you stood with the press surrounding you, microphones, shoved in your face. They asked you the usual questions, but you were still stewing over what had happened. 

“Yeah, I mean the car felt great” You started, trying to keep your tone even. “We reverted back to the original, pre-upgrades and the car showed it’s worth”

The reporter pressed further. “Now even though the car was great, why do you think you couldn’t pull off the win? You were less than a second behind Max, and chose to defend your position instead of attacking.”

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. You were tired of repeating the same frustrations. “If it was up to me, I would have attacked. I know we would’ve gotten a different result on the podium today. If we had a different strategy, then we would have gotten many more points.” 

“How do you think this result is going to impact the championships?” another reporter asked 

You paused, considering the question. “It could make or break it. There’s a large jump of points between one, two and three, and one thrown away strategy can make or break a shot at either championship. I’m just hoping they don’t mess up Charles’ strategies like they have mine.” 

As you finished your media duties, you made your way back to the garage, expecting to be alone with your thoughts. But to your surprise, Charles was waiting for you.  

“What are you doing here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached

“I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on P3. You had a good race out there” He said sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You shrugged, the weight of the day still on you. “I could have won if my strategy wasn’t total shit.” you muttered, your tone flat.

Charles let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it. P1 and P2 would have been great, but strategy isn’t Ferrari’s strong suit” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a shared understanding.

“So I’ve learned.” you replied dryly. “I just hope it isn’t bad enough to fuck up winning either championship” 

He nodded, a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “So do I. I’m terrified my shot at a driver’s championship is gonna slip away” 

Before you knew it, your interview was trending all over social media. Clips of you talking about the strategy missteps were circulating, and the Tifosi and general F1 fans alike were all over it. They didn’t believe you. They thought you were complaining, too bitter about the loss, and some even accused you of undermining the team. The backlash was stiff.

User1: there’s no way they’re going to mess up the golden boy’s strategy. Mattia cares too much about winning to do that

User2: y/n doesn’t know racing. She’s obviously going to get the shit strategy - she’s not charles 

User3: Ferrari needs to get rid of her. She doesn’t belong here #burnthebitch

Before media day in Spain, you got called into Mattia’s office. 

“Thank you for joining me on such quick notice y/n” Mattia said with a smile as you walked in 

You gave him a polite smile as you sat across from his desk “Of course. Why did you call me in?” 

The smile on his face instantly hardened “We need to talk about how you approach the media. You embarrassed myself, along with the rest of the Ferrari staff during Miami.” 

You found yourself fixing your posture and dropping the smile you had previously, prepared to go toe to toe with your principal. “I would say I told the truth on how the race was handled. We could have left Miami with eleven more points, had we gone P1 and P2”

Mattia sighed “That may be true, but we know you couldn’t have battled Max safely. Regardless, that was two weeks ago. We need to focus on Spain now.” 

“Whatever” You mutter “ If we provide sufficient results, I’ll give you praise. If we don’t, I’ll keep mentioning what needs to be done better. Simple as that” 

Spain turned out better for you than it did for Charles. You had finished P4, while Charles was forced to retire. Another blow for Ferrari. 

Both of you managed to score points in Monaco. The car felt good and it seemed like the team was back to how they were at the start of the season. That is until Baku. 

The start of the race seemed like it was going well. The practices and qualifying went well. Charles was on pole and you were not far behind him at P4. But that’s when the good luck ended. Just like the Australian Grand Prix, your brakes were faulty, and this time your clutch wasn’t working. 

“Check the hydraulics - brakes aren’t working again and clutch is out.” You voiced over the radio, concern filling your words 

After a few moments of silence, your engineer’s voice filled your ears. “Seems we have a uh hydraulic problem. You need to retire the car.” 

You muttered a curse as you found a spot to pull your car off. If it wasn’t a strategy issue, it was the car. If it wasn’t the car, it was something else. Something always had to go wrong. 

It was only lap eight and Charles was still driving. You had some hope he could get points for the team and for his championship. 

Throwing on a spare headset in the Ferrari garage, you watched as Charles battled through the streets of Baku. Just as quick as he was driving, the problems with his car also began to show. He had to retire only a handful of laps later with a power problem. 

While Ferrari’s golden boy wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about them during the pressers, you had much less of a filter. 

“You can mark my words that we aren’t winning a championship this year. As much as I want to put faith into our team and our strategies, we’ve shown time and time again we come up short.” 

Instead of your remarks being pushed aside by everyone, you found yourself in the spotlight. All eyes were on you as you walked into the paddock for the British Grand Prix. You acknowledged your team out of respect, and they greeted you back, but you could tell there was tension. 

“Mattia wanted me to tell you that the strategy for today is the same as usual: protect Charles.” Your engineer told you as the two of you sat down for lunch

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why couldn’t Mattia tell me that himself?” 

“He doesn’t think you deserve his time and energy” He said, rolling his eyes 

A scoff left your lips “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults. He needs to act like it.” 

“You’re telling me” Your engineer muttered 

Before you knew it, it was lights out at Silverstone. The race was a disaster for everyone. While a scary crash had been cleaned up, leading to a restart, another safety car was put out for a stopped car. 

“Y/n box box” Your engineer spoke through your earbuds 

Under the safety car, you were able to pit and get fresh soft tires. When the race resumed, you quickly found yourself behind Charles. 

“Am I defending again?” You asked 

“You are free to overtake, but you must give up the position once Charles gets back up after pitting” 

“You mean Charles didn’t box under the safety car?” 

“Correct.” 

“Fucking idiots” You sighed, but did as you were told. 

Charles easily gave up the front position to you as he headed to the pit lane. You expected him to make a quick comeback in the next few laps, but as the laps ticked by, the gap remained. The radio crackled with instructions from your engineer, and you kept your focus, pushing through. 

And just like that, you crossed the finish line. Your first Grand Prix victory. 

The celebrations were a blur - the podium, the champagne, the flashing cameras. As the trophy was handed to you, you felt a surge of pride, but the weight of the race still hung in the air. Charles had been a force throughout the race, and even though you had won, it felt wrong that he hadn’t been able to capitalize on his pace. 

After the post-race formalities wrapped up, you found yourself in Charles’ room, finally able to breathe. He greeted you with a grin, the kind that only someone who experienced a dramatic race could wear.

“Congratulations! First win!” Charles said, his voice full of enthusiasm 

“You should have fucking won that and we both know it.” You said as you tossed him a Gatorade 

Charles caught the bottle with a small chuckle, cracking it open “You’re fucking telling me.” he said, taking a long swing. “At least Mattia didn’t chastise you on national TV.” 

You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed. “Maybe we’ll both be off speaking terms with him by the end of the season,” you joked, but there was no humor in the situation. “But seriously, what did he say?” 

Charles groaned, clearly not looking forward to recounting the conversation “Basically that I needed to listen to team orders. He was pissed that I was pissed that I didn’t win the thing. Said I needed to trust that the team knows what they’re doing.”

“They know what they’re doing?” You raised an eyebrow “Because the last time I checked, they’ve messed up both of our races this season” 

“Tell me about it” His tone shifted, frustration building, “I need him out.” 

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth “Twenty bucks he’s out of his job by the end of the season” 

Charles hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand “Deal” 

The rest of the season trudged along, with highs and lows in the car, the strategy, and the relationship between Mattia and his drivers. There were some days he would be all over their radios encouraging them, while others he would avoid them like the plague. 

And sure enough, once Abu Dhabi came, Charles and Ferrari were so far behind Max and Red Bull that it was impossible to catch up to them in either championship. Mattia announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the season, and you had repaired your rocky relationship with your team, allowing you to renew your contract with Ferrari. 

It was the final time in the media pen this season, and it felt much different. The usual questions about the ups and downs of the season were there, but now they came with a certain respect - respect for the struggles you had endured and for the candidness with which you handled it all. Your honest take on Ferrari’s performance had earned its fair share of criticism, but it had also sparked conversations, both within the paddock and among fans. 

The final question from the reporter hit differently. The interviewer’s tone wasn’t mocking, but rather filled with a certain curiosity. “How does it feel to know that you had called it earlier in the season, that Ferrari weren’t going to win either championship this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as you processed it. The emotions of the entire season flashed through your mind: the excitement of the podiums early on, the disappointment after races like Miami and Baku, the frustrations with the strategies, and the battles you fought on and off the track. It had been a rollercoaster, and while it hadn’t turned out the way you had hoped, you were still standing. 

You cracked a smile as you spoke, a mix of pride and exhaustion “Oh, so you guys believe me now?” you said, your voice light but laced with the weight of everything that had happened. “Have a good winter break. I’ll see you in Bahrain” 

It was the moment of closure you needed. The reporter thanked you for your time, before wishing you a good break as well. As you walked away from the media pen with Charles by your side, the season’s tension finally seemed to release, at least for a moment. 

Charles, sensing the mood, nudged you. “That was… honestly, impressive. You know, calling it before anyone else.” 

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I had a feeling.” you said, shrugging. “At least I wasn’t wrong.”

Charles smirked, clearly tired but also relieved that the season was over. “Let’s just hope next year’s a little less… chaotic, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

[rabid-invertibrate]

Um actually Vander isn't fully gone (the complete proof) (HEAVY SPOILERS)

spoilers for the entirety of arcane s2 obviously watch it if you haven't or don't if you care about your mental health

Although we see his memories/emotions get acetoned away in s2e7s final scene, and the following battle with his kids has him attacking them pretty rabidly.

But wait...

Tumblr compressed this image to hell, so you'll just have to trust me.

If you look closely as he lunges at Vi and Jinx, a tear appears in his right eye (not previously seen)

We can see it better after Jinx hits him with her rocket.

After Vik gets Jayced we see these tears on full display. The size of the tears is significantly larger, so we can assume they were spilled as Warwick corrupted the girls with void magic, indicating some amount of awareness.

Of course immediately after the screencap above Warwick attacks Vi, Jinx does a side slam and the father daughter duo barely get caught by Vi's gauntlet

Jinx and Vander plummet to their presumed deaths (they are both alive, but for drama’s sake, let's pretend). Vander/Warwick doesn't attack Jinx despite her being entirely in his grasp.

He could shred her right then and there. A mindless beast would, he doesn't.

Vander holds Jinx gently, he doesn't dig into her flesh, he just holds her and lets Jinx cup his face.

We see a flashback of Vander watching the girls sleep. Since he is the only conscious one in this situation this implies is that it is not Vi's or Jinxes memory, only Vanders.

Reader, you might think, well how the hell does he remember anything didn't he get mind wiped an episode ago. To that I respond I don't fucking know, but arcane is VERY intentional with its details and nothing else makes sense.

Jinx escapes, this isn't even subtle. She does so BEFORE the bomb blows. In no universe would Jinx break Warwicks grip, hell, she's toast if any stronger character grabs her (fe. Ambessas bodyguard). Do you know what that implies??

Since Warwick wasn't incapacitated at that point, HE WILLINGLY LET HER GO. He used the last shreds of humanity to give his daughter a second chance at life.....

I AM NOT OK

Below there's the more speculative part I'm not sure of.

Warwick, unlike Jinx, didn't escape into the air ducts. But we've seen him survive significant explosions in the very same episode, moreover he survived Isha blowing him up with the force of 3 magic orbs, and yet he lived.

This can only imply that Warwick/Vander survived. Of course the previously mentioned flashback shows Vander blowing a candle out which can symbolize his life ending, but I'd say it's more likely a subtle way of showing the destruction of their family unit as it was.

Edit: some people are calling this theory copium I'd agree at first but now that I thought about it more Vanders fate is objectivelly worse than death so i dont know if me being potentially right is a good thing.

(COMPLETE COPIUM BELOW)

I am aware this is complete copium yet maybe Jinx took him wherever the fuck she went on that airship to heal him up while sparing Vi from fighting their unkillable werewolf dad over and over again. Vander is still in there are proved by this long ass post, and I think Jinx knows that. I don't think she could give up on Vander like she wanted Ekko and Vi to give up on her.

□

Cool additional fact pointed out by commenter: