#tumblr you have such a good thing going on right now seriously

[kittlyns]

There's always something sad abt playing a game that isn't bad, but has so much more potential than was utilized.

[somnoir]

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[aegis-noctua]

Allow me to finally break and enter this fandom with my humble offering!

I just wanted to do something with them all being good friends. Love, love, love their group dynamic! Also I have like 20+ pages worth of silly little dialogs that I want to turn into equally silly little comics, so hopefully I'll be sticking around.

Aaand a lot of rambling under the cut.

I'm an avid reader, you see. I generally don't watch things (sometimes not in literal years), it's just not something I do. So when at the beginning of fall tumblr exploded with outrage over the Dead Boy Detectives cancellation, my first thought genuinely was "what a stupid f*cking name" and then immediately "people are overreacting, it's just a series, nothing is worth that much of a fuss". But after observing for some time from a safe distance I eventually grew curious. I thought I knew what I was getting into.

(I had no bloody idea)

Well. Here I am now, almost four months of obsession later, eating my words with shards of glass and no sign of reaching the bottom of this cursed rabbit hole. I've been drawing more than ever and for the first time seriously thinking about honing my artistic skills. I have some drafts for at least two stories, and even though I'm a little hesitant to write (not being a native and all), I'm pretty determined to give it a go anyway. I tend to avoid social media and digital public spaces in general, but #SaveDeadBoyDetectives campaign changed that as well. To my great regret, there is not much I can do or participate in, so I settled for trying to be supportive of all the lovely people who created probably the safest and most comfortable online space I've ever encountered. I'm not as good as Charles at keeping spirits up, but damn I wanna try.

It honestly feels like if I had something like dbda growing up, I'd turn out at least 40% less traumatized as a person. It grew to mean so much so quickly. It's like some moments were plucked right out of my life and then embedded in the show. I felt (and still feel) so seen, and understood, and reassured, and safe, and hopeful, and accepted when watching (pretty much everybody's but especially) Edwin's side of the story. It's so much more than "just a series", and these Dead Boys deserve every good word that's being said about them.

Okay, I'm wrapping it up now, and the only thing left to say is thank you to all the people who put their effort into keeping this wonderful story alive and making the fandom so friendly and welcoming.

(right now I'm working on a big Christmas comic that I definitely won't be able to finish in time, but it will appear here at some point)

[avelera]

PSA: You should question news articles that make you not want to vote

Hey Tumblr friends, but especially young Americans in this, the year of our Lord 2024.

Unfortunately, it is an election year.

Unfortunately, a US election year becomes everyone's problem, and yes everyone else, we are very very sorry that you have to deal with our nonsense.

But in all seriousness, the level of propaganda that's going to be flung around on all sides is going to reach peak levels this year for the English-speaking internet in particular. There's going to be a lot of influence operations, on all sides, and yes including on sides you agree with but they are still influence operations.

Source: I am speaking as a cybersecurity professional who also did a great deal of work in election security.

So, here's what I am going to ask you to do. What I am going to beg you to do: be careful of any article that makes you think there's no point in voting.

That's it. I'm not going to tell you who to vote for, or how to think, or that you should trust or distrust every article out there. I don't care about that. I care about whether or not it makes you think you shouldn't vote.

A lot of influence operations are about making you feel like there's no point. That both sides are just as bad as the other. The the election is falsified. That you can "protest" by not voting (false: you will simply not be counted and your voice will be ignored). All sorts of reasons not to vote.

No matter what you do, what you believe, or who you trust, you really really have to vote this year, and every year, and you need to not listen to articles that say there's no point because among those articles are in fact active foreign influence campaigns trying to promote one side or the other for their own reasons, I am deadly serious right now.

(More context, sources, and examples sources below the cut.)

In 2016, Russian influence operations were focused on tearing down Hillary in order to specifically depress voter turnout among young men of color in the belief that this would help Trump get elected.

From the article: "“Buried literally in the middle of the indictment is a paragraph that should jar every American committed to the long fight for voting rights,” Anders wrote in a statement. “The Russians allegedly masqueraded as African-American and American Muslim activists to urge minority voters to abstain from voting in the 2016 election or to vote for a third-party candidate.”

This is the flavor of influence campaign that has been proven, that does exist, and is the sort of thing that does numbers here on Tumblr.

Things like the situation in Gaza, for example, are incredibly fraught situations. Articles don't even need to lie about facts on the ground there to make people feel hopeless and angry. Again, I am not telling you who to trust or not trust when it comes to news sources. But if an article about this event, for examples, makes you think or even outright tells you, "There's no point to voting, both sides are awful, I just shouldn't bother." You need to pause and at least consider that this might be an influence operation. You need to think critically. You need to check sources. You need to think about the world you want to live in, to vote for, and who might not want that world to happen for any variety of reasons.

Protesting by failing to vote isn't a real thing.

Old politicians ignoring young voters because they famously do not bother to vote is absolutely 100% a real thing. It is why so many policies that are popular with young people are low priority for politicians: they are not afraid of losing the young vote because no one plans on having it in the first place when it's never there in big enough numbers to matter.

So please, please, read what you want. Believe what you want. Follow your heart and your brain and whatever other organ you want to think with. I'm not here to tell you who is right, wrong, trustworthy, good, or bad. I'm just here to tell you that despite all of that, whatever you read, you must vote in your elections, no matter where you are in the world and you must not listen to voices that tell you not to as a protest.

[withercat1]

Some observations about Mouthwashing

Spoilers ahead!

Ok so this game has got me so hyperfixated that I’m using Tumblr for the first time in like a year just to keep a tab with the Mouthwashing hashtag open so I can refresh it throughout the day and see what people are posting. That and my tab full of Danny AOD gifs. Anyway.

So I wanted to share some things I’ve noticed because I haven’t seen anyone else mention them and I want to seem smart and observant.

First off is the name Curly. Like it’s kind of a weird name. It’s unclear whether this is his first or last name because the writing on his id card is so burned and so cursive. It is worth noting that Curly is an actual name, meaning “strong man” or “great strength”. What stands out to me though, is that Laika, the dog who was sent into space, was actually named Kudrayavka originally, which means “Little Curly” (and a little fun fact, Laika means “barker”). Thematically, both of these make sense. I don’t know which one was intentional, if either. It’s entirely possible Curly as a name is a reference, or just a name the devs liked.

Secondly, Anya’s design is based off of Shelley Duvall in The Shining, most recognizable to most people for the scene where she’s hiding in the bathroom while Johnny breaks down the door. That being her most iconic scene really reminds me of Anya’s deal with doors, being unable to lock the door to her quarters, and then locking herself in medical while the others try to get her out.

Thirdly, and the one I find most interesting, is one of the videos that plays on the tv after the storage room is opened. It’s about atoms, and states that atoms make up everything, like shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, and cabbages, and kings. I don’t know if this video was chosen by the devs specifically for this quote, but for the purposes of my rambling I’m going to assume it was. This quote is a direct reference to The Walrus and the Carpenter, a poem by Lewis Carroll.

The poem is hyperlinked above (hopefully, Idrk how to use Tumblr), but I just want to post the segment that the quote from the video comes from.

“The time has come,' the Walrus said,

      To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —

      Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

      And whether pigs have wings.'”

To briefly summarize the whole poem, though I highly recommend reading it for yourself as well because it’s really good, the Walrus and the Carpenter come across a group of oysters and ask them to join them for a walk. The oysters do, and the Walrus and the Carpenter walk with then a bit, before finally stopping, where the lines above happen. Right after this, the oysters ask to take a break, and the Walrus and the Carpenter agree to let them have the break - because they plan on eating the oysters. “And why the sea is boiling hot,” I believe, refers to the oysters being boiled in order to prepare them for consumption.

The Walrus says he pities the oysters, and wipes his tears away, while actively partaking in the consumption of the oysters. The poem ends with a statement that all of the oysters have been devoured.

So! Let’s focus on the Walrus here. Someone who leads innocents astray, boils/cooks them, and then eats them, all the while crying about how awful it is while doing nothing to abstain from eating them. Sound familiar? Sound like that guy we all hate? Little bit! I don’t know if it was an intentional bit of symbolism or not, but it’s super big brained if it was.

That’s all for now but I’m sure I’ll think of some more things later. I love this game. If u made it this far I really appreciate it, feel free to comment and let me know what you think

Also let me know how to tag a post as spoilers properly, I seriously do not use this site

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[tarotofhope]

PAC: ♡ Channelled Love Songs from your Current/Future Romantic Partner ♡

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

(You can find all the songs mentioned in the Piles on SPOTIFY. Unfortunately Tumblr only allows 10 audio links per post🥲)

Pile 1

Songs - Aaya Jado Da by Asees Kaur

Screen Time by Epik High ft. Hoshi

Don't Forget To Breathe by Aaryan Shah

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. First of all, lot of green ink occured in your pile. Your partner seems very caring, nurturing and protective of you. They might be a very caring and loving person themselves, very protective of their belongings and loved ones. They like to have a quick check on you(like not in a toxic or negative way). They want to know you better and your little quirks. They genuinely care about your well being. They might be very cautious, structured, organised individual, a fitness freak as well. They seem kind of very picky, they don't open up to just anybody, they might have very few close friends. They're mostly not interested in flings and one-night stands. They take relationships seriously so they'll only jump into it when they see some real value in it. This person is like a 'husband/wife material' person or atleast a long term partner. This also seems like a long distance relationship to me or getting into a relationship after a series of personal hardships when you've become very mature either age-wise or experience-wise.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1.

Hope you're with this person or find this person soon 😉

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 2

Songs - Talk About Love by Callum Beattie

Seven- Clean Version by Jungkook

Tenu Khabar Nahi by Arijit Singh

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. Have you guys currently been in separation or broken up with your partner? This could be a recent past energy as well. See, now this also looks like an ex's energy(I don't like to go into this topic because it creates unnecessary confusion but it appeared in the reading so I had to) and whether ex or not, if you strictly don't want this person back into your life, you must then very well know that you've ended up for good and you don't need to allow this person back or this pile totally isn't for you, you should select another pile. One thing is prominent though, one of you has done something bad to the another person..and that was the main reason for your guys' separation. I'm nobody to judge you guys, you know yourselves better. Well, whoever this person is, they want to reconcile with you or you're currently reconciling already. It could be a different case for everyone choosing this pile. It could be so that this person or both of you might still have feelings for each other. This person wants to make things better or do things right. There is a promise of not making the same mistakes again. This person is asking for another chance. Now, you need to decide for yourselves, what's good for you and what's not. It's totally up to you.

That's all I see in the cards for you, my dear Pile 2.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 3

Songs - Tera Mera Hai Pyar Amar by Ahmed Jahanzeb

I'm Gonna Love You by D.O. ft. Wonstein

Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. This person looks so in love. But more so, this person is very sure of you, there feelings are very intense, too. As they are saying, that it's so easy to fall in love with you, either it's a love at first sight situation or there is a certain clarity about choosing you/about wanting to continue further with you. Nothing can change their mind about you. They are giving me strong future spouse energy because they just want to take you away as soon as possible. So, they'll be very assertive in their approach towards you in the courtship period itself. I also think that they'll be the first one to approach you if you've not met this person already. They'll make sure that you know they are not just fooling around, that you're in for a very long ride. They'll also want to make sure that you too, feel the same way for them before going very far because they want it all or nothing. They'll definitely try to win your heart over, Pile 3.

That's all I got for you, dear Pile 3.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌼🌸🌻

Pile 4

Songs - Young And Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

Every Second by Baekhyun from EXO (Record of

Youth OST- 3)

Aadat Se Majboor by Benny Dayal

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. This person might be a heart-throb. Popular person energy(for their work or looks). Everybody swoons over them. Their energy is quite charming and charismatic. They are bold, fun loving and outgoing, life of the party kind of person. You both might be quite the opposite of each other. They will be very confident in their approach. They might just be nervous about how to woo you because you are different from others and they don't want to make any mistake. They don't want to look like a creep. If you've already met this person or in a relationship, you know. They are someone who'll totally make a fool out of themselves to make you laugh. They love to see you smile and laugh but also, you don't laugh a lot, it seems. There seems to be a lot of people who are sexually attracted to them, but they choose you because you are special to them, you're not like the others according to them. They might've got their heart broken a couple times earlier due to which they're afraid of losing you but that's not going to be the case because they're sure of one thing that you're very firm in your decisions, rock solid and you won't run away when life gets bad. You guys are going to be like a power couple, each helping the other person where they are lacking, each completing the other.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Pile 5

Pile 5

Songs - Lover by Taylor Swift

Spider By Hoshi

Tere Mast Mast Do Nain by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. Your person seems very Venusian(very lovey-dovey, full of charm, likes fine art) and Neptunian(very dreamy) to me, a hopeless romantic even. Some of you might also be attracted to Pile 4, because this pile has got some similar vibes. They are magnetic, could also be popular for something that they do, something that only they create. They have a good taste in music as well, could be a musician or they like to play musical instruments. Dancing and singing could be their hobby or talent. They are also someone who knows flirting like the back of their hand. It comes naturally to them, sometimes they don't even know that they're flirting. They might also like good food and fine-dining, might also love to cook. You might not like this person in the beginning because you think they're a flirt and they don't look serious, but you'll eventually start liking them because they're not what they seem from the outside. It is giving me the vibes of 'One fell in love first, but the other one fell harder.' Their heart is so pure and innocent. They'll woo you with their heart, Pile 5. You seem like a tough nut to crack to them, someone who's hard to get. I also think you've got pretty eyes and a resting b**** face. They love it. There's going to be a playful banter between you guys. Everything will be worth it in the end.

So, that's all I've got for you, my dear Pile 5.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

———————————♡ ♡ ♡———————————

[heyimkana]

Tumblr won't allow me to post anything more than 10MB, so I'm splitting it into 2 tracks. And again, this translation may not be 100% correct.

Storyline: It has the same setting as my previous post, you and your boyfriend are in a long-distance relationship because you're studying in another country. In this track, your boyfriend pays you a surprise visit. He shows up at the cafe where you usually spend hours working on your assignment. It's been so long since you both saw each other, and you're surprised because he looks more masculine now, like an adult, though he says he's still very childish at heart seeing how he missed his sleep last night simply because he got too excited about seeing you.

You were studying before, but now that he's here, you stop to greet him. You sit down together, chatting for a bit. He says you look different too, more mature. Then he pauses, looking at you, and...

00.02 Umm... I can wait until you're finished with your studying, but after that, can I go to your room? Ah, I mean, look, I'm carrying a big suitcase with me. Walking around with this would be troublesome so, umm... Really, I don't have any weird intention.

00.26 Sorry, I lied. I actually... can't hold it anymore...

00.34 I want to be alone with you as soon as possible. I want to hold you...

(You head back to your room with him)

00.58 I'm sorry... I didn't mean to suddenly do things with you like this, but... Seeing you in person really makes me want to hold you right away... Makes me want to kiss you...

01.23 Really, I'm sorry, but... I can't hold back anymore.

(He starts undressing you, rushing)

01.40 I'm gonna touch you...

01.45 You're already wet... I'm glad. So it's just not me who's turned on.

01.59 Have you been waiting for me too?

02.05 I just kissed you but you're already so wet down here...

02.13 Do you want me to touch you here more? Or can I put it in?

02.22 Oh, you're suddenly tightening around my fingers. Are you reacting to my words?

02.29 I guess, you can't hold yourself back too, huh?

02.41 I'll put it in, okay?

(He grabs a condom and put it on)

03.01 *thrusts* Ah, t-this sensation... It's been a while since we did this so... It's bad... (meaning he's too sensitive)

03.07 I think... I won't last long... Sorry...

03.22 D-don't do that... Don't tighten up around me too hard...

03.28 I'm really about to cum...

03.39 Seriously, this is bad... At this rate, I'm gonna cum before I can make you feel good.

(He stops, pulling away)

03.58 Sorry... I'm gonna stop for a bit. Can you move for me?

04.08 I'll pull you up now.

TRACK 02

00.02 Sorry, I had to do this 'cause I feel like I'm gonna cum fast if I don't.

(He places you on his lap)

00.09 Like this, you can move however you like.

(You ask him, "But will you feel good this way?")

00.15 It's okay. Right now, everything feels so good to me. Try to hit the spot that makes you feel good too.

00.36 As I thought, this feels amazing...

00.42 Hey... Can I kiss your chest? Just like this...

(He sucks on your breasts)

00.59 I shouldn't? 'Cause you're feeling too good?

01.05 Look, you've stopped moving your hips. Move for me.

01.28 What's wrong? You're gonna cum?

01.33 Ah, wait... If you do it like that, I'm gonna cum too...

01.44 This is bad...

(you both finish together)

(you pull away)

02.22 That felt so good...

02.31 I'm sorry... Doing this right away after we met... I'm terrible, aren't I?

(You say, "It's okay.")

02.42 Really? But in the end you didn't get to finish your studying...

(You tell him not to worry about it)

02.51 Thank you... But you don't have to be too considerate, okay? I really just wanted to see your face, that's all.

(You comfort him)

03.02 I'm happy to hear you say that... You said you wanted to take me somewhere?

(You tell him that you want him to meet your friends)

03.11 Eh? You want to introduce me to your friends?

(You ask him, "Are you not okay with that?")

03.20 Not at all. Actually, I'm so happy. I want to know more about you and your life here. But... Is it really okay to introduce me? To have a boyfriend who can barely speak English like me, aren't they gonna make fun of you?

(You assure him that it's okay)

03.39 Well then, I'll study hard to prepare for tomorrow.

(You offer to teach him)

03.47 Really? Ah, but... To have you as my english teacher... That's a bit disheartening, but it can't be helped, I guess.

(You ask him why)

03.59 Boys always want to look cool in front of their girlfriends, you know. Well, just wait and see, I'll definitely impress you soon. I'll grow even more matured and manlier than this, then one day I'll come and pick you up, just like a prince!

[elodieunderglass]

launching Swan Comics for PCRF

I am raising funds for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund, a reputable charity providing on-the-ground healthcare to sick and injured children in Palestine.

I have polled the finest minds of tumblr and you all said you wanted swan comics as your reward. So this is what you’re getting. Swan comics. Offered at the very limit of my drawing ability, your help can assist the most vulnerable children in Gaza and incidentally unlock some real nonsense in MSPaint. I’ve also created some material items for people who wanted those, and you can donate a certain amount to get them in the mail.

I know everyone’s broke and burned out right now, so it’s my intention to move into a progressive, sustainable, rewarding frame of mind with this. I know that feels like a strange thing to say but I’m hoping that the process (fundraising) the outcomes (charity) and the outputs (swan comics) will ALL be good to engage with. One thing I want to stress is that if you aren’t able to contribute financially, you can still be a big help with this - even if it’s just with a reblog or a kind word, or even offering support and thanks for people who donate. (Seriously! I don’t want people’s hard work and donations to feel like they’re falling into an endless black hole, so if you feel like you want to help me out in a non-financial way, I will literally recruit you to help write thank-you messages. I’m doing it already. You’re recruited. I’m dragging you by the ear. You kinda love it.)

Okay let’s go!

[genderqueerdykes]

The whole "transandrophobia debate" is so tiring. I've been here long enough to have seen people not just say the same exact shit about aromantic and ace people, or even bi people, but transmen and mascs themselves. Like, not only have we figuratively been here, with people using the exact same talking points against aros, aces, bis, nonbinary people, literally just people using neopronouns, etc. etc. but we've also LITERALLY been here before.

It's especially frustrating because it was only a few years back that conversations finally opened up to address the damage people like Calvin Garrah and Blair White have done internally to the trans community; and now we get to log onto tumblr-dot-com and watch people get called "whiny afab trans people" and "they-fab" AGAIN.

I'm just so tired of people who do not know queer history, especially not the shit that has happened on this website alone in the past 15 years, picking a new letter of the acronym that is acceptable to bully, walking into the tags that group made for themselves to discuss their own issues, and telling them they're wrong and disgusting for "taking up space" in the queer community.

huge round of applause for this ask, seriously. thank you so fucking much. thank you for taking the time to write this up and send it. i hope you're having a wonderful day. sorry for the long ass text dump, but you brought up so many good points that i want to touch on

Like, not only have we figuratively been here, with people using the exact same talking points against aros, aces, bis, nonbinary people, literally just people using neopronouns, etc. etc. but we've also LITERALLY been here before.

EXACTLY this. it's literally the exact. same. bullshit. that people have pulled in the past. i cannot stress enough about how the anti transmasc rhetoric right now is exactly like the anti ace and anti aro bullshit we had going on 5 - 10 years ago. it was seriously bad and it's the exact same as this is now. people were so obsessed with hating aromantics and asexuals in the exact same fashion. nearly every other post had aros or aces as the butt of the joke. people were just constantly making posts making fun of sex repulsed aces. telling us that we're "not really queer" and that we're just "taking up space and resources". it was literally the NORM to bully aromantic and ace people on here for YEARS. it was like EVERYONE had a shitty opinion about aromanticism and asexuality and they NEEDED you to hear it. it was relentless. it was inescapable. it's still happening, but it used to be even worse because people were just obsessed with waking up and mocking aros and aces on this hellsite.

and now people are doing the exact. same. thing. to trans men and transmascs. the new punching bag has been chosen and its transmascs and men. and people will do ANYTHING to make them the butt of the joke, no matter WHAT the conversation is. tiktoks and instagram reels and twitter and tumblr posts talking about how people gladly misgender transmascs and tell them they're "confused girls" and "delusional tomboys". i cannot stress that it is the exact same intensity and level of hostility as what you pointed out. it's the same. it's not to say that this didn't happen before.

like anon pointed out, people were treating trans men and mascs like shit back THEN too. back then, they were getting mocked for being "uwu soft deer prince boys" and white boys with fluffy hair and shit like that. they were getting told that T would make them aggressive and ugly and that they'd instantly go bald. people would literally torment guys who wanted to take T. people were so mean about T back then, not like it's gotten any better. people would yell at transmascs and go "TESTOSTERONE WON'T MAKE YOU INTO AN ANIME TWINK!!!!" and other weird ass shit. people were still treating trans men and mascs this way 10 years ago, it's just gotten worse and worse and worse.

honestly i'm SO sick of people calling AFAB people "whiny". i'm SO sick of it. i'm intersex, i'm not AFAB, and I'M tired of seeing people treat each other like this. it's not cool to hate on AFAB people! it's not cool to make fun of AFAB trans people! it's not cool to refuse to say trans man and say "AFAB trans person" instead! it's not cool to be an asshole!!!!!!!!!!! i'm gonna say it:

if you perceive an AFAB trans person or """"THEY-FAB""" talking about their issues in a serious manner as "whining," you are being misogynistic as fuck. if you think that people assigned female at birth are inherently whiny literally just for TALKING, you are being misogynistic as HELL. the fact that word that these people default to is "whiny" speaks a lot. like that specific word is crucial because it tells you literally every single thing they think about AFAB people. it's so misogynistic it makes me literally see red. they are stuck on the fact that that person is AFAB, and because that involves the concept of "female", it means that that person is inherently whiny, stupid, and annoying. this is sexism. this is misogyny. it's NOT progressive, and it becomes transandrophobia really quickly! which is a real thing that you need to care about!

if you've lived a transmasculine or trans man life, you know that transandrophobia is real. that's why i've never understood the "Transandrophobia isn't real" thing because. if it's mostly trans women and transfemmes who aren't also trans men telling you that transandrophobia isn't real... how the hell would they even know that? like ask yourself how the hell would a transfeminine trans woman know what it's like to live as a trans man? it's not comparable to when that woman was a cis man. cis manhood and trans manhood are not the same thing at all in terms of how we're treated societally. you can't compare the way cis men are treated to the way trans men are treated, they're not the same.

if they're not transmasculine, and they're not a trans man... how the hell would they know how people treat transmascs and trans men? i mean seriously think about it. why would you listen to someone other than a trans man about the experiences trans men face. what the hell? like seriously why are we encouraging trans women and transfemmes to talk about the transmasculine experience if they haven't lived it? why are we encouraging trans women and femmes to TALK OVER trans men and mascs? why are we encouraging trans women and transfemmes to speak as experts on a life they literally do not lead? why are we encouraging people who literally don't know what it's like to talk about the experience like they live it every day? this makes no fucking sense.

nobody encourages you to listen to trans men talking about trans women and their experiences and life like they've been there personally. nobody encourages you to listen to trans men explain OTHER PEOPLE'S struggles and identities FOR them. i don't like that we've created a narrative where AMAB trans women and transfemmes are the only ones who are "right" about things and thus the only ones we should listen to, and the only ones who have the right to talk. trans women and transfemmes have so much to offer our community, and we do need to listen. we do need to care about our transfeminine sisters. we do need to listen to what it's like to be a trans woman. trans women and transfemmes can be wildly intelligent, insightful, caring, compassionate and wonderful people, and can know and learn a lot about life, but that doesn't mean that we know every single experience out there firsthand. i don't like the idea that people think that trans women and transfemmes know EVERYTHING about queerness and should be your ONLY resource on it.

i don't like that. it creates an echo chamber.

why can't we let trans men, transmascs, and AFAB trans people speak for themselves? like seriously: why? what's the reason? literally what is the reason because i can't find it. there's literally no good reason to tell someone to shut up just because they're AFAB. have we forgotten the concepts of sexism and bioessentialism?

imagine if people went around saying "whiny they-mabs".

imagine if people were on here saying "whiny AMAB trans people".

the queer community seems to go through cycles where people pick a handful of identities to use as a punching bag and a scapegoat. that's all this is. people want to scapegoat trans men, transmascs, and AFAB trans people into being the "bad actors" that they can blame for all of their problems and "everything that's wrong with the queer community". they want to blame all of their problems on us because facing their problems head on is hard and scary. they want to blame us for everything wrong in the community instead of lifting a finger to improve it. they want to make trans men look like evil, shitty assholes to try to make trans women look better by proxy and it just. isn't. working.

like, as a trans woman, i'm honestly just fucking over the "only listen to trans women/transfemmes" shit because it feels like virtue signalling and an attempt to suck up to us for brownie points. it's really not flattering at all. it's honestly insulting. we're not the monolith of the queer community. we are manipulated, abused, and oppressed, but that doesn't mean you have to shut other people up when they talk about their own oppression. i have to be real with you, so much of this behavior just comes across as people parroting something just so they can be accepted into a group, to belong somewhere. it feels like a lot of insecure people who just want a pat on the back for saying something easy. it feels like people genuinely don't give a shit about what we have to say and are more concerned with showing off "how much they care" about our struggles. you know... virtue signalling. it feels disingenuous and like it's being done for display purposes only.

it also seems like a lot of people just join the queer community because they view it as the Catty Petty Bitch Drama Community. like some people latch on to that really bitchy catty sassy gay man stereotype and think that's all there is to queerness. they think all it is is bullying other people and telling them what to do and being mean for how they dress, act, present and feel. they want someone to bully. they want someone they perceive as weaker than them to harass. they want to join the community so they can pick a "team" to fight against all the other "teams". people want to turn it into an us vs. them within the community itself, and i have no fucking idea why.

if you are frustrated with cisheteronormative society and how it treats you, don't punch laterally. don't punch down on someone who's on your own team. you don't need to hurt other queer people, we aren't the ones who hurt you. you'll feel like an empty husk for the rest of your life if all you do is chase catharsis, as it is fleeting, not fulfilling.

[monstersholygrail]

*rolls into chat*

Hi. I'm sharing this because of your last post btw

Firefighter centaur!

Reader has to help him get all the gear off after a long tiring day because that's a LOT of hair for someone who works with fires and accidents.

*welcomes into chat with open arms*

And omg this is so good!! (I went off, my bad!) I also had to re-write this entire thing when I was almost done because my tumblr crashed and I’m absolutely devastated but worth it for firefighter centaur.

Imagine firefighter centaur works in forest fires so it’s all the more dangerous and on such a bigger scale when he does get called in. Which of course makes reader even more nervous whenever there’s a fire.

Constantly pacing the living room of your shared home, biting your nails, with your eyes latched firmly on to the tv. Not being able to look away for even a second. Just waiting to hear any news about the crew of centaur firefighters as they come in and out of the blazing flames.

Your heart drops heavily into your stomach as you catch sight of him, being able to recognize him anywhere. You find yourself unable to breathe as you watch your partner jump over a burning trunk with ease. All while carrying a handful of nymphs to safety. A couple in his arms and a few riding his back.

Watching your partner be so heroic like that takes your breath away. Or maybe it’s just because you’re relieved he’s alive. Either way it sends a violent need to thrum through your body. A need to go to him and be near him, no matter the risk. You don’t hesitate for a moment and you’re out of the house before you can even turn off the television.

There’s barricades all over the place when you arrive at the scene. Your eyes search frantically around the area, looking for just one feature that you’re familiar with to find him. But your heart is hammering within your chest and your mind spins with more horrible ‘what ifs’ by the minute.

Given your state, it was no surprise to you that he found you first, calling out your name. You whirl around till your eyes fall onto him. Both of you immediately start heading toward each other. You meet in the middle, arms wrapping tightly around each other. Your firefighter centaur smells so thickly of smoke you want to choke. But none of that matters because he’s in your arms and in one piece. No matter how much of his fur is singed.

“What the hell are you doing here? You could have been hurt!” Your partner shouts, sounding almost as frantic as you feel. He leans back enough to cup your face in his hands, looking as though he’s wondering if this is real.

“I saw you- I saw you come through the fire. And there’s so many things on you that it could’ve caught onto. I had to. I had to come. I had to see you and make sure…” you ramble on, words spilling from your mouth. Your mind unraveling now that you know he's sate. "You're alive."

His face softens considerably and he brings you back into his arms.

"Well you got here just in time. I think the fires coming down anyway." He holds you tight and you clutch onto him just as fiercely. Using his strong hold to assure yourself he's really here.

After you both get back to the firehouse you slowly and gently help him take off all his gear. You can tell he's seriously exhausted. Eyes drooping, shoulders slumped, and tail swooshing lazily.

You let him relax as you get started on cleaning up and preparing his gear for washing. It's a rigorous ritual all on its own and you know he's in no state to take care of it right now. But when he blinks his eyes open and realizes what you're doing, it doesn't stop him from trying to do it anyway.

“Hey, stop that. I can do it fine,” he sluggishly tries to interrupt, not wanting you to do his work for him.

All you have to do is shy away from his mindlessly wandering hands, bringing his gear with you. Unintelligible grumbles leave his lips in response.

“I know how to do it. Watched you so many times it would be an insult if I didn’t. I got this,” you assure him.

After all he went through he doesn’t have the energy to fight you on this. When he doesn’t reply you go back to helping situate his gear. You hear the heavy clops of his hooves and a moment later his arms are wrapping around you from behind, his head resting comfortably on top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says softly, those two words alone dripping with appreciation and love for you.

The firehouse is empty, you two being the last ones left to finish up for the night. It’s in that moment, his body curled up around you as you help him in a way that means more than he can describe, that it was as if neither of you had ever felt safer.

[angelicwh1spers]

— ⋅˚₊‧ 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ‧₊˚ ⋅ —

— 𝐀cademic 𝐑ival 𝐂hristopher x 𝐀cademic 𝐑ival 𝐑eader

𝐈n 𝐜onclusion… before taking a very important test, you and Chris decided to make a bet on who would get the higher score, the person with the lower score would have to do anything the person with the higher score wanted them to do, and unfortunately you got one percent lower than Chris…

𝐖arnings… [ SUGGESTIVE&ANGST ] , swearing , allergic reaction , burning stuff , steamy makeout session ,

⚠︎ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒 - English is not my first language so excuse and dismiss any minor mistakes in my writing, I’m fairly new to writing on tumblr but it’s always been my passion to create stories and envelop myself inside of the world of fiction.

⟡ ݁₊ “𝐘ou seriously think you can beat me?” You huff, holding in your laughter as the chill autumn breeze hits your skin as Chris tries to claim he can beat you at the upcoming test today by getting a higher grade, it almost felt pathetic to be hearing such words even dare to be spoken by him in your presence. “Scared you’ll loose the bet?” He taunts, leaning his back against the railing of the staircase located at the entrance to the campus, one of his many favorite brown leather jacket protecting him from the soft breeze. You chuckle at his immediate assumption, you loosing a silly little bet for the higher score? “Me? Scared? Who do you think I am, a dumbass like you?”

“Oh you’re so high and mighty, I can’t wait to see your face when you loose.” A mocking smirk tugs on the corner of his mouth as you just roll your eyes at his smartass remark, maybe he isn’t a total dumbass but definitely is a goddamn bastard. And why does he have to look so good in that jacket today? “You wish, I never loose. Why do you think I’m on top of the class? I earned it, get ready to do whatever I say after this test, loser.” I state, he chuckles softly before running a hand through his brown messy hair, you could see the slight shift in his demeanor, now appearing more determined and set on one obvious goal. “Yeah, I think you meant you were getting ready to do whatever I say, hm?”

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

During the remainder of the day, you two made it each others mission to sabotage the other in anyway possible so they would fail the test, first it started harmless with distracting each other from studying but progressively got more intense and rude but to you two it felt as if it was just another day…

— allergic reaction.

You finally have sat down with your friends, chatting and laughing as jokes and stories were thrown between the group, while you were taking out your already prepared lunch, out of the corner of your eye you noticed Chris smirking ear to ear right at you while talking with his own friend group at their table. You brushed off his stare and continued with your lunch, but when you took the first bite and it went down your throat, something didn’t feel right, your throat started to close up and your breath coming in short puffs and then you realized you were having an allergic reaction, a million questions rise inside of your mind on how this could have happened, you precisely made sure there was nothing you were allergic to inside of your lunch. Then Chris’s little smirk flashes in your mind and already know who was behind this, thank god you had your epipen in your bag. You knew you couldn’t go to the nurse since she would send you home, so you had to live through the pain for the remainder of the day until the test, one day you swear you will not hesitate to kill him.

— burning pile.

Throwing in the last piece of paper you needed to be complete, you watched as the hot flames immediately roared to life, intensifying the already big fire created from Chris’s important notes he had ready for todays test and you also decided to burn some other ones he had in his book bag, from your taken spot you could hear most of the things happening in the school, especially where Chris currently was from the open window and could hear frustrated footsteps stomping throughout the school and just laugh at his immediate reaction, waiting for him to make it to where you were. A half-finished lit cigarette hanging from the corner of your mouth as you see a familiar voice call out your name and already knowing who it is, "Y/n! Give me my notes back, you know those are—" He cuts off his own words by the sight of his notes being a burning pile right in front of him, a mocking smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth, taking the last drag of my cigarette and throwing it into the flames to disintegrate, "Ups! I thought these were useless" you say with fake "I'm gonna literally gonna murder you."

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Chris won the stupid bet, getting a 100% overpowering your 99% on the test and him waving the test in your face, but the thing he asked you to do wasnt something you expected at the very least…

His hands rest on your waist as you two stumble into the kitchen, being all over each other as an intense make out was currently happening between you two, he softly pushes your back into the counter before they tighten its grip and lift you up to sit you down on the counter for better access as your lips which never separate from each other and don’t seem like they will any time soon, your arms wrap around his neck while his rest right above your hips but they keep wandering all over your lower body. Somehow you two ended up in this situation, but you’re certainly not complaining much, the way the feeling of his lips on yours and how your tongues danced together just made a shiver run down your spine, it almost felt like a drug that you felt you needed more of each second.

“Still bitter about loosing that bet? Princess was finally pushed off her high and mighty stool?” He teases, speaking between kisses which became slight messy as he talked but soon gone back to normal, “Maybe, but you have to make it up to me for that allergic reaction.” I answer, still feeling the bitter-sweet taste of losing now being overpowered by the taste of Chris’s mouth on mine. The only time we would pull away from each other was for short breaths before returning right back, you didn’t know for how long you two were like this but it’s not like someone was counting your time nor rushing you. “What about you first making up for burning my notes and looking absolutely delicious smoking that cigarette?” “I think I already did, by doing whatever you want” he smirks into the long kiss, it somehow remaining eager and passionate even after the long duration of it.

His hands squeezed your hips tightly, wandering downwards to rest down on your thighs, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt as our own hands wandered to tangle into his brown messy locks, the long make out session soon came to an end, leaving you two complete panting messes before Chris attacks the sensitive soft flesh of your neck, peppering it with open-mouthed kisses while his hot breath fans over them, causing a soft whimper escape past your lips alongside quick puffs of air, still trying to regain your flow of breath. "Like how your rival is all over you, huh? How he just can't resist the little princess no more." He mumbles against your neck while leaving a significant hickey behind which is going to be not so easy to cover up tomorrow for my classes, "What will I say after someone sees all these marks on my neck?" I question in a playful tone as he raises his head to glance up at my face, appearing almost serious if it wasnt for his eyes which were driven entirely by desire in that moment. "Tell them who you fuckin' belong to, little princess."

— 🩵 𝐓aglist

• @sweetshuga @giveheavensomehell @delilahsturniolo @marrykisskilled @purpledragon222 @nickgurl4life @thenickgirl …

⋅˚₊‧ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒... heloheloheloo!! the start of the au has now began and surprisingly this is the first thing im writing for it but its not gonna be all smut all the time so bear with me guys for now, thanks for over 200 notes on my first fic im so grateful guys it feels so insane to me!! 🩵

[mcrdvcks]

—what is this feeling?

summary: You and Peter have known each other since you were kids—only because you were friends with his distant cousin Olivia. While you have harbored a crush on him for years, you're sure he doesn't feel the same.

word count: 16.2k+ (31.6k+ total)

pairing: Peter Lyman x fem!reader

notes: i watched scoop (2006) for the first time a week-ish ago and i needed to write something with peter. it's kinda canon to the movie—in the sense that it follows a tiny bit of the story, mainly just the parties that were shown.

this was actually a bit hard to write, i kept second guessing myself wondering if i got his character right or not. i hope i did, bc this is a roller coaster. and also, be sure to look at the tags, because when i say toxic peter lyman, i mean it. and please don't ask how this is 32k words, i have no idea how it happened 😅

since it is so long, there are two parts to this since tumblr has a word limit!

warnings/tags: loosely follows event of scoop (2006) but not canon, miscommunication, shy!reader, slow burn, jealousy, angst, mention of murder/death, toxic peter lyman, but also sweet peter lyman (the duality of man), happy ending, not proofread

⁠♡ part 2 ♡

You looked away from the mirror at your friend Olivia, who just got off the phone. “I’m sorry. I can’t go tonight. My boss just called about a work emergency and it’s all hands-on deck.”

“Oh.” You replied, setting down your lipstick, one you thankfully hadn’t applied yet. “Well, I guess I’ll get out of your hair and go back to my pla—”

Olivia gasped, holding you by the shoulders. “What? No, you’re going to that concert.”

Your eyebrows rose and you stuttered, “but—”

She cut you off with a grin, “c’mon, it’ll give you time to bond with Peter.” Olivia drawled.

You felt your cheeks heat up, “I don’t…” You trailed off, looking away from her and focusing on the wall behind her. There was a small blotch of white paint on her tan wall.

“You’ve spent a lot of time with him. Ever since we were kids.”

"Yeah, but he’s your cousin," you interjected, hoping Olivia would drop it.

Olivia rolled her eyes, squeezing your shoulders for emphasis. “Seriously, Y/N, it’s Peter. He’s nice, he likes you, and you’ve been to a million family things with him. What’s the big deal?”

You frowned, shaking her hands off. “It’s different, okay? You’re usually there, or someone else is. I don’t—I just feel awkward when it’s just the two of us.”

She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “Awkward, huh? Or are you worried you’ll stutter every time he so much as looks at you?”

“I don’t—” you started to protest, but Olivia laughed.

“You do. You totally do.”

You crossed your arms, cheeks burning. “Can we not do this right now? I’ll just tell him you can’t make it, and we’ll both skip—problem solved.”

Olivia groaned and grabbed her coat. “Nope, not happening. He’s already on his way to pick us up. You’re going. You’re putting on that lipstick. And you’re going to sit through the concert without spontaneously combusting.”

“Liv!” you whined, but she just winked, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Have fun!” she chirped, then disappeared out the door before you could come up with a good excuse to chase her down.

---

Peter arrived about fifteen minutes later, sharp as ever in a tailored black coat and that impossibly confident smile. You opened the door, trying not to feel self-conscious under his gaze.

“Y/N,” he greeted warmly. “Ready for the evening?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stammered, stepping aside to let him in. “Liv had a work thing come up, so it’s just, um… us.”

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before he nodded. “Shame she can’t make it. But I suppose it’ll give us a chance to catch up.”

You managed a small smile, grabbing your coat. “Right. Catch up.”

---

The car ride to the concert hall was quiet, save for Peter’s occasional remarks about the evening’s program. He seemed perfectly at ease, while you stared out the window, hyper-aware of how close you were sitting.

When the car stopped, Peter stepped out first, offering you a hand as you climbed out. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asked, gesturing to the grand concert hall.

“A few times,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s always… impressive.”

He smiled. “Wait until you hear tonight’s performance. It’s one of my favorites.”

---

Inside, you settled into your seats—side by side, of course. The lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to tune, the hum of violins filling the air. Peter leaned closer, his voice low.

“Do you know this piece?”

You turned to him, surprised by how close he was. “Not really. Should I?”

He chuckled softly. “I think you’ll like it. Very dramatic.”

You nodded, quickly looking back at the stage, but you could feel his eyes on you for a moment longer before he leaned back into his seat.

---

At intermission, you both stood in the crowded foyer, surrounded by elegant couples sipping champagne. Peter handed you a glass, his expression thoughtful.

“So,” he said, “how are you finding it so far? Be honest.”

“It’s… really beautiful,” you admitted, fidgeting with the stem of your glass. “I don’t usually go to things like this, but it’s nice.”

He studied you for a moment, then smiled. “You’ve always been good at appreciating the little things. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you.”

You nearly choked on your sip of champagne, glancing up at him in surprise. “Oh. Um… thank you.”

Peter’s smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You don’t need to look so startled, Y/N. It’s just a compliment.”

“Right,” you said quickly, cheeks heating up again. “Of course. Thanks.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure you out. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“I—what?” you stammered, but before you could finish, the bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission.

Peter offered his arm, his tone light but teasing. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a moment, then looped your arm through his, your heart pounding as you followed him back to your seats.

---

Once the concert was over, Peter led you out of the concert hall, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back. The crowd thinned as the night air hit your face, crisp and cool compared to the warmth inside. His car waited at the curb, sleek and polished, and he opened the door for you without hesitation.

“Still enjoying yourself?” he asked once you were both seated, his tone light.

“Yes,” you replied, glancing at him. “It was… really amazing. Thank you for inviting me.”

He gave a small, thoughtful smile, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. “I’m glad you came. I was afraid I’d be sitting through it alone tonight.”

The comment was harmless, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering—was that why he hadn’t seemed to mind Olivia’s absence? You pushed the thought aside, unsure what to say, and instead watched the city lights blur through the window.

---

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, Peter stepped out quickly, coming around to open your door. You murmured a quiet “thank you” as you stepped out, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. He walked you to the building’s entrance, his movements effortlessly graceful as always.

“You didn’t have to walk me up,” you said softly, fumbling with your keys.

Peter raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, isn’t it?”

You smiled faintly, unlocking the door and stepping inside with him close behind. The elevator ride was silent, though you caught him glancing at you once or twice. Your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat by the time you reached your floor.

When you reached your apartment door, you turned to face him, unsure how to say goodnight without sounding awkward. Peter beat you to it.

“Tonight was lovely,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You were good company.”

“Thanks,” you said, heat rushing to your face. “You too.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Peter’s expression softened, his tone casual but warm. “You don’t have to feel obligated to say yes every time Olivia drags you along, you know. I’d hate to think you’re going to these things just because you feel like you should.”

Your chest tightened. Was he saying he thought you didn’t want to be here? That you’d only come because Olivia wasn’t around to take your place? You forced a polite smile, ignoring the strange twist in your stomach.

“I don’t mind,” you said lightly, hoping it sounded convincing. “It’s always nice to catch up.”

Peter smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Good. Then… goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, watching as he turned and walked back toward the elevator. You stood there for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the elevator descending before you finally stepped inside your apartment and leaned against the door.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your thoughts spinning. Did you just get friendzoned? You shook your head, groaning under your breath. “Don’t overthink it,” you muttered to yourself, but the knot in your chest didn’t budge.

---

The next morning, Olivia burst into your apartment, barely waiting for you to open the door. “Well? How was it?” she asked, her grin wide as she plopped onto your couch.

You blinked, still holding your mug of coffee. “Uh, it was fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “You went to the Philharmonic with Peter Lyman, and all you’ve got for me is ‘fine’? No way. Spill.”

You sighed, setting your mug on the table and sitting down across from her. “It was fine. He was polite, as always, and we had a nice time. But…” You hesitated, staring at your hands.

“But?” Olivia prompted, leaning forward eagerly.

“I think he sees me as, like, your friend who tags along to family stuff. He made some comment about not feeling obligated to go to these things, like I only went because you couldn’t.”

Olivia frowned. “What? That doesn’t sound like Peter.”

“Maybe not, but that’s how it came across,” you said, shrugging. “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anything else.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “You’re not seriously going to let one weird comment freak you out, are you?”

“I’m not freaking out,” you replied quickly, though the heat in your face said otherwise. “I just… I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, crossing her arms. “Peter’s not an idiot. If he said that, he probably didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Thanks,” you muttered, but she just laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she said, standing up. “If I know Peter, he’ll figure it out eventually.” She paused, giving you a sly grin. “In the meantime, maybe try not to overthink it.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as she left the room.

---

A week later, you and Olivia had a movie night at your place, and old romcom she loved in the DVD player.

You had your legs tucked under you, barely focusing on the movie before gaining enough courage to face her. “Liv? Do you think… well—you, I got…”

She took her gaze away from the TV. “Hmm. Could be anything that’s got you stuttering like that.” She grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Okay. Spill.”

You took a deep breath, blurting out, “Joshua asked me on a date.”

Olivia sat up straighter, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. “Joshua? Like Lord Beckett’s youngest son? That Joshua?”

You squirmed under her gaze. “Yeah. Apparently, he works as a journalist. He came over to the firm and was interviewing my boss.”

Olivia blinked, then leaned back with an exaggerated laugh. “Oh my God, that’s rich. Joshua Beckett, out of nowhere, asking you out?” She shook her head in disbelief. “How’d he even swing that?”

You frowned. “I mean, he was… nice? Polite? We just talked for a bit after his meeting, and then—bam—he asked.”

Olivia smirked. “Did you say yes?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to be rude,” you admitted, your voice shrinking.

She threw a pillow at you. “What the hell, Y/N? This isn’t ‘polite conversation’ territory—it’s a date! You can’t just agree because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.”

“I didn’t know how to say no!” you shot back, clutching the pillow to your chest. “He caught me off guard. And honestly, he seemed… fine?”

“Fine,” Olivia deadpanned. “High praise, as always.”

You sighed. “Look, it’s just one dinner. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Olivia squinted at you like she didn’t buy it for a second. “Right. And this has nothing to do with Peter, huh?”

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly avoided her gaze. “This has nothing to do with Peter.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said knowingly. “So, when’s this casual, meaningless dinner happening?”

“Friday,” you mumbled.

“Friday,” she repeated with a hum, then grinned slyly. “Guess who’s getting a phone call.”

You looked at her in alarm. “No! You’re not calling Peter!”

“Oh, I’m not?” she teased, already reaching for her phone.

“Liv, I swear—”

“Relax, I’m kidding!” she said with a laugh, setting her phone aside. “But seriously, Y/N… Joshua? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t know, okay? I panicked. It’s not like Peter’s lining up to ask me out, anyway.”

Olivia’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Peter’s… complicated,” she said after a moment. “But you know he cares about you, right? I mean, he wouldn’t—”

You cut her off, shaking your head. “Let’s not do this. I can’t think about Peter and… whatever this is. Not when I’m already overthinking everything else.”

Olivia hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine. But for the record, I don’t think you’re overthinking. I think you’re underthinking Peter.”

You groaned again, burying your face in the pillow. “Can we just finish the movie?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing the remote. But as she pressed play, she muttered under her breath, “You’re totally underthinking it.”

---

Peter glanced at Olivia, who was reclining with a magazine in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, her legs crossed lazily. The faint echoes of splashing water and the quiet hum of conversation filled the air around the indoor pool.

“Perhaps you’d like to come to the garden party Father is throwing on Sunday,” Peter said, his voice casual as he stretched his arms.

Olivia glanced up briefly. “Sure, sounds nice. Is it the usual crowd?”

Peter nodded, stepping to the edge of the pool. “More or less. Family, some of Father’s associates. Nothing too overwhelming.” He paused, his tone shifting just slightly. “Will Y/N be coming?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, setting down her tea. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll ask her after her date tonight.”

Peter froze, mid-step, before lowering himself to sit at the pool’s edge. “Date?” His voice was calm, but the word lingered in the air.

“Yeah, with Joshua Beckett,” Olivia said nonchalantly, flipping a page in her magazine. “You know, Lord Beckett’s youngest. He ran into her at work and asked her out. She said yes.”

Peter’s expression didn’t falter, though his fingers tapped lightly against his knee. “Joshua Beckett,” he repeated, as though testing the name on his tongue.

“Mhm,” Olivia said, still focused on her magazine. “Journalist. Apparently, he’s charming. She didn’t seem overly excited, though.”

“Hmm.” Peter slipped into the pool gracefully, the water rippling around him. “Well, good for her. I hope it goes well.”

Olivia glanced at him over the edge of her magazine, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You sound thrilled.”

Peter’s lips twitched in a polite smile, though he avoided her gaze. “Just being supportive.”

Olivia snorted, setting her magazine aside and standing up. “Right. Well, I’m off to the spa. I need a massage after this long week. Don’t drown or anything.”

Peter waved a hand as he began a slow backstroke. “Enjoy your massage.”

“Thanks,” Olivia said breezily, heading for the door. “Oh, and I’ll let you know if Y/N decides to come on Sunday.”

Peter didn’t reply, his focus seemingly on the water, though his strokes became a little sharper, his movements a touch less fluid. When Olivia was gone, he exhaled slowly, staring up at the high ceiling.

“Joshua Beckett,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and contemplative, before diving underwater.

---

You and Olivia walked through the hedges into the garden area, where small tables were set up and people already mingling.

“Do you think they have those finger sandwiches I like?” you asked Olivia, scanning the tables set up around the garden. Your voice was quieter than usual, the low hum of polite chatter filling the air.

“I’m sure they do,” Olivia replied, smirking. “I mean, Peter’s father wouldn’t dare host a garden party without catering to your very specific sandwich preferences, right?”

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You’re hilarious.”

“Always,” she said, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before her eyes drifted to the side. “Oh, speaking of Peter—there he is. He looks like he’s on host duty already.”

Before you could turn, Olivia raised a hand, waving him over.

Peter approached with his usual effortless confidence, a light smile on his face. His suit was perfectly tailored—charcoal gray, understated but sharp—and he moved with the ease of someone who had never once felt out of place in a crowd.

“Olivia,” he greeted warmly. “Y/N.” His gaze flicked to you, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Glad you could both make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Olivia said, grinning. “I already saw the sandwiches, by the way. You’ve kept Y/N’s favorites. Excellent hosting.”

Peter chuckled softly. “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of disappointing.” He shifted slightly, his eyes scanning the immediate area. “Where’s she gone?”

Olivia blinked and glanced beside her, only to realize you were no longer there. “Wait, what? She was just—”

Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Impressive. That might be the quickest escape yet.”

“She does that sometimes,” Olivia said, sighing dramatically. “It’s like she’s made of smoke or something. Well, I’m sure she hasn’t gone far. I’ll catch up with her in a bit.”

Peter gave a polite nod, though his gaze was already moving past her, scanning the clusters of guests. “No need. I’ll find her.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the garden’s maze of tables and guests.

---

You were standing by one of the smaller tables, a tiny plate in hand, already nibbling on a finger sandwich. You’d ducked out as soon as Peter walked over—not because you didn’t want to talk to him, but because it was always a little overwhelming when he was around. Somehow, he managed to be both incredibly easy to talk to and completely impossible to read at the same time.

The garden was peaceful, at least. You focused on the sounds of the birds and the clinking glasses, taking a moment to settle your nerves.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You jumped slightly at the sound of Peter’s voice, almost dropping your plate. He stood just a few steps away, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“I—uh—yes,” you stammered, quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I was just…” You gestured vaguely to the table of food.

“Finding the sandwiches, I see,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” you admitted, glancing down at the one in your hand. “They’re really good.”

“I’m glad,” Peter replied, stepping closer. “I’ll have to thank the caterer for getting them just right. Though, knowing you, you probably would’ve just been polite if they weren’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “Well, I mean… it’s not like I’d complain.”

He chuckled, his gaze steady on you. “No, you wouldn’t. But I’m glad they’re up to your standards.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt heavy despite the lightness of the conversation. You fidgeted slightly, unsure what to say, until Peter spoke again.

“Did you enjoy your date?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. “What?”

Peter stood much closer than before, his expression casual, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “Your date,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most natural topic in the world. “With Joshua Beckett. Olivia mentioned it.”

You ducked your head, suddenly finding your plate very interesting. “Oh, right. That. It was fine.”

“Fine,” Peter repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Such high praise.”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head slightly, his tone light. “Nothing at all. Just… ‘fine’ doesn’t exactly scream thrilling success.”

“Well, it wasn’t a disaster,” you said defensively, clutching your plate tighter. “He was nice.”

“Nice,” Peter echoed, his tone amused. “That’s the second glowing endorsement.”

“Peter,” you sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “What are you getting at?”

He paused, studying you for a moment before responding. “I’m just curious. You don’t usually go out with people like Joshua.”

Your brow furrowed. “People like Joshua? What does that even mean?”

“Well,” he began, his voice as smooth as ever, “he’s the youngest son of a very ambitious family. Polished, charming, likely quite used to getting what he wants.”

“So… people like you,” you countered without thinking, then froze, immediately regretting it. “I mean—uh, not that you—just that—”

Peter laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “Touché.”

You pressed your lips together, looking down at your sandwich. “For the record, he didn’t get what he wanted.”

His brows lifted in mild surprise. “Oh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I told him I wasn’t interested in a second date.”

There was a pause, and when you glanced up, Peter’s expression was unreadable. “I see.”

Before you could decipher his tone, he straightened, glancing past you. “Excuse me a moment,” Peter said, his tone as smooth as ever. He stepped around you, heading toward the two new people with an effortless grace.

You turned, following his line of sight. A young woman with straight blonde hair and wiry glasses stood by the tables with an older man wearing a copper blazer.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his attention. Before you could process it, Olivia appeared at your side, holding a glass of sparkling water.

“Who’s he off to save now?” she asked, smirking as she handed you the glass.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, nodding toward the two strangers. “They just walked in, and he left to meet them.”

Olivia squinted in their direction, taking a sip of her drink. “Hmm. They don’t look like the usual crowd. Maybe business?”

“Could be,” you murmured, watching as Peter shook hands with the older man before gesturing toward the house.

“Should we ask?” Olivia teased, nudging your arm.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s probably something private. Let’s just stay out of it.”

Olivia grinned knowingly. “Right, because that’s exactly what we’re doing by standing here and staring.”

You sighed, looking away from the scene. “I’m just curious, okay? It’s not like I’m going to eavesdrop.”

“Sure,” Olivia said, clearly unconvinced.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter lead the two guests toward the house. His hand rested lightly on the small of the blonde woman’s back as they disappeared into the crowd. You tried not to let it bother you, but Olivia didn’t miss the way your grip on your glass tightened.

“Who’s jealous now?” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m not jealous,” you replied quickly, though your tone betrayed you.

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, smirking. “Well, if you’re not going to ask, I will.”

Before you could stop her, she turned and started following the trio.

“Olivia, wait—” you called after her, but she waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder.

---

A few minutes later, Olivia reappeared, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. She found you lingering near the garden’s edge, nervously sipping your drink.

“So, I have news,” she announced, leaning against a tree.

“Olivia,” you groaned. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” Olivia said with a grin, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I just asked Peter who they were. Turns out, the blonde is Jade Spence—some aspiring actress from Palm Beach—and her father, Mr. Spence. They’re staying with the Fultons.”

You blinked, trying not to let your curiosity show too much. “The Fultons? As in… the Fultons?”

Olivia nodded, her smirk growing. “Yup. And Peter’s apparently been playing tour guide or something. He mentioned meeting her a few days ago.”

You frowned slightly, glancing toward the house where Peter had disappeared with Jade and Mr. Spence. “Tour guide?”

Olivia shrugged, swirling the water in her glass. “Or lifeguard, maybe. He said something about saving her from drowning in the pool.”

Your head whipped around. “What?”

“I know, right? So dramatic,” Olivia said with a laugh. “Apparently, it was this whole thing. She was swimming alone, started panicking, and Peter swooped in like the hero he is.”

You looked down, fiddling with the edge of your plate. “Well, that’s… nice of him.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, giving you a pointed look. “And now he’s escorting her around garden parties. Very hands-on for a guy who’s usually so… you know. Detached.”

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, but you forced a nonchalant tone. “Maybe he’s just being polite. She’s staying with the Fultons, after all.”

“Polite?” Olivia echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Peter doesn’t do polite for strangers. He’s always charming, but this is different. He’s… interested.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you quickly shook your head. “It’s probably nothing. She’s just visiting, and he’s being a good host.”

Olivia studied you for a moment, her smirk fading. “You know, you’re allowed to be annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered just enough for Olivia to catch it.

“Right,” she said, crossing her arms. “Because you’re totally fine with Peter playing Prince Charming for a random blonde from Florida.”

You frowned. “What do you want me to say, Olivia? It’s not like Peter and I—” You cut yourself off, your cheeks burning.

Olivia leaned in, her voice low but teasing. “Not like you what? C’mon, Y/N, finish that sentence.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Forget it.”

“Nope, not forgetting it,” Olivia said, pulling your hands away. “Listen, I’m not saying you need to storm the house and stake a claim or whatever. But if Peter’s trying to make you jealous, it’s working.”

You blinked at her. “You think he’s doing this on purpose?”

"Could be. I mean, Peter’s smart. He knows what he’s doing," Olivia said with a shrug, her eyes glinting mischievously.

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s ridiculous. Why would he try to make me jealous? He doesn’t even like me like that."

Olivia tilted her head, giving you an exasperated look. "You seriously believe that?"

"Yes," you said firmly, though your voice wavered slightly. "Peter’s always been polite, maybe a little flirty, but that’s just how he is with everyone. He doesn’t—" You stopped yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

"He doesn’t what?" Olivia pressed, leaning closer with that knowing smirk.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "He doesn’t see me that way, okay? I’m just… his cousin’s friend. The tagalong at family stuff. That’s it."

Olivia’s smirk dropped, replaced by something softer. "Y/N, you’re seriously blind if you don’t think he’s at least interested."

You bit your lip, fidgeting with your drink. "It doesn’t matter. Even if he were—which he’s not—he’s clearly more interested in Jade right now."

Olivia snorted. "Jade Spence? Are you kidding? That’s just Peter being Peter. I bet he swooped in to ‘save’ her and now feels obligated to play the perfect host."

"Or maybe he actually likes her," you muttered, barely audible.

Olivia stared at you for a beat before sighing dramatically. "You’re exhausting, you know that? The guy practically lights up every time you’re in the room, and you’re over here acting like he’s planning a wedding with some random actress from Florida."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Olivia cut you off, pointing her finger at you. "Nope. Don’t even argue. If you’re too stubborn to see it, fine. But mark my words, Y/N—he’s not into Jade. He’s into you."

"That’s insane," you said quickly, brushing past her toward the refreshments table. "You’re reading way too much into this."

"Am I?" Olivia called after you, clearly enjoying herself. "Guess we’ll see."

---

Later that day when you got back to your apartment, you walked over to the rotary phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Joshua. I know I said I wasn’t interested in a second date, but—well, if you were, not that you have to…”

You cringed, gripping the phone cord tightly as silence filled the line. Then, Joshua’s warm voice came through, as composed as ever.

“Y/N, hi. I wasn’t expecting this, but… I’d love to. If you’re sure?”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, your stomach twisting with nerves. “Yeah, I mean… I thought maybe I judged too quickly last time. You’re really nice, and it wasn’t fair to just—”

“Don’t overthink it,” Joshua interrupted gently. “How about Friday? Dinner at that Italian place by the park?”

“Sure,” you replied quickly, your voice higher-pitched than usual. “Friday sounds good.”

“Great,” he said, his tone genuinely warm. “I’ll call to confirm. I’m glad you changed your mind, Y/N.”

You hung up, staring at the phone for a moment before groaning. “What am I doing?”

---

By the time Friday rolled around, Olivia had found out about the second date, of course.

“I can’t believe you called him,” she said, draped across your bed as you picked through your closet. “It’s like you’re trying to drive yourself crazy.”

“I didn’t call him to drive myself crazy,” you shot back, holding up a simple black dress. “I called because—”

“Because you were spiraling after seeing Peter with Jade Spence,” Olivia finished smugly.

You turned toward her with a glare. “That’s not why.”

“Right,” she said, sitting up and smirking. “So why is it, then?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Maybe I just don’t want to waste a chance with someone who’s nice to me.”

Olivia snorted. “Nice? Joshua Beckett is nice? That’s the bar now?”

You sighed, tossing the dress on the bed. “He’s not just nice. He’s smart, and he listens, and—”

“And he’s not Peter,” Olivia interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Liv,” you groaned.

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Wear the black dress. He’ll like it. Or whatever.”

---

While you went on your date with Joshua, Olivia went to the party Peter was hosting at his place. When she entered, Peter looked at the door and grabbed two glasses of champagne. “Ah, Olivia.” They kissed each other’s cheeks as a greeting. The door closed behind her causing Peter to glance over at the now shut door. “Where is Y/N? She’s not sick again, is she?”

Olivia shrugged off her coat handing it to the waiter with a thanks. “Oh, no. She’s on a date with Joshua.” She grabbed both glasses from Peter’s hands, one clearly meant for you.

Peter’s expression didn’t change immediately, but his fingers tightened into a momentary fist. “Joshua,” he said slowly, his tone neutral. “I see.”

Olivia sipped from one of the glasses she’d swiped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Yup. Second date. She called him, actually. Kind of a bold move for Y/N, don’t you think?”

“Very bold,” Peter replied, his voice calm but clipped. “I thought she wasn’t interested.”

Olivia shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. “She changed her mind. Or maybe someone made her change her mind.”

Peter’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp as glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Olivia said innocently, taking another sip. “Just that she seemed a little… distracted after your garden party. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Of course not,” Peter said smoothly, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I didn’t realize I had such influence over her decision-making.”

Olivia tilted her head, studying him. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly indifferent, you seem awfully interested in her dating life.”

Peter’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “She’s your friend. Naturally, I’m curious.”

“Right,” Olivia drawled, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, if you’re so curious, maybe you should ask her about it. Or better yet, tell her why it bothers you so much.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Peter said, his tone cool. “She’s free to make her own choices.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia replied, giving him a knowing look. “So, you’re totally fine with her going out with a guy like Joshua Beckett? Polished, ambitious, very… not you?”

Peter’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “What an interesting way to phrase it.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Olivia said lightly. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You know, Peter, you could just admit you like her. Might save everyone a lot of time.”

Peter didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the door. “I think I’ll fetch another drink,” he said finally. “Excuse me.”

“Running away?” Olivia teased, but Peter was already walking off, his steps measured and deliberate.

---

“He was actually quite nice. And he likes math and sci-fi movies,” you said, plopping down onto Olivia’s couch.

Olivia leaned against the armrest, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Math and sci-fi movies? Be still my heart. Did he also show you his extensive collection of pocket protectors?”

You frowned, tossing a throw pillow at her. “I’m serious! He’s smart, and… I don’t know, easy to talk to.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, dodging the pillow effortlessly. “And yet, here you are, talking to me about him like he’s your neighbor’s golden retriever. You’re trying too hard to sell it, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to sell anything,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It was a nice date. That’s it.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Did you agree to another one?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “He asked. I said I’d think about it.”

“There it is,” Olivia said, sitting up straight. “You’re not even sure, are you?”

“It’s not like that,” you protested weakly.

“It’s exactly like that,” she shot back. “You’re trying to convince yourself he’s interesting because—oh, let me guess—Peter has you in knots.”

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “Why does everything always come back to Peter with you?”

“Because you get weird whenever he’s involved!” Olivia said, throwing her hands up. “Seriously, you were fine until Jade Spence showed up with her Barbie vibes, and now you’re spiraling.”

“I am not spiraling,” you said firmly.

“Oh, please,” Olivia scoffed. “You practically ran to Joshua the second you saw Peter being nice to her. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You glared at her. “Maybe I just wanted to see if there was something there with Joshua.”

“And?” she challenged.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “…And I don’t know.”

Olivia sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Y/N, listen to me. You can go on a hundred dates with guys like Joshua, but it’s not going to change how you feel about Peter.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “You do. And it’s painfully obvious to anyone with eyes. So, instead of wasting your time on Mr. Math Enthusiast, maybe you should figure out what’s actually going on with Peter.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the sound of the doorbell ringing cut you off. You looked at Olivia who looked at you.

“What are you doing? Go answer it.” Olivia said.

“What—but this is your apartment!” You argued.

Olivia pushed your side, “go on!”

You stood up and made it past her before turning around. “Peter’s not at the door is he?” She shrugged, not responding. “Olivia! You—”

The doorbell rang again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Olivia waved her hand toward the door, not bothering to look away from the TV. “Go already! It’s not going to answer itself.”

Muttering under your breath, you shuffled toward the door, half-wondering why Olivia wasn’t doing this herself. You swung it open, and there he was—standing impeccably dressed in a casual button-up and dark slacks, as if he’d stepped straight out of a magazine.

“Peter?” you blurted, gripping the doorknob a little tighter than necessary. “What are you doing here?”

He offered you a polite smile, holding up a small clutch. “Olivia left this behind at the party. I thought I’d return it before it got lost in the shuffle.”

You blinked, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Oh. Right. Well, thanks for bringing it by.”

“Of course.” His voice was smooth as always, but his eyes flicked past you into the apartment. “Is Olivia in?”

“Yeah, she’s—”

“Watching TV!” Olivia called from the couch. “Bring it here, Peter. And while you’re at it, grab me a soda, would you?”

You shot her a glare over your shoulder, but Peter chuckled softly. “Should I let myself in, or…?”

“Oh, come in,” Olivia said loudly. “Y/N doesn’t bite.”

Peter stepped past you with an easy smile, and you resisted the urge to retreat to the kitchen. Instead, you followed him into the living room, your stomach doing a weird little flip as he handed Olivia the clutch.

“Your soda,” he said with a smirk, “you’ll have to get yourself.”

“Ugh, useless,” Olivia teased, but she took the bag with a grin. “Thanks, though. I’d have never remembered it.”

Peter turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “So, Y/N. How was dinner with Joshua?”

Your cheeks burned immediately. “Oh, um, it was… fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. “You use that word a lot.”

“Well, it’s a good word,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Peter didn’t look away, his gaze steady. “I take it things went well, then?”

Before you could answer, Olivia snorted. “She’s not seeing him again, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

“Olivia!” you hissed, glaring at her.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saving time.”

Peter’s brow lifted slightly, though his expression remained calm. “Not seeing him again?” he asked, directing the question to you. “That’s surprising. He seemed like a… suitable match.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Only that he seemed like someone who’d check all the right boxes.”

“Well, maybe I’m not interested in someone who just checks boxes,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Peter’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Interesting.”

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken things, until Olivia cleared her throat dramatically. “Well, this is fun, but if no one’s grabbing me a soda, I’ll do it myself.”

She hopped off the couch, leaving you alone with Peter. You shifted awkwardly, clutching your arms. “So… thanks for bringing her bag by.”

“It was no trouble,” Peter said, his voice gentler now. “I could’ve had it sent over, but I thought it’d be nice to see you both.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Right. Well… it’s good to see you too.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened. “What? I haven’t—”

“You disappeared at the garden party,” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “And you weren’t at my party yesterday.”

You looked down, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just… had other things going on.”

“Like Joshua?” he asked, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Why does it matter?”

He held your gaze, his expression softening. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

The sound of the fridge door slamming broke the moment, and Olivia reappeared with a soda in hand. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you said quickly, stepping back. “Peter was just leaving.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, but he didn’t argue. “I should be going. Thank you, Olivia.”

“Anytime,” she replied, smirking. “Bye, Peter.”

He turned to you one last time, his eyes lingering for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching as he left.

Once the door shut, Olivia let out a low whistle. “Well, that was something.”

“Don’t,” you warned, already heading for the kitchen.

“I didn’t say anything!” Olivia called after you, her voice full of laughter. “But seriously, Y/N, you might want to think about what you’re doing.”

You groaned, opening the fridge. “What I’m doing is making tea.”

“Sure,” Olivia said lightly. “Because tea will totally solve your Peter problem.”

You slammed the fridge door shut, wishing it were that simple.

---

Joshua invited you over to a philharmonic concert. He had brought it up while he had taken you out for lunch during your break.

You accepted and now were walking through the elegant, familiar foyer of the concert hall, arm in arm with Joshua. The polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers, and the hum of polite conversation filled the air.

Joshua glanced at you, his smile easy. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You seem comfortable.”

“Once or twice,” you replied, trying not to think about the last time. With Peter.

“Ah, of course,” Joshua said lightly. “It’s one of my favorite venues. The acoustics are exceptional.”

As he spoke, your eyes caught a familiar figure just across the room. Peter. He was standing near the staircase, chatting with Jade Spence, who laughed at something he said, her hand briefly touching his arm.

You stiffened, and Joshua followed your gaze. His brow lifted slightly. “Peter Lyman. What a surprise. Didn’t expect to see him here tonight.”

Your voice was tight. “He enjoys the Philharmonic.”

Joshua chuckled softly. “Don’t we all? Come on, let’s say hello.”

“Wait—” you started, but Joshua was already steering you toward them.

Peter noticed you first. His eyes flickered from Joshua to you, his expression unreadable, though there was a subtle shift in his posture. Jade turned as well, her bright smile widening when she saw Joshua.

“Joshua Beckett,” Peter greeted smoothly, his voice carrying that effortless charm. “Good to see you.”

“Peter,” Joshua replied, shaking his hand. “And Jade Spence, of course. I heard you were in town.”

Jade’s laugh was nervous. “Uh—yes, with my father.” Her gaze shifted to you, her smile polite but curious. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said softly, glancing at Peter briefly. His gaze was steady, focused, and unsettlingly intense.

“Ah, yes,” Jade said, her tone light. “I think Peter mentioned you.”

Your stomach flipped at that, but Joshua cut in before you could dwell on it. “Y/N is a dear friend. We’re enjoying the evening together.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, though his smile didn’t falter. “How lovely. I’m sure you’ll both enjoy the program tonight. It’s one of my favorites.”

“You’ve got great taste, as always,” Joshua replied smoothly, before glancing at his watch. “We should find our seats, Y/N. Don’t want to miss the overture.”

“Of course,” you said quickly, eager to leave the tension hanging in the air.

“Enjoy the performance,” Peter said, his eyes lingering on you as Joshua led you away. You didn’t dare look back.

---

Your seats were directly in front of Peter and Jade. As the orchestra began, you focused on the stage, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a weight on your back. Joshua leaned closer to point out something about the composer, his voice low and warm, but you barely heard him.

Peter, meanwhile, wasn’t paying attention to the orchestra at all. His eyes never left you, the flicker of a frown crossing his face whenever Joshua leaned in or made you smile.

Jade noticed. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice a soft whisper. “Peter, you’re not even looking at the stage.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still locked on you. Finally, he leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Just admiring the company,” he said smoothly.

Jade glanced at you and Joshua, then back at Peter. Her brow arched, but she said nothing, returning her attention to the performance.

---

At intermission, you stayed in your seat, flipping through the concert program and trying to focus on the upcoming pieces. Joshua had gone to grab drinks, leaving you alone in the steadily emptying hall. The chatter of other patrons filled the space, but you tuned it out.

The soft creak of the seat next to you folding down made you glance up. Peter.

He sat with effortless ease, one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. “You always were the studious type, weren’t you?” His voice was smooth, teasing but gentle.

You blinked, glancing between him and the program in your hands. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s intermission,” he replied simply, his gaze steady. “Thought I’d say hello. Is that a problem?”

“No,” you said quickly, shifting slightly in your seat. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter smirked faintly. “I’ve been told I’m full of surprises.” He leaned back slightly, his tone casual. “You know, this concert reminds me of when Olivia insisted you both take violin lessons. What were you—ten? Eleven?”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the memory. “I was ten. Olivia was eleven.”

He nodded, his smile growing. “Right. And she quit after one session, didn’t she? Said something about the teacher being ‘a tyrant in a cardigan.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “She hated it. And she convinced her parents it was pointless for both of us to continue, even though I wanted to keep going.”

Peter’s eyes softened. “I remember. You were disappointed for weeks.”

You glanced down at the program, your voice quieter now. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I noticed,” Peter said, his tone gentler. “You have this way of hiding how you feel, but it’s always there if you know where to look.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, Peter glanced toward the aisle. “Here comes your date.”

You followed his gaze and spotted Joshua making his way back, carrying two glasses of wine. Peter stood smoothly, his polite smile firmly back in place.

“Enjoy the rest of the concert,” he said, his tone light as he stepped aside to let Joshua pass.

Joshua handed you one of the glasses, glancing at Peter as he moved back toward his own seat. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your wine. “He was just saying hello.”

Joshua nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “You and Peter are close, aren’t you?”

You hesitated. “I guess. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“Hmm,” Joshua murmured, his gaze flicking briefly toward Peter and Jade, who were chatting again near the back of the hall. “He seems… invested.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice defensive.

Joshua shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just an observation.”

The bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission. You followed Joshua back to your seats, settling in as the lights dimmed.

As the orchestra began, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You didn’t dare glance back, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a tangible weight.

Joshua leaned closer, pointing out something in the performance. You nodded along, but your focus was elsewhere.

Behind you, Peter sat beside Jade, his expression unreadable as his eyes lingered on you. Jade noticed, her voice barely a whisper. “Peter, you’re missing the performance.”

“I’m not,” he murmured, though his gaze remained fixed on you.

Jade sighed softly but didn’t press further, turning her attention back to the stage.

You, meanwhile, tried to ignore the tension coiling in your chest, the strange awareness that had followed you since intermission.

The music swelled, filling the hall, but all you could think about was the man sitting just a few rows behind you.

---

“He what?” Olivia shrieked. “Oh, man. He’s relentless.”

“What do you mean ‘relentless?’” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against Olivia’s kitchen counter. “He’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.”

Olivia froze mid-sip of her tea, her eyebrows shooting up. Slowly, she set the mug down and turned to face you fully, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Ohhh, so now you admit it.”

“Admit what?” you asked, avoiding her gaze.

“That you care,” Olivia said, smirking. “Because last I checked, you were all ‘Peter’s not into me,’ and ‘Jade Spence is just a guest,’ blah, blah, blah.”

You scoffed, pushing off the counter. “That’s not what this is about. I just think it’s ridiculous you’re calling him relentless when he’s clearly moved on.”

Olivia gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Moved on? From what, exactly? Because to move on, you’d have to have been on something in the first place. And as far as I know, nothing’s ever happened between you two.”

“Exactly,” you said quickly, throwing your hands up. “So what’s the point?”

“The point,” Olivia said, stepping closer and poking your shoulder, “is that you’re jealous.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks were starting to burn. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Because you literally just said, ‘he’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.’ That’s got ‘green-eyed monster’ written all over it.”

“That’s not—” you started, but Olivia cut you off.

“Y/N, come on,” she said, her tone softer now. “You’ve been acting weird ever since Jade showed up. You’re suddenly going out with Joshua, of all people, and now you’re watching Peter like a hawk every time he’s in the same room.”

“I’m not—” you tried again, but Olivia just kept going.

“And don’t even get me started on the way you probably looked at him during the concert,” she said, crossing her arms. “You might as well have had a flashing sign over your head that said, ‘I wish I was sitting next to him.’”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “You’re reading way too much into this.”

“Am I?” Olivia said, leaning closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty obvious. You like Peter. And whether you want to admit it or not, him hanging out with Jade is driving you nuts.”

You didn’t respond right away, staring at the floor as Olivia’s words sank in. Finally, you muttered, “It doesn’t matter. He’s with her. End of story.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, exasperated. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s not with her. He’s using her.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Peter’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes. “Peter’s a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. He’s parading Jade around because he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.”

“That’s insane,” you said, shaking your head. “Why would he—”

“Because he likes you, you idiot!” Olivia practically shouted, throwing her hands up. “And he doesn’t know how to deal with it because you’ve been so busy convincing yourself he doesn’t!”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Finally, you found your voice. “If that’s true,” you said quietly, “then why hasn’t he said anything?”

Olivia sighed, her expression softening. “Because he’s Peter. He’s not going to lay it all out there unless he’s sure it’s what you want too.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Deep down, a small part of you wondered if Olivia was right—if Peter’s actions, his lingering looks, and his sudden attention to Jade were all because of you. But another part of you was too afraid to believe it.

“Well?” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Well, you’d better figure it out. Because if you don’t, someone else is going to make the first move. And I don’t think you’ll like how that turns out.”

You swallowed hard, her words echoing in your mind as you stared out the window, unsure of what your next step should be.

---

The party at Baron Edward’s estate was in full swing, and you found yourself clinging to the edge of the crowd, sipping something sparkling and pretending to look interested in the artwork on the walls. Joshua was mingling effortlessly, charming guests with his smooth conversation and quick wit. Olivia had disappeared somewhere, likely causing her usual brand of chaos.

Across the room, Peter was standing near Jade, the two of them engaged in polite conversation with a small group. He looked as polished as ever, his tailored suit sharp against the warm glow of the chandeliers. You noticed his hand resting lightly on the back of Jade’s chair, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack, it sent a pang through your chest.

Joshua reappeared at your side, offering you a warm smile. "What do you say, Y/N? Care to join me for a dance?"

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, your fingers tightening on the glass of champagne you’d been nursing for the past half hour. "Oh, um… I don’t really think I’m—"

He gave you an easy smile, his hand already half-extended. "You’ll be fine. I promise not to step on your toes."

You shook your head quickly, the thought of dozens of pairs of eyes on you making your chest tighten. "I think I’ll sit this one out. Sorry."

Joshua tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before nodding. "No need to apologize. Maybe next time." He glanced around and spotted Olivia chatting with a group near the drinks table. "Mind if I steal your friend, then?"

"Not at all," you said quickly, grateful he didn’t press the issue.

Joshua smiled, gave you a small nod, and headed off toward Olivia, who didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. You watched as they made their way to the dance floor, Olivia laughing at something Joshua said as he spun her gracefully into the music.

"You could’ve at least warned him you were a terrible dancer."

The low, familiar voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned to find Peter standing beside you, one hand tucked casually in the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. His gaze was sharp but amused, his lips curved in a faint smile.

"I didn’t think it was necessary," you muttered, looking down at your glass.

Peter tilted his head, his tone light. "And here I thought you were just trying to keep him from getting too attached."

Your head shot up, your eyes narrowing. "That’s not—"

He chuckled softly, cutting you off. "Relax, Y/N. I’m joking. Though I have to say, I’m a little surprised. You used to love dancing when we were younger."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "That was different. We were kids, and no one was paying attention back then."

Peter’s smile deepened, his gaze unwavering. "And now?"

"Now," you said quickly, "it’s just… not my thing."

"Hmm," he mused, his tone carrying that infuriating mix of charm and challenge. "I don’t believe you."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your growing discomfort. "Well, you don’t have to."

Peter didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he extended a hand toward you, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "Dance with me."

"What?" you blurted, your heart skipping a beat.

"You heard me," he said, his voice steady. "Dance with me. Just one song."

"I—I can’t," you stammered, glancing around nervously. "Not here."

Peter’s smile shifted, softer now but no less insistent. Without waiting for an answer, he took your glass from your hand, setting it down on a nearby table, and offered his arm. "Then let’s find somewhere quieter."

You hesitated, glancing toward the dance floor where Olivia and Joshua were spinning effortlessly among the other couples. "Peter, I don’t think—"

"Trust me," he interrupted gently.

Before you could protest, he guided you out of the main ballroom and into a dimly lit hallway just off to the side. The music followed faintly, softer now, the sounds of laughter and conversation fading into the background.

Peter stopped near a small alcove, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. "Better?"

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. "A little."

"Good," he said, stepping closer. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and steady. "Now, let’s try this again."

"Peter, I’m going to embarrass myself," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You won’t," he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It’s just us, Y/N. No one’s watching."

You hesitated, but the way he looked at you—patient, encouraging, and far too confident—made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you murmured, your voice so soft you weren’t sure he even heard you.

Peter smiled, a genuine one this time, and placed your other hand lightly on his shoulder. His hand settled on your waist, the touch sending a strange flutter through your chest.

"See?" he said, his voice low as he guided you into a slow, swaying rhythm. "Nothing to it."

"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, glancing at your feet to make sure you weren’t stepping on him.

"Don’t," Peter said softly. "You’re doing fine."

You glanced up at him, his face closer than you’d realized. His expression was calm, but his eyes… there was something in them you couldn’t quite name.

The faint strains of the orchestra drifted through the hallway, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away.

"You’re not bad at this," Peter said after a while, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "You’re a very biased judge."

"Maybe," he admitted, his lips twitching into a smirk. "But I’m right, aren’t I?"

You didn’t answer, your gaze dropping to his collar instead. His tie was slightly loosened, just enough to make him look effortlessly disheveled in a way that only Peter could manage.

"Y/N," he said softly, drawing your attention back to his face. His smile had faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. "Why do you let him distract you?"

"Who?" you asked, confused.

"Joshua," Peter said simply, his tone calm but pointed. "You’re not interested in him."

You froze, your cheeks burning. "That’s not—"

"You don’t have to explain," he interrupted, his voice low. "I just… I don’t understand why you’re pretending."

Your chest tightened, his words cutting far closer to the truth than you wanted to admit. "I’m not pretending."

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. "You don’t have to, Y/N. Not with me."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the distant sound of the music filling the silence.

"I…" you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

Peter leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Think about it, Y/N. That’s all I’m asking."

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as his words settled in the air between you. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment was gone.

Peter stepped back, his hand slipping from your waist. "Thank you for the dance."

You nodded mutely, watching as he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Your heart was still racing, and as the music swelled again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had just changed.

---

A few days after the party you were laying on Olivia’s couch, a box of tissues in your lap and a cool rag on your forehead.

“Oh, sweetie.” Olivia cooed, taking the rag away from you.

“’M not a baby,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as Olivia dabbed your forehead with the cool rag.

“I know,” she teased, sitting back on the edge of the coffee table. “But you’re my favorite patient, so deal with it.” You gave her a weak glare, which she met with a smirk. “Honestly, Y/N, you’re lucky I love you. I’ve got work in a bit, and instead of doing literally anything else, I’m here playing Florence Nightingale.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” you replied, your voice hoarse. “I’ll leave when you do. I’ll get a cab back to my place.”

Olivia frowned, crossing her arms. “You’re really going to haul yourself into a cab like this? You can just stay here.”

You shook your head, coughing lightly into a tissue. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Like you could ever be in my way,” Olivia scoffed, standing and smoothing her blouse. “Alright, if you insist on being stubborn, I’ll drop you at the cab stand on my way out.”

She disappeared down the hall to finish getting ready, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the TV in the background instead of the pounding in your head.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. You heard Olivia’s muffled footsteps and then the sound of the door opening.

“Oh, Peter,” Olivia said, her voice laced with mild surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Peter replied smoothly. “Thought I’d check in.”

“Well, I’m heading to work in a minute,” Olivia said, her voice casual. “But Y/N’s in the living room. She’s not feeling great, though, so don’t expect sparkling conversation.”

There was a pause, and then you heard Peter’s footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes just as he entered the room, his expression softening when he saw you curled up on the couch.

“You look dreadful,” he said, his tone gentle but teasing.

“Thanks,” you croaked, giving him a weak smile.

He chuckled, crouching down so you were eye level. “What’s the plan? Olivia mentioned a cab.”

You nodded. “When she leaves, I’ll call one and head home.”

Peter frowned slightly, standing and crossing his arms. “No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?” you said, sitting up a little.

“You’re not well,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you home.”

“Peter, that’s not necessary—”

“It is,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t trust you to actually rest if you’re left to your own devices. Come on, let’s get you sorted.”

Olivia reappeared, shrugging into her coat and raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” Peter said, offering you a hand. “I’m taking her home.”

You hesitated, glancing between them, but Olivia grinned. “Well, aren’t you sweet? Take good care of her, Peter. She’s a nightmare when she’s sick.”

“Noted,” Peter replied, helping you stand. “Let’s go, Y/N.”

---

The drive to your apartment was quiet. You leaned against the cool window, trying to ignore how warm your cheeks felt—not just from the fever, but from Peter’s presence.

When you reached your building, Peter insisted on helping you out of the car and up the stairs, his hand resting lightly on your back as you walked.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Y/N,” he said, cutting you off as he opened your apartment door with the spare key Olivia had borrowed and returned. “Let me help. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, setting your blanket over you and grabbing a pillow to tuck behind your head.

“Comfy?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, already feeling more at ease. “Thank you.”

Peter smiled faintly. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t even started making tea.”

“You’re staying?” you asked, your eyes widening slightly.

“Of course,” he said lightly, already heading toward the kitchen. “Someone has to make sure you don’t keel over.”

“Peter, I can take care of myself,” you called after him, though the argument sounded weak even to your own ears.

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, his voice teasing. “But humor me.”

You sighed, leaning back into the cushions. As much as you hated to admit it, having him there was… comforting.

“Do you even know where I keep the tea?” you called, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“I’m resourceful,” he shot back, and you could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, letting the quiet sounds of him moving around your kitchen fill the air.

Peter returned from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a mug of tea. He crouched beside the couch, offering it to you with a soft smile. “Here. Drink this.”

You blinked at him, your fingers curling around the warm mug. “You really didn’t have to.”

He leaned an arm on the edge of the couch, his face a bit closer now. “I know. But I wanted to.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond, so you took a small sip of the tea instead. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Good?” he asked, watching you intently.

You nodded, your voice soft. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes flickering to your hair. Without saying anything, he reached up, brushing a stray strand away from your face. The motion was so casual, yet it sent a flutter through your chest.

“You’re burning up,” Peter said quietly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pressed it lightly against your forehead. “When’s the last time you took anything for the fever?”

You squirmed under his touch, your cheeks growing warmer—not from the fever, you were sure. “Uh… this morning, I think?”

Peter frowned slightly, standing up and moving toward the kitchen again. “Stay put. I’ll grab something for you.”

You watched him go, your heart thumping unreasonably loud in your chest. He was being nice—nicer than he needed to be—but you chalked it up to Peter just being… Peter. Charming. Polished. Practically perfect. And completely out of your league.

He returned a minute later with a small glass of water and some medicine, handing both to you while placing the mug on the coffee table. “Take these.”

You hesitated but followed his instructions, swallowing the pills quickly and handing the glass back. He set it on the side table before sitting on the edge of the coffee table again, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I will be. Thanks for… you know. Helping.”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I’d hardly call this helping. It’s just making sure you’re not miserable on your own.”

You managed a small smile, sinking further into the couch. “Still. Thank you.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his gaze softening. He reached out again, his hand brushing lightly over your forehead as if checking your temperature once more. “You should try to sleep,” he murmured, his tone unusually gentle. “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you mumbled, already feeling your eyelids grow heavy.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I want to.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, letting your head rest against the pillow. Peter adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, his movements careful and deliberate.

Just as you began to drift off, you felt something—a feather-light brush against your forehead. Too tired to open your eyes, you assumed it was nothing, just a fever-dream detail slipping through.

But Peter sat back quietly, his expression unreadable as he watched you settle deeper into sleep. His hand rested on the edge of the couch for a moment longer before he stood, adjusting the light in the room to something softer.

For now, he would wait.

---

When you woke, you weren’t on the couch anymore. Instead, you were tucked into your bed, your blanket pulled up to your shoulders. The soft hum of an old humidifier filled the room, a faint stream of vapor rising from its spout.

You blinked groggily, your gaze settling on the chair near your bed. Peter was there, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had a book open in his lap but wasn’t reading; his eyes were fixed on you.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you mumbled, still half-asleep. “Did you…?”

“Carry you to bed?” he finished, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You were out cold, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d make it to the bed.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down at the blanket. “You didn’t have to.”

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You said that already. And I’m still ignoring it.”

You fiddled with the edge of the blanket, unsure of what to say. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice low. “I wanted to.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes softened when they met yours. He reached over, brushing a hand lightly across your forehead. His touch was warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Your fever’s down,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

You nodded, too shy to meet his gaze for long. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he said lightly, leaning back in the chair. “Olivia called to check in. I told her you were still alive.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “She’ll probably tell everyone I’m being dramatic.”

“She might,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “But I’ll set the record straight. Tell them you were very brave.”

“Stop,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up to your face to hide your smile.

Peter chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fine. I’ll spare you the teasing. For now.”

You peeked over the blanket, catching his grin. “I didn’t know you were such a good nurse.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he said smoothly, standing up and stretching. “Do you need anything? More water? Tea?”

“No, I’m okay,” you said quickly, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

Peter crossed his arms, studying you for a moment. Then, without a word, he stepped closer, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. His hand brushed yours briefly, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Peter didn’t move right away. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the bed, and you could feel the weight of his presence. Finally, he straightened, his expression unreadable.

“Try to rest,” he said, his tone gentler than before. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

“Wait,” you blurted, surprising yourself. When he turned back to you, eyebrows raised, you faltered. “I mean… you don’t have to stay in the other room. If you’re tired or something, you can… I don’t know, sit here? If you want?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, his gaze softening. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you said quickly, then immediately looked down, your cheeks burning. “I just… I don’t mind.”

He hesitated for only a moment before pulling the chair closer to the bed. “Alright,” he said simply, settling back into it. “If you insist.”

You relaxed a little, letting your eyes close again. Peter didn’t say anything else, and for a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet hum of the humidifier and the soft rustle of pages as he reopened his book.

Before you drifted off, you felt the edge of the blanket shift slightly, as though he were tucking it in more securely. It was such a small gesture, but it left your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

---

As you cleaned up your spreadsheet a knock on your office door drew your attention away from your computer.

“Someone’s here to see you. A… Peter?” Alyssa said.

You rolled your chair back a little before standing up, “Peter?” You repeated. “Oh—uh, yeah, send him in.”

Alyssa smiled and went back to the reception desk. You sat back down just as Peter knocked a few times on your open door before entering, a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly, stepping inside like he owned the place. “Thought I’d stop by and see how my favorite accountant was doing.”

You blinked, immediately flustered. “Peter, what are you doing here?”

He held up the bag with a small smile. “I remembered you’re terrible about taking lunch breaks, so I thought I’d bring it to you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you glanced at the bag. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to grab something later.”

“Were you, though?” Peter teased, pulling up a chair without asking. “Or were you planning to survive on coffee and determination?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. “Okay, fine. But really, you didn’t need to go out of your way.”

“It wasn’t out of my way,” he replied, leaning back casually. “Besides, I wanted to.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Peter always had this way of saying things that left you completely off balance. “Well… thanks,” you mumbled, reaching for the bag.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just a sandwich and some soup, but I figured it’d hold you over.”

You opened the bag, the warm aroma of tomato soup wafting out. “This is… really nice of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “I can be nice.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” you replied quickly, glancing up at him. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. “I like surprising you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, but before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So, how’s work?”

You shrugged, grateful for the change in topic. “Same as always. Spreadsheets, numbers, more spreadsheets.”

“Thrilling,” Peter teased, though his tone held genuine interest. “And Joshua? Has he been stopping by with sandwiches too?”

You froze, your spoon hovering over the soup container. “What? No. Why would he?”

Peter shrugged, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just curious. Thought maybe he was trying to impress you.”

“Well, he’s not,” you said quickly, though your cheeks felt like they were on fire. “We’ve only gone out a couple of times. It’s not that serious.”

“Good to know,” Peter said smoothly, sitting back in his chair.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” he said lightly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just making conversation.”

You hesitated, searching his expression for some kind of clue, but he was impossible to read. “Okay,” you said finally, turning your attention back to your soup.

Peter watched you for a moment longer before standing. “I’ll let you get back to it. But if you need another delivery, you know where to find me.”

You glanced up, surprised by the sudden shift. “You’re leaving already?”

He smiled faintly. “For now. But I’ll see you soon.”

Before you could respond, he was already heading for the door. You stared after him, the warmth of his gesture lingering even as his presence left the room.

Peter paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t skip lunch tomorrow, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you promised, though your voice was softer than you intended.

His smile widened slightly, and then he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the small, unexpected weight of his visit.

---

The Apollo Theatre foyer buzzed with excited chatter as you stood with Joshua, clutching your program and trying not to look overwhelmed. Olivia spotted you almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with her signature enthusiasm.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, wrapping you in a quick hug before turning to Joshua. “And look who’s with you. Hey Joshua. Ready for the show?”

Joshua smiled warmly, shaking her hand. “Always. How could I pass up an evening at the theatre?”

Olivia turned back to you, grinning. “Y/N, are you ready for this? I’ve heard Wicked is incredible. And you know how I feel about The Wizard of Oz.”

You laughed softly. “You’ve only mentioned it a thousand times.”

Before Olivia could retort, another familiar voice joined the conversation. “Quite the reunion, isn’t it?”

Your head snapped toward the source. Peter stood a few feet away, looking effortlessly composed as always. Beside him, Jade smiled politely, her golden hair catching the soft light of the foyer.

Joshua straightened, his expression slipping into something cooler. “Peter. Jade. Fancy seeing you here.”

Peter’s smile didn’t waver as he glanced at you. “Is it? I thought this was the hottest ticket in town. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Olivia’s eyes darted between the two men, her smirk growing. “Wow, all four of us together. How cozy.”

“Five,” Jade corrected with a light laugh. “Don’t forget me.”

“Right, of course,” Olivia said, her tone borderline teasing.

Joshua’s hand brushed lightly against your back. “Shall we find our seats, Y/N? I think intermission mingling will suffice for this particular group.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Actually, you’re all in our row. They’ve just started seating.”

Your heart sank slightly as Peter gestured toward the usher holding the door open. Of course you’d all end up sitting together—it was just your luck.

Joshua’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Peter stepped forward, extending an arm toward you. “Shall we?”

Joshua opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Olivia interjected, her tone bright and amused. “Go ahead, Y/N. Peter knows the way better than any of us.”

You shot Olivia a quick glare, but Peter was already waiting, his arm still offered. Hesitantly, you placed your hand on his sleeve, letting him guide you toward the theatre. Joshua followed close behind, his expression unreadable.

---

The row was, unsurprisingly, a bit of a squeeze. Olivia sat on the far end, with Joshua next to her. You were in the middle, flanked by Peter on your left and Jade on his other side.

“This is… cozy,” Olivia quipped as everyone settled into their seats.

“Intimate, even,” Peter added smoothly, his gaze sliding to you. “How are you finding your evening so far, Y/N?”

“It’s nice,” you said quickly, fidgeting with your program. “I’m excited for the show.”

“As you should be,” Peter replied, leaning closer. “It’s a masterpiece. Though, I’ll admit, some moments can be quite… emotional.”

“Good thing I brought tissues,” Olivia teased from the other end.

Joshua cleared his throat, drawing your attention. “Are you familiar with the music, Y/N? I could hum a few bars if you need a preview.”

You laughed softly, trying to ease the growing tension. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Careful, Joshua. You wouldn’t want to spoil the magic.”

Jade glanced between the two men, her smile polite but strained. “Isn’t it wonderful how theatre brings everyone together?”

“Truly,” Peter said, his tone light but sharp enough to earn a glance from Joshua.

Before the exchange could escalate, the lights dimmed, and the orchestra began its overture. You turned your attention to the stage, grateful for the distraction.

---

Throughout the performance, you couldn’t help but feel hyper-aware of Peter. His arm rested lightly on the shared armrest, close enough that your elbows brushed once or twice. Each time, you shifted slightly, but he didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he did and simply didn’t care.

Joshua, meanwhile, leaned in occasionally to whisper something about the show. His commentary was kind and thoughtful, but your responses were distracted, your focus tugged toward the man on your other side.

When intermission arrived, Olivia stood immediately. “Drinks, anyone? I could use something fizzy.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jade said quickly, standing and smoothing her dress.

Joshua glanced at you. “Want to stretch your legs, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Peter turned toward you, his expression casual but intent. “Or we could stay and chat. The lobby will be packed.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he managed a smile. “It’s up to you.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of both their gazes. “I think I’ll stay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joshua nodded stiffly. “Alright. I’ll grab you a drink, then.”

As he and the others filed out, Peter leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed. “Interesting choice.”

You turned toward him, fidgeting slightly with the program in your lap. “What is?”

“Staying behind,” he said lightly, his gaze steady but unintrusive. “I thought you might want a break from all this.” He gestured toward the crowded theatre.

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I don’t mind staying. It’s quieter now.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. Quieter can be nice sometimes.”

You nodded, clutching the program tighter. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy in a way that made your chest feel tight.

“You’re enjoying the show, I hope?” Peter asked after a moment, his tone light.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” you said quickly, grateful for the neutral topic. “The cast is incredible.”

“It’s a masterpiece,” Peter agreed. “I remember the first time I saw it. Defying Gravity gave me chills.”

You smiled faintly. “It’s definitely the kind of show that sticks with you.”

He studied you for a moment, then leaned a bit closer, resting his arm on the shared armrest. “You know, I’ve always admired your taste in music.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

Peter shrugged casually, though there was a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes. “You’ve got a good ear. You appreciate the details most people miss.”

Your cheeks grew warm under his gaze. “I don’t know about that. I just… like what I like.”

“That’s what makes it genuine,” he said simply. “You don’t pretend to like things just because it’s expected. It’s refreshing.”

You glanced down, fiddling with the corner of the program. “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way.”

He chuckled softly, his voice warm. “That’s what makes it true.”

You dared to look up at him again, finding his expression unusually soft. “You’re being… really nice today.”

“Am I not usually nice?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you are,” you said quickly, stumbling over your words. “It’s just… different.”

Peter tilted his head, his smile growing. “Maybe I’m just trying to put you at ease. You always seem a little… on edge around me.”

“I’m not,” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction.

“You are,” he countered gently. “But I’m glad you stayed. It’s nice talking like this.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Finally, you muttered, “Yeah, it is.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he leaned back into his seat, his hand resting on the armrest just a little closer to yours. “Do you remember the first play we went to? At my father’s estate? You must’ve been—what? Eleven? Twelve?”

You smiled faintly at the memory. “It was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Olivia made me go with her.”

Peter chuckled. “And you spent the entire first act whispering that you didn’t understand why people thought Shakespeare was funny.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me. I was such a pain back then.”

“You weren’t,” he said softly, his tone sincere. “You were curious. That’s what made it endearing.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice muffled. “Endearing?”

“Very,” he said with a small grin.

Before you could respond, the others began filtering back into the row. Joshua handed you a drink with a polite smile, his eyes flicking briefly to Peter. “Hope I got the right one.”

“Perfect,” you said quickly, taking the glass and shifting slightly in your seat.

Peter leaned back, his expression unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before he turned his attention to the stage.

As the lights dimmed and the show resumed, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Peter’s presence beside you. It was magnetic, grounding in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

And as the music swelled, you found yourself wondering if staying behind had been the right choice—or if it had only complicated things even more.

---

It was nerve-wracking going on dates with Joshua, but meeting his parents? That felt like a completely different level of stress. Lord Beckett’s estate was sprawling, the kind of place you’d only seen in magazines, and the garden party looked like something out of a period drama.

“Relax,” Joshua said, offering you his arm as you both approached the grand lawn. “They’re going to love you. And even if they don’t, they’re far too proper to say anything about it.”

“That’s… oddly comforting,” you muttered, glancing nervously at the clusters of guests sipping champagne and chatting under the shade of elegant white umbrellas.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone warm. “Just smile and let me do the talking.”

You managed a small nod, though your stomach twisted with nerves.

Joshua led you toward a group near the center of the lawn, where Lord Beckett stood in a sharp navy suit, his posture as upright as his title implied. His wife, Lady Beckett, was beside him, her features poised and polite.

“Ah, Joshua,” Lord Beckett said, his deep voice carrying over the hum of conversation. His sharp eyes flicked to you. “And this must be… Y/N, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” you said softly, offering a polite smile.

“Welcome,” Lady Beckett said, her tone more cordial than warm. “It’s lovely to meet you. Joshua’s spoken highly of you.”

You blinked, glancing at Joshua, who grinned. “What can I say? She’s easy to talk about.”

Lady Beckett’s smile widened just a fraction. “How charming.”

Before the conversation could go much further, another familiar voice cut in.

“Lord Beckett,” Peter said smoothly, stepping into the group with Jade on his arm. “Always a pleasure.”

Your breath caught, and you instinctively looked away, focusing intently on the glass in your hand.

“Peter Lyman,” Lord Beckett greeted, his tone polite but measured. “You’ve been making quite the rounds lately.”

Peter chuckled. “What can I say? It’s hard to resist a good garden party.” His gaze flicked to you briefly, his smile unwavering. “Y/N. Fancy seeing you here.”

Jade added with a light laugh, “it’s practically a reunion, isn’t it? How lovely.”

Joshua’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he kept his tone pleasant. “Peter, Jade. Enjoying the season?”

“Absolutely,” Peter replied, his tone smooth as silk. “And you? Busy keeping Y/N entertained, I assume?”

Joshua’s smile tightened just enough for you to notice. “She’s been wonderful company. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You nodded quickly, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. “Yes. Very.”

Peter’s lips quirked, his expression unreadable. “Good to hear.”

Jade broke the tension with a bright laugh, linking her arm with Peter’s. “Peter’s always said these events are better with good company. Haven’t you, darling?”

“Something like that,” Peter said lightly, though his eyes flicked back to you briefly.

“Shall we, Y/N?” Joshua asked suddenly, his tone smooth but insistent. “I’d love to show you the south gardens. They’re a bit quieter.”

You nodded, eager for an escape. “Of course.”

As Joshua guided you away, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Peter’s gaze was still on you, his expression calm but intent, as if he was waiting for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Joshua said quietly as you walked, his voice low but firm.

“What?” you asked, startled.

“Lyman,” Joshua clarified, glancing at you. “He likes to play games. Don’t let him pull you into one.”

You frowned, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t think he—”

“He does,” Joshua interrupted gently but firmly. “Trust me.”

You didn’t answer, but your thoughts were a storm of doubt and confusion as you followed Joshua toward the gardens.

---

The south gardens were quieter, with fewer guests and a small fountain bubbling in the center. Joshua stopped beside it, turning to face you fully.

“You’re tense,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your voice wavered.

Joshua studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “Y/N… if this is too much, you don’t have to stay.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just—this isn’t really my scene, you know? But I’ll manage.”

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I know it’s not easy. But you’re handling it well.”

“Thanks,” you said, though your thoughts were still elsewhere.

Joshua’s gaze flicked past you for a moment, and his expression shifted, growing cooler. You turned to see Peter approaching, his stride measured and confident.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Peter said smoothly, stopping a few paces away.

“Actually—” Joshua started, but Peter cut him off.

“Y/N,” Peter said, his tone softer as his gaze settled on you. “Do you have a moment?”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. “We were just about to head back, actually.”

Peter ignored him, his eyes still on you. “Just a moment, Y/N. That’s all I need.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. Joshua’s expression was calm but tense, while Peter’s was unreadable, his usual charm tempered by something more serious.

“Go ahead,” Joshua said finally, his voice tight. “I’ll wait here.”

You nodded slowly, stepping toward Peter. “What is it?”

Peter waited until you were out of earshot before speaking, his voice low. “You don’t have to stay with him, you know.”

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“I mean it,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “If you’re not happy, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“I’m not pretending,” you said quickly, though your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears.

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. “You are. And you’re not very good at it.”

Your chest tightened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.

“I know this is all… complicated,” Peter continued, his voice gentler now. “But I can’t stand watching you with him, knowing you’re not where you want to be.”

“Peter,” you started, but he shook his head.

“Just think about it, Y/N,” he said quietly. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

---

Later, while you sipped your glass of champagne and held a small plate with a scone, Joshua leaned down, his voice low and warm. “I’m going to say hello to the Westford’s,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your cheek before walking away.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. It felt like such a public display, something you weren’t used to, especially with so many watchful eyes at a gathering like this.

Unfortunately, someone had noticed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter standing with Jade near the edge of the garden. His expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. And then, with deliberate ease, Peter turned toward Jade, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.

Jade laughed softly, tilting her head up to him.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a quick, polite kiss, either. It was slow, deliberate—enough to catch the attention of more than a few nearby guests.

Your stomach twisted as you froze, your fingers tightening around your glass. For a moment, you considered looking away, but your gaze betrayed you, snapping back to Peter.

And that’s when he looked at you.

Even as he kissed Jade, his eyes met yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. It wasn’t a glance; it was deliberate, calculated.

You felt your chest tighten, heat rising to your face. Before you could process what had just happened, you set your plate and glass down on a nearby table and turned on your heel, heading toward the side of the lawn.

You found Joshua near the Westford’s, laughing at something Lord Westford had said. He glanced up as you approached, his expression softening. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling well,” you said quickly, your voice tight. “I think I’m going to head out.”

Joshua frowned, stepping closer. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call for a car?”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’ll grab a cab. I just need to go.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing.

“I’m sure,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “Thank you for the invitation. It was… lovely.”

Joshua hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. Just let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, already turning to leave.

You made your way out of the estate, barely registering the elegant gardens or the soft chatter of the guests. Your chest felt tight, and your thoughts were a jumbled mess as you flagged down a cab and climbed inside.

---

By the time you arrived at Olivia’s apartment, your head was spinning. You fumbled with the spare key she’d given you, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside.

“Y/N?” Olivia called from the couch, her voice muffled by the blanket draped over her. She sat up, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at Lord Beckett’s thing.”

You dropped your purse on the nearest chair, your hands trembling slightly. “I was. I just… I couldn’t stay.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she set the popcorn aside and stood, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Peter happened,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia blinked, then sighed, crossing her arms. “What did he do this time?”

You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “He kissed Jade. Right in front of everyone. And then he… he looked at me.”

“What?” Olivia asked, her tone sharp. She sat down beside you, her hand resting on your arm. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, unable to keep back your sobs any longer. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do, Liv. One minute he’s nice, the next he’s… playing games. I can’t keep up.”

Olivia frowned, scooting closer and pulling you into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

You leaned into her, your face pressed against her shoulder. “It’s just… he said something to me before he kissed her.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands still on your arms. “What did he say?”

Your voice wavered as you tried to explain. “He said… he couldn’t stand seeing me with Joshua. That I wasn’t where I wanted to be. And then—then he just… walked away. And not even ten minutes later, he’s kissing Jade like it’s nothing.”

Olivia exhaled sharply, pulling you back into her arms. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. That’s so… Ugh, I don’t even know what to say.”

You sniffled, your hands clutching the fabric of her sweater. “Why would he say something like that if he didn’t mean it? And then do the exact opposite? It’s like he’s trying to mess with me.”

She rubbed your back gently, her voice soft. “I know it feels like that. But right now, you don’t need to make sense of it. You’ve had a hell of a day. Let’s just… focus on getting you through this moment, okay?”

You nodded weakly, wiping at your eyes. “I feel so stupid, Liv. I shouldn’t even care, but I do. I always have.”

“You’re not stupid,” Olivia said firmly, pulling back enough to look you in the eye. “You’ve had feelings for him forever. This isn’t something you can just turn off.”

You didn’t respond, your chest still tight as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Alright,” Olivia said after a moment, her tone more practical. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re staying here tonight. I’ll make us some tea, and we’ll find something mindless to watch on TV. No more thinking about Peter, Jade, or Joshua. Deal?”

You hesitated, but the thought of not dealing with any of it, even for a little while, was too tempting to resist. “Deal.”

“Good,” Olivia said, standing and giving you a small smile. “Stay put. I’ll grab the tea.”

As she headed to the kitchen, you curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around you. Your thoughts were still spinning, but Olivia’s presence was grounding, her no-nonsense approach exactly what you needed.

When she returned with two steaming mugs, she set one down in front of you and plopped onto the couch with the other. “Alright, your choice: rom-coms or reality TV?”

You hesitated, then managed a small smile. “Rom-coms. Something ridiculous.”

Olivia grinned, grabbing the remote. “You’ve got it.”

As the opening credits of some over-the-top romantic comedy filled the screen, you leaned back into the cushions, trying to let the chaos of the day fade into the background. Olivia reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze before settling in beside you.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You nodded, your voice too shaky to respond. For now, you let yourself focus on the warmth of the tea in your hands and the comfort of Olivia’s shoulder against yours. It wasn’t a solution, but it was enough for the moment.

⁠♡ part 2 ♡

[lo1k-diamonds]

Bubbles 💜 (Part 1)

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook's Entry

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader

SUMMARY: You're back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes.

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit sexual content, in public, oral, slight degradation and rough cause you are both hurt

PARTS: [1] [2]

(You can also read it on AO3)

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

You smiled at the bouncer on your way inside the club and brushed a strand of dark hair behind your ear. Your group called you to follow as you got lost looking around the newest club in Itaewon. It was purposefully dark with red neon lights in wavy lines flowing in the direction of the dance floor but not before a huge sign with black and white stripes coaxed your attention with promises expanding over the several floors: SX.

“Come along.”

You smile at your best friend and follow her and her friends to a reserved club area not too far from the bar. The Tech House music is making your rib cage hum comfortably, and you sit on a couch before she turns to you again.

“I know the bartender on our side tonight! I’ll go say hi for a second!”

You nod and watch her go as you take the space around you comfortably. The other girls are chatting, cross-checking who’s there tonight and who they know. You’re used to hanging with girls like them — fun and wild at parties and clubs. You don’t know them because you’ve been away for a while, but you trust your dearest friend to keep good company around.

Either way, you’re there to have fun and enjoy being back home. You take a deep breath, the familiar scent of sweat and alcohol latching itself onto your skin before you even contemplate dancing. Everyone else is already doing it, flowing like a perfect wave in that crowd, and you’ll join them soon enough.

The lights were flashing all around to the generous beat, making you tap your foot, and you contemplated getting up without waiting for your best friend when you saw him. Fully dressed in black in a way that avoided light and dancing so closely with a girl your guts burned with furious envy.

“Right? I’ve heard about him,” a girl gushed to your right. “He’s very hot.”

“You’re joking, look at that sleeve,” another one replied, and your eyes immediately traced his arm. It was fuller now. “I wanna ride that bad.”

“Do you think he has other tattoos?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” one answered, and they all giggled and laughed around. Your eyes never diverted from him or the way he was dancing with that girl, firm hands gripping her waist over a sparkly deeply cleavaged top.

“But you know, I’ve heard he fucks without kissing. Without even acknowledging you.”

Finally, your eyes turned to the girl sharing all the gossip, and you wondered how she knew that.

“First-hand experience?” You ask with a teasing smile, just making conversation. They didn’t have to know how truly interested you were in knowing.

“No,” the other girls turned to hear more, and you could see they were all charmed by the picture the girl was conjuring. “Not my kind of thing.”

The other girls teased her reply for a moment while you paid them little mind.

“Yeah, right. Look at him,” another one laughed openly. 

“He’s fucking sexy and has this cute smile,” one said, almost wantonly. She was possibly voicing everyone else’s thoughts. “Face it, who wouldn’t want to touch those curls?”

“He can get any girl on her knees.”

“And a bad boy? Get serious. We’d all be lining up.”

“What if he changes?”

“What if we’re the one?”

They all giggled except you, starting to regret not having a drink in your hand.

“Guys like him don’t change.”

“Actually,” the girl with the gossip leaned forward. “Rumor is he was in a committed relationship and that when she dumped him, he did a one-eighty and never dated seriously again.”

Your friend neared you all with a tray of shots and a wide grin, “Who’s not dating seriously?”

“Whoa, what a bitch,” one replied, leaning forward to grab a glass.

“Who would waste that?”

“If I could tap that, I’d hook him around my little finger.”

Your best friend looked at you quizzically, and you just twitched the corners of your mouth. You grabbed a shot glass as well while the gossip girl explained everything to your best friend. In an instant, her eyes shot to yours, but you were purposefully avoidant.

“What’s his name anyway?” One of them asked, turning her back so they could toast.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Your eyes immediately fell back on him, and you ignored your friend’s worried looks. You cheered with the girls to a good and steamy night and drank the shot without much thought. It burned on its way down, but you were already burning from before, so no biggie. Who cared who he danced with, you were there to have fun too.

Your best friend called your name with a tinge of worry, and all you did was smile, “I’ll go grab another round.”

You got up and adjusted your short strapless dress to make sure it covered your ass before trying to get in between the crowd to reach the bar. You didn’t have to go that far, but you couldn’t control your curiosity. As you moved in closer, you could see how he seemed taller, more built, and so buff. He had let his hair grow longer, and it curled wildly around his ears, giving him an edge you found yourself liking a lot. Your lower belly was tingling already as you eyed him with hunger, especially those firm hands.

You were so hot that you were sweaty and by the time you leaned against the bar, you finally noticed something wasn’t right. The girl he was with was waving something small and flat between two fingers that she hid very quickly, and whatever it was got him angry. You knew that disgusted lip pull, and it made you smile.

He turned away from the girl, and you instantly faced the bar, giving the whole scene your back. You were curious, hot, and bothered by the mere fact that he was there, that you got to see him, that there was a possibility that you would talk. It had been a while. You shouldn’t be curious, but the tingly sensation down your stomach wasn’t interested in shouldn’ts.

It was then and there that you almost took a deep breath and committed to not look his way the rest of the night. Your curiosity shouldn’t be enough, the girls gossiped way too much so you had all the information you could need, and there was really no need for your paths to intersect.

But fate wouldn’t have you choose that road tonight, it would seem. You turned to the side, curious as to where he would be, and you smiled. There were only two people in between you and an outstretched arm with a full sleeve over the bar counter. He was too close to be ignored, and you just couldn’t.

You made your way to him and luckily the two people between you had just gotten their drinks and were ready to leave. Jungkook didn’t notice you getting near because the bartender was listening to his order, and you just leaned on the bar counter by his side.

“Order for me too, will you?”

He turned to you and his face was worth a million words. His lips parted to make way for air, but he wasn’t breathing, and that was when you noticed the lip ring. His skin was perfectly immaculate, the sweetness you’d recognize anywhere in the tender swell of his cheeks. Higher, his normally lovely eyes were wide in shock as he took in your presence. His eyebrows twitched, and you noticed another piercing, which along with the new ones on his lip made you smile as you leaned to support your head on your hand. He was still figuring out if you were a ghost while you were in wonderland, wondering what had happened to all that sweetness.

“Here you go,” the bartender placed a whiskey cola on the counter, and you turned quickly before Jungkook could react.

“Can you get me one too, please?”

You were already waving your credit card, and the bartender acquiesced without wasting a beat.

It was the moment he needed to grab his drink and chug half of it like he was dying of thirst. Or maybe he just really needed a drink after seeing you.

“Thirsty are we?” You asked, reaching for the glass from his hand and taking a couple of sips while never breaking away from his darkened eyes. The ice-cold drink had you close your eyes for a second, thankful for the refreshing sensation down your chest. “You always liked them sweet.”

You placed his glass near his hand again before turning to smile at the bartender returning with your card and your drink.

“You’re here.”

It wasn’t a question and if you weren’t interested in reading his lips, you might have missed it. So you smiled, letting the nostalgia fill you up in a nice kind of way. You had missed the little twitches of his lips while he mused, or the way he scratched his nose bridge softly when he was embarrassed or at a loss.

“I am. How are you?”

His eyes were focused on the drink, and he scoffed at your question, reaching to drink the rest of it. That was the first time you doubted this could end well. There was a bitterness in his features that dragged yours out of the deepest corners of you where you wished it would remain buried.

“Why are you here?”

Your lips twitched, “New club in Seoul.”

He sneered, “There were many new clubs in Seoul over the last year. Never crossed you before.”

“You know I wasn’t here.”

Your eyes locked, and yours had all the meaning they could have. You weren’t in Seoul, so you couldn’t have crossed paths before. But you were here now.

He looked down and licked his lower lip while kicking the bar pensively. You let him process the fact that you were there in the flesh while you drank. When he looked up at you again, you caught his eyes and passed him your drink. He took a second, but he grabbed it, turning to the bar to down it while you leaned into his ear.

“Dance with me.”

He looked out of the corner of his eye at you, and you pulled back, waiting. You weren’t as crazy as anyone could assume, you knew the options. He could outright laugh in your face and move away like you were a plague, and it would hurt, but you would understand. 

You kept your eyes locked on his, riding that heartbeat as you waited. You also knew that he could take you up on that offer, dance with you, and who knew what else. And it wasn’t as much as for the mystery, or a challenge, or anything of the like. You didn’t want him for any of those vain reasons. You wanted so much more.

He gave you a short nod and placed your empty glass next to his, with only the ice left. You gave him a cheeky smile before turning to go deeper into the crowd, far away and in the middle so that your best friend wouldn’t see you and advise you to be wise and think twice. What could you tell her; the moment fate challenged you with the chance of meeting him, you instantly lost.

You never turned back to check if he was following, you just assumed he did. You stopped with the flashing lights, sweating bodies, and thrumming music all around you, and you closed your eyes. You wanted his hands on you, his arms around you, his waist so close you’d be indistinguishable. You craved his presence, slick pooling at the thought of it alone.

So when two firm hands grabbed your waist and pulled you back flush against a firm chest, snaking arms holding your stomach and going up your sternum like they owned you, all you could do was free-fall into him, releasing a moan that you knew he could have never heard, but he surely felt.

He hid his nose in your hair, lulling you two to the beat, and you melted against him. He was always a good dancer, the way he rolled his hips to guide yours reminding you of far sweeter times. His hand reached your chest and rested there, and you thanked the dark, the loud music, the crowd, the alcohol, the moment. It was in those moments that the deepest desires came out, hiddenly safely away. Only the two of you knew: how he was brushing his nose and lips on your neck, and how you were grabbing his arms to close around you tighter.

“When did you come back?” His lips were so close to your ear that a wave of shivers ran down your neck.

“Two days ago.”

His arms around you had you losing yourself further and further. You couldn’t care less what the music was or where you were. All you wanted was that chance, and you were greedy.

“Are you alone?”

You sank your nails into his skin, “Youngjoo is here.” He didn’t react, but you knew he would remember your best friend. “Are you?”

You forced the words out of you. You almost didn’t want to know, especially after what the girls were gossiping about. Maybe they were wrong and he was dating someone seriously. But then he would have never been dancing with that girl before, so maybe the rumors were true. And on that end, you had very mixed feelings.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move away either. You loved everything as it was: every inch of his skin glued to yours, his lips ghosting your neck, his hands seconds away from groping you and making you beg.

But eventually, you needed more. You needed an answer. You’d beg, gladly, but not if he had his thoughts on someone else.

So you turned in his arms, the short dress allowing you to easily glue your bodies together as you hid near his ear. “Answer me,” you cooed, brushing his neck with your fingers until you were embracing and grazing his scalp with your nails. You leaned on him, his sweat not bothering you for an instant. It reminded you of what it was like to feel him that close while on his lap. When he would fuck into you, sweetly and strongly until every breath was a moany whimper, and you buried your fingers just like that to keep him close. His delectable scent would invade you then and envelop you tightly in everything Jungkook-related until all there was left was his coarse words tensing the coil in your—

He breathed near your ear, and you froze. But he said nothing, and so you sighed.

“Answer me,” you asked again. This time you nuzzled his ear and pressed yourself even closer, “Tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’re by yourself, that you have no plans, no one waiting at home, and nothing stopping you from doing this,” you let out all your deepest desires, carried out by the close and delirious moment. 

His hand was pressing up your spine and nape as you spoke until it latched onto your hair, but it didn’t pull you away. You had moved by yourself to be as close as you could, breaths fanning each other’s faces as you waited for his reply. 

You waited and longed, and tried not to rub your body flush against that familiar warmth that you were craving like the air you breathed. Unmistakably, your body betrayed you by leaning closer and closer until your noses grazed briefly, and that was when you felt the pull. His hand pulled your head back by your hair, and you opened your glistening eyes, teeth deep into your lower lip with utmost desire, only to find his dark eyes and rigid expression. And that was enough to shake you and put out in the open everything you wished had stayed hidden: he was angry.

Suddenly, you remembered very well the last time you saw him. How much it hurt him, and you. How much of a coward you had been. How much you didn’t deserve a drop of his attention, let alone his time, touch, or warmth. 

He let you go slowly as memories you thought no longer haunted you came rushing back, making you swallow a lump. But you smiled, because how could you not? He was angry, so very clearly, and you deserved it.

Your bodies were finally separated and despite the happiness in your chest at having had the chance to see him, your knees were weak and your legs wobbly. You couldn’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” you voiced, hoping that your expression conveyed how much you meant those words. For now. For before.

And you turned to leave with a deep breath. Were you running away? Yes. In a way, from the anger you created in him and the regret in yourself. From the risk of being rejected head-on, which you knew you had coming. But you were never brave, so you couldn’t face it. You could even agree he deserved to have the pleasure, but you were far too selfish to let him have it. No. You’d remain the bitch who dumped him and couldn’t face the consequences, which was exactly why you were leaving. 

It was chilly outside, but it didn’t matter, you were too hot from all the emotions — the excitement and the shame and regret. You stepped to the street where you knew that among the cars stopping and passing, you’d eventually catch a taxi dropping people off, and took out your phone to text your best friend that you were leaving.

You had just hit send when someone grabbed your arm, and you offered resistance, ready to fight whoever dared to try to grab you and—

Familiar dark eyes faced you back, and you instantly let your body fall to his chest. His jawline was still firm as he clenched it, angry eyes stiffening his face, but you still let yourself get drawn in like a magnet to a polar opposite. You knew he was mad, knew he had reasons to hate you, despise you, treat you worse than the girls he fucked without kissing or acknowledging, but fuck were you—

He stepped back and dragged you along, and you offered no resistance. You had no idea where he was taking you as he walked you down the street tightly by the arm, hiding his grip between you as you walked. You looked up at him, ignoring if you’d trip and fall with such high heels. He looked angry, and you cursed yourself for thinking it looked hot as hell on him. 

He pulled you into a dimly lit back alley that led to a residential area and stopped you just behind a hidden corner hidden by a parked car. Your back hit the wall, and you looked up at him while grabbing the chain strap of your bag over your head so it wouldn’t be in the way. 

That thought repeated itself — he looked hot as hell. You didn’t like that he was angry with you, but that tension on him was sexy as fuck, and you wanted to be the one to relax him. To let him take out his frustration on you until he was vulnerable and sweet like you always remembered him.

Those were the thoughts in your mind when you raised your hands to touch him, but he slapped your hands away harshly. You didn’t have time to react, though because a second later he caged your face in his hands and crashed his mouth to yours, pressing you between him and the wall. 

The cold wall was nothing when you were burning inside out. His mouth was hungry on yours, and you paid him back in kind, getting your tongue to meet his just as eagerly. Your hands gripped his shoulders closely while you tried not to let the lightheadedness get you, but it was too late. All you wanted was happening right now, you’d keep kissing him and reaching for him until the end.

His hands lowered to your curves as his lips trailed down your jawline, and you moaned when he squeezed your chest harshly. You pulled him closer; you wanted it all, and when he humped his erection to your hip, all you could think to do was beg.

“Yes,” you breathed, feeling how hard he was through both your clothes, from head to base. “Fuck me right now. Please.”

His lips quickly came to yours, if to shut you up or not, you couldn’t tell. Either way, he gave you enough space to reach his waist, unbutton his pants and grab his cock firmly. He rutted your hand with wanton groans into your neck, and you felt like the world was yours. If you could have him, then you wouldn’t complain or whine ever again. If that thick cock would stretch you again like you wished so badly, then you’d shut up about everything wrong in this world because absolutely nothing would be wrong ever again.

Maybe he heard your prayers because suddenly he grabbed your hips and tapped them for you to instinctively jump on his lap. You supported yourself on his shoulders while he kissed you and let you play with his lip rings, rolling your tongue over them. Meanwhile, you could feel but not exactly know what he was doing at your waist level in between your two bodies. Only when he put the condom wrap near his mouth so he could rip it open with his teeth did you realize there was a good reason to interrupt your make-out session. 

You let him have his focus while he put it on, lazily brushing your lips over his forehead. He searched for your panties, only to rudely pull them to the side and push himself inside you. You groaned with a hint of a whine at the burn, but soon he made you jump on his lap, shoving his cock fully into you, and you let your head fall back. Fuck, had you missed this.

You didn’t have time to let the pleasure reach every corner of you, but your enjoyment was not cut short. His hips snapped into yours and your chin dropped, eyes hooded when you realized that was how you were going to get him. He did it again, grabbing your shoulder and hip into place, and the corners of your mouth twitched. You almost smiled before biting your lip as he started a paced rhythm that didn’t give you a second’s rest. 

His angry eyes were on you as the slaps echoed into the night along with your stifled moans until you couldn’t care. Who cared if someone found Jungkook fucking your brains out? You wanted him to, dreamed of it, remembered it, had wished on all your lucky stars you would one day get to feel that way again. And now? Fuck if you cared who caught you. That thick cock ramming into you was the sweetest thing—

He grabbed your hair to pull you to kiss him, and you kept on moaning into his mouth. His tongue didn’t meet the reception he wanted, and you blamed the way he was fucking into you so hard you couldn’t even breathe right. Maybe it aggravated him, or it just gave him his next idea, but in a second he was kissing down your neck, which had you grabbing his head close so he would keep going.

Suddenly, he yanked the upper part of your dress and as it didn’t have stripes, the elastic gave in and let the fabric slide. He did the same on the strapless bra, not stopping his hips for a second, until your chest was out in the open, bouncing with every thrust.

He buried his face between your tits, licking and biting for a moment in which you knew you were dripping slick down both him and you. You fucking loved it. Your haze was so up in the clouds, you couldn’t be bothered to come down until he did something that shook your heart.

He tightened your legs around his waist and leaned in a special angle. It allowed him to hold you firmly against the wall and fuck you in a way that rubbed your clit just like you loved it. Instantly, the way he reached deep inside you had you moaning breathlessly. Then he straightened up, carefully perfecting his movements until your mouth was open, and you were jumping on his lap with him to the best of your abilities. He knew he had you in the right spot, you were squirming but desperate to stay close, moaning and completely lost, trying to sink your nails into his skin but weak to the sensations leaving you adrift. He reveled in that, with such pride swelling inside him, he didn’t know what to do with himself aside from grabbing both your tits and squeezing them harshly.

He felt the way you tensed around his cock, and he knew he had you. With every snap of his hips, your eyes closed further, your moans became breathy, and your legs pulled him more in. He knew he could squeeze you to the point it bruised without as much as a whimper, but he stayed clear from doing it, taking pleasure only in the way his cock was so deep inside you that he knew you’d never forget it.

You took your hands to his over your chest, and then it hit you that only he could do you like this. Only he knew every little thing that you liked, only he knew how to grope and squeeze without hurting you, only he knew exactly how to fuck you into oblivion every time. Because it was him.

Fuck, it’s him. After so long—

You tried reaching for him, but your hand dropped to his shoulder as you let the orgasm shake you and steal away your inhibitions if there ever were any. You closed your eyes and felt his body press closer to you, almost as if to hide you from the world, as you moaned and cursed him for releasing you like this. He fucked you through it, then hid in your neck when it came to his climax, grunting and holding you tightly. You grinned and petted his head when he stilled, blissful with having him tucked deep inside you again.

Until he cursed into your neck, and you weren’t sure if it was out of giddiness, delight, relaxation, or relief like it would have been for you, or if it was because he was pissed at himself.

When he let you down a bit more abruptly than you anticipated, you were left with a stronger doubt.

He turned to the side to get rid of the condom, and you took the time to put your bra and dress back in place. When he turned back to face you, you had already grabbed your bag from the floor and were just looking at him. Your lips twitched — he looked so fucking handsome with that spark in his eyes. 

He cursed, then ruffled his hair for a moment before looking at you again, “I’ll take you home.”

You pulled your hair neatly back and pursed your lips, “I’m staying at Youngjoo’s. I don't have a place yet, so we… wouldn’t have privacy.”

He openly snorted, “You're assuming I want seconds.”

You sighed with a light shrug, “Isn't that what we just did?”

His derision fell through as his features hardened again, but you didn't argue. You did what you did and didn't regret it for a second. You were both adults, and he followed you. There was no point in pretending you didn't want each other. That was what you asked for and what he had given you, whether that made him angry or not.

But you didn't want to antagonize him. You gave him a short nod, “It's okay, I can—”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a dry look before giving you a nod to follow him. You considered for a second if you should — if it made him so angry, maybe you shouldn't. But tonight you were giving zero fucks about shouldn’ts. You were doing what you wanted, and what you wanted was your hands on him for as long as possible. 

So when he stopped next to a red motorcycle and opened the seat compartment to get you a helmet, you smirked. You wouldn't tell him, but you missed exactly that — hugging him while he sped between every single obstacle and your hair flowed behind you with the wind. When you were free to go mad fast but remained safe as only he made you feel.

He sat first, putting on his helmet expertly and starting the motor in a well-rehearsed move. You had seen him do it before, when you were still together, but there was a certain magic to it. Even some things changed, he didn’t.

He leaned his head ever so slightly to glance at you, and you smirked, finally getting on behind him and gripping him firmly. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you were feeling daring — and he looked back. He checked on you, despite the derision and silences. You took the small win.

“You remember where Youngjoo lives?” You asked in a bit of a shout as he looked at the road to finally get going.

He didn’t answer you, but seeing the direction he took, you immediately assumed he remembered. And with this, you allowed yourself to lean closer, wrap your arms tighter around his torso, and relax. You inhaled his scent unapologetically by sticking your face into his shoulder; the helmet was big, and he surely felt it. You palmed his chest and torso over his jacket; you hoped he wouldn’t get too distracted. You were petty, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop and get angry with you or snap your hands away. Knowing this was perhaps the last chance you’d ever have to touch him, so you did. Wrong or right, it didn’t matter to you. You’d remember this later and all the little sensations, and you’d be happy you did.

You were lulled by his warm body and the drum of the motor raging on, so you paid little attention to where you were going. All you knew was that when he stopped and pushed a button for a communal garage to open at the foot side of an apartment complex, it was not Youngjoo’s place.

He rode more softly through the cars parked underground until he found his spot and stopped. You didn’t ask questions, you didn’t need to. You stepped out of the bike and handed him your helmet, and he took it and put it back, the both of you quiet. You made sure to remain quiet as you followed him, small as a mouse, into the elevator lobby. Then, you got inside one, and he pressed the seventh floor. Even when the doors closed with only the two of you there, you stayed quiet.

Your mind was roaring on about him bringing you to his place and the only reason he would have to do that. Your chest could have exploded. With every passing minute ever since you laid eyes on him, it felt like you were living a dream. Only in dreams did you think you’d ever have the chance of being near him, so no matter what, you were winging it. Living the moment, even if all of this turned out to be an angry fuck, you’d gladly get on your back.

He typed the code to unlock an apartment door, and you followed him inside. You left your cheekiness outside, in the night, right before you got into the bike and decided to make the most of your time with him. He threw the motorcycle keys on a table you couldn’t see because it was dark and turned on the lights, making you hold your breath. He had moved to that place, that much was certain, but this space didn’t remind you of Jungkook like you expected it to.

You had only taken one step to peep into his home, you meant to turn back and take your shoes off as it was respectful to do, but he was a step ahead. You moved out of the way to switch places with him right after he got his jacket on the hanger, but he had something else in mind. His hands followed you to your waist, and as soon as you looked up, eager lips were searching for yours.

You instantly melted against the wall, hands raising to run through his hair as you let yourself dive into that contentment again. While you were relaxed, he was clearly impatient. His palms traced your curves in wide but quick movements, so firmly you knew you could have already been naked, he was learning the same. His tongue was inside your mouth almost as quickly as his body pressed to yours, stealing your thoughts and any possibility you ever had to change your mind. Not that you would, and you were sure he knew that. Your hands were grabbing him close, your breathing was heavy and dragged, and you weren’t fighting his kiss in the slightest, on the contrary. Your tongue was inviting him and your body was arching to expose more skin. You were taking what you could, and you’d give back whatever he wanted.

But then he broke the kiss and looked down, forcing you to stop as well. You looked at him under wanton fluttering lashes, only to find him with that same stiff and reticent expression you had seen before. 

Your first heartbeat stung — you could guess why he was hesitating, and there was nothing you could do about it now.

The second revolted you — you were there, weren’t you? In his house? He brought you here, so why worry? Why hesitate? Why overthink?

The third got you annoyed — if he was that hesitant, why bring you there in the first place? Why bother?

The fourth riled you up, and that was when you spoke, “What’s wrong?”

He refused to look up at you, but never moved away.

His breathing was calming down, and you spoke without thinking, “Changed your mind?”

His eyes finally moved to yours and you saw his anger. And again, like a well-rehearsed exercise, all you could think was how you were right there.

“I’m here,” you said quietly, reaching for the curling strands of hair behind his ear.

He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the corner of your lips, and you knew he was forcing himself to stay like this.

“I can leave,” he finally said. “You can sleep here, and I can leave.”

“Why?”

He finally looked up at your eyes as you let your head fall back to the wall.

“This is your place, why leave?”

His jaw tensed, and you could swear you saw a vein pulsing.

You sighed, “You brought me here, so here I am. What do you want to do? Fuck me until morning? Gladly. Just sleep? I’m sure you have a big bed. Drink until we pass out? I’m down. Talk?” His eyebrows twitched, and she nodded, “Not sure how that would work, but we can. Or not. I won't say another word if you don’t want me to. Just stop this internal struggle of yours. Do what you want to do.”

You were as comfortable as could be between him and the wall and just waited for his decision. Your eyes stayed on his pensive expression, taking in the little details before lowering to his wide shoulders and biceps. He was definitely more buff, and you wondered if it changed things a lot or—

“You can shower first.”

He backed away from you, and you couldn’t help your expression sobering up. He looked almost apologetic, hiding something deep inside while showing you something you could only call a mask.

But you knew him. All those women thirsting after him, wishing they could make him smile and fall for them, didn’t know him like you did. For better or worse, all they had were rumors while you had memories.

So you nodded and walked towards the bathroom, but not before turning around midway, “Please don’t leave.”

The look you gave him was enough — pleading, whereas his eyes flickered with an emotion you had not yet seen on him tonight. But even if you wanted to press it and ask, you didn’t. At the end of the day, it was still his choice, and you were well aware of it.

You took a calming shower, cleaning the sweat and alcohol from your skin with a shower gel that smelled of him, and wondered what your next step should be. You ended up deciding that if he had left despite your request, you would call a taxi and go back to Youngjoo’s. You honestly hoped as you toweled yourself that he would tell you to leave and be clear about it, instead of leaving to give you space at the expense of his comfort.

You glanced around the bathroom and ignored your discarded dress and heels in the corner, searching for something else instead. Your eyes fell on a black tee thrown over the laundry basket, but that didn’t quite make it in. You grabbed it and brought it to your nose, shutting your eyes instantly with a longing scrunch of your face — it smelled of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the mess of feelings that his very existence created in you, but the tears in your eyes were enough.

You quickly put it on, looking at yourself in the mirror. He always enjoyed oversized clothes, which on you looked like two of you could fit. Your lips curved as you smoothed the fabric over your stomach, his scent gracing your senses every time you took a breath. Nothing beat that comfort.

You turned to leave the bathroom and hoped to find Jungkook still there. You hoped he’d let you keep the tee, though you wouldn’t be opposed to taking it off if it would be replaced with his strong arms—

The scent of coffee hit your nose quickly once in the living room, and your brow furrowed. Not because it was coffee, Jungkook liked coffee, but because when you neared the kitchen, your guts twisted. On the counter, you saw a fuming mug, and the cinnamon smell instantly teared you up. That plus the bottle of soy milk and the honey pot pushed to the back told you many things: he had those things he never really drank before lying around, he remembered your favorite latte, and he made it for you.

Your eyes jumped to his back; he was looking outside the kitchen window and by the intense coffee scent around him, you knew before he turned that he was having a black espresso.

He looked at you and your guts turned; all you could do was look into his eyes while your fingers gripped the hem of his shirt on you. You were tearing up in a way you couldn’t control, everything was too much. He didn’t leave. You were there, in his life, in his home, wearing his clothes, about to have your favorite drink that he prepared for you because he still remembered how. That meant he had to care, even if just a little, and you didn’t know what to say but—

Your chin trembled, but before you voiced anything, he finished his coffee, put the empty cup in the sink, and passed you to enter the bathroom. The door merely clicked closed, and you covered your eyes, trying to reel your emotions back in. You neared the counter to grab your coffee and as soon as the taste hit your tongue, your heart shook, creasing lines between your eyebrows as you teared up.

You didn’t want to have hope, but your stupid heart was turning a deaf ear. You never had hope before; you knew you fucked up and never handled things properly. Just for the way you hurt him, you knew you didn’t deserve any kindness. You scoffed at yourself and drank more to have the comfort of that warmth down your chest as if it came straight from him. You knew, and it made no sense, but you were still there, and you were willing to delude yourself for a moment longer.

So you took the mug and the opportunity to look around while you heard the shower faintly in the background. His place was bigger now, and you looked around with a smile on your face. He had the same black leather couch, the same gray bean bag, and the same shoebox by the entrance. The fact that he had a projector screen instead of a TV made you smile; he spoke for ages about wanting to do that if he ever moved out of his previous place. But as you took in the rest of the apartment, your smile broke a little.

On the corner, there was a barbell weight set, dumbbells, a pull-up bar, and resistance bands. He used to work out before, but now you knew why he looked bigger — he definitely worked out more now. You pursed your lips with the sweet latte comforting you as you sipped it slowly; you didn’t want to think about why he was making that effort.

You moved on to take a look at his desk, interested in what he was working on, and you stilled. He still had his gaming keyboard, mouse, and desktop, but now he had books about photography on the desk. He always liked photography and filmmaking, but the new camera and microphone spoke volumes about what he was working on at the moment. You searched around for the easel he’d always have with a recent work in progress or his sketch notebook, but you couldn’t find them, and so you pressed your lips. You loved it when he sketched you, always when you least expected it, showing you beautiful versions of yourself you only started believing because of him.

You finished the coffee, eager for the sweet trace to link you back to him. You wondered what happened to—

You turned when you heard the bathroom door open; you never noticed he had stopped showering. Your thoughts tripped over themselves at the sight of him: wet raven hair ruffled by a towel long abandoned somewhere, dark eyes set on you as if he wanted to make sure he was seeing right, soft golden skin covering wide shoulders and big arms, and chest, leading to firm abs that were always there, but not as marked. Your eyes lowered, but the black towel was hanging on to his hip like you could only envy.

You raised your eyes to find him serious, looking at you; tense features on a tense body. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, waving the empty mug before placing it down on the kitchen counter. You swallowed a lump at the view of him walking towards you, despite his demeanor. “It’s my favorite—”

You weren’t startled when he grabbed your head and crashed his mouth to yours. You were praying for it to happen, and the burn running down your chest from the way your mouths tried to consume one another had you melting instantly. You wanted him, you weren’t hiding it, and whatever way he wanted to touch you worked as long as he did. As long as those lips pressing yours covered all of you. As long as his tongue fighting yours spelled your pleasure at his whim, while his fingers pressed marks only he could trace on you.

Your hands moved to those wide shoulders that had your knees wobbly, and he pushed them away before forcing your head up to face him better. He wanted your focus on your kiss only, and you didn’t mind, but the temptation to grab him and scratch him was overriding your senses. You tried again, but this time he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you with him. You gripped his shoulders for support, finally sinking your nails in the soft muscle just as he nibbled your bottom lip.

Your ass hit something and when he pushed you to get on it, you just briefly freed one hand to throw whatever was on the dining table behind you off. You moaned with the bites he was leaving down your neck, while you focused on keeping him close with your legs wrapped around him. He fumbled with the tee shirt to get his hands on you and quickly grabbed your chest in a push-and-squeeze motion that had you moaning and humping him. Fuck, you missed this. No one could ever mess you up like he could, you always turned into a whimpering wet mess with him.

He scratched down your stomach to your hips, squeezing them harshly, then pulled away. He grabbed the hem of the shirt, and you raised your arms instantly to let him strip you.

The, he stepped back and threw the shirt on the floor, hungry dark eyes observing you from head to toe.

“Fuck, look at you.”

A subtle line showed between your eyebrows; his tone was abrasive in a way you weren’t familiar with. But the way he got back between your legs while getting on his knees was in line with what you knew. He, in a praying position, tracing your skin with open-mouthed kisses while he groped and scratched every inch of you, was one of the reasons you couldn’t forget him. You couldn’t let go of what it felt like to be desired by that man. The thought alone had you wet and whimpering, the only difference was that now you’d experience it again after only dreams and hopes.

His mouth kept tracing kisses on your inner thighs, just like he knew would drive you crazy, but you didn’t whine about it. No, you wanted it to last. Whatever he’d give to you, you wanted it. You weren’t beyond begging, but you wouldn’t just with a little bit of torture. No, you knew how that mouth could move on you, how his tongue could lap at the perfect rhythm. You could wait for perfection.

He slapped your ass on one side, opening your leg further with a whimper from you. He repeated the motion on the other side, and only then did you notice you were squeezing him between your legs. It made you smirk as you looked down — you could see his dark eyes with a few wet hair strands over them, the hint of teeth as he grazed your sensitive inner thighs. He could spank you all he wanted; you wanted him to. So you smiled and pressed your lips, clearly telling him that you’d keep your mouth shut.

He bit down, getting a deep moan from you. You were clenching around nothing, dripping with slick, and you were sure he noticed.

“Since when are you so patient?”

He sounded annoyed, and you giggled wantonly, so fucking amused you couldn’t help it. “I’m patient when it’s worth it.” You could feel his hands pressing your skin, going to the swell of your ass to squeeze, and you nearly sighed. “I wouldn’t dare to rush perfection.”

He scoffed but dropped his mouth on you instantly, having all your cockiness evaporating on the spot. He ate you like only he did, grabbing your squirmy self still while he made out with you. His tongue lapped at your clit in a fixed rhythm that you couldn’t explain, and seconds later you released every square inch of air from inside your lungs with a deep moan. He knew you liked a stable, slow rhythm, but keeping your thighs in place was irking you. It was right there! If only he’d let you move. Just a centimeter right— No! Just one or two to the left, and you’d be lost to those sensations you hadn’t felt in months.

You whimpered, but you couldn’t talk while he did that to you. You reached for his hands on your hips and squeezed them, both looking for support and for a way to be free. His humming to your core had you sucking in a breath, but what broke you were his words.

“Stay still, bubbles. Let me get you there.”

He licked you faster in a way that had you whimpering and tensing up like a coil about to spring. Every lap of his tongue increased your tension, pitched your moan, and stole your breath, to a point you thought you’d explode. You sat up and grabbed his hair, ecstatic. It was him with his face half buried in you, eating you, getting you there, calling you by your pet name like nothing changed.

That thought alone pushed you to the edge, and you hopped on the train. Steadily and surely, Jungkook would take you there, just like he promised. Just like you wished.

So you started moaning louder, half derailed, “Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so good.” You could barely breathe, but you wanted him to know how much you loved this. “Take me there, please, I’m—”

Your voice broke because you suddenly were cold. You were panting and shocked, but your first instinct was to look down at him and loosen up your grip on his hair.

“Are you okay?”

He faced you quietly, with your slick covering his nose, mouth, and chin while his digits dug into your hips. Your worry clouded your judgement, having your hand brush his cheek in search of an answer that only came when he stood up and turned away. Then, you blinked to reality and looked down and around. You were confused. Not because he stopped, but because he insisted on staying quiet and to himself.

You got up and were about to speak your mind when you saw that the towel had fallen to the ground. That gave you the impulse to walk up to him and look down shamelessly — he was so hard, he was pointing at you. You raised your eyes and found his on yours, darker than before. He was tense and angry, that was clear, but he was hard, having rubbed his hand over his face to clean your slick off him. But then, why was he licking his lips and his lip rings, where your taste was probably stronger?

You took a deep breath and placed your hands firmly on his shoulders, pushing him steadily. He let you, walking back until his calves hit the sofa. You tapped his shoulders once and he sat down. His hands were on your hips and started tracing circles absentmindedly, and you leaned closer to pet his hair. His sweet caresses were enough to soothe you, to become sure of something you weren't sure you had the right to be sure of. But it didn't matter — he chose the wrong night to be indecisive. You were willing to choose for you both.

You kissed his head before getting on your knees in between his legs. He gave you a dark cold stare and with anyone else you might have cowered, but not with him. You waited a moment with your hands over his legs, but he never gave you clear permission, incentive, or rejection. So you took the option that suited you best and leaned in.

You trailed your lips over his soft and built thighs, kneading the firmness with a whimper caught in your throat. You kissed closer and closer, releasing sighs left and right and paying little to no mind to what he would think of you for it. You both had always been like this: crazy for one another, praising and worshiping as quickly as you would use and abuse. You had never had another relationship like it, before or after, and to say you missed it would be an understatement.

But you weren’t going to sob over past mistakes right now. No, what mattered now was to not make a stupid mistake like not kissing, licking, and scratching every inch of him until he either begged or complained, or you lost it.

You moved ever so closer to his crotch but stopped by his balls first, giving them wide-tongued licks that had him sighing. You glanced up to see his eyes closed, with wet hair dripping down his shoulders; the first hint of relaxation from him. That’s it, you coed in your mind. Fuck, did you miss seeing him falling apart. You craved it and you’d make it happen.

You kept licking and kissing, and as you moved up his shaft, it occurred to you that it didn’t matter that you hadn’t cum. It didn’t matter that he had given up, or even why. You weren't opening your mouth around his tip and licking it with hunger because you wanted something in return.

You moaned as soon as his taste hit your buds, and your thoughts became a blur. Your head bobbed mindlessly, and you drooled all over him, using the expanse of your tongue on his tip, taking whatever you could no matter how because you fucking missed it. That taste, that hardness, the hand that came to grip your hair but remained light as a feather, until finally, you looked up. His eyebrows were knit in pleasure with his mouth agape, tongue peaking through, and licking his lip ring while grabbing your head in a firm yet loving gesture — that was it, the prize. He was finally relaxed as you bobbed your head and drooled all over him, and the perspective of making him weak exhilarated you in a way that had you going harder, firmer, stronger. You didn’t notice, but you were breathing in between his cock touching your throat, your cheeks stayed hollowed, and your hand accompanied your every move over his shaft while you played with his balls. When his precum invaded your mouth, all your thoughts went out the door.

You gripped his cock firmer and moaned all over it, adjusting your posture to focus even better. Fuck, did you want his taste in your mouth. You touched yourself to the thought of it before, of him, but now being there on your knees with his grunts finally adoring your ears, your focus was all on him. You could come later to the memory of that very moment, all he had to do was let go and shoot warm ropes of cum down your throat.

But he recoiled and guided your head away. You had no idea if he pulled your hair, but you knew he never asked you to stop. The only sounds out of his mouth were grunts of pleasure, and you had seen his face — he was on cloud nine. He liked it, he was weak for it, for you and the way you did it, so why?

You looked up, an arched eyebrow quizzically raised, but he had his bicep covering his eyes while his chest heaved up and down. You were done with him stripping away everything you wanted from you, so you got up and got on his lap with a knee on either side of him. You thought he might have shooed you away or told you to get off, but no. His hands went instantly to support your hips, and you were even more irked.

“Why?”

He opened his eyes and the stiffness was back to his pleasant features. That had you pouting with tears in your eyes. Maybe you could figure out why, but you didn’t care — you leaned forward and brushed his cheek gently. He brought you there, and he wasn’t rejecting you. It was time he made a decision.

“Why push me away?” You insisted, letting your nail graze his sweet cheek gently. He recognized that tone in your voice, and that was why he answered.

“I was about to cum.”

“So?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes only hardened, and you looked down at his erect cock between you. There were so many things you could say, and so many paths to choose from. You could get angry, whiny, blow him anyway, ride him, and you considered every option. But you kept reverting to that anger behind those beautiful dark eyes. And as you both faced each other, you knew why he was mad — because you hurt him the year before. Because what you were doing was maybe a source of conflict, it sure could have been for you as well if you didn’t still…

Well.

Your expression softened as you pressed your lips to his forehead, “Take it out on me.”

He didn’t move or respond, and you just dragged your lips soothingly over his skin in small peppered kisses.

“Please,” you whispered. “Take it all out on me. I want you to.” You dragged your nails up his neck, and he leaned his head forward. “I need you to.”

His hands gripped your waist as he seemed to hide in your chest, and you sat closer to him. You petted his beautifully longer hair, still, and sighed when he pressed your lower back to keep you close. You smiled and kissed his head, taking that as a yes. So you waited like that until he decided how he would do it.

Your answer came when he glued his mouth to your chest and started nibbling down until he caught a nipple. You didn’t hide your sigh — he was a tits kind of guy, and he always loved yours, worshiping them in every sense of the word. And you had always loved him for it, and for the way he could leave you a moaning mess with his attention exclusively there.

So you hissed and sighed, with his mouth, tongue, and teeth driving you insane. To return the favor, you reached down in between your bodies and found his rock-hard dick. Your spit hadn’t dried yet, so you jerked him off gently through your pitched moans.

You could feel him twitching in your hand. You knew he loved your tits and got lost in licking and biting them. You knew he got crazy when you played with him at the same time, playing with his weakness while truthfully wanting nothing more than for him to play with all of you.

So you leaned down by his ear. “Come on,” you whispered in a low tone. “Take it out on me. Do it.” You gripped him a bit harder, earning a stronger bite from him that had you instantly hissing and clenching around nothing. “I want to feel you.” Your hand never stopped, and he seemed to be listening to you — only his tongue was moving. “Hard. Deep. Fuck it all out on me.”

You buried your nose in his hair and waited, never stopping your hand on him. You preferred if he fucked you senseless, but even jerking him off would be nice if that was his mood.

But you doubted it was, and indeed, it wasn’t. He let go of your abused nipple and faced you for a second. He didn’t comment on anything you said, he only grabbed you firmly by the hips and stood up, taking you with him.

You gasped mutely and hugged him strongly, only to realize that he was carrying you without an ounce of effort. He was truly stronger, which could mean he would fuck you harder—

He dropped you on his bed, making you whimper, and your tits bounce around, then he moved away. You sat up, worried about him just leaving, but then you tilted your head. He was adjusting a full-body mirror that was purposefully facing another wall to show the bed. You saw your reflection on it and mused over why he had that mirror set like that and took the time to change it. 

He neared you while rolling a condom, and you looked at him, breath slowing with the perspective of what would happen now. He traced a hand down your hip, and you laid back, but he immediately gripped both your sides and turned you around. You puffed, half annoyed, half melting at being handled like that, and got on all fours for him. You thought he’d toy with you and you’d patiently wait for what you wanted most, but he didn’t. He instantly put his cock at your entrance, and you groaned, gripping the sheets with the desire burning through you.

“You want it?” His tone was quiet but sure, almost cold. His hand struck your ass, but you only gave him a gentle moan. “Get it then.”

You bit your lip and moved back, opening your mouth with the familiar stretch that had you curling your toes. You went slowly, thankful for his resistance that allowed his cock to brave more and more, inch by inch, until you were full. You knew he wasn’t totally in, and he reminded you by jerking his hips once until he bottomed out. You gave him a little whine and he chuckled.

“There. Didn’t think you had forgotten how I fucked you earlier, but I’ll remind you.”

He snapped his hips into yours, and you knew he wouldn’t be gentle, but you didn’t care. He was doing what you asked, finally connected to you, giving you the pleasure of your dreams. It didn’t matter if he was treating you roughly, you asked for it. You wanted it, you needed it. Him, his anger, anything he would give you.

“Look at you,” he grunted before gripping your ass better. “I haven’t even started.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head to face him through the mirror. You gave zero fucks about how vulnerable you were, needy, greedy, whimpering, and begging for more even though you knew how much more could come. No, you looked at him. At his focused expression, telling you this wasn’t as easy as he made it seem. At his flexed abs, tense thighs, and buff biceps. At his hand on your ass, squeezing. At his eyes moving from yours to verify your position — not only if you looked good, but at your knees and elbows sliding. For your comfort. It had to be, right?

You were tucked in his grip, so when he went harder, you had nowhere to go. You took his hips slapping against you and moaned loudly, abandoned to the feeling that only he fucking you could tear out of you.

“Can’t take it?” His voice was mocking. “How’s that?” You couldn’t coherently answer. “Are you that desperate for a proper dicking?” 

“Wasn’t that what you did before?”

You barely got it out, but he heard you, not stopping for a second. “Clearly wasn’t enough. Your boyfriend must be doing a really sloppy job.”

His voice was tense. You wondered if bitterness was in the mix, but you were too high to think about it.

“No boyfriend. Maybe that’s the problem.”

His hand struck your ass so hard, you whimpered a cry. But in a second, he was rubbing that area and gripping you closer, fucking you harder. It made you see stars, and you couldn’t get enough.

“So whiny,” he grunted, “so needy.” 

You scoffed. He was the one fucking you as hard as possible.

“Do you always moan like that?” You felt his nails on your ass cheeks. “Any cock can get that noise out of you.”

You grinned, “No, only yours can.” You expected another slap, but it didn’t come. “Never met anyone who can fuck me like you.”

He smacked the other ass cheek harshly and gripped you so hard that the constant hit of his cock deep inside you almost short-circuited your brain.

“But you searched.”

He was speaking between gritted teeth, but you were in no condition to notice. “So did you. Fucked how many right here, on this bed?”

He smacked your ass again, but looking through the mirror, you could see he wasn’t just angry now. His eyes were closed as if in pain. But you were too riled up to stop.

“Looking for what? Any thigh cunt?” He was getting sloppy, and you couldn’t shut up. “Or did you really think anyone else could get you this desperate?” You fucked yourself on his cock against his rhythm, and you could swear he growled. But who cared, he was snapping his hips to yours again. “Why so quiet?” His hand striking your ass had you arching for him, but not quieting down. “Tell me. Do you cream yourself this easily with—”

He pulled your hair, forcing your back to arch and take him deeper. Your mouth opened, instantly melting in ways only he could cause, until you shivered when you felt him near your ear.

“No.” You opened your eyes in his silence to find him looking at you through the mirror. If your opened mouth spelled how deep he was buried inside you, then his eyes told of how desperate he was. “Only you do this to me. Only you drive me this fucking crazy.”

He connected his nose to your shoulder despite ramming into you wildly, and grunted together with you. You couldn’t stifle your moans, your curses, or your prayers. But you yelped when suddenly he let you go and rolled you over. He got between your legs and immediately slid inside, earning a sigh from you and a plea.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders and leaned down over you, seeing your eyes widen. You extended your hands, what for you weren’t certain, but he grabbed them and pressed them to the mattress on either side of your head.

His hips restarted their rocking and you moaned desperately. You squirmed, and moaned, and said his name, and begged, and squeezed his hands, and all the while he never stopped fucking you. He was sweating, it was dripping over you, but you couldn’t care. All that mattered was that he was as deep as possible inside you, torturing you with how good it felt, and you were there for it. Loving every moment.

“Fuck— You’re so deep—”

“You like it?”

His tone was gentle, almost as if he wished for nothing but to please you. You were lost. You wished for nothing else but him.

“Yes— Yes—”

You were desperate, at the edge of your emotions with tears in your eyes, and he saw it. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” Your answer was instantaneous, at the end of a moan. “You, fuck, please, you, just you—”

“I’m here.”

You gripped his hands and anxiety crossed your features for a moment, “Please.”

He kissed you, relenting his rhythm, only to whisper to your lips, “I’m here, bubbles.”

You opened your teary eyes to look at him, and your heart shook. His eyes were sweet despite the pleasure and effort mingling in his features. He was looking at you, really looking, really seeing you, and he was there. He wasn’t taking it out on you anymore, he was really with you, like he once was. 

You didn’t want to delude yourself, but the way he continued, staying close to your face to peck your lips and your cheeks, was swelling your heart too much to be contained. You moved with him, lulled by that movement you longed for too long. That thought alone got you on the right tangent, and you made sure to tell him through moans, looks, and your hands in his. He nuzzled you, sweat dripping down, and answered every plea and moan with signs of his own pleasure.

You let it grow inside you until you knew you couldn’t be contained, and neither did you want it to. You opened your mouth to tell him and nothing came out, but he got it.

“Cum with me.”

He grunted his words before kissing you, and you whimpered and moaned your overwhelming pleasure without breaking away. He groaned into your mouth and pressed your lips firmly when you were both done, panting, sweaty, and spent.

You didn’t think about what would happen after that; truthfully, you wished time would stop. For a moment you believed it could be true — he stayed inside you with his mouth on your neck, just suckling as you enjoyed his weight over you. You were drifting away, so utterly relaxed, happy, and fulfilled.

Until he pulled away and your heart cracked.

You couldn’t open your eyes immediately, you weren’t ready to face it again, not after the way you were just together. But when you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised.

Jungkook looked tired and sleepy, but that was it. He was extending his hand for you and you grabbed it. He pulled you up and dragged you to the bathroom, pointing at the toilet and turning to handle the condom. You peed, but your mind latched onto nothing, you didn’t want to ruin that bliss.

He took your hand again and pulled you back to bed, opening the sheets before pushing you gently with an arm around your waist. You sighed and leaned back into him. He held you into his chest as he covered you both with a sheet, and you could swear that it was all a dream. All of it.

[Next part>]

[smileysuh]

ice cold, cabin fever - part 1

🌙 staring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. "come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom."

cw/ tw. threesome, daddy issues, mean/tsundere cheol, wet dreams, spanking, marking, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, pain kink, dacryphilia, breast play, praise, degradation, fingering, oral, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, size kink, cumplay, finger sucking, spit roasting, hair pulling, voyeurism, I petnames. (hers) princess, bitch, whore, baby (s.coups) cheol, douche, dick, daddy (mingyu) gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 25.9k

🍭 aus. e2l, s2l, step brothers Jihan, non idol, ski resort, roomies, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. so when I tell you I know practically nothing about skiing... also, the recent soop episodes have been giving gyucheol and jihan and I'm dying. I other inspo: 🙂 🙂 🙂 I pls note. this fic has so much dialogue, it exceeds the number of paragraphs allowed in a tumblr post, so it will be split into 2 parts posted at the same time I read the whole thing in one post + the bonus by subscribing to my patreon and clicking here

Prologue: 

“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” Jeonghan says as he enters the main area of the flat he shares with his brother and two best friends.

Three sets of eyes turn to him, and it’s Joshua who takes a shot in the dark and asks, “Did you get chlamydia again?”

“Aish, fuck off,” Jeonghan picks up a pillow to launch at his brother, “I just got off the phone with mom you idiot.”

“Ouch, since when are you telling mommy about your STI results?” Seungcheol teases, earning himself a pillow as well, that he easily bats out of the air.

“Tell us,” Mingyu urges seriously, “what did your mom say?”

“Only that our new step-sister decided to join us for the destination wedding, super last minute,” Jeonghan explains, taking a seat next to the youngest and sweetest of his friends.

“Did your mom tell her that they already gave up the cabin?” Seungcheol’s heart drops to his stomach, thoughts of powdered snow and skiing swirling on the periphery of his mind.

“Fuck if I know,” Jeonghan shrugs. “She sounds like a bit of a bitch if I’m being honest- sorry Gyu, but it looks like you’ll be giving up your bed.”

“We’re sharing a cabin with her?” The maknae’s jaw drops.

“Well she’s definitely not staying with us,” Joshua stiffens in his seat, “I don’t know what weird step-sibling porn you’re into Gyu, but we’re not that kind of family.”

“Listen,” Seungcheol leans forward, eager to keep the peace, “none of us have met her before- but your mom really likes her dad- let’s just hope she’s as nice as he is… I really doubt she’s a bitch. If it comes down to it, I can give up my bed, there’s a pullout in the cabin too, right? We’ll make it work.”

The glances all four men exchange betray how unsure they all are, and Seungcheol only wishes he was as positive as he makes himself out to be. 

1: Thursday - Arrival

“Y/n! You made it!” your dad’s excitement should be contagious, but as you haul your suitcase into the lobby of the ski resort, you’re much too exhausted to mirror his attitude.

In fact, you’d bet you look exactly how you feel; done with this vacation before it’s even started.

Despite this, you accept the hug from your dad, trying to relax a little before he lets you go again. “Was your flight very long?”

“Too long,” you sigh, taking a deep breath before returning his question with “and you?”

“Too long,” your dad laughs. “But you can rest easy now, the hard part is over.”

Is it? 

“I’m so excited for you to meet Suelki,” he continues, “and her two sons.” 

“I’m excited too,” you really force a smile this time, trying your best to look sincere.

“Good,” your dad nods, beginning to lead you through the resort. “So listen, this trip is kind of like my honeymoon- so we really don’t expect to be seeing that much of you- Suelki and I have a suite in the actual hotel itself, but I think I mentioned to you over the phone that we booked two of the rustic cabins-”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” your grip on your suitcase handle tightens.

“Because you originally said you wouldn’t be coming, we gave the second cabin up to Suelki’s boys’ roommates- and unfortunately, the entire resort is booked up this week, so we couldn’t get you your own room.”

“Right-” He’d mentioned something along these lines during your quick phonecall when you’d changed your mind about coming on the trip, and you’re eager to see what fix he has for this.

“Each cabin had a pullout though, so you’ll be staying in one of them, and whether it’s with Suelki’s boys’ or their friends, I really hope you use this trip to get to know your new step brothers.”

Your mouth feels dry, heart jittering in your chest at the concept of sharing a cabin for a week with two boys- 

“The wedding is on Saturday,” your dad and you have reached a door leading outside; icy air hits your face when he opens it. “And the cabins you’re looking for are the last two down this road here- cabin 6 and cabin 7. Just follow the string lights-”

“Are you-” you swallow. “You’re not going to take me out to where I’m staying?” You tighten your grip on your heavy luggage, eying the snowy path.

“Sorry darling, but your plane was late, and you’ve arrived at a bad time- Suelki and I have massages scheduled in-” he checks his watch, “ten minutes? I really have to go- but you’re a strong, capable girl, you’ll find the cabins no problem.”

This is exactly the type of behaviour from your father that you’re used to. 

Part of you had expected something to be different- you’d been hoping that the wedding jitters would make him more inclined to be compassionate to you- but it looks like he’s as intent on letting you go about it yourself as he’s ever been.

After your long flight, and now this- you’re really questioning if you should have come on this trip at all.

2: Thursday - Arrival

“Joshie, come look at this,” Jeonghan urges, holding his tea tighter while gazing out the small cabin window.

“What is it?” his brother sighs, putting down his book but remaining seated on the couch.

“Some girl is dragging her suitcase up the path.” 

He can’t help but snicker. With the road covered in snow for the winter season, accessing the cabins isn’t the easiest task in the world. 

Having been here before, the brothers had packed accordingly, and carrying their duffles had been substantially easier than the struggle Jeonghan is currently witnessing. 

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Now Joshua stands up.

“She’s coming to the door- shit-” Jeonghan pulls away from the window roughly, and hot liquid spills over the edge of his mug, making contact with his fingers. “Shit!” he shakes his hand out-

“Must be the step sister?” Joshua suggests, ignoring the elder man tending to his reddening skin. 

“Must be,” Jeonghan hisses, putting his tea down just as there’s a knock on the door.

The elder of the two takes a seat on the couch, pulling his hoodie sleeve down to cover his hand while Joshua answers the door. 

“Hi-” your voice carries into the small space, and Jeonghan silently urges Joshua to move to the side so he can get a better look at you. “Are you Jeonghan?”

“No, Joshua,” he shifts, allowing you to see into the cabin, “that’s Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan lifts his unharmed hand, wiggling his fingers at you and offering a smile. 

His eyes quickly take you in, assessing your cute outfit- and its lack of weather appropriateness. He finds himself stifling a laugh again, shaking his head to snap himself out of it before saying loudly, “Aren’t you going to let our new step-sister in?”

You look like a bunny entering a wolf’s den, and you stop just past the threshold, allowing the door to be closed behind you.

“I guess you guys know about the cabin situation?” Your first words aren’t something Jeonghan had particularly expected from you-

You’re much more forward than your appearance gives you credit for, and he begins to wonder if his little bunny has teeth. 

“Cabin situation?” Joshua comes to join Jeonghan on the couch, reaching for his book.

“Yeah-” you swallow, “I heard my cabin got given up to two of your friends?”

“Right, that cabin situation,” Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances, and they leave space for you to continue.

“I was thinking,” you shift awkwardly on your feet, a chunk of snow shifts off your boot and onto the wood floor, “uh- you guys aren’t really going to make me share a cabin with two of your friends, right?” 

“What do you mean?” Joshua cocks his head, and Jeonghan leans back in his seat, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him.

“Just that-” you release a deep sigh. “Guys- I’m going to be honest, I’m really tired- is there no possible way one or even both of your friends could- I don’t know… crash in this cabin with you guys?”-  there’s a beat of silence, Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances - “like, that’s a pullout couch, right? So- at least one could stay here-”

Joshua opens his mouth to respond, but Jeonghan places a hand on his knee to silence him, taking the lead in these new family negotiations; “You might be able to convince one of them to stay here,” he tells you, “but I doubt you’d be more comfortable alone with a strange man you’ve never met, than you would be having two.”

“I mean…” you look between your new step-siblings, “these guys are your friends, right? It’s not like they’re going to- erm… try anything?”

“You’re right,” Jeonghan nods sympathetically, “let’s go over there and you can see which one you prefer to spend a week alone with.”

You shift again, releasing a groan. “I know we just met- but I’ve gotta say, you’re a bit of an asshole, you know that?”

Jeonghan laughs.

“He’s right though,” Joshua sighs. “As unfortunate as it is that your cabin got given up, there’s no chance both of our friends are going to give up their beds to sleep on a pullout in here with us.” He stands up. “I saw you were struggling with your bag earlier- I’ll carry it for you, we can go to the next cabin over and discuss the situation with Cheol and Mingyu-”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you open the door, holding your suitcase tightly, “I’m a big girl, I’ll handle this myself.”

The new brothers watch you leave the cabin, and then Joshua heads to the window, eyes following you as you trudge down the path back to the main road again. 

“Is she still struggling?” Jeonghan asks.

Joshua lets out something between a laugh and a sigh, then he nods. “She’s really struggling.”

3: Thursday - Arrival

“Is that your stomach growling?” Cheol groans, distracted from the Christmas film he’s watching for what must be the third time-

“I’m sorry-” Mingyu whines, hand rubbing his tummy in slow circles, “you know how I get when we go skiing-”

“Then eat more at dinner next time,” the elder man snaps, grabbing the remote to turn the sound up in the hopes it will drown out his friend’s stomach, “and make some ramen or something.”

“I’m too lazy, I can’t get up,” the large man sprawled on the couch groans, his voice switching to something more on the girly side when he says “oppa, make me ramen? We can have Netflix and ramen?”

“Aish-” Seungcheol reaches out to bat his friend’s foot.

Mingyu is the baby of their apartment back home, and all three of the men born in 95 try not to make a habit of indulging him in maknae privileges. In fact, Mingyu often ends up being the one who cooks and cleans, but Seungcheol will never admit that to anyone.

“Stop complaining and watch your movie,” Seungcheol urges, eyes returning to the screen, where Jim Carrey’s Grinch is having a similar meltdown to Mingyu’s.

A knock at the door stuns both men, their heads whipping towards the sound- then Mingyu is jumping off the couch, as if he wasn’t just claiming to be a lazy bum less than a minute ago. 

“Who is it?” Cheol groans, leaning back against the pillows, stretching his tired arms out in front of him. 

He’s never going to get through this movie if there keeps being distractions-

“Shh- it’s a girl-” Mingyu’s whispered response is another shock to Cheol’s system, and he suddenly finds himself sitting up in his seat.

“Well, answer the door!” he whispers back.

Mingyu follows through with the command, and a moment later he’s greeting you with a “Hello?”

“Uh, hi? Are you… Cheol?” 

“No,” Mingyu steps to the side, “he is.”

Seungcheol blinks at you, taking you in.

He’s definitely never met you before, so how is it you know his name- 

How is it you know the name that only his friends use?

“Then that makes you… Mingyu?” 

You’re not even looking at Seungcheol anymore, your eyes have slipped over him and returned to the large man in front of you faster than Cheol can even clock-

“That’s right,” Mingyu nods, then, “wait! You must be the step-sister!”

“That’s me,” you sigh. “The step-sister.”

“Come in,” Mingyu urges you, “and let me take your bag, I bet you’re tired from your flight-”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, setting the remote down. It’s unlikely he’ll be returning to the movie anytime soon, and he supposes he should be friendly with you- despite his exhaustion from a long day on the slopes.

“Did you drag your suitcase all the way through the snow?” Mingyu asks, blatantly bewildered at your behavior. 

“Uh huh,” you nod, closing the door behind you and reaching down to take off your boots.

“No one helped you?” Mingyu’s tone makes the whole thing seem like blasphemy, and Cheol watches the way he fusses over you, setting your bag at the foot of his bed before rushing to help you take off your jacket-

“No one,” you confirm. “Joshua offered, but- I managed by myself, like always.”

“So you stopped at the other cabin first?” Seungcheol confirms, “Met Hannie and Josh-”

Your eyes meet, and then Seungcheol finds himself looking at your lips-

“Yeah,” you tear your gaze away, turning to Mingyu when you explain, “wanted to talk with them about bed arrangements first-”

“You can have mine,” Mingyu offers, flashing you an earnest smile.

“Really?” your eyes widen, and you look between the two men again. “You’re not uh… too big for it?”

Seungcheol feels like he’s been hit in the chest. 

If you’d had asked your question without looking directly at him, he might have been able to convince himself you weren’t insinuating anything- but it’s clear what you’re saying. It’s clear you’re clocking him as being smaller than his younger friend, clear you’re inadvertantly suggesting that as the shorter man - Cheol - should sleep on the couch.

A month ago, Cheol had suggested the very same thing, thinking you’d be some nice girl he could give his bed to.

But now? 

He wouldn’t give you his bed if your life depended on it. 

“It’s okay,” Mingyu is quick to assure you, “you can have my bed. Here, have a seat, we’re watching a Christmas movie-  did your flight serve you dinner? Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” you sigh, collapsing onto the couch, taking the corner Mingyu had inhabited earlier. 

“I’ll make us some ramen,” Mingyu tells you. “Ramen always goes well with Christmas movies.”

Seungcheol notes the way you smile at Mingyu’s words. 

He feels invisible, and most of all, bitter. He’s not happy about any of this, not the way you’d taken a hit at his pride, nor Mingyu’s new burst of energy and overly friendly demeanor.

Picking up the remote again, Seungcheol hits play, and he hopes nothing else sets him off tonight, or he just might explode.

4: Friday - morning

Waking up is slow at first, and then it hits you all at once. You sit up, clutching the quilt to cover your body while blinking away the last of your drowsiness, eyes acclimatizing to the soft glow of the room.

Sunlight is coming through the cabin shades, and you realize two things very quickly. First, that you’re alone, and second, that you’re not where you’d fallen asleep last night.

After settling in and eating your ramen, you’d gotten comfortable on the couch. The movie hadn’t truly captured your interest, and you’d begun to doze off with the intention of waking up when the film was complete to move to the bed- 

But you have no recollection of being woken up.

You hadn’t even had any dreams. You’d been so exhausted from a day of traveling that you’d blacked out, and now, you’re left with confusion and body aches.

Someone must have carried you to bed- 

You hope it was Mingyu.

When you look down, you see you’re still dressed in your travel outfit, so the first thing you decide to do is explore the small cabin and find the shower.

Part of you is grateful the men you’re rooming with allowed you to sleep. It makes finding a routine easier. You take your time in the shower, allowing yourself to relax a little, and you consider what your day might look like.

You guess the men are on the slopes, as the skis that had been propped next to the door when you’d arrived are gone, and you decide exercise might be exactly what you need.

Besides, you’re at a ski resort, skiing seems like an obvious choice- although you’re not quite sure how it will work, seeing as you haven’t brought your own equipment-

You begin looking around the cabin for a resort map- and you’re so busy looking in all the hard places you almost miss the glaringly obvious piece of paper resting on the coffee table under a set of keys. 

Your heart lurches in your chest. You pocket the keys and open the paper to find it’s the resort pamphlet you’ve been searching for. 

Along with a map of the mountain, someone has taken the time to circle cabin 7, draw a line to the main hotel, and circled another section, which has been labeled ‘ski rentals’ in handwriting that’s just barely legible. 

There’s no other writing to indicate which man has left this for you, so you decide to assume it’s Mingyu.

Cheol had barely talked to you last night. He’d given off cold vibes; a man with walls built up around him. 

You truly can’t imagine that the quiet, brooding man had stopped to write on a map and leave you keys.

And honestly? You don’t want to imagine it.

It’s much safer to identify one of your roommates as a tall, white knight, and the other as a dark entity you’ll have to suffer through for a week. 

It makes it easier to plan on ignoring Cheol. 

5: Friday - afternoon

Today is a good day for Seungcheol. 

He’d been worried that your arrival would mean babysitting duty, so when you’d slept in and he’d convinced Gyu to leave you be, he’d been nearly ecstatic. 

He’d clocked you as a non-skier the moment you’d arrived without the correct equipment, and despite his day job as a physical trainer, Cheol is not in the mood to be teaching anyone how to do anything.

No, he’s much happier taking the slopes with his best friend. 

Mingyu isn’t as adept with skis as Cheol is, but he’s good enough for the elder not to worry too much about him. 

After tackling a few of the harder slopes, the two men find themselves on a green run. 

It’s enjoyable to take the hill in an easy manner, crisscrossing down the incline, watching the powder fluff up and take air with each harsh turn-

The day is gorgeous-

And then Cheol spots you, and his mood drops instantly.

You’re a couple hundred feet down the mountain from he and Mingyu, and they both stop for a moment, battling the glare from the sun-

“Is that-”

“Y/n,” Seungcheol confirms with a sigh. “First the thing with her bags, now this- it’s like she’s never been to a ski resort before.”

“Maybe she hasn’t,” Mingyu cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful for a moment. “We should go help her.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “You really think she wants our help?”

“It never hurts to offer,” the younger, more considerate man points out. “Besides, this is Jeonghan and Joshua’s new step-sister, we’re trying to be nice to her, right?”

With a sigh, Seungcheol agrees, and the two continue down the mountain, catching up to you easily. 

“Hello!” Mingyu calls out to you, in classic extroverted Mingyu fashion. This earns him a smile from you, and you stop your slow slope descent to chat.

“Hi Mingyu,” you say, pushing your hair out of your face and adjusting your hat.

You don’t say hello to Seungcheol, and he doesn’t greet you either.

“How’s your day going so far?” Mingyu asks. “Are you enjoying the fresh air?”

“Yeah- found some skis at the rental and I think I’m getting the hang of it,” you tell them, “wasn’t sure I’d be skiing much this trip but, well, here I am.”

“You slept in,” Seungcheol finds himself stating. “We weren’t sure we’d bump into you today.”

“Right…” you trail off, giving Seungcheol a quick once over before your eyes return to Mingyu, and an easy smile works its way across your face again, “Have you been skiing long? I mean, I get the feeling that I’m the only person on the trip who doesn’t have much experience with all of this- you guys all brought your own skis.”

“Yeah, we’re all big snow sports people,” Mingyu tells you. “Seungcheol was actually almost an olympic level snowboarder-”

“Really?” Now you’re looking at Seungcheol. Truly looking at him. “But… you brought skis?”

“He’d be much too fast on his board,” Mingyu grins. “Skis slow him down, make him level with the rest of us. But, he’s still pretty good at skiing too.”

“Could give you a few pointers if you want,” Seungcheol says, earnestly. 

He’d gotten a good look at what you were doing wrong before they approached you, and a few minor tweaks would have you skiing with the best of them-

“Erm, thanks, but no thanks, I think I’m good learning at my own pace for now.” 

He notes the way you avert your eyes, upper lip curling slightly with disdain. 

He should have never bothered to offer you help. 

Seungcheol takes a deep breath. “You two are probably more compatible for your level, and I want to do some harder runs. I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he leaves you and Mingyu, taking off down the mountain at a speed his friends can only dream of.

6: Friday - evening

It’s been a good day for Mingyu, and settling in for dinner with his friends is the perfect ending for it. They order half the menu, covering the table in all sorts of foods to try together, and it reminds him of their time in university. 

While Mingyu is younger than his friends, he’d entered their frat before they’d graduated, and the bond he has with his older hyungs is truly one born out of a shared love for food. 

“Try this,” Jeonghan insists, and Mingyu opens his mouth before he even gets a good look at what’s about to be fed to him. “It’s good right?”

Mingyu can only nod happily while munching, hand reaching for his beer.

“Where were you guys today?” Joshua asks, “we missed you on the slopes.”

“Did a couple of the harder ones,” Seungcheol responds while the maknae has his mouth full, “then bumped into your step-sister on the easier hill-”

“Oh?” This grabs both Jeonghan and Joshua’s attention. “She was skiing?”

“Badly,” Cheol leans back in his chair, sipping his beer.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Mingyu insists, swallowing his food so he can defend you. “I did a couple runs with her and she wasn’t that bad, really.”

The brothers exchange a glance that Mingyu can’t read. 

He’s always been jealous of how in tune Jeonghan and Joshua are. As ‘irish twins’ - siblings born within the same year - it’s like they can read each other’s minds, and Mingyu always feels like he’s missing some crucial part of the conversation.

“Did you guys sort out the bed situation?” Joshua asks, looking down at the steak he’s cutting. He gives off an air of nonchalance, but Mingyu can tell that this is a topic both brothers are interested in. 

“I think you mentioned giving up your bed when we talked about it a few months ago,” Jeonghan adds, “isn’t that right, Cheol?”

“That was before I met her.”

The brothers exchange a glance, and a smirk works its way onto Jeonghan’s face. “Looks like Gyu got the short end of the straw, huh?”

“I offered her my bed,” Mingyu insists. 

“But she fell asleep on the couch during our Christmas movie,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “I moved her to his bed, wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy.”

“My neck is aching,” Mingyu groans, rubbing at it, “but it was worth it. I told her she could have my bed, so she had my bed.”

“He’s so eager to help her out,” Cheol teases, pushing at Mingyu’s shoulder. “When we saw her on the mountain earlier, she refused my help, but was more than happy to ski with him.”

Joshua and Jeonghan exchange a glance that has Mingyu rushing to assure them, “she’s your new step sister- I’m not trying anything, I just want to be friendly-”

“What was that?” Cheol leans closer, “I don’t think I heard you?”

“I said,” Mingyu raises his voice, “she’s their stepsister, and I’m not trying anything!” 

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I thought I heard,” Seungcheol grins, and then he’s looking at something over Mingyu’s shoulder. “Hey Y/N, you should join these three for dinner.”

“Uh…” 

Mingyu turns to find you standing there, and his skin heats with embarrassment. 

He’s pretty sure you’d just heard what he’d loudly said to his friends, and his skin tingles with regret, ears heating-

“Really,” Seungcheol stands, “take my seat, I was just leaving.”

“Where are you headed?” Jeonghan asks, more curious about his friend than his own step-sister.

“The pool.” Cheol grabs the jacket on the back of his chair. “Have some knots in my back, but nothing the hot tub jets can’t fix.”

For the second time today, Mingyu finds himself watching Cheol make a hasty retreat in order to avoid spending time with you. And for the second time today, Mingyu finds himself eagerly attempting to help you fit in, despite his oldest friend’s rejection of you.

“Come eat,” Mingyu urges, patting the newly empty seat next to him. 

“Are you guys sure? I can always eat alone-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joshua laughs. “You’re one of us now, come sit.”

Mingyu is glad that your step brothers immediately start asking you questions, and for a little while, everything runs smoothly. 

Every minute he spends with you, he warms up more and more to your presence.

It’s obvious to him that yesterday, when you’d arrived, you’d been out of sorts after hours of traveling. Your temperament has improved drastically, and Mingyu finds himself laughing along with his friends at small jokes you make here and there.

The four of you spend a much longer time in the resort restaurant than Mingyu had expected, and it’s only when Jeonghan begins to yawn that you all decide it’s time to head back to your cabins.

The night is cold, but it’s not snowing, and your small group follows the poles of string lights diligently.

Jeonghan and Joshua pull off one stop earlier than your own, wishing you goodnight before heading into their cabin.

As you and Mingyu continue up the path, Mingyu finds you walking closer to him, and he’s surprised when you say “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Carrying me to bed last night,” you respond, “and the map you left on the coffee table, the one with the ski rental circled.”

“Oh, uh…” Mingyu swallows thickly, “that actually wasn’t me. I think it’s Cheol who you have to be thanking.”

“Oh…” 

‘Oh’ is right.

7: Saturday - morning

When you wake up, you’re struck by two things. First, that you’re alone, as you were when you woke up yesterday. And second, that your father is getting married.

Your body aches when you sit up, muscles screaming at you for having the audacity to ski as long as you had with Mingyu, and you decide pretty quick that another attempt at the slopes is off the table.

You remember what Seungcheol had said yesterday, about the pool and the hott ub, and decide maybe he had the right idea about jets and sore muscles.

He can be an ass, but you suppose he uses his brain sometimes.

You change into your swimsuit, and make sure to layer yourself with comfy sweats and your parka, pool bag in hand before you set out to take on the weather. 

For the billionth time since arriving at this God forsaken cabin, you wish you’d gotten a room in the resort itself. It’s snowed over the night, but the path is somewhat cleared. Even so, the trek to the main hotel is difficult, and your muscles are even more tired when you arrive.

The resort is a ski destination, and you cross your fingers that most of its patrons are on the hills and not utilizing the various pools and saunas. 

Your wish comes true, and you’re pleased to see hardly anyone as you pass through the indoor pool to check out the outdoor areas, intent on having a hot tub to yourself-

As you’re walking along the pool deck, clutching your parka tight around your body, you notice someone swimming. 

He’s underwater, slicing through the pool like a professional swimmer. The glare from the overcast sky makes it impossible to get a great look at the athlete and you settle next to the hot tub, hoping to see more when he comes up for air. 

You’ve just taken off your parka and are wading into the hot tub when the swimmer stops at the edge of the pool. He’s in the shallows now, and he’s able to stand up, his back to you.

Droplets of water glisten down his back in the light, steam immediately beginning to lift off of his skin-

His shoulders and back look like they were crafted by the Gods, and the man runs a hand through his hair, shaking it out of his face.

You just wish he would turn to look at you, so you can see who you’re drooling over-

In no time at all, this wish is coming true, only, you wish it hadn’t, because the moment the gorgeous, well-muscled athlete turns to look at you, you’re locking eyes with your least favourite person on the mountain.

Seungcheol is as taken aback as you are for a moment.

He’d been reaching for the rail to pull himself out of the pool, but now, he’s simply frozen.

You’re practically gawking at each other, and you’re the first to break eye contact, clearing your throat and looking away.

You can feel your skin heating, and it’s not just from the hot tub, which you wish you could simply submerge yourself in and never come back up-

In the periphery of your vision, you see Seungcheol getting out of the pool, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your entire body not to turn and watch him.

Then, to your surprise, he gives you an excuse to look at him, calling out, “The wedding starts at four, don’t be late.”

Your jaw hits the hottub floor, and you watch Seungcheol practically run away from you.

It’s becoming an all too familiar sight. 

8: Saturday - afternoon

Sitting in his mother’s hotel room, watching her do the final touches on her wedding look, Joshua is struck with memories of the past.

There’d been many mornings growing up where he’d sat on the closed-lid toilet, watching her brush through her hair, sometimes braiding it, before taking him and Jeonghan to school.

In the quiet of their small apartment bathroom, nothing could come between them, not Jeonghan whining for whatever reason, nor the angry father who’d disappeared from the picture when the boys had turned ten.

To Joshua, the moment feels like peace, or at least, as close to it as he’s ever come.

He can tell, by the way his mom smiles when she looks at herself in the mirror, that she’s truly happy, and it’s all he’s ever wanted for her. 

The moment is fleeting, as Jeonghan enters the room and brings with him a certain level of chaos, the kind of windswept mayhem that follows him everywhere, like a moving storm.

“Booze?” The first word to come out of his mouth.

“In the fridge,” Joshua motions to the small cooler before asking his elder brother, “drinking already?”

“Just spent half an hour running all over and making sure everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to be doing,” Jeonghan sighs, bending down to retrieve a can of beer, cracking it open with nimble fingers.

“You wanted to be the best man,” Joshua points out.

For such a small wedding, consisting of only close family and a few friends, roles hadn’t been a necessity, but Joshua wasn’t aware that scrambling around to make sure people are in place would be necessary either.

“Y/N forgot her shoes at the cabin, so Mingyu ran to get them, but by the time he got there, Seungcheol had apparently realized the heels were needed, so he’d grabbed them- and somehow they’d missed each other in the lobby-” Jeonghan cuts off his own ramblings with a large sip of his drink. 

“Sounds like quite the goose chase,” their mother’s calm voice visibly settles the best man, who takes a seat next to his brother.

“You look amazing,” Jeonghan tells her, as sincere as Joshua’s ever seen him. “Our new step-sister’s dad is a lucky man.”

“Since when did you stop calling him by his name?” Seulki laughs, returning her gaze to the mirror, fixing her veil. “Looks like you’re both getting used to Y/N though, Joshua mentioned that you all had dinner last night. Is she settling in okay?”

“I think so,” Joshua says thoughtfully.

“Mingyu really likes her,” Jeonghan adds.

Joshua nods. “And we do too.”

Their mom gives them a knowing look. “How’s Seungcheol finding his cabinmate? Haven’t you both always said he’s a good judge of character?”

“He’s also a stubborn ass,” Jeonghan grins over the rim of his drink, “so we can’t really trust his opinions on her- besides, any time she’s around, he runs the other way. I doubt they’ve talked much.”

“That’s a shame,” Seulki frowns. “I bumped into her with Mingyu on the slopes yesterday, she seemed really lovely.”

“She is,” Joshua admits. He’d also enjoyed getting to know you last night over food and drinks.

“Well,” Seulki turns to her boys, “let’s just hope Seungcheol warms up to her, but we’ll put that to the side for now, we have a wedding to get to.”

9: Saturday - evening

The ceremony had gone exactly as planned. 

After the initial goose chase looking for your shoes, there’d only been one or two small details Jeonghan had been forced to attend to. But after it all, his mom had walked down the aisle, vows had been said, and Jeonghan had gained a father figure.

Standing at the alter next to his brother, Jeonghan had watched everything take place with a keen eye.

He’d been pleased to see the three couples invited - his aunt and uncle, and two of your father’s friends with their wives - sitting in the small venue with his roommates. And he’d been even more interested in watching his friends react throughout the service.

Mingyu had gotten teary-eyed the moment Seulki had begun her walk down the aisle, and even Seungcheol had torn his gaze from you for long enough to admire the dress.

When everything was said and done, the small party had moved to a secluded room off the main restaurant to have food, drinks and further celebration. Here, Jeonghan had again noticed Seungcheol’s affinity for having you in his line of sight.

“You know,” Jeonghan says, as he settles into the seat next to his brother, eyes fixed on his muscular friend by the small bar, “for a guy who runs away whenever y/n is around, he spends an awful lot of his time watching our step sister.”

Joshua chuckles, sipping his champagne. “You noticed that too, huh?”

“Hard not to,” Jeonghan grins, following Seungcheol’s gaze to where you’re clinging to Mingyu on the makeshift dance floor. “What do you think about those two?”

“I think Cheol better cut his losses now,” Joshua says, setting his drink down. 

“Really?” Jeonghan cocks his head, considering it all. “We’re only two days into this trip… a lot could happen before the week is done, don’t you think?”

“A lot could happen,” Joshua admits, “especially if someone like you decided to meddle.”

“I never meddle, only… help push things along.”

“In the direction you want it to go.”

“Touche,” Jeonghan lifts his champagne, gently clinking it against his brother’s discarded glass. 

“I think I’m going to go ask y/n to dance,” Joshua says, pushing his chair back and standing.

“Now who’s meddling?” Jeonghan laughs.

“Still only you.”

10: Sunday - morning

The couch had been uncomfortable on a normal night, so Mingyu supposes it’s his own fault that he wakes up aching after a night of drinking and dancing at the wedding.

Stretching his arms over his head, he tries to ease the tight muscles in his shoulders, but he’s unable to get comfortable again.

He lays there for a few minutes, watching you dance in your cute bridesmaid dress on the back of his eyelids. He’s not sure if it’s you, the dress, or the visual combined, but he knows he’s going to remember last night for many years to come.

When he finally sits up, Mingyu looks towards your bed, and he’s not shocked to find you still sleeping. This is the third day waking up in the same room as you, and Mingyu’s becoming accustomed to the fact that you sleep in longer than he does.

He’s becoming accustomed to your cute, unsuspecting, resting face.

It makes sleeping on the couch worth it, and his sore muscles are almost forgotten- until he has to stand up, and they scream at him again.

Cheol is sitting up in his bed, scrolling through his phone, and he looks up when Mingyu stretches his arms above his head to release his shoulder tension.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Cheol mouths at him.

The two have been scared to even whisper in the mornings - scared to wake you up - and have adopted this silent way of communicating. Mingyu nods quickly, pointing back at his hyung as if to say ‘and you?’

Another quick nod, plus a thumbs up, then Cheol makes the motion of a man shoveling food into his mouth and points to the door.

Mingyu holds up his hand, ‘give me five minutes’ and slowly begins to tiptoe to the bathroom, where he can have some water, fix his hair, and change into better clothes. 

It’s a routine they’ve gotten used to, and for the third day in a row, Mingyu prays that when he exits the bathroom, by some miracle, you’ll be awake and eager to join them in the resort restaurant for breakfast.

Mingyu and Seungcheol - quite predictably - end up weathering the early morning elements without you, and it’s on the snowy path that Mingyu tells Cheol “I think I’m going to skip skiing today.”

“Really?” Seungcheol’s shock is written all over his face.

Mingyu nods. “I feel bad that we’re always ditching y/n- and we mostly go on the slopes she can’t ski on, so… I figured, after breakfast, I'd stay behind at the cabin and wait till she wakes up, then see what she wants to do today.”

There’s a long pause, and then Seungcheol sighs. “I see how it is.”

“Hmm?”

“You also walked her home last night after the dinner. Hannie, Joshie and I stayed up drinking, you usually join, but instead, you walked y/n home.”

“We were both tired,” Mingyu defends himself. “Watched a bit of a movie, then fell asleep.”

“Is that all that happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… part of me wondered if I should have stayed on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch last night, to give you privacy.”

Mingyu’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he fumbles with the hood of his parka. “We didn’t- we aren’t-”

“You guys danced a lot last night, then you walked her home… if it’s not like that then… well, people might get the wrong idea.”

“Who’s people?” Mingyu nearly laughs. “It’s just us here- you think anyone really cared last night?”

“I guess not.” There’s a pause, then Seungcheol changes the topic, asking, “What do you think you’ll have for breakfast today?”

It’s then that Mingyu realizes, someone did care last night, and that someone, is Cheol. 

11: Sunday - afternoon

You’d been a little shocked to find Mingyu reading on the couch when you’d woken up from your long sleep, but when he’d explained to you that he’d stayed behind from skiing with friends to make sure you had a proper buddy for the day, your heart had melted.

After a slow start, the two of you had decided to rent some snow shoes and use the back slope trails, which is how you end up climbing one of the smaller mountains together.

“We’re almost at the top,” Mingyu tells you, pulling out the trail map provided by the resort. You try to catch your breath while he points to a spot on the paper. “I think we’re about here, so just-” he drags his finger up the green line, “this far to the top.”

“Are you sure?” you laugh, grasping onto his arm to pull yourself closer so you can get a good look at the map.

There’s a pause, then he shakes his head, “No. We could also be sort of lost.” 

“Don’t say that-” you grin, pushing at him, “you’ve been mostly using this map alright- I trust you, and your trail-following capabilities.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t though,” Mingyu insists. “Honestly, following maps is definitely Cheol’s thing. One time, we were on a road trip, and we were going down this road for half an hour before we had to pull over and he got to look at the map- we’d missed a turn and it set us back like two hours-”

“It’s easier to miss a highway turn than a trailhead,” you assure him. “Come on, we said we’d climb this small mountain, and then we can take the lift back down and finish our movie from last night at the cabin- just think about our nice, warm cabin-”

“Nice, warm cabin,” Mingyu nods, folding the map back up to put in the pocket of his parka. “Let’s go, we can do this.”

You watch the large, beautiful man pull away from you and continue your trajectory up, and you can’t help but smile, echoing the sentiment, “we can do this.” 

12: Sunday - evening

Seungcheol had been surprised to find the cabin empty after skiing, and he’d been even more surprised when he went to the restaurant to find you and Mingyu not there either. 

However, he does find Jeonghan, who informs him that he’d seen you and Mingyu getting snow shoes a few hours ago, and Seungcheol’s heart sinks.

There’s a storm coming, and darkness has already begun to settle in across the resort- 

He hopes, for both your sakes, that you’re not on the top of the mountain, lost in the trails, when the worst of the winter weather hits.

After waiting diligently for his meal order to come through, Seungcheol ends up trekking back to your cabin with food and firewood in hand just as the snow begins to get heavier.

The last thing he expects when he enters your lodging, is to find you sitting there with a minty green facemask on, and for a second, he stands in the doorway just staring at you.

You break eye contact first, calling out “Cheol’s back!” and a moment later, Mingyu comes out of the bathroom, mid-facemask application.

“Cheol!” Mingyu beams, rubbing the green goo against his cheek, “you’re back from skiing!”

“I was back earlier-” Seungcheol closes the door behind him, “stopped here for a bit but you guys weren’t around.”

“We just got back from a snowshoe hike like, twenty minutes ago?” Mingyu tells him, looking at you for confirmation. Seungcheol watches the way you nod at Mingyu, and his friend lights up. This time, when he says “twenty minutes ago,” he says it with confidence.

“Well, I brought food and firewood,” Seungcheol sighs, kicking off his snow boots and entering the small space.

“Firewood?” You’re looking at him again, and Seungcheol can’t find it within himself to meet your eyes while you’re green in the face like this, so instead, he sets the food down and moves to the small cast iron fireplace in the corner.

“Did you think this cabin heats itself?” The question comes out much snarkier than he’d intended, and he regrets it as he begins to build the fire.

“No- I mean, I noticed it was cold when we got in twenty minutes ago- but I don’t know, I sort of assumed that maybe hotel staff would bring the wood and keep the embers going-”

Seungcheol scoffs. Of course another good deed of his would go unappreciated. 

“It’s plausible!” you try to insist.

“I never said anything.”

“You scoffed, you went like-” you mimic the throaty annoyed sound he’d made, “you went like that, a scoff- you scoffed at me!”

“Here’s your dinner,” Seungcheol pushes the bag of takeout towards you across the floor, eyes fixed on the fire he’s still building.

“What if I don’t want your food? What if I want to finish with this mask and go grab food for myself?” 

Seungcheol sighs again. “There’s literally a storm coming in- if you go out, you’re going to get windswept away- just eat the food I brought.”

“What if I don’t like the food you brought?” you insist again, and Seungcheol’s getting real tired of your bratty stubbornness. 

“You will, it’s what you’ve been eating for two nights in a row.”

This finally gets you to open the bag he’d brought, and you remove the three takeout items, eying them. “How did you know I like this?”

“Like I said- you’ve eaten it two nights in a row.”

“Why were you watching?”

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groans, running a hand through his hair. “Just say thank you and eat your fucking food while I make this fire so you don’t freeze to death- why does everything have to be so hard with you?”

There’s a long pause, and he hears the sound of a food container opening. 

He’s thankful you’ve finally shut up and are going to eat.

“Even without the fire- this cabin is well insulated enough that we wouldn’t die,” you say after a moment. “The hotel wouldn’t be able to have a cabin where its renters could just die.”

If he hadn’t just lit the fire, Seungcheol might have considered allowing you to test your theory out of spite.

“You always need to have the last word, don’t you, brat?” He stands up, dusting his hands off on his pants before turning to look at you.

You open your mouth to respond- but quickly shrink under his hard gaze.

A moment later, you pick up the remote, and a movie begins to play.

At least in this, Cheol’s gotten the last laugh. 

13: Monday - morning

“Fuck-” Jeonghan’s cursing does more to wake Joshua up than the knock at their cabin door had, and the younger irish twin goes to cover his ears while Jeonghan stumbles out of bed.

“Who is it?” Joshua groans, giving in and sitting up, squinting at the door that his brother throws open to reveal their eldest friend.

“Are you two really still sleeping?” Seungcheol pushes into the cabin, throwing his gloves down before gruffly kicking off his boots.

“What time is it?” Jeonghan asks, rubbing at his eyes and groaning before running back to nosedive into his bed.

“Late enough that you should both be awake.”

“Y/n’s not awake,” Jeonghan insists, tucking himself back under the covers, “and I don’t see Mingyu anywhere- why do they get a free pass from your bitching but we don’t?”

“Because they’re not my ski buddies today,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “Seriously, what’s up with you two- and why is it so cold in here?”

They all look towards the castiron fire place, and the emptiness of it gives Joshua a chill that he feels tingling through his entire body.

“We thought we had enough firewood to carry us over from the evening and into the night, so neither of us picked up any dry wood from the hotel yesterday-” Joshua begins to explain.

“Evidently you both ran out,” Cheol concludes, scanning the rest of the small space with his precise, all-knowing, eyes. His gaze lingers on the bottle of fireball on the coffee table. “Instead of running to get more wood, you guys took to drinking, huh?”

“It’s not like we were going to cuddle,” Jeonghan groans.

“So you’re both hung over.”

“Just a little,” Joshua sighs, swinging his legs out of his bed. “Give us half an hour and I can be up.”

“It’s funny,” Cheol says, moving to sit on the couch, “I just had a fight with your step-sister last night about whether we’d freeze to death if we forgot firewood- and at the same time, you guys were over here, resorting to fireball instead of an actual fire-”

“It’s not like we could go out and grab wood once we realized we didn’t have enough,” Jeonghan defends himself. “The storm was really bad.”

“And it’s going to be bad for the next few days,” Seungcheol tells them, “so you better get used to grabbing firewood every evening after dinner.”

Both of his friends groan. “Sure, dad,” Jeonghan buries his head in his pillows. “You know what? If you’re going to be like this, maybe I’ll sleep in and not be your ski buddy today.”  

“Mingyu ditched me yesterday, and now you’re ditching me today-” Seungcheol clicks his tongue, “am I really being that much of a dick this vacation?”

It’s Joshua who responds, pointing out, as thoughtfully as he can; “you have been more of a dick than usual.” 

To which Seungcheol replies, “Yeah, well, you guys have been pissing me off more than usual.” 

Except, Joshua knows it’s not necessarily he and Jeonghan who have been pushing Seungcheol’s buttons this trip- but he keeps that to himself. 

14: Monday - afternoon

After skipping out on skiing with his friend and brother, Jeonghan had gotten some much-needed rest. Then, around lunchtime, he’d left his cabin in search of food only to bump into you and Mingyu doing the same thing.

As if that wasn’t coincidence enough, when your odd trio had entered the resort restaurant, you’d found Joshua and Seungcheol midway through their own meals.

Jeonghan had insisted you all join together, fully intending to meddle with you and your cabin mates. After all, he’d just gotten some sleep, and his mischievous mind was eager to stir the pot.

To his disappointment, the seating arrangements make poking people’s buttons difficult- with Cheol all but ignoring you from his vantage point as far from you as possible.

Despite the less-than-ideal format of your table, Jeonghan still finds a way to draw everyone into the conversation when he states, “so I heard there was a fight over cabin temperature last night.”

This earns Jeonghan a rough kick under the table from Cheol, as well as a harsh look from you. 

“Who said that?” you ask.

“Cheol did,” Jeonghan smiles through the pain in his shin, and this time, when Cheol goes to kick him, a quick movement of his leg has him narrowly avoiding his friend’s boot. “This morning, when he came to pick of Joshie for skiing.”

“It wasn’t a fight,” you go to insist, but the harsh glare you send Seungcheol’s way has Jeonghan nearly laughing.

“Definitely not a fight,” Mingyu confirms, and Jeonghan almost feels bad for the way he’s sat between you and Seungcheol. A man caught between two stormy personalities ready for a clash.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jeonghan says, “we ran out of wood last night, and we didn’t die.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Well, that’s good to know.” 

“Y/n was saying last night,” Mingyu adds, “that she doubted we’d die without wood- hotel regulations and everything-”

“Was Cheol insisting you’d die without a fire?” Joshua’s eyes have widened, and he leans in, elbows on the table next to Jeonghan’s food. “Cheol? Really?” 

“He was just being dramatic,” you say, and Jeonghan watches the way his friend’s ears turn red at your statement.

“Says the girl who was going to go out in the storm instead of eating the food I brought for her.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. He’s glaring at his plate, and a thick tension blankets the table.

Jeonghan loves it.

But then something happens that he couldn’t possibly predict: your parents enter the restaurant, and before he knows it, you’re hopping up to go say hello to Seulki and your father, leaving the men to deal with the unresolved tension.

“Are you trying to start something?” Seungcheol whispers angrily as soon as you’re out of earshot, his angry gaze fixed on Jeonghan.

“Who, me?” Jeonghan touches his chest, pretending to be the most innocent person in the room. “I was just looking for conversation. Besides, we’re the one’s who forgot firewood last night, it’s quite embarrassing for us.”

“You don’t look embarrassed,” Seungcheol notes, sitting back in his chair.

“He has no shame,” Mingyu adds, nodding sympathetically.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Jeonghan’s grin widens, and he looks over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see you leaving the restaurant. “Now that it’s just us, I suppose I should be a good big brother and figure out which one of you intends to fuck my new step-sister.”

Mingyu had been taking a sip of his drink, and now he’s choking, which only adds to Jeonghan’s delight. 

“Jeonghan,” Joshua’s harsh warning bounces off the elder brother, whose smile is becoming something akin to the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Neither of us are going for your stupid step-sister,” Seungcheol growls, thumping Mingyu on the back to aid with the water caught in his lungs.

“Oh, so you’re both in denial?” Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “I’d thought at least Mingyu would fess  up.”

“Fess up to what?” Mingyu says between coughs. “I’m just being nice to her!”

Jeonghan nods. “Sure you are.”

“Why do you all think I want to fuck your stepsister?!” Mingyu whisper screams at his friends, doing a quick look around the restaurant before adding, “you guys are all horrible.”

“Cheol’s been bugging you about this too, huh?” It’s one of the first things Joshua’s really said, and Jeonghan realizes his brother is right. 

“Bet he had a lot to say about the way you danced with our sister at the wedding.”

“Were you all watching that?!” Mingyu’s eyes have widened. 

“It was quite the spectacle,” Jeonghan plays with his glass of water. “Cheol was jealous.”

“What!?” This time, when Seungcheol misses Jeonghan’s shin with his foot, the whole table shakes from impact along the underside of it. “Was not! I didn’t even dance with her- how could I be jealous when I never even danced with your stupid sister-”

“Stop calling her stupid,” Joshua’s harsh tone is a surprise to everyone, and the table goes quiet. “Just because you’re in denial about everything doesn’t mean you get to call our new sister stupid.”

“Someone’s taking their older brother role a little seriously-” Seungcheol lets out a whistle.

“Deflect all you want,” Joshua sighs, “Change the topic and make fun of me, but at the end of the day, you’re only making things harder on yourself… both of you.”

For a moment, both Seungcheol and Mingyu are put on the spot, then Seungcheol insists, “We’re not doing anything.”

“And denial is a river in Egypt,” Joshua sighs, shocking the whole table with a pop culture quote- something that’s very unlike him. “Cheol, you’re done eating, let’s leave these two and get a few more runs in before the storm makes skiing impossible.” 

15: Monday - evening

Sitting on the floor with your roommates, roasting marshmallows on the fire while the storm rages outside, you find yourself noticing all the small details about them both.

It’s the first night that you’ve actually allowed yourself to take a breath and relax, accepting that, with the extreme weather, there is really nothing else that can be done except to work on enjoying your company.

Mingyu is easy, as you’ve grown accustomed to having him around. You’ve gotten used to his large form, the clumsiness and easy smiles.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is something you’re newly exploring, sneaking glances at his side profile whenever you think he’s fully distracted in his marshmallow making.

Unlike Mingyu, who thrusts his treat into the fire and watches it burn, Seungcheol is meticulous about his food, preferring a spot where his marshmallow can slowly turn golden near the embers.

He’s got a pretty side profile, and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he focuses, eyes fixed on flames that light his face in pretty hues. 

His nose is also quite striking, and along with his strong brow, his face is altogether quite attractive, something you’ve been fighting yourself on since the moment you entered the cabin and he’d been cold to you.

There’s something about the duality of him that has your heart racing whenever he’s around. 

You’re never sure which Cheol you’re going to get.

You’ve had glimpses of his softer side, especially on your first day when he’d carried you to bed and then left you a map- then there’d been the way he brought you your dress shoes after you’d forgotten to pack them and trekked to the hotel in snow boots on the day of the wedding-

It seems as if Seungcheol is the kind of man who likes to do nice things for you when you’re not watching, but after your small altercation last night, wherein you’d realized he’s also been doing fire duty, you’ve made more of an attempt to notice small things.

 Small things like the way he takes the perfect golden marshmallow out of the fire, places it between two chocolate graham crackers, and hands it to you without a word, giving you the best s’more of the night.

He balances his kindness to you by offering Mingyu the s’more after, and you think he must be doing it as if to say ‘you’re not special, I’ll share with everyone’ but you can’t help but think there might be more to it. 

To your surprise, Mingyu is the first of the three of you to get sleepy, and after a quick washup in the bathroom, he’s collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep. 

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, you find yourself truly alone with Seungcheol, no big, human buffer to keep you both in line.

The silence is thick. Even so, in the quiet, Seungcheol gives you wide birth to go wash your face and brush your teeth while he cleans up the few items from your s’mores.

There’s hardly anything to be said, and the two of you find yourselves getting into your own beds in no time at all.

“Turning off the light,” Seungcheol tells you, hand reaching for the lamp chord. 

He pauses, waiting for your curt “okay” before following through with his statement of intent, and the room is captured in darkness.

The wind howls outside, drowning out any sounds of your roommates breathing, and for a little while, you can almost pretend you’re alone. 

Almost. 

In the dark, your mind begins to have all sorts of thoughts, and you surprise yourself when words slip out of you; “I’m sorry for calling you dramatic today.”

The air feels thick and heavy, a few beats of silence passing that almost convince you Seungcheol’s asleep, but then, he responds. “I’m sorry for referring to our disagreement last night as ‘a fight’ when I talked to Jeonghan this morning.” 

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. 

For a short while, you think nothing else is going to be said, but then; “Goodnight y/n.”

You take a breath, wrapping yourself tighter in your blankets. “Goodnight, Cheol.” 

CONTINUE READING PART 2 HERE I note. the fic was too long to be posted in one tumblr post 🤪

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general taglist: (send me an ask to join either tag list:)

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ 

svt taglist:

@romromthedeer - @strawbwebbie - @rebeccasficrecs

@alltowoo - @taestrwbrry - @13956789 - @greysdarling

@joonsneptune - @jedi-nightingale - @candidupped - @cheolussy

@yourfavoritefreakyhan -

thanks to those who interacted with the promo :)

@shmooooo - @yoongimingyu - @minnie-mouser22 - @ryusha-rose

- @itsmeas - @lydinews - @yunchans - @ilovepeachesuwu

@ginlogbi - @potatofrieswithketchup - @heavenly-mobo