#yeah that’s what i get for going to get coffee with her after all this time

[likeumeanit9497]

red pill | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n is keeping score of a strange game between her friends when things get a little bit out of control ;)

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (m receiving); fingering; spanking; hair pulling; dirty talk; use of boner pillz; face fucking; 18+

notes: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since the triplets posted that one photo dump (iykyk) and i FORGOT ABOUT IT until today. when i first started writing this i couldn't decide if it should be a matt or chris fic but was obviously going through a chris phase when i started it soooo chris girlies this is for u. HOWEVER stay tuned matt girls because i plan on making a blue pill version;) anyways love y'all lots MUAH MUAH MUAH

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?” Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

A whisper-soft moan slipped from my lips as Chris’s tongue delicately swiped against my clammy skin, and on instinct my hands flew to the back of his hair. Noticing my pitiful reaction, Chris chuckled against my skin. “I think I have my answer.” He whispered before pulling away from my neck and instead resuming our mind-numbingly erotic staring contest.“Matt get out.” Chris ordered, not even bothering to pull his hungry eyes away from me. As soon as Matt groaned, huffing out a disappointed “Fuck” as he headed for his room, Chris’s ravenous mouth was on mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath from the sheer dominance of his mouth. Lips tumbling in urgency, I felt his tongue toy with my lips; begging for entrance. Obliging, I moaned softly as his warm tongue flicked into my mouth, running against my own in slow, intoxicating movements. “Chris.” I panted, my voice thick with lust as his rapacious mouth began travelling down my neck. His hands snaked up my body, taking their time along my bare legs and stomach before tugging against the hem of my bunched up tank.

“Off.” He growled authoritatively. Without hesitating, I threw the thin white material over my head and let it drop to the floor. As soon as my pebbled tits were exposed, Chris’s greedy hands cupped onto them; exploring their shape as his thumbs ran along my sensitive nipples. Goosebumps raised on my skin at the feeling of his covetous, almost controlling touch. His hands and mouth moved as though he had no control over them — as though they owned the body that they were exploring.

His mouth dropped down to my chest. Taking one of my nipples in his mouth, a deep moan vibrated against my blazing skin. I laced my fingers through his hair, tugging gently against his roots as pleasure surged through my body. “Fuck, I’m so hard Y/n.” He said roughly as he nibbled at my skin. Mouth watering from the need he was exhibiting so transparently, my legs widened subconsciously as I writhed for more contact. “Let me h-help then.” I replied, my voice airy from how breathless he was making me.

Chris immediately straightened up, standing in front of me. Holding the bottom of his t-shirt up between his teeth, he began fumbling wildly with his belt. As soon as the metal unbuckled, my hands flew to his jeans, my own desperation causing me to yank down his zipper and slip his baggy pants and boxers down just enough to allow his swollen cock to spring free. As soon as the cold air brushed against his leaking tip, Chris released a gasp of relief. “Fuck, need your mouth.” He muttered, his droopy eyes peering down at me as I took in the immeasurable size of his length.

As I sat frozen in shock, the silky skin of his tip brushed against my pouting lips, snapping me out of my hypnosis. I opened my mouth, granting him the ability to place his cock on my tongue. I looked up at him through my lashes, taking in his panicky and disheveled appearance as his desperate cock pulsed against my drooling tongue. Slowly, I wrapped my lips around his girth, sucking in my cheeks lightly; earning a sharp groan and an indignant thrust of his hips. My eyes stayed glued to his as I began swirling my tongue along his swollen ridge, his salty pre-cum dissolving against my satisfied taste buds.

His jaw went slack as he watched me, deep in a trance. His hands found the back of my head, where he laced his strong fingers through my wavy hair; seeming to put up a fight against an all-consuming urge to sink all eight inches down my welcoming throat. Just as his eyes darkened, seconds from losing all self-control, I gave him some of the relief he was dying for by slowly bobbing my head up and down his veiny shaft. A long hiss escaped his mouth, his eyes burned into the sight before him — into me — as I took more and more of him in my mouth on each movement.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his words clipped, as his hands tightened in my hair. Slowly, I noticed him use his grip on my head to help guide my movements; sliding my mouth along his cock in a steady rhythm. As I looked up at him, I noticed the tension rolling throughout his entire body — his abdomen flexed, arms veiny, face reddening — caused by the self-restrain he was so obviously practicing combined with the crushing arousal that he was experiencing. To help him, I relaxed my throat and gave up moving my head on my own. He noticed my sudden lack of movement, but after scanning my face in concern for a moment, quickly accepted my wordless offering by slowly rolling his hips.

He moved gently at first, his eyes trained on mine as though he was gauging where my limitations stood. With each thrust, he slid his cock just a little further down my throat, until finally my nose was pressed taut against the sprinkle of hair along his pelvis. He held me there for a moment, looking down in awe at the sight of every inch of him buried in my warm, wet mouth. As I began tightening my throat around his shaft, growing restless, his breath seemed to grow more and more ragged — until all at once his self-control seemed to vanish.

I gasped around his cock as he suddenly grabbed my head with both hands, keeping me completely still as he began pounding his cock down my throat. Tears began forming in my eyes from the sheer force of his movements. “G-good girl.” He breathed, his eyes focused on my pink lips as they stretched to accommodate his laboured thrusts. I tried to moan — the lust emitting from Chris as he face fucked me caused my panties to flood — but my vocal chords were stifled by his ravaging cock. Instead, I turned into a zombie: my glossy eyes rolled to the back of my head as strings of saliva poured from the corners of my stretched out mouth.

Chris’s breathing grew so ragged that it was intimidating. Each rough thrust drew a guttural moan from his lips, making my head spin with desire. Suddenly, my eyes flew open in shock as Chris used his strong grip on my hair to pull me back; my head now pressed firmly against the back of the couch as he drove his cock down my throat. Unable to breathe, I entered a foreign state of ecstasy as Chris planted one of his legs onto the couch to get even deeper access; pushing me to my limits.

Just as I was about to grab onto his leg and, with pleading eyes, let him know I needed a break, the most erotic moan I had ever heard fell from his swollen lips. “G-gonna cum baby.” He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he seemed to focus on the overwhelming build up inside of him. Flooded with arousal, I suddenly regained the ability to take his strained, erratic thrusts. “You look so fuckin’ good with my cock in your mouth.” He groaned, his words punctuated by his sharp thrusts. I released an unsteady whimper in response, staring up at his haggard face.

“Shiiit.” Chris’ voice was drawn out as he made one final thrust, letting his cock hit the back of my throat one last time before I felt his warm seed erupt; filling my drooling mouth with thick ropes of the salty fluid as his cock twitched against my tongue. I kept my eyes on his as I eagerly swallowed his cum, and watched as his glazed-over expression of bliss switched to one much more alert and hungry.

Very slowly, he pulled his still-hard cock out of my mouth with a pop. I stayed perfectly still, staring up at him with an inquisitorial look in my eyes, and flinched when I felt his thumb run along my bottom lip to collect his spilt seed before pushing it back in between my lips. After eagerly lapping up the residue, my lips were once again engulfed by Chris’s. He moaned at the taste of himself on my tongue, and his hands wasted no time before tugging down my shorts.

He detached his lips from mine, leaving me a panting mess, as his gaze was pulled to my trembling heat. Just barely concealed by my soaking wet thong, I felt my slippery walls flex around nothing from his attention alone. Chris hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thong, pulling it down my legs torturously slow as I watched his chest rise and fall. Once I was fully exposed, the cold air against my swollen clit caused me to widen my legs; begging for his warm touch.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Chris breathed, his voice an almost-whisper, as he ran his hands along my upper thighs. Once they reached my outer-most folds, he used his thumbs to spread me apart; admiring the way my juices dripped down to his knuckles. I trembled, feeling erotically pinned down by both his powerful hands and strong gaze, dying for him to touch me. I noticed the way he was holding me so tightly, the way his lower lip was pulled between his teeth, before his eyes shot back up to mine. “Turn around.” He ordered gruffly.

Knowing that I didn’t have the willpower to refuse even if I had wanted to, I turned around. Spreading my legs wider and bending my knees, I leaned my exposed chest against the back of the couch for support as I became more and more aware of the heat radiating off of his famished body behind me. I felt the weight on the couch shift just before I felt his hand snake up my spine to once again lace through my messy hair; the warm, wet feeling of his tongue sending aftershocks along my over-reactive skin.

His chest, now completely bare, pressed against my back as his face nuzzled against my shoulder; nibbling gently with his front teeth. Arching my back, I gasped as his free hand came around to my front; finding my clit blindly before rubbing quick circles against it. A stunned moan of relief slipped from my lips, muffled by the soft fabric of the couch, as I felt my body begin to melt under his nimble fingers. “Fuck Chris, r-right there.” I breathed, engulfed in the pleasure of his steady movements.

“You’re so fuckin’ soaked baby,” He purred against my red-hot ear, “You sure you didn’t take a pill too?” His deep voice, laced with amusement, reverberated through my scattered brain. Attempting to laugh in response, I was cut short by the unmistakable feeling of his warm tip, still glossy from my mouth, pressing against my drooling slit. “Mmm.” I groaned, writhing slowly in an attempt to pull him into me.

Noticing this, Chris chuckled menacingly against my skin. “You want my cock pretty girl?” His words shot straight to my core, and aimlessly I tried to grab his poised length in my greedy hand. Tauntingly, he pulled his hips back so his cock was out of reach. “Wanna hear you say it.” He asserted, his fingers slowing against my bundle of nerves. Whining, I turned my head so that I could see his face to my right. Lids droopy, I spoke with urgency. “Please, Chris,” I felt a string of arousal slip down my thigh, “Please g-give me your c-cock.”

With a satisfied smirk across his face, Chris kept his eyes on mine as his hand abandoned my clit. Brows furrowed from the lack of contact, I was just about to let out a dissatisfied groan when I felt the heat of his cock press against my trembling core. I watched his eyes flutter from the feeling of my folds just beginning to wrap around him, and in one swift motion, he split me in half.

Gasping, I had no time to adjust to Chris’s sinful girth before he started pounding into me. My walls stretched more than they ever had before, but welcomed his cock graciously by spilling pools of arousal along its length. “Jesus Christ.” Chris moaned in my ear, overwhelming lust clear in his voice, though it didn’t seem to reign over his powerful movements. The sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies slapping together echoed throughout the living room, their provocative recoils muddling my thoughts.

Chris straightened himself up behind me, keeping his one hand knit through my hair but placing his other on my ass cheek; pressing down so that my back was arched as much as it could be. “You’re making a b-big fuckin’ mess on me baby.” He uttered, using his grip on my ass to spread me apart; admiring the sight of his cock disappearing inside of my oozing pussy. “F-feels so good.” I moaned in response, mouth going slack as I relished in the feeling of his cock squeeze through my spongey walls.

His pace began to quicken, my cunt trembling from the new rapid pace. I could barely lift my head from the back of the couch; his cock dominated every part of me. Deep, throaty groans slipped from his mouth every few seconds, his grip on my hair tightened as he struggled to keep up his pace. “Touch yourself.” He suddenly ordered, his voice rushed and gruff. With a moan, I brought my fingers to my clit where I began to draw tight circles in sync with Chris’s rhythm.

As my bundle of nerves danced between my trembling fingers, my pleasure was profoundly intensified. “Oh god!” I cried out, my voice sounding brutish to my own ears. “K-keep going C-Chris!” I felt myself begin to crumble, my climax violently approaching. As if reading my mind, he grunts from behind me. “You gonna cum?” Unable to respond with words, I nodded my head rapidly as I chewed on my bottom lip. A sharp slap against my ass caused me to gasp, my pussy starting to convulse around his rock hard length. “That’s a good girl, cum for me baby.”

His soft words worked paradoxically with his rough thrusts and stinging slap, and I was immediately hit by an orgasm so brutal, so all-consuming, that I felt my soul drift from my body. For a moment, my body stilled, void of any sign of life, as my orgasm constricted all of my senses. I felt nothing; heard nothing; saw nothing; until a wave of pleasure, the colour of blood, came screaming at me — attacking my nerves and bringing me back to life.

My legs shook, nails dug into the couch, back contorted to the point where it looked broken, as the scream of a possessed woman spilled from my mouth. Chris tightened his grip on my hair, pulling my head off of the couch and wrapping his free hand around my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable moans. As I cried out his name into his possessing hand, his movements slowed tremendously; my spasming cunt suffocating his cock. “J-Jesus.” Chris panted from behind me, struggling to keep his composure as he slowly sunk himself into me; doing his best to drive me through my high before he lost all control.

I began to gain composure over my body as my orgasm subsided — I could feel my weak limbs and filter the words that spilled from my lips. Soft moans still escaped, however, as Chris continued to fuck me slowly; hissing between his teeth as he inched closer and closer to his own high. I felt my depleted walls continue to stretch for him, and fell into a slight hypnosis from the steady movements of our conjoined bodies.

“Turn around.” Chris’s urgent voice startled me back to my senses. He suddenly pulled his cock out of me in one quick movement, and as he did, I turned around to face him. Leaning with my back against the couch, I watched as he angled himself closer to me, pumping his red, swollen cock in his hand. After a few rapid jerks, Chris let out a deep guttural moan, shuddering before spilling his warm, milky, cum along my tits. My hungry eyes flittered between his face — eyes screwed shut in bliss, puffy lips pulled apart slightly, jaw tense — and the filthy portrait he was painting across my clammy skin.

Once a pool of his seed had collected in between my full tits, Chris released one more soft grunt before opening his eyes. They focused on his signature for a moment, before drifting up to my face; a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in my spent appearance. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss to my lips before using his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess he had made on my chest.

“Well, that turned out to be a pretty fun game.” He whispered, his words laced with humour. My eyes followed his gentle movements across my skin; watching as he took his time and made sure he left my skin seemingly untouched. Chuckling, all of my energy drained, I looked back up at his crimson-tinted face. “Let’s thank Matt.” I replied, laughing at the repulsed expression that took over his features. “You’re sick, kid.” He retorted, shaking his head, but I noticed the shameless smile creeping over his lips.

“I was kiddingggg,” I laughed, reaching for my discarded clothes, “Do you feel better though?” I asked, to which Chris dropped his gaze to his cock — still red and standing up flush against his stomach — looking back to me with a raised eyebrow as though he was saying, ‘What’s it look like?’. Chuckling, I grab my top and begin trying to put it on. “Sorry dude, I did the best I could.” Just as my vision was restricted by the material of my top over my eyes, I squealed as I felt Chris lift me up; bending me over his shoulder as he stood up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, my voice broken by laughter as I jokingly pounded on his shoulder. He was walking, now, and I couldn’t control my childish giggles as I tried to get my tank top off of my head. “We’re gonna go take a shower.” He replied just as I felt him begin to descend the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Maybe one more time will do the trick.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[oneforthemunny]

WAAAIIIT. have we talked about nb meeting wayne for the first time?

maybeee? i can't remember honestly lol.

right before the engagement, it's like the final big thing to do before eddie locks it down. he knows they'll get along, but he's also so fucking anxious about it.

especially taking her back to the trailer he grew up in with wayne. she knows they grew up very differently, and he knows that too, but he's still a little vulnerable and scared to truly show her? even if it is much more fixed up than what he used to live in, he still is nervous.

of course, they hit it off. more than hit it off, honestly. wayne loves her, and she loves wayne. he's very warm, despite his gruff exterior, a lot like eddie.

when they go back to the trailer, and nb gasps when she walks in, eddie's heart plummets. like icy cold fear, heart giving out type of fear because he just knew it was too good to be true.

until she rushes over towards the photo proudly framed by the door, a lanky looking boy with missing teeth and a shaved head, smiling proudly for his school pictures against the blue background.

"is this you?" she gawks with an endearing smile. "eddie, aw, look at you."

"that's 'im," wayne grins. "sixth grade, i think, wasn't it, boy?"

"yeah." eddie's still trying to recover from his heart nearly giving out. "sixth grade. i had to shave my head the summer before."

"that's- i can't even imagine you without the hair. that's like your thing." she shakes her head, leaning in closer to take in every detail, his wide, toothy smile and dimples- features that still remained to this day.

"you were so cute."

"stop-"

"-adorable." she grins, arms wrapping around his torso.

"you like that? wait 'til you see all the other pictures i got." wayne snickers, grinning at how she perks up.

"wayne, c'mon-"

"-make us a pot of coffee, boy." wayne waves him off, leading her into the living room. "got a few albums of him as a baby, and sweetheart, you won't believe how much hair he had. always had them curls."

the two day trip turns into a week long stay. eddie buys the ring right after that.

[scoupsakakitty]

Cherry Blossom | idol!Jun x reader | fluff

The bustling streets of Tokyo were alive with energy as Y/N and Jun wandered through the crowded streets. Lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, casting warm light over the stalls lining the street. Everything smelled delicious, from freshly grilled skewers to steaming bowls of ramen, but Y/N was too distracted to enjoy it.

“Jun, I think we’re lost,” she said, looking around nervously.

Jun tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Lost? No, we’re just… exploring.”

She shot him a skeptical look. “Exploring? We’ve passed this takoyaki stall three times already.”

Jun glanced at the stall and then back at her, his expression calm. “Well, maybe the takoyaki here is just that good.”

“Jun,” she groaned, tugging at his sleeve. “We need to find the train station. We’re going to miss the last train.”

Jun pulled out his phone and frowned at the screen. “No signal.”

“Great,” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms. “And neither of us speaks enough Japanese to ask for directions.”

Jun shrugged, his nonchalant attitude doing nothing to ease her frustration. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe we can just stay out all night. It’ll be fun!”

“Fun? Wandering around a foreign city with no plan and no place to stay? Yeah, sounds like a blast,” she said sarcastically.

Jun chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You worry too much, Y/N. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.”

She sighed, looking around the crowded street. “Going with the flow is easy for you. You’re Junhui, the guy who always seems to have everything under control.”

“That’s not true,” he said, his voice softer now. “I just… don’t show it as much.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her irritation fading slightly. “So, what do we do now, Mr. Go-With-The-Flow?”

Jun grinned and pointed to a small café at the end of the street. “We go there. Sit down, regroup, and figure it out.”

With no better option, Y/N followed him. The café was cozy, with soft jazz music playing in the background and a warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. They settled into a corner booth, and Jun pulled out a small map he had picked up earlier in the day.

“Okay,” he said, spreading the map out on the table. “Let’s solve this like a puzzle.”

Y/N leaned over to look, her shoulder brushing against his. “You’re really bad at puzzles, Jun.”

“True,” he admitted with a laugh. “But you’re great at them, so we make a good team.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his optimism. As they traced their route on the map, their laughter gradually replaced her frustration.

An hour later, they stepped back onto the street, their spirits lifted.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Jun said, tucking the map into his pocket.

“You mean after we spent half an hour trying to figure out which way was north?” Y/N teased.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Details.”

As they walked, Jun suddenly stopped in front of a small shop window. Inside was a collection of handmade trinkets, each one delicate and unique.

“Wait here,” he said, disappearing inside before Y/N could protest.

When he returned, he held out a small charm in the shape of a cherry blossom.

“For you,” he said, placing it in her hand.

“Jun…” she started, but he shook his head.

“Think of it as a souvenir,” he said. “Something to remember this adventure by.”

Y/N stared at the charm, her heart swelling with warmth. “Thank you.”

Jun smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at her. “You know, getting lost with you wasn’t so bad.”

She laughed, slipping the charm into her pocket. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re my favorite travel companion,” he said, reaching for her hand.

————————————————————————————-

As they walked hand in hand, the sounds of the city seemed to fade into the background. Jun occasionally swung their arms gently, a playful smile on his face. Y/N couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye, marveling at how relaxed he seemed despite everything.

“You’re enjoying this way too much for someone who got us lost,” she teased, squeezing his hand.

Jun tilted his head dramatically, feigning offense. “Got us lost? I prefer to call it spontaneous adventuring.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

Jun stopped abruptly, pulling her to a halt as well. “Actually,” he said, his tone suddenly serious, “you’re the one who helps me sleep at night.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean it,” Jun said, his voice soft but firm. “Being with you makes everything feel… lighter. Like, even when we’re lost or things don’t go as planned, it doesn’t bother me because I’m with you.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, the sincerity in his tone making her heart skip a beat. “Jun…”

He smiled at her, a little shy now. “I just wanted to say that. I’m not always the best with words, but… I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

Y/N felt her irritation from earlier melt away completely. She reached up to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “You’re better with words than you think, Junhui.”

His eyes lit up at her use of his full name, and before she could say anything else, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Come on,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let’s find that train station before we accidentally end up in a completely different city.”

After another half hour of wandering (this time with better navigation), they finally found the train station. Y/N let out a triumphant cheer as they stepped onto the platform.

“We made it!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

Jun chuckled, watching her with an affectionate gaze. “Told you we’d figure it out.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “And next time, you’re in charge of asking for directions.”

“I’ll start learning Japanese right away,” he joked, pulling her close as the train approached.

By the time they returned to their hotel, it was well past midnight. Y/N flopped onto the bed, exhausted but content. Jun joined her, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

“Today was kind of a mess,” she said, turning her head to look at him.

Jun smiled, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “The best kind of mess.”

Y/N laughed softly, rolling onto her side so she could rest her head on his chest. His arm instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close.

“I don’t mind getting lost,” she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his shirt, “as long as it’s with you.”

Jun pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his voice low and full of warmth. “I’ll take us anywhere you want to go, Y/N. Even if we get lost a hundred times.”

As the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep, Y/N smiled, knowing that with Jun by her side, every detour would feel like the right path.

————————————————————————————-

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 12.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: So, we got to see a bit into the world of (Y/n) (L/n), and now we get to see how the Avengers are dealing with the information that they have recovered. Also, thank you so much for all of the birthday wishes!!! 25 doesn't feel any different RIP ;asldfja;sdflk Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 10 / chapter 11

When Steve and Clint arrived back in Wakanda, they were eager to tell the Avengers what they had found. However, when they arrived back at Shuri's lab, Tony looked as though he had seen a ghost. Steve frowned, and Natasha whispered to him.

"It's not looking too good right now. Shuri and Tony found the calling card for the creator behind the chip. Turns out that Tony's got a bit of history with the creator."

Steve and Clint walked into the lab where Tony was watching over the soldier with a hand to his chin in thought. Despite Steve greeting the man, Tony didn't seem to hear him. After a moment, Tony stated.

"You ever get this feeling that you're being haunted by something? No matter how much you try to get rid of it, it just keeps following you? Somehow, someway?"

Steve couldn't help but to think of Peggy, nodding solemnly before he turned to look at (Y/n) (L/n).

"Some things haunt me, some things just follow. I don't think they're entirely the same."

Tony scoffed, shaking his head as he quipped.

"Yeah, well it is in this case. You see, I just took apart that little chip that made MC 2 go haywire, and you know what I found? The calling card to a scientist that used to work closely with my father...someone that my father used to recall as a very good friend."

Steve was confused for a moment before connecting the dots, and he asked.

"Was his name Robert (L/n)?"

Tony nodded, and Steve couldn't help but to shake his head.

"Well, that explains a lot, actually."

"Why do you say that?"

Steve wordlessly handed Tony the file, and Bucky's eyes shot wide open.

"Wait, is that her file? You found her?"

Steve nodded, but his jaw was clenched so hard that Bucky was afraid to ask about it. Tony slapped the paper down onto the table roughly after a few moments of reading and walked out of the room wordlessly, and Bucky snatched the paper up.

(Y/n) (L/n).

The last name sparked a bit of recognition in Bucky, but he couldn't place the familiarity of the name just yet. Bucky was perturbed about the way Tony had reacted, and he asked.

"What's his deal?"

Shuri sighed and revealed gently, pulling up some documents of Robert (L/n).

"Robert (L/n) was a close friend of Howard Stark's up until Project Rebirth. After Erskine was assassinated and Heinz Kruger attempted to steal the serum, Robert continued HYDRA's work under the guise of a fellow scientist that wanted to defeat HYDRA."

"A double agent? How do we know all of this about him?"

Natasha raised a hand, stating.

"I found some files about him on the databanks that you and Bucky downloaded from the facility that the soldier was found in. I didn't think it was relevant at the time cause the files didn't include pictures, and we didn't know the name of the soldier yet."

Shuri nodded and she brought up a few pictures and files, the pictures of Robert and his unfriendly sneer. The man was overwhelmingly tall and quite lean, hair greased and combed while a mustache adorned his top lip. There was a woman next to him, looking happy as she held a hand to her pregnant belly; seemingly naive to the sinister gaze within Robert's eyes.

"This here is his wife, Doris (Y/n). We don't think she knew anything about Robert's double life with HYDRA...but she was also good friends with Maria Stark before Maria married Howard. She helped to deliver Tony when he was born."

Steve's eyebrows shot up, and Clint groaned gently, rubbing his head.

"Man, this is starting to hurt my head. So, Robert was with HYDRA, befriended and used Howard's trust to gain information on the serum...yet some other guy tried to snatch it? Why do that?"

Natasha replied, pointing out.

"If the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done."

Clint's expression changed to one of understanding, and Shuri nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Though, with Heinz being unsuccessful, Robert attempted to copy Howard's serum to the best of his ability. Robert was unsuccessful. In reports that he had made, almost all of the subjects that he experimented on did not survive any trial serums he made."

"So, how was he able to make (Y/n) into a super soldier?"

Shuri pursed her lips and brought up a newspaper article that went into detail about (Y/n)'s supposed death.

"While (Y/n) was on the way to Baltimore with her mother, they crashed into another vehicle after hitting ice. Their car caught fire, and both Doris and (Y/n) were announced dead at the scene."

"I'm guessing (Y/n) wasn't actually dead, and Robert or HYDRA picked her up."

Clint scratched his head, asking.

"Why go after her though? What made (Y/n) special?"

Natasha shrugged before offering with a slight wave of her hand.

"Robert must have used blood samples to specifically cater the serum to the subject, and (Y/n) was the only one that was successful."

Bucky grumbled, shaking his head.

"Hello, super soldier."

Steve nodded, and he turned to Shuri, asking her.

"Is Robert still alive?"

"No. Robert passed away from natural causes in 2008. I assume that this is when Rollins took over as her Handler, but we won't know for sure until (Y/n) wakes up."

Bucky suddenly felt bad, wondering if there was anybody else that might have been family for (Y/n), and Steve sat down next to Bucky, stating quietly as Shuri began to work on deprogramming the soldier.

"We found her, Bucky."

"We haven't found her yet. She's still trapped beneath that rubble somewhere...we just know her name now...know that she had a family...a career...a mom and dad..."

Steve pursed his lips, and Bucky revealed to the captain, giving him an intrigued expression.

"She somehow knows Meltzer Woods, and it's bothering me that I don't know why. You remember me telling you about how my folks and I would go on walks there often?"

Steve nodded, chuckling.

"Oh, yeah. I remember you telling me about how you terrorized Rebecca to the point your mom was livid with you one time while your dad was at the camp."

"Not my fault she had a fear of bugs and agreed to go into the woods."

The two men chuckled, and Bucky sighed, shaking his head. Steve muttered gently, patting Bucky on the back.

"It could just also be nothing...a huge coincidence."

Bucky shook his head, muttering.

"There are no such thing as coincidences when it comes to HYDRA."

Steve gazed long and hard at Bucky before looking back at the woman, watching as a machine carefully and slowly reconstructed the bone and tissue of her skull before it seemed as though she had never been operated.

"Am I interrupting?"

Tony walked in, hands in his pockets, and his cheeks and eyes were slightly red. It seemed as though the man had been crying, but neither of the super soldiers commented about it.

Tony stood at the end of the bed and stared at the woman, a neutral expression on his face before his shoulders fell slightly. Steve asked the man gently, sparing a look at Bucky before looking back at Tony.

"Do you want us to give you some space?"

Tony looked perplexed then, as if the question was one that he had never heard before, and he wasn't exactly sure how to respond. While Tony preferred to be on his own and do things on his own (minus Pepper, but she was a different case), Tony knew that there had to come a point when he stopped ostracizing those around him.

'Solitude and isolation are two completely different things, Tony, and I know that you struggle a lot with that because of your childhood with your dad,' his therapist had said.

'Why don't you try to reach out and be a little bit more open? You don't have to reveal everything at once, but take it a step at a time. Choose what you want them to listen to or help you with. With what you've told me, I think the Avengers just really want to be your friend, and that's okay.'

"One step at a time," Tony muttered to himself before he huffed, glancing down at the ground. Tapping his foot with anxiety, Tony crossed his arms and began to speak.

"There's this feeling that nags at me every time I look at your stupid perfect faces...this feeling of just...trying to understand why my dad was apart of something as big as this."

Steve and Bucky both sat back in their seats, almost at attention as Tony began to open up to them.

"It's because of my dad's work that led to you being Captain America, that led to your torture and time as Winter Soldier, and now...now he's directly linked to her. Granted, it wasn't really him directly...but he sure did have a big hand."

Erskine's face crossed into Steve's mind, and Steve looked away, replying.

"Howard wanted to ensure a way that we could fight against HYDRA and the Nazis so that the Allied forces could win the war. I don't think he meant for things to turn out like they did."

"Sometimes I wish I could go back into time and just choke the bastard. All that goddamn intellect and look where it got us."

Bucky was quiet, glancing down at his metal arm before he looked at Tony. He wasn't really sure what to say; if anything at all. How could you comfort the man whose parents you killed? That wasn't exactly a can of worms that Bucky wanted to open. Instead, he stated.

"I think what is important now is that we give this woman a life and finally eradicate HYDRA once and for all. If not for her, then...for you and Howard."

He gave Tony a gentle but shy look; hoping that the man wouldn't lash out at him, and Tony looked as though he wasn't sure what to say. Placing a hand over his chest and the other onto his chin, Tony hummed.

"If Rollins already knew that she had been awakened and thought that she would be a liability, then that means there has to be a main line to the chip. If we can trace that, then we should be able to find Rollins."

Natasha suddenly plopped down beside the soldier, throwing a thumb drive onto the table with a haughty smirk as she kicked her feet up.

"Did I really outsmart Iron Man? I think I should add that to my resume."

"You don't have a resume. You legally can't."

Tony quipped back with a roll of his eyes and he snatched the thumb drive as Natasha just grinned wider.

"Listen, miracles happen all of the time, but that doesn't mean they happen again in the same lifetime. Don't get your hopes up, spider-granny."

"Did you just call me old?"

Tony shrugged before uploading the files that were onto the drive into his computer, and he brought up a hologram of the earth, a beacon of light shooting up from the main source of the signal. Tony sighed gently, tilting his head.

"You know, I was dreaming about Morocco last night."

"Fez, Morocco?"

Steve questioned, looking a bit confused before he turned to Natasha.

"What's there?"

"If I had to guess: another secret base for HYDRA?"

Steve pursed his lips as Natasha just shrugged, and Bucky crossed his arms as he stood tall.

"We should get there as soon as possible. The faster that we catch Rollins, the better off we'll be."

"Slow your horses, MC 1, we need to be smart about this."

Tony gave Bucky a firm look, and Bucky just squinted his eyes as Tony began to explain.

"It's possible that Rollins knows that we know about the chip. We want to stay ahead of the game here. Luckily, we have the answers right here."

Tony brought up another hologram that pictured a document with a list of names.

"FRIDAY, you wanna read this out?"

The AI immediately answered, zooming in on each city she named out.

"Of course, Mr. Stark. After scanning through all of the documents that were recovered from liberated and abandoned HYDRA bases, as well as scans through the black book and red book, I have compiled a complete list of all mentioned HYDRA bases, as well as a list of possible locations as well. Here are the locations."

Isle Trinidad, South America. (Liberated, NLA.)

The Shelf, Antarctica. (Location Unspecified. Possible operation.)

Himalayas (Location unspecified. Possible operation.)

The Red Room, Russia. (Destroyed. NLA.)

Swiss Alps, Switzerland. (Directly mentioned. Possible operation.)

"There were many more locations mentioned, but since they have been destroyed and are no longer active, I have elected to leave those out. There has been no indication of a base in Fez, Morocco. It is possible that Mr. Rollins has planted the main communicator in order to escape."

Natasha hummed, nodding.

"That's the smart move. Rollins seems to already know that we're after him. The best thing that he can do is plant the communication device then get the hell out of dodge while we're on a wild goose chase."

Steve shook his head, huffing deeply.

"We can't investigate a possibility without having concrete evidence of his presence. If we go in somewhere blind, we're not only giving Rollins the upper hand, but we open ourselves up to risk as well."

Bucky added while glancing back at (Y/n).

"There's a possibility that Rollins knows that we're here. If we're all busy with a mission trying to find him, he could come here to retrieve her."

Tony shrugged, offering.

"Okay, then let's wake her up. See how bad her brain is scrambled and see if she knows where Rollins could be."

Steve became stern, shaking his head.

"Tony, that's not possible. (Y/n) needs time to recover and heal. If we overwhelm her, we're only going to hurt her."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, and Steve said carefully.

"We're going to bring Rollins to justice and we're going to eradicate HYDRA once and for all. I promise you that."

"Oh, don't you go all patriotic on me. It's not even the fourth of July yet."

Bucky pursed his lips to keep from chuckling as Steve glared at Tony, and Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"So, why don't we compromise? We have a whole team of people back at the compound that we can send out to each location to cut any and all possibilities. I can already think of some teams to get together."

Tony's eyebrows raised, a skeptical look on his face as he asked.

"Yeah? What you got, Romanoff?"

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders.

"FRIDAY gave us three locations, Wakanda being a possible fourth because of the soldier being here. King T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky can stay here to watch over her since they're already here. Since you and Pete have heated suits, I think you two and maybe Banner could go to the Shelf. Clint, Wanda, and I can go to the Swiss Alps. Steve, Thor, and Sam Wilson can go to the Himalayas."

Steve made an expression of approval, but Tony shook his head, stating.

"I really don't want to involve the kid in this."

"Tony, he's an Avenger too."

Tony snapped, standing up straight as he glared at Steve.

"Yeah, and he's still a goddamn kid, Cap. I'm not involving him. End of discussion. I'll have Vision go instead."

Bucky offered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, so what if he came here? He'd still be safe, and we could benefit from his webs in case something happens or (Y/n) freaks out. He's not in as much danger as he would be out in the Shelf."

Natasha muttered, looking off to the side.

"Or you could stop babying and let the kid be a hero. He's got the neighborhood under control, I hear."

Tony whipped his gaze towards Natasha, a look of betrayal on his face, and Natasha stared right back. Tony huffed and gave Bucky a harsh look.

"Fine. I'll have Underoos come here, but you're responsible if something happens. Do you understand?"

Bucky nodded, and Tony muttered to himself.

"I'm going to regret this somehow. I know it. Let's just get everyone suited up."

Tony stalked off, and Natasha patted Bucky's arm, making him slightly recoil and give her an unamused look as she walked by.

"Nice thinking on your end."

Bucky grumbled to himself, and Steve asked Bucky with a gentle voice and kind expression.

"You gonna be okay?"

"As much as I wanna kick Rollins' face in, I wouldn't be any help to the team. I'll lose control if I see him...so it's best that I stay here."

Steve nodded before he embraced the man, Bucky tensing slightly before awkwardly hugging the man back.

"I'll keep you updated and let you know if I find anything. First thing."

Bucky nodded, and Steve saluted Bucky with a shit-eating grin before walking off. When Bucky was finally alone, his shoulders dropped, an exhausted look coming across his face before he sat down next to the soldier.

(Y/n) (L/n) looked peaceful. There was no pain, no indication of dreams or nightmares, and she looked even younger without the fear and anger on her face. Despite the horrific scars that lined the bottom half of her face and the grease within her hair and the oil on her skin, Bucky had to think that she was pretty.

'You were right...she is pretty.'

-

STORY NOTES: Steve and Clint have arrived back in Wakanda. Despite the success of their mission, they come back to Natasha warning them that Tony is not in a very good mood after he and Shuri successfully took the chip apart and identified the creator, who is revealed to be Robert (L/n). Tony asks Steve if he ever feels as though he is being haunted, which Steve replies accordingly.

Steve then gives the file containing information about the soldier and her father, and Tony becomes upset and walks out of the lab. Bucky is elated that Steve was able to find out who the soldier was, and when Bucky is finally able to know her name, he is perturbed by a feeling of familiarity from it. He asks what was wrong with Tony, and Shuri goes into depth about the history Robert and Howard Stark had together, as well as (Y/n)'s mother and Maria Stark.

Clint is confused by Robert playing a double agent while another HYDRA agent attempted to steal the serum, which Natasha explains that 'if the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done,' implying that Heinz was just a useful distraction. Steve asks how (Y/n) was able to be turned into a super soldier, and Natasha theorizes that Robert had used blood samples to test the serum with, and (Y/n) was the only match out of all his experiments.

After a few more minutes of discussion and Bucky is left alone with Steve, Shuri, and (Y/n). Steve attempts to comfort Bucky, reassuring him that they had been able to find her, but Bucky does not agree that she is completely saved yet. He reveals that he is still bothered by the soldier knowing about Meltzer Woods, and Steve suggests that it is a coincidence.

Tony enters the lab, and though he is uncomfortable, he reflects on the advice his therapist has given him about being more open to vulnerability and depending on others. He begins to reveal the way he is feeling to Steve and Bucky and how he is angry at his father for being apart of Project Rebirth while knowing how dangerous the work he was doing was. While Steve comforts Tony, Tony is too upset to understand what Steve is saying. Bucky offers comforting words as well, and Tony is unable to reply.

Instead, Tony begins to talk about Rollins and the main signal for the chip. The signal is traced to Fez, Morocco, and Bucky jumps the gun, wanting to leave. However, Tony refutes Bucky's thinking, stating that the Avengers need to be smart about this mission. Tony theorizes that Jack Rollins might already know that the Avengers know about the chip. Instead, he has FRIDAY bring up a list of known HYDRA bases that were mentioned or alluded to in the data they had recovered.

FRIDAY indicates that Rollins could have planted the main communicator since there is no known HYDRA activity at all within Fez, and Natasha agrees that it was a smart move. Natasha then suggests that the Avengers split into teams to go to or stay in each respective location (Swiss Alps, Himalayas, Antarctica, and Wakanda). She suggests that T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky stay in Wakanda; Tony, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner go to Antarctica; Clint, Wanda Maximoff, and Her go to the Swiss Alps; Steve, Thor Odinson, and Sam Wilson go to the Himalayas.

Tony immediately refutes involving Peter Parker because he is just a kid, but Steve and Natasha both tell him to stop 'babying' him and let him be an Avenger. Bucky decides to alleviate the issue by suggesting letting Peter come to Wakanda since he could be a big help, and Tony relents, making sure to tell Bucky that if something happens to Peter, he would be responsible. After a bit of conversation with Steve, everyone begins to gear up, and Bucky is left alone with the soldier. He begins to think that despite the scars and unwashed hair and skin, the soldier was right that the woman she had seen, (Y/n) (L/n), was pretty. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

None

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10

[babyleostuff]

⸻ first date with performance unit

[ 🍵 ] how they would spoil their partner, what they would be like taking them out for the first time & what they would plan to make them feel special

jun

place: cat/dog cafe

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d have your coffee/tea order + favourite baked goods memorised (to the point where if they didn’t have what you’d usually order, jun would know what you’d take instead)

what they would be like taking you out: jun would be the epitome of sweet and precious, because mans wouldn't be able to stop smiling. seriously, the grin he'd have on his face would be low-key concerning because how can someone smile for that long, but at the same time, he'd make you feel so at peace and comfy with his gentle persona

“they are so us,” jun giggled and pointed at two cats trying to claw each other's eyes out. 

you shook your head and took a sip from your cup. if it was anyone else you’d start wondering if they even liked you, because comparing you to a rather aggressive cat was not on your top 10 compliments list, nor was it something you’d like to hear on a first date.  

but the boy in front of you was far from “anyone else”.

“you’re feisty,” jun pointed at the black cat, “just like her.” 

before you could think through what you were about to say next, you blurted out, “well, at least now we know who’ll wear the pants in our relationship.” 

it was safe to say that jun looked like an angry tomato for the rest of the date.

hoshi

place: laser tag

what they would do to make you feel special:  if you’d end up on opposite teams, soonyoung would do anything to let your team win (he’d be so proud in thinking he was being sooo sneaky about it) because seeing you happy is so much better than winning (you’re the only exception though, anyone else - the fight is on)

what they would be like taking you out:  this man is too unpredictable to know for sure how he’d act, but generally speaking it could go either two ways: 1 - soonyoung would be filled with so much energy, beaming with happiness and just so much affection for you that you’d have a hard time knowing what he’d even be on about (lovingly), 2 - he’d turn into a stressed little guy that just wouldn’t be able to believe that he’s on a date with you??? you gorgeous creature said yes to go out with him??? no one pinch him, because if it’s still a dream he doesn’t want to wake up. this version of him would be quite quiet, but in a soonyoung way quiet

“stop!” you laughed, quickly looking back to see if hoshi was still running after you. 

and running he was. more like charging at you at full speed, to be honest, with a fake gun in his hand and devilish grin on his face. 

“you’re not going to get away this time!” he yelled back, getting closer to you with each step. and there was no way you’d outrun him, na-ah. 

“it’s not how you play this game,” you said and bursted out in a fit of laughter, as soonyoung wrapped his strong arms around your frame, engulfing you in a sweaty hug. 

“i don’t care,” he giggled, pulling you closer. “the game is over for me anyway, now that i’ve got you”. 

mingaho

place: painting class

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d be the best listener. i know that is the bare minimum, but at the same time the bare minimum is in hell so… yeah. you’ll never meet a better listener than hao, who could sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair, covered in paint and listen to you for ages

what they would be like taking you out: such a gentleman, to the point where you start wondering if it’s not a dream. gentle, funny, kind, understanding, charming - you could go on for forever trying to describe minghao. all of that said, though, hao would honestly be so so nervous, because come one… so many things could go wrong… and he seriously liked you. like really really liked you.

“how the hell did you manage to get your paints to look like that?” you pointed at hao’s palette that was full of pretty colours, unlike yours. unfortunately. 

“hm?” he mumbled and looked over at your station. you could see the smile forming on his gorgeous face, but since he was the textbook definition of a green flag, whatever you want to call it, he quickly composed himself and pointed at the paints in front of him. “just mix this and this.” 

“uh, yeah,” you huffed, “i did the same and mine looks like shit. literally.” 

this time he couldn’t help but laugh. “let me help, yeah?”

dino

place: a board game cafe

what they would do to make you feel special: he’d try his best to play all of your favorite board games, because one thing about chan - he sucks at understanding game rules (seriously, all of his brain cells would be sweating to understand the game). so it’d truly be heartwarming how this precious boy would try so hard to understand what would be going in front of him. 

what they would be like taking you out: stressed. and. nervous. as. fuck. he just doesn’t want to mess it up, okay? chan knows he’s handsome and pretty and funny and charming, BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER!!! all of his rational thinking flies out of the window whenever he’s around you, and “what were you saying, i was too busy staring at your beautiful eyes”. shakes like a leaf the whole time. 

you could clearly see a question mark forming above chan’s head, as you tried explaining the rules for the third time. usually, you’d be quite annoyed at the person for still not getting what you were saying, but he looked so adorable, with his big puppy eyes and all, that you had to stop yourself from cooing out loud. 

“i’m sorry,” chan said, looking down. “i’m just not the best at understanding games.” 

you leaned over the table and put your hand over his. his head whipped up so quickly you wondered whether he didn’t pull a muscle doing that. 

“it’s okay, channie,” you smiled at him. “we can play something else, y’know?” 

he shook his head, and scooted his chair to sit closer to you. “no, no. let’s try again. i promise i’ll get it this time”.

[dpr-moni]

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: angst, friends-to-almost-lovers?

Summary: No matter what you do, no matter what he does, you can't not love Namjoon. His girlfriend can't stop it, his baby, a thousand miles between you, your fiancé. Nothing makes it any less painful. Nothing makes it go away and nothing can give you the happily ever after you both want.

Word count: 20.7k

Content: INFIDELITY, pregnancy, baby, marriage, divorce, morning after pill, mild smut, lots of angst, not a happy ending, member pov

A/N: for @kkaetnipjeon who likes to hurt Namjoon as much as I do. unbeta'd * * *

Namjoon was late. 

“I really should go,” he said, taking his phone from the table and slipping into his pocket. 

You laughed. 

“Yeah, you said that twenty minutes ago.” 

“Oh, well, sorry for enjoying your company. Fuck me, I guess.” 

“Exactly. It’s all your own fault.” 

It was. When it came to you, time went out the window. Even when he told himself he only had an hour, or two, or times when he actually had somewhere to be, you were just more fun. He tried to leave. He really did. Always said, up front, he had to be gone by 2 or 4 or 7. Always pushed it a little. ‘No, I’ve got a little more time,’ he always said. He always had a little extra time for you it seemed.  

Today, he was only going home to his girlfriend; it wasn’t a hard deadline which made it all the harder to enforce.  

He pulled himself up from his chair, thanked you for the coffee that you had paid for, and made it home. 

* 

“Joon?” Hayeon called as soon as he’d shut the door behind him. “Can you get that please? I have my hands full!” 

Somewhere in the apartment, her phone was ringing. There was no contact information on the caller screen, just a number he didn’t recognise. 

“Hello?” Namjoon said into the phone. 

“Oh, uh...” 

The pause went on for long enough that Namjoon was halfway to hanging up when the man on the other line spoke again. 

“I’m calling for Hayeon?”  

As if it were a question. 

“She has her hands full right now; I can take a message.” 

Another long pause.  

“No, no, that’s ok.” 

“Shall I tell her you called?” 

“No, no thanks. Bye.” 

They hung up first. Namjoon shrugged and carried the phone into the kitchen, where Hayeon was up to her elbows in washing up. He put it on the counter beside the sink and gave her a quick kiss on the temple. 

“I’ll dry,” he said. 

“Who was calling?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Some guy-” 

And Namjoon hadn’t thought anything of it. Would probably have forgotten all about it, except that Hayeon paused, just for a second, her body frozen with tension before she shrugged it off herself.  

“He didn’t want to leave a message or anything,” Namjoon finished, watching his girlfriend a little more closely. 

“Weird.”  

“Yeah, weird.” 

And he would have forgotten it. In truth, had forgotten about it, but then he got out of the shower and heard Hayeon speaking on the phone. 

“-ere you thinking? Why would you call this phone?” she hissed viciously, her voice quiet but her anger clear. 

She had her hand cupped around her mouth, shoulders rounded—defensive, protective—as she stood, leaning against the fridge, her back to Namjoon.  

Namjoon was not interested in spying on his girlfriend. He turned into their bedroom and got dressed, content to ignore whatever that was. 

As he lay in bed, though, he found he couldn’t ignore it. It was one thing to get a call from someone you didn’t know – spam, voice phishing, a genuine wrong number – but those people didn’t usually ask for someone by name, by first name alone, as if they knew you. The way Hayeon froze when Namjoon said it was a guy. Whatever secret conversation she was having when she knew he wouldn’t be able to hear it.  

He was not a suspicious man. Had no reason to be. He and Hayeon had been together for so long, the thought of there being anyone else was inconceivable. They were Hayeon and Namjoon; they came as a pair. Never one without the other. It just was. So there was no way, he concluded, that she would be cheating on him. Yet he could think of no other reason for her behaviour.  

He took Hayeon’s phone from her bedside table and pressed his thumb against it to unlock. It didn’t. He tried again. And again. He tried enough times that the phone refused biometric unlocking entirely and prompted him for a passcode. Well, he knew that, too, so he typed the numbers in—incorrect. When had Hayeon changed her passcode? Had she removed his thumb print? They’d always had—and almost never needed or wanted to use—access to each other’s phones. Now he did not.  

He looked down at Hayeon, sleeping peacefully, face squished into the pillow, lips pouting. He rolled his eyes: she wasn’t cheating. It was an absurd conclusion to come to on the scant evidence he had. Evidence! It wasn’t evidence. It was nothing. He kissed her carefully on the forehead, and settled down to sleep. He would forget all about it.  

* 

It came into his head when he got a call himself from an unrecognised number (it turned out to be someone offering him a new credit card). He remembered it again weeks later when Hayeon asked him to change the music on her phone and he, once again, couldn’t unlock it. 

“Oh, it’s been doing that to me, lately,” she said, when his thumb was denied entry. “I think it’s the screen protector or something.” 

She came over and unlocked the phone herself—worked first time.  

But, for the most part, he forgot about it. 

* 

Spring was meekly peeking from behind the curtains of winter and it was the first day warm enough to allow eating lunch outside. So Namjoon took himself out of his desk chair and walked to the nearest green space with a bench. They called it a park though it wasn’t really, but it was enough for Namjoon. It had been trapped for too long in construction, with scaffolding at all sides, precluding entry, but late last year, the buildings surrounding it were finally complete and the park was free to enter again. This had come as quite a relief to Namjoon, who loved the city, but loved nature, too. A relief it was to have green grass under his feet, sun on his face, nature’s fractals everywhere he looked. He liked it all the more for its contrast to the beige-grey buildings, the chrome, the chaos of the city. The traffic noise was loud and unceasing but the birds sang, too.  

He was halfway through his sandwich when he spotted Hayeon. He reached into his pocket for his phone, to call her, to say ‘I see you!’ and watch her look around herself in confusion until she saw him. Until she smiled and came over and they had lunch together. He abandoned that idea when he saw a man come up behind her. He touched her lightly on the lower back and they walked together.  

Probably nothing, he said.  

Then he remembered the phone call.  

Probably nothing, he repeated to himself. Still, he watched them until they were out of sight, out of the park, probably finishing their own lunch breaks, heading back to their own desks. 

* 

Namjoon had decided that he had to ask. He had to find out because he’d started adding things up and, well, he was usually very good at maths but he didn’t like the answer he’d arrived at. 

The phone call. The way his thumb no longer unlocked her phone. Her changed passcode. That guy. The way she was always on her phone these days, but jumpy about it. Her increasing disinterest in him; how much quicker she was to anger; how things that had always playfully infuriated her now genuinely pissed her off. She had claimed work stress, having started a new job last autumn. Was it? 

He couldn’t go in half-cocked. If he was going to confront her, he needed better ammunition.  

That was why he was digging around at the backs of drawers, rooting around in every bag she owned, hunting for some unidentified smoking gun. Something that would confirm everything.  

The bedroom carefully ransacked, he was still empty-handed. She had told him she would be working late that evening, so he decided to do the good-boyfriendly thing and take her dinner. That is what he would say, anyway, assuming that he would find her there. 

* 

“Hayeon? She’s already left for the day,” the receptionist told him. 

“Oh, really? Do you know what time she left?” 

“Mm, one second.”  

There were security gates just three feet from the desk, into and out of which everyone who entered the building would swipe their access cards. The computer would know, down to the minutes and seconds, when she left. He had familiarity on his side—people knew him, knew he was Hayeon’s boyfriend, would share this sort of information with him. He was lucky.  

“It was 5:15. Early today,” she said.  

“Right, ok, thank you. Must have got our wires crossed.” 

He pulled out his phone and checked his messages. 

[13:04]  Hayeon: remember I'm working late today, babe. Have dinner without me! 😘 

Not a smoking gun, but getting warmer. 

* 

He checked bank statements—his, hers, their joint account. Nothing really seemed off. Nothing jumped out at him, but he kept looking, whittling down anything he could twist into infidelity until he was left with only a handful of transactions.  

The nails. True, she’d only started having them done recently. She and Namjoon had been together for years and she’d never gone to the expense or effort. Also true, her salary increased, which meant her disposable income had increased. It was a popular thing to do. Didn’t necessarily mean anything. 

Some expensive perfume. See above. 

A store name he didn’t recognise until he searched online and discovered they sold lingerie—amongst other things. He tried to remember the last time Hayeon had worn anything sexy. He couldn’t. A piece of information was trying to float to the surface of his brain, and without being conscious of it, he followed it into their bedroom and her underwear drawer. He’d fished around in here not long ago, looking for something like a burner phone, or condoms (that they hadn’t used for a long time, since Hayeon switched to hormonal birth control). He hadn’t been looking for lace or satin so hadn’t seen it, but there it was. Lingerie. That he’d never seen before, though she’d had plenty of opportunities to wear it since she bought it: Christmas, New Year, Seollal, Valentine’s day, White Day just passed.  

It wasn’t a smoking gun, but he was getting hot.  

* 

He might not have gone to any effort at all, in the end. Looking back on it, he had had to laugh. She must have been trying to get caught. After months of hiding it all so successfully, maybe she had got complacent.  

Namjoon had arrived home to an empty apartment—Hayeon was away for the weekend with some friends. That was what she had said. Namjoon ordered dinner and lounged in front of the TV. He luxuriated in the space and the silence. The world was his own. Unshared. There weren’t many moments like this. 

His phone buzzed. 

Jang Yijeong: Hey, man hope youre good 

Jang Yijeong: idk if this is weird and i might be totally mistaken, i only met her a couple of times but 

Jang Yijeong: im in jinhae with my girlfriend and  

Jang Yijeong: is this your girlfriend? 

Jang Yijeong: [attached a picture] 

Well, it certainly looked like Hayeon.  

Namjoon’s screen was interrupted with more messages. 

Jang Yijeong: my girlfriend says its weird for me to take photos and shes probably right and im way off and this is just a weird thing to do! 

Jang Yijeong: maybe im mistaken! Hope so, dude, but thought you should know if not. i know id want to know 

Namjoon stared at the photo and then at the second one Yijeong sent. It was her. Undoubtedly. He would know her face in twenty pixels but the photos were clear as day. Hayeon holding some other man’s hand. Hayeon posing for a photo, kissing his cheek.  

A third arrived. Well, he’d wanted a smoking gun. They didn’t get much more smoking than a video of your girlfriend kissing another man. All this time that he’d been actively searching for evidence of this and now, here it was, presented to him on a platter. All this time, he’d been looking for something that—he realised now—he didn’t want to find.  

He was furious. Livid. Could feel the vein in his temple pulse as adrenalin coursed through him.  A smoking gun. A man kissing his girlfriend. His girlfriend kissing a man who wasn’t him. 

He sent a text back before he could forget. 

Namjoon: that’s her. Thanks man 

He put his shoes on and went straight out. Hayeon didn’t know he knew. Namjoon decided, through a red haze of rage, that there was about to be a lot more than Hayeon wouldn’t know.  

* 

“Are you ok?” you asked, opening the door to Namjoon, who had shown up unannounced, sounding agitated.  

Everyone had always told him you liked him. Liked him. They said it was obvious. They told him to be sensitive when they thought he’d overstepped in some way—with you, with Hayeon in front of you. He had never been sure if he believed them. You and he were just friends. Had always just been friends. You’d never said a word to him of anything different. Now, he was going to find out for sure. 

“What would you do if I kissed you?” he asked. 

He didn’t wait for an answer. Before your face had rearranged itself from shock to confusion, he was kissing you. He half-expected you to slap him, push him off, ask him if he was crazy (he just might have been at that moment), but you didn’t. You kissed him back. Snaked your arms around his neck, opened your mouth when he brushed his tongue against your lips. More, you pulled him forward, into your apartment, so he could kick your front door shut, so he could follow you into your bedroom.  

Namjoon didn’t stop to ask questions. Neither did you. He put his hands on a new body for the first time in almost a decade; for the first time, touching someone who was not Hayeon. He learnt that your skin was soft and your mouth was sweet. He discovered the pitch to which your voice raised when he found just the right motion. He found his own body responded to yours with swift alacrity. He discovered different things that other people did, that you did, which Hayeon did not. Found that he preferred them. With adrenalin surging through him, he found the newness exciting; he was hungry for it, desperate to learn how to use your body, how to make you tick, how to time the implosion carefully so that you came as he sank his teeth into the soft skin around your nipple.  

He did not forget, in all this rage, in all this lust, to use a condom.  

Spent, but not in any way sated, Namjoon lay for two seconds on his back next to you, before rising to clean up the evidence. 

“I’m sorry,” was what he said to you when he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to you. 

“It’s ok,” was what you said back. 

It wasn’t what you wanted to say. You wanted to say that it wasn’t ok. You wanted to have said no back at the front door. To have not let him kiss you, not let him into your house, into your body. You wanted to be the sort of person who would have said those things.  

But you loved Namjoon. Had loved him as long as you’d known him. Had known also all that time that he would never leave his girlfriend for you. Would never leave his girlfriend full stop. Sometimes you were at peace with that. Found that it was ok, really, didn’t much bother you. Other times, you ached with it, burnt with it, cried from it. And he had shown up at your front door, asked to kiss you, kissed you and what else could you have done?  

You would have liked to have been a better person, but there he was, finally doing the thing you had wished he would more times than you could count. So you didn’t say no and you didn’t ask questions. You just kissed him back, poured as much of your love as you could from your mouth to his, your body to his.  

Did he know? How you really felt? He must have known. Why else would he have come? Why else would he be apologising to you now?  

“Hayeon is cheating on me.” 

You closed your eyes, tried to swallow the tears that pricked in your eyes. Of course, it wasn’t about you. You weren’t suddenly the object of his affections; you were subject to his hurt, wounded pride, betrayal, anger, what else? When he fucked you, just now, on the bed where you still lay, was he thinking of her? Of course, he was.  

Was it not also true, though, that you knew that? That you knew, when he was kissing you, that it wasn’t about you. Couldn’t have been about you because you and Namjoon had been friends for years and he’d never once as much as hinted that he might have wanted to kiss you—as much as everyone knew that you wanted him to. Did you let him touch you, did you touch him, thinking that it meant something? Or did you take your scraps eagerly, desperately, like a stray dog, not asking what they were or where they came from, just eating hungrily, quickly, until they were gone? 

“I’m sorry,” you offered him. “That sucks.” 

Namjoon stood and redressed. You lay still on the bed, watching him. Waiting. For something. Anything.  

Before he turned to leave, he inclined his head slightly towards you (not looking, not looking at you, naked still, uncovered, for his eyes).  

“Could you-... I mean... would i-” 

“Relax, Namjoon. I won’t tell anyone.” 

The relief washed out of his body on a sigh. He nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

* 

If you had been a better person, you wouldn’t have let him kiss you even once. Definitely would not have let him fuck you whilst he was still in the maelstrom of reacting to finding out his girlfriend of nine years was cheating on him.  

Definitely definitely would not have let it happen again. And again. And again.  

Because it kept happening. He kept coming. To you. He said it was only you. You had no choice but to believe him because you wanted him to come again. Even as the door shut behind him on his way out, you wanted him to come back. 

You told no one, as you had said you wouldn’t. You betrayed nothing, except all your morals and principles, except Hayeon (who was kind of your friend, too). You found it hard to look at yourself in the mirror: hair messy; purpling bruises on your breasts from his teeth, yellow and green bruises on your thighs from him in times before; still flushed, heartrate still high, skin still warm, sticky with drying sweat.  

You never told yourself that it would be the last time. That this time you would put your foot down. You knew you wouldn’t. Couldn't. You had opened the floodgates and here was the deluge: the feelings you had known you had done your best to hide from now dancing in the spotlight. You loved him. Oh, you loved him. Would have done anything for him. Including and not limited to fucking him behind his girlfriend’s back and keeping it a secret. 

He never spoke about her. Never once said he was going to leave her, was thinking of leaving her, wanted to leave her. You knew he never would. They had grown up together: all the way through school, spinning in the same orbit. When they got to taste independence and adult life at university, their friendship had become something more. Then her parents had died in a car crash that almost killed her, too, and Namjoon knew he would never leave her. That was how the story went, how his friends told it.  

So you kept your mouth shut and your legs open. Told yourself you a thousand lies to make yourself feel like maybe you weren’t the worst person in the world for it.  

Namjoon would have told the story a little differently. Hayeon had almost died in a car crash that almost killed her, too, and that was when he knew he could never leave her. He was the only family she had left. She was the only love he had ever known; he her only love. He would not, could not, abandon her. Even if he wanted to. Even when he wanted to.  

He told himself this was why he hadn’t confronted her about cheating yet (that, and of course, he had gone and done the very same thing. Done it over and over again, so many times that he didn’t even think of Hayeon when he was with you anymore. That it wasn’t about her anymore). Because, despite how they may have appeared, despite what anyone might have said about them as a couple, they weren’t perfect for each other. She wasn’t his soulmate. He couldn’t blame her for cheating when, frankly, if he’d been honest with himself, he wanted out, too. He wanted out but couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger, to be the bad guy, to break her heart when he was the one who had to put it back together all that time ago. There was tragedy between them that would last forever; to Namjoon, that meant they had to, too.  

You were something entirely different. All his friends’ words resounded in his head after the first time. How much you cared for him. How sad it was, how well you bore it, this unrequited, doomed, desperate love for him. He had expected this to make you weak, somehow, to make you feel too soft, too pliable, too malleable under his hands.  He felt bad the first time, for using you, for burning you up in his roaring rage, but then he came back to you and you opened the door as if you knew exactly what he wanted—because you did know exactly what he wanted—and let him in. He had expected to feel as if he was taking advantage of you, of your weakness for him, but he didn’t. You weren’t pliable and malleable and pathetic. You didn’t get on your knees and prostrate yourself, offer yourself up on a platter for his delectation.  

He loved the taste of your moans in his mouth. He loved the smell of your lotion, faintly lingering on your skin as he kissed, licked, and bit his way across your body. He loved the hot, wet slip of your tongue, the tight, slippery clutch of your cunt. He even loved the way you were careful, dug your nails into his back, into his thighs for a microsecond before releasing him, leaving no marks. Sucked on his skin so his eyes fluttered closed and his breath caught, but not so that the tell-tale bloom of burgundy and purple would give you away.  

“I should go,” he said quietly, lying naked on your bed, sweat dry, heart rate steady.  

“Yeah, you said that,” you replied gently, naked next to him, on your side, head propped on your hand, watching him, taking him in, the man you loved and could never have outside of these moments.  

He turned to look at you, eyes catching his, and he felt desperate suddenly. Desperate not to leave. Not to go back to his house made of straw, house made of lies, to a girlfriend who maybe didn’t love him anymore. To a girlfriend he didn’t love, whom he hadn’t loved—he was sure—for some time. To a girlfriend he wouldn’t leave.  

So he left you. Returned home, with heavy feet and a heavier heart. Returned, angry, frustrated, all his old fury bubbling up again, a rolling boil threatening the edge of the pan.  

“We need to talk,” he said in greeting to Hayeon, who was making tea in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, we do.” 

His surprise made him pause for a second—was she about to confess everything? 

“I know we haven’t really talked about the future much recently,” she began, leaning with her back against the counter as the kettle rumbled slowly to a boil. “Things have been crazy with work and I feel like we’ve just been kind of missing each other, y’know? But that’s why I think this will be great. This is a good thing. A really good thing.” 

“What is?” 

And nothing could have prepared him for the words that followed. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

A cloud of steam rose from the kettle beside Hayeon, the noise of the water roiling inside grew louder. So did Namjoon’s rage. So did he sense of betrayal. The injustice (of what? He couldn’t have said, could barely manage conscious thought). The inescapability of a child. His child. His anger surprised him, the strength of it, the speed and ease with which it rose inside him. He bit down on his tongue to stop all of his worst instincts taking control of it. He reminded himself this was as much his fault as hers. Then he wondered if it was. 

He did his best to school his features into neutrality, to keep his voice level when he spoke. 

“How do you know it’s mine?” 

To her credit, Hayeon did not immediately launch into a wounded, defensive howl. She did not cry big, fat crocodile tears. She flinched, swallowed, opened her mouth and closed it again. She took a deep breath, eyes shut, and looked at him again, nodding silently to herself, but she didn’t lie. She knew Namjoon too well for that. Knew him well enough to know that he knew. And that was when it crystallised inside him: the knowledge that their relationship was fucked. Was fucking over.  

“How long have you known?” she asked. 

“How do you know the baby is mine?” 

A crease flashed across her face – concern? Anger? – and was gone again in a second. Part of Namjoon wanted to have this fight. To force a showdown and make her confess everything she’d done and who she’d done them with. Maybe he would confess, too; maybe he’d tell her all the things you did to him, all the things he did to you; maybe he’d tell her just how much you wanted him.  

He didn’t, because most of him just wanted this to be over. 

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with without protection.”  

Her voice was small, eyes downcast, her fingers picked at her fingernails, at the skin around them. Namjoon was furious at himself for the tiny spark of pride that ignited within him at her words. Sure, he was being cheated on but that guy never got to fuck his girlfriend raw.  

He was pathetic. Pathetic, too, the way he thought of you, of what you would do or say. Would you end it all? Refuse to see him again? Would this change things? A sliver of panic slid down his spine at the thought, his fingers grasping air when trying to grab the life rope. 

“You’re definitely pregnant?” 

She took three pregnancy tests from her pocket. All different brands, all positive. 

“I took three more at work earlier,” she said. “False positives are extremely rare, apparently.” 

Namjoon looked at the tests, unseeing. What he was seeing instead was a closing door, a lid on a coffin, a baby growing inside his girlfriend that neither of them had planned, neither of them had expected. Neither of them had wanted.  

Namjoon didn’t come over for a while. You saw him, socially, as you saw your other friends, and he seemed tense. There was something hiding behind his smile that you were sure everyone else could see, too; it couldn’t just be you that noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes, didn’t last quite long enough to be genuine. That noticed that he was checked out of conversations. That noticed his jaw tense, just a little, when Hayeon was around, when someone mentioned her name.  

You hadn’t seen him, one-on-one for a couple of weeks when he messaged you. 

[20:31]  Namjoon: can i come over? 

As if you had ever said or would ever say no.  

He had fire in his eyes again, when you opened the door to him, but it wasn’t blazing, raging, out of control. This was a rich, deep smoulder; darker, burnished light glinting at you. He didn’t ask any questions, just took your face in his hands and kissed you, far more softly than you’d expected. More slowly. He shut the door behind him, but he didn’t drag you to the bedroom; he wrapped his arms around your body and held you close to him; he rolled his tongue into your mouth and gave a quiet, contented hum when it met yours.  

It wasn’t always urgent and hurried with Namjoon. It wasn’t always needy and aggressive and high-geared. It often was, but not always. Never, though, had it been like this. Slow. Intense. Your bodies pressed together; fingers twined in fingers, twined in hair; lips brushing lips, brushing skin. It was indulgent. Wanton, with his mouth between your thighs as you whined, as your breath caught in your throat; with his head clamped between your legs as you writhed, squirming as you came, your body contorted with pleasure and your face the perfect picture of ecstasy. And later, with his length stuffed down the wet tunnel of your throat, when he was lost for words and could only moan, could only utter slurred vowels that sounded like your name. When he came for the first time and whispered quiet praise to you. When he came for the second and held you so close you could feel his heart pound. It was the kind of sex people had when they had all the time in the world and nowhere else to be—no one else to go home to. The kind of sex that made you fall in love—as if you hadn’t already. The kind of sex you assumed he had with Hayeon, had assumed before now that he would never have with you.  

When he came for the final time—sitting against the headboard with your backside in his hands, with his hair in yours, with his tongue in your mouth—and you moved to get off him, he held you tight against his chest. Whispered, ‘just give me a minute’. He cradled your head as it rested against his shoulder. He rubbed your back. He sighed heavily, closed his eyes. 

“Hayeon’s pregnant.” 

“Fucking hell!” 

You sat up with a start. You had known there was something. You had never imagined it would be this. Namjoon smiled grimly. 

“Uh, congratulat-... um-” and you didn’t know how to continue, how to ask the question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t need to because Namjoon had already heard it, seen it coming. 

“She says it’s mine-” 

“You asked?” 

He nodded.  

“So... she knows you know.” 

Nodded again.  

“And...” 

“And she’s pregnant,” he repeated with a shrug that looked effortfully casual. “She’s agreed to a paternity test, though she says I’m the only one who...”  

He cleared his throat, as though this was awkward, as though you weren’t sitting with his cock, soft now and still inside you.  

“She’s on birth control, so we don’t use other protection.”  

You stood, trying to understand how you felt. Trying to understand how Namjoon might feel. He moved, too, disposing of the used condom, cleaning up, pulling his boxers back up his legs.  

“You’ve always wanted to have a kid,” you offered, not knowing if he wanted this kid, at this time, with this girlfriend. 

“Yeah,” he said, but he was still facing away from you, so you couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell what myriad things his one word might be saying.  

“Is that why...” 

But you didn’t finish the question because you didn’t need to ask it. Of course, that was why he hadn’t come to you for weeks. Of course, this would change things. It already had. It was a child—there was no question of keeping it or not, you knew that—and they would be a family.  

Namjoon sat at the edge of your bed and spoke the words you were thinking. 

“What about this?” 

“This?” 

“Us?” 

You laughed. Laughed because tears pricked in your eyes and the only other alternative was crying.  

“Is there an us?” 

And he couldn’t answer because he knew as well as you did that there wasn’t. That, whatever you were, it wasn’t real, wasn’t lasting, wasn’t love. Not for him.  

“Why do you let me come?” he asked, sounding as sad as you had ever heard him, no hint of recrimination, accusation.  

You laughed again, weaker, wetter, tears on your waterline.  

“You know why,” you answered thickly. “You know and everyone else knows, too. You know how I feel about you, Namjoon. Beggars can’t be choosers. They can be pathetic and cruel and selfish and wrong, but they can’t be choosers. I don’t get to choose, Namjoon. To love you or not love, to be with you or not be with you. I'll always say yes.” 

You bit your bottom lip as it wobbled, as the tears made tracks down your cheeks.  

“Doesn’t it hurt?” his voice a mere whisper. 

“Of course it hurts,” you whispered back. “It hurts you too, doesn’t it?” 

Namjoon was a father. 

A baby boy, 7lbs 7oz, born (unlike most babies) on his exact due date, in the final days before Christmas. Namjoon laid his eyes on the bloody, screaming gargoyle that was his son and his fate was sealed. A love the likes of which he had never known burst his heart apart. That was his son and he found he had no interest in a paternity test. Biology wouldn’t take anything away from him, couldn’t change what he knew he felt. The request for a paternity test was in Hayeon’s medical notes and it was done without anyone having to mention it. Two days later, results confirmed that the probability of Namjoon being the father stood at 99.9999%. He threw the letter in the bin. 

He had tried to tell himself throughout the pregnancy that he’d stop. He’d put an end to it for everyone’s sake. To see you was equal parts joy and heartbreak. To have you, knowing you weren’t truly his. To love you, without telling you. He kept so much from you during that time because you were his friend but you were so much more than that now and you didn’t deserve to hear him talk about the baby his girlfriend was carrying. You didn’t deserve to see his excitement, despite everything, his wonder and awe and anxiety. You deserved far more than he could give you.  

So he told himself, after the baby was born, he’d end it. It would be a fresh start, a clean slate. The baby, brand new, didn’t have to know anything of his father’s sins, his flaws, his shame.  

* 

Namjoon ushered you into the apartment with the baby asleep in his arms.  

“Ohh,” you cooed, almost silently. “He’s so cute.” 

“You don’t have to whisper,” Namjoon told you, his voice loud in the silence. “He’s out like a light.” 

You followed him to the sofa and sat next to him, staring down at his son.  

“I didn’t really know they were so small,” you said. “So much smaller than I was expecting.” 

“Right?” Namjoon smiled, couldn’t stop himself. “He’s light, too. It’s almost like there’s nothing there at all.” 

“Yeah, they lose weight after being born, don’t they?” 

Namjoon blinked, exhaustion slowing his brain, so that he took a few seconds to process the question. He didn’t know you knew anything about babies.  

“Yeah, about 10%,” he answered, watching you carefully, trying to gauge what you felt about this child and balance it against what he thought you felt about children as a concept. “He’s 5 days old now so he’s stopped losing weight but it can take a few weeks to gain it back. Want to hold him?” 

You looked surprised then but nodded tentatively. Namjoon still wasn’t used to this manoeuvre; he and Hayeon hadn’t quite nailed the transfer yet but he was getting better. Slipped his son into your waiting arms without too much physical awkwardness. You were quiet as you watched him sleep; Namjoon watched you watch him, felt his heart drop into his guts and those guts start to churn.  

“His name is Hajoon,” he told you. 

You were the first of his friends to be told. He saw the moment of tension in your body, the bob of your throat as you swallowed. You smiled, unable to tear your gaze away from the baby, so he couldn’t see your face properly, couldn’t look you in the eye and see into your soul.  

“Hajoon. Kim Hajoon, nice to meet you,” you whispered.  

Namjoon let his head drop, not sleeping but not quite awake. Minutes passed, he couldn’t have guessed how many. Then he felt your hand on his leg and he opened his eyes. 

“How are you?” you asked with a grin. “You must be pretty wrecked.” 

He nodded. 

“Hayeon is so jacked up on hormones that she’s fine. She’s sleeping right now but she said she honestly doesn’t feel tired most of the time. She feels normal. Whereas I am the most tired I have ever been. I don’t know if I will ever feel normal again.” 

“I expect you won’t. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it?” 

You turned back to his son and Namjoon saw your smile drop, saw it twist into some kind of sad resignation. He didn’t argue that it hadn’t changed.  

“I have news, too,” you announced quietly, Hajoon still snoozing. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I got a new job.” 

“Oh, that’s great!” 

“In Hong Kong.” 

“What?” 

“I’m moving to Hong Kong.” 

“Why? 

“I got a job.” 

Thinking for Namjoon was like swimming through molasses; he was sure he had somehow misunderstood.  

“You’re moving to Hong Kong?” 

“Yeah.” 

“When?” 

“Just after the new year.” 

“Shit.” 

You laughed and it was generous of you. Words wouldn’t come to Namjoon. He knew he should be saying things like: congratulations! That’s amazing! What a great opportunity! I’m so happy for you! He could only think things like: don’t go. What about me? I’ll miss you. Please don’t leave. 

“Obviously I wanted to meet Hajoon first and, y’know, let you know. I’m going to tell everyone else at drinks tonight.” 

“Right... Yeah...”  

“It’s a really good opportunity for me.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“I think I’ve been coasting at work here; it was time for something new.” 

And Namjoon didn’t know if you were trying to convince him or yourself. He didn’t care. He didn’t care how great an opportunity it was; any opportunity that put a thousand miles between the two of you was not worth it. Not for him. 

He knew he wasn’t allowed to think that. He didn’t get a say. He didn’t get the privilege of being heartbroken by this. Not after everything he had done. Not after deciding that he was going to end things himself anyway.  

But he did think it. And he was heartbroken. He could feel it, cracking in his chest, trying to contort itself around this new knowledge, your approaching absence. He could feel it, fighting with his resolve, losing. His heart, so full, fit to burst, overflowing with love and gratitude because his son had arrived safely in the world; his heart, torn in two, slivers and shreds of it going with you to Hong Kong... Would they ever return? 

He opened his mouth to say something he shouldn’t. He hadn’t planned what but if this was the last time he was going to see you (and it probably would be because you were leaving in a week and he had a newborn baby), he couldn’t let you go with everything unsaid like this.  

Hayeon opened the bedroom door and walked out, rubbing her eyes, looking a little dozy, hair mussed and face pillow-creased. 

“Oh hi,” she said with a smile, seeing you on the sofa.  

“Hi,” you returned, standing. “Congratulations. He’s beautiful.” 

“Thank you, we certainly like to think so.” 

“I was just heading off.” 

“You were?” 

“You were?” 

Namjoon and Hayeon simultaneously; Hayeon politely curious, Namjoon urgent, panicked. 

“Yeah, you know how it is this time of year. Lots to plan for.” 

“Of course. It was nice to see you; thanks for coming.” 

Hayeon approached and took Hajoon from you, turning back towards the kitchen, while Namjoon stood by and wondered how he could stop you leaving. His apartment, Korea, his life. 

“Well,” you began. “I guess I’ll go. Congratulations on the baby, really. I’m really, really happy for you. You’re going to be a wonderful dad.” 

It was testament to his exhaustion that tears stang in Namjoon’s eyes. He wasn’t really a crier. Certainly not in front of other people. But he couldn’t swallow down the lump in his throat—the lump of words stuck there, that he wouldn’t say, couldn’t say; the words he wished he could transmit to you without saying them aloud.  

You stepped closer with your arms out and he enveloped you, crushing, too tight, too hard, too long. The smell of your hair, the lingering scent of perfume on your neck, your fingers lightly gripping the hair at the nape of his neck the way you always did, the slight overbalance of your weight against his as you rose onto your toes.  

Then, too soon, far too quickly, you pulled back; you said goodbye; you walked out of his apartment and his life. 

* 

Namjoon heard Hajoon stir before the crying started because he wasn’t asleep anyway. He should have been but he didn’t want to go to sleep and wake up in a Seoul that didn’t have you. Even though you had already gone. Had left this afternoon after a raucous bottomless brunch that Namjoon saw the photos from but hadn’t been able to attend. If he didn’t sleep, the world wouldn’t settle into its new formation; the city wouldn’t bend and twist to cover the gap you had left. If he didn’t sleep, he would go mad enough to truly believe it hadn’t happened. 

So he heard his son and went to his cot in the nursery, picked him up, checked if he needed changing, held him close to his chest as he looked out of the window at the city, newly empty or so it seemed.  

Hajoon began to cry, a sweet little mewling racing into full-bodied screams. Namjoon prepared a bottle, one-handed, as he had already learnt to do, but Hajoon didn’t want it. He wanted to kick and scream and Namjoon couldn’t blame him.  

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said quietly, his own voice breaking, tears rolling down his cheek. “We can cry it out together.” 

Namjoon sat in the outrageously expensive rocking chair they had bought but not, at that point, yet used, and he and his son cried their hearts out.  

Hajoon settled before Namjoon did, crying himself back to a newborn’s dead sleep while Namjoon’s breath still shook, came in snatches, tears dropping from his cheeks onto Hajoon’s swaddle. He didn’t put him back into the cot; he rocked, slowly, gently, intent on spending the rest of the night there.  

Hayeon crept in just as Namjoon’s eyelids were dropping.  

“Hey, why are you awake?” he asked, voice thick and groggy.  

“I had to pee. Thought I’d check on him. And you.”  

“We’re fine. Go enjoy some sleep.” 

“Ok.” 

She hesitated at the door and Namjoon wondered what she’d heard, what she’d been woken by but he was too tired to follow the thought to its end, to worry what she might know or suspect. He rested his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, sleep coming swiftly this time. 

* 

The next morning, Namjoon handed Hajoon to Hayeon for his second breakfast, and was stopped in his tracks on the way to the bathroom when she asked him, 

“Did you love her?” 

Like a punch in the gut. ‘Did’ was the wrong question. He had loved her and loved her still. There was nothing past about it; it was all too present, all too painful.  

Could he tell her that? He hadn’t known that Hayeon had known about you, but it didn’t surprise him. It didn’t surprise him that she knew and didn’t confront him about it, that she was willing to let it all be swept under the rug for the sake of their family. Guilt ate at him, suddenly, sharply. Maybe they could both benefit from a little bit of honesty. 

“Yes.” 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

It had been almost two years. Two really good years: you thrived at your job, had made good friends, had established a real, proper life for yourself. And had hardly missed Namjoon at all. That was your story and you were sticking to it.  

His social media were rarely updated—the occasional story of his son, ‘now listening’ songs that you did your best to ignore when you were doing well, that you did your best to decode when you weren’t. It made things easier that he wasn’t there every time you picked up your phone. It made things harder, gave you all sorts of space to imagine his happiness. You knew the big facts: he was happy; his son was beautiful; he and Hayeon were still together. As they would ever be.  

Her instagram was busier. Hajoon. Namjoon. Friends. Family holidays. Hajoon. Namjoon. Namjoon. Hajoon. Namjoon.  

You couldn’t unfollow her; you were supposed to be friends still. So you prodded your bruises, picked at your scabs, looked so closely at photos of him you could have recreated them, pixel for pixel.  

Now he was here in front of you and you had to face the devastating reality that he had the same effect on you as he ever had. You had never seen Namjoon and not loved him.  

“You finally made it back here.” 

That surprised you and you wondered how it was possible that no one had told him. Of course you’d been back to Seoul before now. You just hadn’t seen him, hadn’t wanted him to know while you were here. You hadn’t expected your friends to keep their mouths shut. You were grateful that they had.  

You shrugged.  

“Guess so... Happy birthday.” 

It was pure rotten luck that meant your visit for Chuseok coincided with this. That gave you no excuse at all to not attend. Whilst Namjoon was the birthday boy, it didn’t mean you had to spend any time with him. He was popular and there were more than enough people filling the space; you could avoid him easily. You’d ripped off the plaster, seen him again, said hello and acknowledged him. That was enough.  

You thought. He was somehow always in your line of sight. Somehow waiting for the bathroom at the same moment you needed to go. At the bar buying another drink as you stood there, emptying yours. With every encounter, you grew surer that this had been a mistake. You shouldn’t have come. You should have pretended to be stuck in Hong Kong, pretended your family were visiting you instead, pretended you’d died, who cared? You just needed to get away from him.  

How had the bar become so crowded? Why were there so many people and why were they all in your way? You forgot your manners, left them somewhere on the bar, and pushed, feeling claustrophobic in their presence, in the clinging love and pain that was suffocating you again.  

“Woah, hey!” 

An arm grabbed at you; you struggled, pulled back. 

“Let me go!” 

“Where are you going?” 

Jimin. Interfering. 

“I’m going home. Let me go.” 

“What’s going on? Are you ok?” 

“I’m going home! Don’t try to make me stay.” 

“Good lord, girl, I'm just asking if you’re alright.” 

“No! I’m not! This was a stupid fucking idea! Now let me go!” 

He did. You ran. Ran into him, Namjoon, literally; the force of your body against his sent his drink sloshing over the rim, soaking you and he both. Namjoon laughed. 

“Someone’s keen.” 

Was this funny? Could he really laugh? You thought later of all the witty putdowns you might have thrown his way, something cutting and sharp that would show him just how over him you were, how unbothered, that he had no effect on you whatsoever. In the moment, you just looked at him pleadingly, trapped, unable to look away, to move, to continue your trajectory out of the bar, out of the city, out of the country, back to Hong Kong, where you were safe, where Namjoon was not.  

“Are you ok?” 

No. God no. Was it that obvious?  

Namjoon took you by the arm and steered you to the back, outside where it was dark but still close and muggy. Where there were fewer people. Where you could be alone. You covered your face with your hands, regretting whatever number of drinks it was you’d had that night.  

Namjoon said your name, soft and sweet and concerned, his hand on your arm.  

“How’s Hajoon?” you asked, abruptly, anything to avoid a real conversation.  

Namjoon could not stop the smile that stretched his face wide. You were happy for him, you really were. Happiness was all you’d ever wanted for him so you’d got your wish. If only you had been more specific. 

“He’s so funny,” Namjoon began. “Kid never sits down for a minute. He’s really into tools at the moment—tries to hammer anything long and thin into anything wide and flat. He’s making a mockery of our deposit.”  

“Can’t believe he’s going to be two soon.” 

“It’s scary how quickly the time goes. It feels like yesterday he was brand new.” 

It felt like yesterday to you, too. How raw you felt, how fresh the wounds you’d moved a thousand miles to lick.  

“I’ve missed you,” he said and you physically wilted.  

“Have you?” 

His face fell, softened. He looked at you for a long time, a tiny crease between his eyebrows, a tiny twitch in his jaw.  

“You know I have.” 

“Do I?” 

“Don’t you?” 

“I don’t know, Namjoon.”  

You looked at each other. You wanted him to say something, to fix this, to do something that would mean you could stop loving him, stop missing him. You wanted him to throw his entire life away and kiss you, then and there, onlookers be damned. You expected he wanted no such thing.  

“Hong Kong is treating you well?”  

“Yes, it is.” 

“Good. I’m glad.” 

You didn’t want him to be glad. You wanted him to be cut to ribbons. You wanted him to feel skin-stripped and naked.  

“I was on my way out,” you said, when no more words passed between you, when you were standing in an endless silence. “I really should go.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I have to go.”  

“It was good to see you again. Don’t leave it so long next time, yeah?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

And you stumbled away from him, through and out of the bar, walking as fast as your feet could carry you back to the subway.  

* 

You made it back to your parents’ house, took your make-up off, and brushed your teeth. You made it all the way back to the bed you slept in when you were still a child. Then you cried. Then you curled yourself up in a ball and cursed yourself for this. For being this way. For not letting him go. For somehow still being in love with a man who had never been yours and never would be. For all the things you did two years ago, for how many times you did them, for every opportunity to be the better person you didn’t take.  

It was close to midnight when your phone began to buzz. You stretched yourself across the bed and checked.  

Namjoon. 

You put your phone back down. It continued to buzz. Then it stopped. Then it started again. On and on and on, even when you shoved it under the spare pillow to stop it juddering against the wood.  

It stopped. Two short bursts followed: a message. 

[23:58]  Namjoon: please pick up. I'm outside 

You did not pick up. You exchanged your sleep shorts and vest for a T-shirt and joggers, slipped your feet into slides, and snuck out.  

He was waiting underneath the lamppost three metres away.  

“What are you doing here? Did you get the last train? How are you going to get back?” 

He shrugged. 

“I had to see you.” 

“Why?” 

He almost laughed in his surprise.  

“Why? Because two years ago, you moved a thousand miles away, and you’ve been back here so many times but this is the first time I’ve got to see you. You’ve been avoiding me even from Hong Kong. You were avoiding me all night; every time I tried to talk to y-” 

“We talked.” 

“No, we didn’t. Not really. Not properly.” 

“Well, what do you want to say to me? What’s so important that you came all the way here to tell me?” 

He looked lost, maybe even hurt. You fought the urge to push on his bruises, too. It would only make you feel worse.  

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.  

“I have missed you.” 

He took a few steps closer to you, within arms’ reach now. He lifted a hand, brushed your cheek with his thumb.  

You took a step back. 

“Namjoon.” 

Plea or warning, you weren’t sure.  

He returned your name, closed the gap between you. Before you could move back again, he held your arms, held you still.  

“I have missed you,” he repeated as if it meant anything. “Of course, I’ve fucking missed you—Jesus, I...”  

He moved closer, cupped your cheek in his hand.  

“You just fucking left,” he whispered. “Just like that. Dropped the bomb and didn’t stick around to observe the wreckage-” 

“Namjoo-” 

“I was a wreck. I think I cried more than Hajoon did! One second you were there, and then you weren’t. You didn’t even warn me. I didn’t know you were looking for jobs in fucking Hong Kong!” 

“So what if I had told you? What would you have done? Would you have stopped me?” 

“Maybe!” 

“Namj-” 

“Maybe I would have stopped you! Or at least I would’ve tried.” 

“For what? To what end? Were you going to leave her? Leave your newborn baby? Drop your own bomb and destroy your whole life? You know you weren’t going to. I knew you weren’t going to.” 

“Bu-” 

“Have you left her, Namjoon? Hayeon? Did you leave her?” 

“No,” he answered and you could taste the reluctance in it, the bitterness, see it in the way he refused to meet your eye. 

“Still together?” 

“Yes.” 

“See? We were never going to make it out alive. For all intents and purposes, we never were. Never were anything at all. We existed and left no mark. Move on.” 

“No mark? No mark? Is that why you’ve all but cut me out of your life? Is that why you had our friends – my friends – lie to me whenever you visited? Because it’s left no mark on you? What we were?” 

“What we were was nothing!” 

You were trying not to shout on this quiet residential street, where houselights were off and traffic noise was no more than the sound of water rushing.  

“You’re not going to leave her, Namjoon. You and I both know it. You’re never going to leave her. That means there is nothing for us. We aren’t an ‘us’. Never were. There’s nothing between us. Understand that.” 

A beat passed. 

“What would you do if I kissed you?”  

His name was on your tongue but before it could make its way out, he did just that. Kissed you as he had done two and a half years ago, without waiting for an answer. And just like that day two years ago, you wished you could have said no, wished you could have done something other than kiss him back, than uncross your arms and wrap them around his neck. Your chest felt as though it would cave in, your heart collapsing in on itself—too heavy, too full, too wounded to sustain itself.  

He tasted a little drunk; you could still smell the beer that you had made him spill on himself earlier that evening; his hair was shorter now, short even, nothing to grab at the nape of his neck like you always used to.  

“See?” he asked, a little breathless, lips still touching yours. “How can you say there is nothing? It’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing.”  

“Namjoon.” 

You hated yourself for the way your voice broke. You pushed him away, extricated yourself from his arms, scrubbed a hand over your face.  

“No,” you said, sounding surer than you felt. “No, god, no, we can’t do this.”  

You shook your arms, paced in a tight circle, tried to blow away all the Namjoon-sized, Namjoon-shaped, Namjoon-scented cobwebs in your heart and mind. 

“Namjoon, in about one minute’s time, you’ll be going back to your girlfriend and your son; in four days’ time, I’ll be going back to Hong Kong. Can’t we just leave it at that? Please.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“There isn’t any other option and you know it. Go home, Namjoon.” 

You turned around and did just that, shutting and locking the door behind you, shutting and locking the door on your heart that housed your love for him, too.  

You didn’t know how you would be able to come back again. This had taken everything you had. 

Namjoon married her. Hayeon. His mother’s taunts had moved from ‘when are you going to make an honest woman of her?’ to ‘when are you going to give Hajoon a little brother or sister?’ so he’d married her just to put it all off, to stop people asking. They’d organised it quickly—there was nothing like a spring wedding in Korea. Cherry blossom everywhere, warmer weather, unlocking as he locked himself down. 

He did it a little to convince himself, too: that they were happy. That he was happy. That they were a perfect family unit, the stuff happily-ever-afters were made of.  

He wasn’t unhappy. He loved his son more than anything in the world and got no greater pleasure than the moments when he would stretch up his tiny arms to be lifted, to wrap them around Namjoon’s neck and cling to him like a koala. The pride he felt when Hajoon learnt something new, when he finally said a word correctly, when Namjoon saw him do something he had no idea he’d learnt already—applying lip balm like his mum, reading a book (albeit upside-down) in his dad’s reading chair.  

Hajoon had started going to nursery. He would begin going full-time next term and everyone kept telling him that it must be great having his time back. Having his freedom back. 

Free? Was that what he was supposed to feel? Free, knowing that his son was in the care of other people, people he didn’t know; free, worrying about whether his son was making friends or being bullied or learning enough; free, sending his baby into the world, watching that world expand around him, watching his baby understand that there was so much more than Mummy, and Daddy, and their little house? Free?  

He’d never felt more trapped.  

He set a timer on instagram on his phone and, every few days, would ignore it a hundred times just so he could look at you. Now you were free. Free to travel (most recently, Malaysia, but also the Philippines, Australia, Fiji, amongst others). Free to love (your boyfriend, Namjoon had suspected from your stories, and then had it confirmed by his friends). Free to be anything but his.  

* 

“Congratulations,” you said, with a smile that looked too big to be insincere. “I’m sorry I missed the wedding. You didn’t really give me much notice, though, so that’s on you.” 

Namjoon tried to return the smile.  

“Yeah, sorry about that. We just kind of decided, wanted to do it quickly, y’know? It was pretty overdue.” 

He watched you carefully, desperately hunting for clues, sure that he used to be able to read you much better than this.  

“Of course. You had perfect weather for it, too. The pictures were beautiful.” 

“Thank you... Your boyfriend seems... nice.” 

He knew that that smile was genuine. He had watched you, with him, in the minutes since you’d arrived at the restaurant and sat down opposite him, and you really did seem happy. He really did seem like a nice guy, which made Namjoon hate him. Made him hate himself a little, too. Because he had locked himself into a loveless marriage. Because he couldn’t have you. Because of everything that he had done to you.  

“Yeah, he is. I’m really happy.” 

“Good.”  

And then Namjoon felt like he needed another drink, though the first courses hadn’t arrived yet.  

* 

He stumbled outside, onto the roof terrace of the obnoxiously lit, trendy bar the group had chosen. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go anywhere but home. He wanted to go back three years ago, more than that now, and make different decisions. So many different decisions. He wondered just when exactly it was that his life had started spinning out of control. It wasn’t you. Wasn’t Hajoon. Wasn’t even Hayeon cheating on him. Did it go all the way back to the accident? The one that he was convinced had tied him forever to Hayeon, had made him family, an exclusive club of one.  

He had loved her. He absolutely had loved her. She was his first love. He knew that they had been happy once. Once. For a long time. He had never confronted Hayeon about her cheating, as she had never confronted him. When she was pregnant, Namjoon assumed that, whatever sort of affair it had been, it was over; she’d never given him any cause to think otherwise, nor any cause to think something new had started in its place. A blip. Maybe that’s what it was.  

It wasn’t over for him, though, was it? It wasn’t a blip for him. It was the sharpness he felt in his chest when he saw you. The low swoop of his stomach when he pictured you, all those miles away, happy without him. It was the way his brain automatically turned on the fantasy of his life with you whenever he stopped, even for a second. What you could be. What you could have. He knew it was a fantasy, but when he saw you, in person, when you were right there in front of him, radiant and fresh and just as beautiful as you had always been, he knew it could be real, too.  

“I’m the search party,” you said in way of greeting, sitting on the stool opposite him. “Jin went to search the toilets, too.” 

“Found me.” 

“Are you ok? Just wanted some air?” 

Namjoon laughed. Air was the least of his concerns.  

“Are you happy?” he asked, demanded.  

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He saw you put your guard up, saw the way it fell across your face just as it was starting to look sad, concerned. Saw it turn that face neutral, suspicious. 

“Yes, Namjoon, I’m sure. Are you happy?” 

He tipped his head back and sighed at the sky. 

“No.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He scoffed.  

“Fuck that.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re sorry to hear that? What are we, coworkers? Surely you have more to say than that.” 

He wanted you to be happy that he was miserable. He wanted you to understand. He wanted you to take him in your arms and make him not miserable.  

You bristled beside him, sat a little straighter. 

“What do you want me to say, then?” 

He felt desperate when he looked at you, dead in the eye, your eyes doing their best to keep him out.  

“You want me to tell you to leave her,” you continued. “You want me to say, do it, Namjoon. Leave your wife and be with me. Come and be happy with me... I’m not going to do that. You know I’m not going to do that.” 

“Why not?” 

You laughed. It hurt. 

“There are a hundred and one reasons, Namjoon. First and foremost: you don’t actually want to be with me-”  

You held your hand up, pre-empting his interruption, holding it there until he shut his mouth, until he gave you the slightest nod to say fine, ok, he’d be told off. He’d take his lashings. 

“You never wanted to be with me, Namjoon. Be honest. That first time, when you found out Hayeon had cheated on you and you came to my house? I could have been anyone. It wasn’t about me at all. It’s still not about me. Do you know what that does to a person? 

“I’m not blameless: I let you. Sat myself at your feet and ate the food you dropped. I knew it wasn’t about me and I let you have it anyway but do you not understand what that did to me? How hard it has been to build myself back up? How difficult it was to love you when you were my friend and how much more difficult once you were more than that? How much it hurt me every single day? Reduced me to nothing. No self-respect, no self-esteem, just a gaping wound where my heart should have been because, every time you came, I ripped it out and handed it to you.  

“Why do you think I left? You must know. You knew how I felt about you and you knew you didn’t love me and then I come back here and you try to open it all up again. You knew why I had been avoiding you, so why did you follow me? Why? Why do you sit there, indulging in your misery, and try to drag me down too?  

“I’m not doing it, Namjoon. I've spent too much fucking time getting over you. It’s not fair for you to do this to me.” 

He sat. He took it. With his head down, empty glass in hand, he acknowledged the truth of almost everything you said, felt his shame outgrow his pride, felt tears (that were always too close to the surface these days) burn in his eyes.  

“I love you,” he said, lifting his head to look at you. “I love you.” 

“No, you don’-” 

“I do. You’re right, I’ll admit it: to start with, it wasn’t about you. You couldn’t have been anyone but it wasn’t about you. Until it was. It wasn’t about Hayeon; it wasn’t about anything but you and it’s been you ever since. I loved you then and I love you now.” 

You covered your face with your hands, fingers pressing into your eyes. You shook your head. 

“You can’t say that to me, Namjoon.” 

“Why not?” 

“Becaus-”  

You stopped, tears spilling down your cheeks, lips pressed tight to stop the wobble.  

“Because I’m over you, ok? I have a boyfriend.” 

“And I had a girlfriend. I have a wife.” 

“Exactly! GOD-” 

You stood, started pacing in front of him, hands shaking at your sides. 

“You have a wife, Namjoon! And a son! What are you doing? You can’t say this shit to me, ok? You can’t. I won’t let you; I don’t have to listen to this.” 

His hand had wrapped around your arm before you’d taken your first step. He turned you to face him, held you too tight, held you still. There had to be something he could say that would at least make you stay to talk a bit longer. There had to be some way he could get through to you. That he could convince you he loved you, if nothing else. You turned your head away, closed your eyes, face tight as if anticipating impact. Your hands still shook. 

Namjoon saw your fear and instantly his hands fell back to his side. You tentatively opened one eye, swivelled it to look at him, not asking permission but checking if it was safe. You took a big step back from him. 

“Uh, guys?” 

Both of your heads whipped around: Tian was standing in the doorway, looking a little surprised, like he’d walked in on something he shouldn’t have.  

He had. 

“Um, the group is ready to head to another place; I was sent to round you up. Everything ok?” 

You nodded, turned quickly to swipe the tears from your eyes, and then smiled at your boyfriend, walking with a skip back to him. 

“Of course!” you answered, suddenly perky. “Where to next?” 

Namjoon sent a text to Hayeon. He was going to go home early and relieve the babysitter. He had a headache. 

You had been determined to pretend it had never happened. You took your boyfriend’s arm and smiled at him, rejoined the group, and walked to the next bar, aware of Namjoon’s sudden absence. You didn’t want the entire night ruined because of him. 

Your efforts were in vain. You excused yourself to the toilet once your order had been placed and tried some deep breaths. Tried some grounding techniques. Tried to will your heart to slow, your tears to stop pricking behind your squeezed-shut eyelids.  

It should not have been like this. You had been sure. Confident. Smug, even. Tian was a great boyfriend and you liked him a lot. Loved him, even. You had looked at Namjoon’s wedding photos with a pit in your stomach but then you had gone to dinner with Tian and had a lovely time and reminded yourself that there were people in the world (at least, there was one person) who wanted you around, who was prepared to say it, to live it, to love you out loud in front of everyone. You deserved that, you reminded yourself. You were happy.  

But your heart still raced and your stomach still churned and your heart still called for Namjoon: wanted to check if he was ok, wanted to run to him, wanted to tell him to leave his wife. That was the worst part: you wanted to do all the things you’d said you wouldn’t, all the things he wanted. Instead, you had to go back out to your boyfriend and your friends and pretend you were fine. That you were where you wanted to be. 

* 

Because Tian was a good boyfriend (he was and it hurt you all the more now that you knew you weren’t over Namjoon. Might never be), he picked up on your mood, asked if you would mind going home a little early, because he felt tired.  

“It was Namjoon, right?” he asked, as he shut your hotel room door and slipped off his shoes. 

“What?” 

You sat down heavily, not ready for the rigmarole of getting ready for bed. 

“You said you left Seoul because of a bad relationship.” 

You had said that. Had told Tian that you needed to take things slowly because you weren’t confident you’d glued yourself back together securely enough. So he had taken things slow, really slow, with you, because he was kind and patient and deserving of a far better love than you could give him.  

Your body sagged. You nodded.  

“Are you ok?” 

You held your arms open to him and he pulled you up into a hug. He stroked your hair and rubbed your back. 

“Yeah.” 

Pressed so close to him, you could feel the tension build in his body. 

“I was talking to Hayeon; she said they’ve been together since university.” 

“Yeah.” 

You felt him nod and he said nothing more for a few minutes; he just held you close and you finally found your heart begin to slow, your panic subside. 

“I’m going to wash up,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your hair.  

You undressed, put pyjamas on, and swore to yourself that this was an end to it. No more. No more Namjoon. It was done. There was a man in the bathroom who accepted you, loved you, didn’t cheat on you (hadn’t cheated on anyone), and you loved him. Namjoon was in the past; Namjoon didn’t even live in the same country as you; this didn’t have to be hard (though making these declarations in his absence felt easy, easier than holding to them in his presence). 

It wasn’t long before you were back in Seoul again. Namjoon found excuses not to see you. He knew the things you said were right. He didn’t want to know it. Didn’t want to face it.  

Had not wanted to face anything difficult in his life for a long time, he realised.  

Then, one day, he checked your instagram and there it was: an engagement post. A diamond ring on your finger. Two smiling faces.  

* 

He carried the heartbreak around as rage, impatience, irritability. Scolded his son for making a mess (as if that weren’t what kids were for), snapped at Hayeon so many times, she snapped back. It wasn’t their fault. It was his. All of it, his. 

* 

“I’ve been thinking,” Hayeon began, sliding into bed next to him. “Hajoon is almost four now-” 

And Namjoon thought it was going to be about school or extra-curriculars or maybe she was just being very efficient about planning for his birthday. The moment she said the words ‘little brother or sister’, he stopped hearing anything at all. A light-headedness rushed through him, roaring in his ears.  

“I want a divorce,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. 

* 

And that was how it was. Long talks. Lots of tears. A better understanding of one another than they had had for years. An easing. A settling. No longer the feeling of walking on eggshells. No longer the weariness, the misery, the emptiness of their relationship echoing in their bed.  

They were polite and civil and organised. Agreed the splitting of the assets. Agreed 50-50 shared custody of Hajoon, who didn’t understand and found the transition, when Namjoon first moved out, difficult but adjusted quickly (as children are wont to do) and continued to thrive. There were still legal things to be finalised, a long process made longer by paperwork, but the practical things were achieved quickly and their separate lives began. 

Namjoon, sitting in his new apartment, much smaller than the old one, much neater, quieter, cried. He cried a lot. Some of it was sheer relief. Some of it was terror of something he had never known. Some of it was regret that it had taken him this long. Some of it was heartbreak. Some of it was because he didn’t know what else to do now. Didn’t know if he could fix it. Didn’t know if there was anything left to fix.  

Because it wasn’t about you. Not really. Or not entirely. It was about Namjoon doing what he should have done years ago. It was swallowing a bitter pill to cure his ills. Not just his, but Hayeon’s too, and Hajoon though he was too young to have them yet – preventing his future ills, making it so he didn’t grow up with a fucked-up view of what a relationship was, what it was supposed to be.  

It was better for everyone. It was. After the initial surprise, everyone else agreed, too. His friends finally confessed that they’d wanted to ask him for years, was he happy? Did he want this? When he had got a little too drunk and said things they didn’t know how to take and they had just let them drop, should they have picked him up on them? Had they done badly by Namjoon for not pushing the issue? He wanted to be angry with them. To say, ‘why didn’t you tell me?! Why didn’t you make me leave?!’. But it wasn’t their fault and, if they had said those things, he’d have hurt them, too. So he reassured them; it wasn’t their fault and they couldn’t have fixed anything. It was Namjoon’s problem and he had to be the one to realise it, to do it. That it had taken him so long was his own fault and no one else could have made it happen any quicker. 

“I left Hayeon, did you hear?” 

And you didn’t know what you had done to deserve this. Didn’t know quite how it always ended up you and Namjoon alone. You and Namjoon having this conversation. Namjoon digging up the past, expecting to find life in it, expecting to find what he had convinced himself it was, not what it had actually been.  

“Yeah, I heard.” 

You moved away from him, out of the room, without a backward glance. 

You had heard: a message coming in whilst you flicked through a bridal magazine. You were getting married and you shouldn’t have cared. It should not have opened a crevasse inside your heart. It should not have seen a tiny butterfly of hope flit from that deep wound. It should not, in turn, have made your blood boil. You should not have put the magazine down, hands shaking with rage. You should not have cared. 

You did.  

It made you furious: that he’d finally left her when it was too late; that your reaction to the news was hope. That, after all this time, since the moment you fucking met him, he had this hold on you, this choking grip that would not let go. You’d moved a thousand miles but it stretched across the ocean, eternal, endless. You decided to make your fury endless, too. 

* 

“How are things with you? How’s the wedding planning?” 

“Leave me alone, Namjoon.” 

* 

Your name. You ignored it. 

Your name again. You left the room. 

* 

“Are you just never going to speak to me again, is that it?” 

“No, Namjoon, that’s not it.” 

“Then what?” 

You turned to face him, exasperated, terrified. 

“Then what do you want me to say? I know you and Hayeon are getting divorced. Of course, I know that and you know that I know it, so why ask?” 

His face twitched, in surprise, confusion, irritation. 

“Well, don’t you want to say anything?” 

“No, I don’t. Enjoy your divorce. Goodbye.” 

* 

Then, weeks later, a letter arrived for you. It languished in your postbox for almost a fortnight, because you received post so infrequently that you almost never checked it. Somewhere underneath piles of leaflets and advertising was a handwritten letter addressed to you. You didn’t recognise the handwriting but it didn’t matter because you knew who it would be from. Knew it in your guts.  

You were grateful that Tian was out, that you had time to sit and read it properly.  

You may want to burn this, it began, but please at least read it first. I have a lot to say and I know you won’t let me say it to your face—I may not be brave enough to say it to your face after all this time—so I have written it down. I wrote it once and scrapped it, wrote it a second time and tried to make myself sound resolved and wise and like I knew, at any point, that I knew what I was doing, but I can’t hide from you and you already know all my worst traits, every bad thing I've ever done, so I’m just going to state things plainly and show myself as I am.  

I love you. I’m not sorry for it. I’m sorry for all sorts of things but I won’t apologise for loving you, not now, not ever.  

You were right, when I came to you that first time, it wasn’t about you. It was about Hayeon and my own ego and a destructive need to fuck things up (I’m good at this, as you already know). It was not about you but I need you to believe that it couldn’t have been just anybody. I came to you because I was wounded and hurt and angry and I knew you would ease that pain. I liked you and trusted you; you were my friend.  

I hadn’t known what I was going to do. I didn't have a plan. I don’t think you will believe that, but it’s true. Everything I had, everything I was, as a person, a human, a half of that whole, was tied up with Hayeon; we had been together for so long, even before we were together-together, and I felt as though she had spat in the face of that. She had. She had denigrated and undermined the foundation of our lives—hers, mine, ours. I was angry and I wanted to do something I couldn’t take back. I wanted something that was mine and mine alone. I wanted something that had nothing to do with her (though, of course, unavoidably, it was to do with her, that reaction in me, that impulse). I felt I would never forget the images of her with another man and I wanted something that I could think about, when that image came to me, something that would replace it, would remind me that I had something of my own, too. I had something special with someone special. You.  

So you see it could never have been anyone. I am glad that it was you. Looking back on it, it feels inevitable, that I came to you and that you let me in. I am grateful to you. Despite everything that I have done and you have done, everything we’ve said, I am grateful. Even if you rip up this letter, if you burn it, tear it to shreds and soak it in water, I am grateful to you.  

I have done everything wrong. I see that now. I have done wrong by everyone: me, Hayeon, you, even Hajoon, though he is still so young and understands so little, I hope it doesn’t affect his future. I am sorry for that. Please believe me: I am sorry.  

In my first draft of this letter, here I wrote all the things I wish I had done or said. There were a lot of them. I won’t do that in this one, though, because it doesn’t matter now, does it? I can’t take any of it back. I can’t make better choices in the past. I can only make better choices for the future.  

So I separated from Hayeon, a thing I should have done many, many years ago. We are both much happier now. She has a boyfriend, I don’t know if you know. He is a good man and he is kind to Hajoon and I thought I would be jealous, would be inclined to find fault where there was none, but I haven’t. Hayeon and I get on better now than ever. Co-parenting is sometimes hard and often complicated, but we are better parents because of it. We are able to be better people because of it. And Hajoon gets to see his parents happier than they were; Hayeon and Minho can show him what a happy relationship is like.  

I know you are happy. I am as happy for you as I can be, though I am also sad and lonely and I miss you more than I have any right to. I know and I accept that I have done so many things wrong and I have hurt you, not just once but repeatedly, and I am sorry for that. Truly, deeply, eternally sorry. I love you. I will always be here for you if you ever need anything, even from a thousand miles away.  

Now this letter is in your hands, to be dealt with however you wish. So am I. 

Yours always,  

Namjoon. 

It took you a long time to read. Because you hesitated over reading it, unsure if you really wanted to know what he had to say. Because your eyes were blurry with tears. Because there were never enough nails in this coffin. Namjoon, wherever he was, whatever he did, you loved him. Had never stopped, not for a second since you started. Since you met. Since your heart fell at his feet. You’d done everything you could to fight it, to hide from it, to kill it. It would not be suppressed. 

* 

Namjoon never received a reply from you. What would you have said? What could you have said? There was nothing in the letter you hadn’t really already known. He knew everything you could say, too. So you hid the letter in a diary and tried to forget its existence. 

Minho had proposed to Hayeon. She had said yes. They were planning a wedding—a proper one this time, a big event with everyone they knew in attendance, not the tiny, family-only, rushed job that she’d had with Namjoon. Namjoon tried, in his worse moments, not to be happy for them, but there was no denying that they were a beautiful couple and Minho was great with Hajoon (as were his parents, who didn’t seem to care that their son was marrying a divorcée with a kid). In the absence of a father, Hayeon had asked Namjoon if he would walk her down the aisle; he had been unexpectedly touched and was genuinely looking forward to it. He loved her, in a sweeter and deeper way than he had before, and he was so glad that, whatever he might have done wrong, she had this happiness now.  

You had been invited. You had RSVP’d yes. That had surprised Namjoon because, according to everyone else, you had fallen off the grid. Responding to messages vaguely and intermittently, socials all dead. Despite the fact that you were supposed to be planning your own wedding. He tried not to worry. Tried and failed. Tried and failed, too, not to be anxious about seeing you again.  

Would you be happy? Would you want to speak to him? Would you still be angry? Would you ignore him and walk away as you had done before? How had his letter been received? He still didn’t know. As far as you were concerned, it seemed, Namjoon did not exist, but you wouldn’t be able to avoid him at the wedding.  

* 

 “Look at you,” Namjoon cooed, beaming at Hayeon, in her dress and veil, clutching her flowers tightly.  

“Do I look alright?” 

“You look beautiful.”  

“I’m really nervous, is that weird?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“I don’t remember being nervous when we did this.” 

Namjoon laughed. 

“We didn’t exactly do this. A quick trip to the district office isn’t really a wedding.” 

Hayeon smiled but didn’t laugh. 

“It felt like a wedding at the time, though. I liked it.” 

Namjoon nodded, knowing that he couldn’t lie and that she would see through it if he did. 

“I’m really happy for you,” he said instead. “Minho is a good guy and I’m glad you found him.” 

Her eyes sparkled with tears she tried to blink back, tipping her head as if to tip them back inside. 

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice watery, too. “We’ve been through a lot and I’m so grateful to you for everything, especially Hajoon, and divorcing me, and being friendly to Minho. You know I could never have said yes to him if I didn’t know you would be supportive. You’re still my family and I love you.” 

They hugged, careful not to smudge make-up, not to step on her dress. 

“I love you, too,” Namjoon said, a lump forming in his own throat, grateful that something good had come from all his mistakes, that they hadn’t ruined her the way they had him. “Ok, shall we do this?” 

* 

He looked for you as he walked down the aisle. Waved back at Hajoon waving from the front row, but scanned the crowd for you. Couldn’t pick you out on the short walk to the altar. Tried not to be obviously distracted as he stood at the front, next to Hayeon, handed her off to Minho, who looked as handsome and happy as he ever had.  

He spotted you, towards the back, eyes determinedly forward while everyone else let their gazes roam: Hayeon, Minho, the flowers, the other guests, the gardens outside. His heart squeezed. It was a wedding, for fuck’s sake. If he didn’t take this opportunity, on this of all days, he would be a bigger idiot than he thought. 

* 

You weren’t easy to catch, though. He knew you were doing it deliberately. Maybe that should have stopped him. It didn’t. 

It was long into the night, booze flowing, disco dancing, when he finally caught you, waiting for the bathroom.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, cutting through the niceties, which would only have given you a greater opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself. 

“No. I have to pee.” 

“Ok, you can use the bathroom in my room.” 

You scoffed. 

“Nice line.” 

“It’s not a line. I want to talk to you.” 

“No.” 

And you stalked off, apparently no longer in need of a bathroom. 

* 

He caught you again, outside this time, leaning against the wall, looking up at the sky.  

“Wondering when is an acceptable time to leave?” he asked, not sure if he was joking or being kind of a dick. 

“Oh, I’m long past that, no worries. Not that anyone would have missed me even if I’d left early.” 

“I’d miss you.” 

“Don’t start.” 

Namjoon moved closer, touched your arm with just his fingertips. Spoke softly, tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

“Please can we talk?” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Then you said yes. Well- 

“Ok, you talk,” is what you said. “What is it you have to say to me, Namjoon? Got some magic words that’ll fix my life? Because that’s pretty much all I want to hear. If you’ve got some other shit to say, I’m not sure I’m interested.”  

“How’s Tian?”  

He thought he was treading lightly on safe territory but you whipped your head around to face him with rage in your eyes. 

“Are you fucking joking?”  

Your voice was strained with anger.  

“What?” 

“Fuck off, Namjoon!” you shouted. “Just fuck off!! Forever!!! Ok? Fucking leave me alone!!” 

But he wouldn’t. Should have. Might have on a different day, if he were completely sober, if he were a different person. 

“No.” 

And you looked angrier still.  

“You can shout at me if you want,” he continued. “And kick and scream and whatever, but you can’t just avoid me and ignore me for the rest of time. Even if you live in Hong Kong, you have family and friends here and we’re going to fucking work this shit out. Ok?” 

He couldn’t read the look on your face, then, but you weren’t arguing or walking away, so he took you by the hand and waited for you to pull it back. When you didn’t, he wasted no more time and led you back inside, up the stairs to his hotel room, where you could kick and scream to your heart’s delight and it wouldn’t ruin the party.  

When he shut the door and turned to you, your face had settled into something mean. 

“You know I don’t live in Hong Kong anymore, right?” 

No, he did not know.  

“Uh, no.” 

“You know whose fault that is?” 

He felt like it was probably his, though he wasn’t sure why. 

“No.” 

“Of course you don’t! Because it couldn’t possibly be your fault, could it? Couldn't possibly have anything to do with you! Because nothing is your fault! You’re just a fucking bleeding heart, aren’t you, Namjoon?” 

He didn’t really know, now, what he had been expecting. Could see that maybe his hopes had clouded his judgement. He had told you you could kick and scream but he hadn’t realised that you really were going to. You weren’t usually this angry and he had no idea what you meant: not living in Hong Kong? Then where? Seoul? And he didn’t know, hadn’t known; no one had told him? 

“That’s not what I think at all,” he answered, voice calm, trying not to respond in kind, not to let the strength of his own feelings escalate this. “Lots of it is my fault but I didn’t even know you had moved back here—when? When did that happen?” 

“As if you fucking care!” 

“Of course I care! I love yo-” 

“DON’T!” 

With a finger raised against him, shaking lightly. 

“Don’t you fucking dare with that shit, ok? Stop fucking lying to m-” 

“It’s not a lie! Why would I lie?” 

“Because you can’t love me! Don’t you get it? We were nothing! Nothing! A fucking distraction for you and nothing m-” 

“Now you don’t.”  

Namjoon could feel his blood heat, feel the anger rising in him. He didn’t want to be angry with you; he didn’t want to have this argument but how could you still be saying this? Still be saying that what you had with him was nothing? It wasn’t nothing to him and he knew it wasn’t nothing to you.  

“Who’s the one lying now?” he asked. “You know it’s not nothing. If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be here spitting fucking feathers at me! Tell me: why are you back?” 

“Why do you think?! Because I fucked it, Namjoon! Because of you! Because it’s always fucking you! Jesus Christ, I moved a thousand miles away and it’s still you! Still you that I let fuck up my entire life over and over again like some insane moron! And you stand there, have the fucking gall to ask me why? How? What happened? You happened, Namjoon! You fucking existed and we met and then it was all fucked!”  

“Sorry.” 

You wiped your eyes, forgetting about your make-up, smudging it, smearing it—remembering too late to be delicate, swiping a finger carefully beneath your lashes.  

“I really fucking hate you sometimes.” 

“Yeah, I hate myself sometimes, too.”  

“I don’t want that.” 

“I don’t know what you want.” 

You didn’t answer that. Namjoon didn’t expect you to, not really.  

“Can I talk?” he asked.  

You shrugged, staring into the floor as if it might serve answers. 

“Ok, well, I’m sorry you’re back, I guess.” 

You scoffed, no heat in it. 

“Ok, maybe I’m not that sorry, I don’t know. I’m sorry you’re miserable; I'm sorry you hate me. I’m sorry that Hong Kong didn’t work out. Did... Is Tian with you here?” 

“What do you fucking think?” 

“Ok, well, sorry for that, too, I guess. Or not sorry, not really, because we’re both here now, aren’t we?” 

“Don’t, Namjoon-” 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t suggest we get ‘back together’. We’ve never been together. There isn’t anything for us to go back to.” 

“I don’t know why you keep saying this! Why are you trying to deny what we had?” 

“NAMJOON!”  

Angry again, arms raised, a resurgence of energy.  

“For fuck’s sake, STOP!” you continued. “We had a-, god, I don’t know, an affair? We didn’t have a relationship. Did we date, Namjoon? Did we tell our friends? Do they even know now?!” 

It hadn’t really occurred to Namjoon to ask. At the beginning, he had assumed they did not know because that is what he wanted to believe. Now, he assumed they knew—surely they did? Could they not have known? They were always a little skittish when it came to you; were they the same when they talked to you about him? They had to know. How could this thing, which had dominated more than five years of his life, have passed them by unnoticed?  

“So we weren’t anything,” you continued. “It was all a mistake. A mistake that I’ve somehow let ruin everything. I think I'm worse off than I was when I left for Hong Kong in the first place.” 

You looked up at him. 

“Do you ever wish you never met me?” 

“No, never.” 

“Oh.” 

Namjoon chose to assume that those words were just anger, not a reflection of what you really felt.  

“I’m not sorry we met. I can’t be. Even if I’m sorry that you’re miserable, that I’ve caused you pain, that I’ve fucked so many things up for you. I'm sorry for those things but I’m not sorry we met, I’m not sorry I love you.” 

“Stop it, Namjoon. You don’t love me and I’m going to tell you why.” 

You steered him into a chair, sat him down, sighed heavily. You sagged, all your energy wiped in an instant. You looked tired. Looked older than the bright, young thing you had been when all this started—which of course you were. You both were. Older but not necessarily wiser, Namjoon thought. 

“Before any of this started, I was in love with you. We all know that, right? I loved you and couldn’t have you and that was fine. Not fine but it’s how it was. Then you caught Hayeon cheating and you needed to do something destructive, isn’t that what you said? Something you couldn’t take back. Me. And then it kept happening because, despite appearances, you and Hayeon weren’t meant to be but you were too much of a fucking coward to ever leave her and then she got pregnant and there was no way you would leave your kid. So you trapped yourself in a relationship you hadn’t wanted for a long time and I became your escape. 

“You can say it was about me or it became about me or whatever else you want to but that’s not true. It was about me being not-Hayeon. It was about you having something that she didn’t know about and couldn’t touch. Having something that was just yours. Something that made you feel like less of a trapped fucking loser.  

“Then I, for once, did the right thing and I left and you had all the time in the world to idealise and fantasise about what we had and what we could have had if only everything were different. And it took you so long to leave Hayeon that now, when you could have been dating and looking for someone who would make you happy, all you have to cling to is me. Memories and fantasies of me. Because you’re still a fucking coward, Namjoon. You don’t want to meet someone else because it’s horrible and scary. You want me to say yes so you can welcome me into this fantasy life you’ve created for us. Except that it doesn’t exist. I’m not a fantasy! None of this is! It’s not real! You don’t love me; you love the idea of me that you’ve concocted! You love the dream life that you have spent years perfecting! 

“But that’s not real! That’s why I keep telling you we’re nothing! Because we are! Dreams are nothing, fantasy is nothing, we are nothing!” 

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” 

“NAMJOON! FUCK!” 

“Answer the question.” 

You might have been right, at least partly, but you were also partly wrong. You appeared to have forgotten that, before anything sexual happened between the two of you, you were friends. Good friends. You enjoyed each other’s company, made each other laugh, lent a shoulder or a helping hand when needed. Maybe Namjoon had spent a little too much time thinking about you but he would never, ever accept that you were nothing.  

Death by a thousand cuts. You felt shredded. Slashed to ribbons. Somehow still so raw after all this time: wounds where there should have been scar tissue, rough and ugly but stronger than it was. It beggared belief that you could still feel like this. That you managed to fall in love with another man, that you agreed to marry him, and then still let it all be ruined by the thought, the possibility, the memory of Namjoon.  

It hurt that he kept insisting you were something more than a fling. Because if it were true, why didn’t he leave her? Why did he stay? For all that time? Why did he let you go? If he cared so much now, why not then? Why was it not worth the leap, the fear, the risk? Why were you not worth it?  

Now it was easy. He was single and he knew you. Too well. Knew that, even after all this time, there was space in your heart for him. You hated it. You loved him. You knew if he kissed you, there would be no pushing him away. You had put a thousand miles and five years between you and it hadn’t worked.  

You took a deep breath, attempted to steel yourself for the thousandth time, feeling wrung out, brittle and fragile. 

“You don’t get to ask me that, Namjoon. You don’t get to kiss me. Not anymore.” 

He ducked his head—you weren’t sure if it was a nod—and then he looked at you, thoughtful, for a moment. 

“Ok. I understand.” 

He stood and when he took your hands in his, you didn’t have the heart to snatch them back. His hands were warm—always were—and having let him hold them, you had to fight the urge to squeeze. 

“I love you and you don’t believe that. I get it. If you’re back now, back in Seoul for good, I would like the opportunity to prove to you that I do love you and that there is something worth having here. Can I do that?”  

* 

You stood in your hotel room, trying to breathe deeply, trying not to lose it. Because what had you come back for, if not this? Namjoon at your feet. If you were being honest with yourself, wasn’t that why? Why you called off your wedding, left your fiancé, left the country, and came running back? Because Namjoon was single now and telling you he loved you and wasn’t that what you had always wanted to hear?  

When he was in front of you, right there in your presence, you couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand him being there, not being yours, not being so close to you you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stand that you couldn’t stand it. Felt every fibre of your being tight and twisted with the effort of refusal.  

When he wasn’t in front of you, his absence clung like cobwebs. Sticky, piling up immediately after you’ve brushed them away. When it was just you and your broken heart and your confusion and your hurt, you wanted him. As much as you ever had. But you couldn’t let him.  

You took off your make-up and stood under the shower, letting the water wash over you, trying to let it relax you, but your brain wouldn’t stop. Your brain wouldn’t stop asking questions and your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to just let him. To go back to him.  

You wondered if coming back was a mistake. If you should have just married Tian and stayed in Hong Kong. If you should have broken up with Tian anyway but stayed in Hong Kong. Because if you had stayed, you wouldn’t be here. If you hadn’t come back- 

Who were you kidding? If you hadn’t come back, you would still have been wrestling with this. It wasn’t over. Hadn’t been over. You ran away to avoid a messy ending but it also meant you avoided a conclusion. Closure.  

What if you didn’t want closure?  

As you stepped into your pyjamas and drew back the bed covers, you asked yourself: if you have come back for Namjoon, why are you pushing him away? If It's not over, why can’t you let it be something? 

You were asking yourself why he wasn’t willing to take a risk, to have taken it so long ago, but there you were, not taking the risk for him. Was he worth it or was he not? If he was worth leaving your fiancé for, was he not worth the risk now? Worth breaking down the walls you’d carefully constructed around his place in your heart? 

And maybe you were tired. Maybe it was watching his ex-wife marry the man she loved—a thing you hadn’t been able to do. Maybe it was foolishness or maybe it was you finally doing the right thing.  

You slipped your feet into slippers and padded back to Namjoon’s room. You knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Were sure he wasn’t going to answer, were turning away from the door, when it opened.  

He looked like he had been sleeping, eyes small and squinting in the light, door only half-opened, half-hiding his almost nakedness. He looked surprised and then confused.  

You didn’t let yourself stop to speak, to explain yourself. You pushed gently against the door so he would stand back, so you could reach out and take his face in your hands, so you could lean up onto your tiptoes and kiss him.  

He didn’t resist, didn’t pull back, didn’t stop to ask the questions you were sure he wanted to. He wrapped his arms around you, pulled you closer, let the door close as he walked you both carefully into the room.  

It reminded you of the beginning of the end. When he had come to you and said nothing but kissed you deeply and slowly and fucked you like there was no one else, could never be anyone else. Fucked you like he had never fucked you before and then told you that Hayeon was pregnant.  

This felt like that. Slow and full and heavy with the weight of things unspoken, years of unexpressed pain, joy, love, pleasure. It felt like a dream, like a memory hazy with age, like a veil drawn between you and reality, because that was all it had been for so long: remembered, dreamt, imagined. Now real, now warm, flushed in your hands, soft beneath them. Now everything you had wanted and tried not to want, yours for the taking.  

* 

When it was over, when you lay in his arms, when you felt his breath shift, about to speak, you tensed. 

“Don’t,” you asked quietly. “Please don’t say anything.” 

A pause. 

“Ok.” 

He kissed your head and you felt it anyway: everything he wanted to say. I love you and what does this mean and are you ok and what happens now. You didn’t have any answers for him, didn’t want the questions asked. You just wanted to stay there, warm and sticky and sleepy and with him. Safe, in the dawn hours, from the world, from the daylight, from the morning after.  

* 

You woke to the sound of knocking at the door. For a second, disorientated, then immediately overfull. Namjoon slipped out of bed and tied a hotel robe around himself.  

“Daddy!” 

“Joonie!” 

His son. 

A gasp you tried to hide beneath the covers. Heat in your face: fury, embarrassment, shame. You’d never wanted kids; had always taken the relevant precautions to avoid it. Until last night. Over-tired, over-wrought, whatever the excuse, you cringed silently to yourself, trying to feel disbelief that you would be so careless. Trying because, well, it was Namjoon and when did you ever do the right thing, the sensible thing when it came to him?  

Not ever. 

You listened to their conversation, grateful that Namjoon was keeping him at the door, with a growing sense of panic. There was still time, but the sooner the better, which meant you had to get out, get home, get to a women’s clinic. Your head was swimming, heart hammering. The second you heard the door close, you jumped out of bed, gathering your clothes, hastily putting them on, tripping over your pyjama trousers, crashing into Namjoon. 

“Whoa- hey, what’s going on?” 

“I have to go. I have to go.” 

And you left with no more explanation, running to your own hotel room, throwing everything haphazardly into a bag, throwing your key card at the reception desk on your way out.  

* 

You considered, for a second, if pregnancy might not have been the easier option. You lay on your floor, breathing carefully, eyes closed, trying desperately not to hurl. It had been more than a couple of hours since you’d taken the requisite pill, so you could be sick reasonably safely, but you weren’t sure you’d make it to the bathroom in time. The cramps were unlike any you’d experienced before. Breathing was about all you could manage.  

You had told Namjoon, as you sat anxiously on the subway, that you would explain later. You had left him on read when he asked if he could come over. You didn’t have the headspace to think about the conversation that would ensue if he did. Could only think about the possibility of pregnancy; swore you could feel it already happening inside you; could not stop the horrifying fantasy of what it would mean if you were pregnant, if you had to carry a baby, raise a child.  

There were worse people to do it with than Namjoon, but you didn’t want to do it with anyone. Ever. So now you were useless on the floor, sicker than a dog, listening to the insistent buzz of your phone on the coffee table. You knew it would be him, weren’t deliberately ignoring him, just couldn’t move enough to pick up.  

* 

Still prone, still cramping, slightly less nauseous than you were, you stretched to grab your phone that had buzzed itself to the edge of the table. You called Namjoon. 

“What the fuck, dude?”  

You probably deserved worse than that. 

“I’m literally on my way to your apartment right now. Jimin gave me your new address. Are you even going to let me in?” 

You took a careful breath, focused hard on speaking, slowly and evenly. 

“I’m not... deliberately ignoring you... I just haven’t... been able to get to... my phone, ok?” 

“Are you ok?” 

“No.” 

“Shit. Uh-” 

“It’s fine... I’ll text you... so you can let... yourself in.” 

“Do you want me to bring you anything?” 

“No, thanks.” 

“Ok, I’ll be over as quickly as I can.” 

“Ok.” 

* 

Namjoon’s footsteps across your apartment were heavy and loud but his arms were strong and he lifted you onto the sofa, pressed a hand against your forehead. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I’m stupid.” 

“Ok, sure, but what’s going on? Why did you bolt? Are you dying?” 

“All good questions.”  

You wanted to answer, to explain, but you were too distracted by trying to ignore the pain—the cramps, the headache, the nausea that was returning again as your stomach started to hunger.  

“Sorry... I just... It’s bad.” 

“What’s bad?” 

You gestured to the coffee table, where you had left the box and its prescription.  

“Oh.” 

You had closed your eyes, couldn’t see Namjoon’s reaction, see what he was expecting from you.  

“So you’re not... And we didn’t... Right.” 

“Sorry... I just... I just forgot... I wasn’-” 

“Yeah, no, it's fine. It’s not like I brought it up either. Guess we both should’ve been a little more careful.” 

You heard him sit in the armchair perpendicular to yours. 

“Didn’t help being woken by Hajoon either.” 

“Actually, that was what made me realise.” 

He laughed. 

“I can’t have another kid by accident. People will start thinking I’m some kind of stupid.” 

“Start?” 

You heard the quiet snort of breath, saw in your mind his rolled eyes. 

“That’s why you ran out though? No other reason?” 

“As soon as I realised... I couldn’t think of anything else... I panicked. I'm sorry.” 

Namjoon didn’t respond and you were happy not to talk, grateful that he wasn’t forcing a difficult conversation on you.  

After a minute or two, you heard him stand, start opening cupboards, moving about your apartment. 

“What are you doing?” you called as loudly as you could manage. 

“One sec.” 

He moved around. He boiled the kettle. He gently lifted your t-shirt and lay a hot water bottle across your abdomen. You sighed. 

“Oh, that’s nice... How did you know?” 

“You know I was married.” 

“Oh shit, really? ... Had no idea.” 

“I suppose now isn’t a good time to talk.” 

You shook your head.  

“Do you want me to go?” 

You shook your head. 

You wanted a lot of things. Were surer now than you had been before that you couldn’t have them.  

Because if there’s one thing a potential pregnancy scare can do for you, it’s making it really clear to you whether or not you want kids. You hadn’t had any doubt about that before now, but you had forgotten to account for Hajoon. The light of Namjoon’s life. His child. His and Hayeon’s son and now Minho’s step-son. You didn’t want to be a step-mother, not a mother of any kind. Didn’t want to worry about the school run, moving to the catchment area of a better school, the germs and illnesses kids brought with them, the homework, the patience required, the eternity of it, the endlessness, the life that will never again be just yours. 

You knew Namjoon wanted kids. Not one kid. Kids. Wanted Hajoon to have siblings. Wanted to be a dad more than just once. Wanted a great, big brood of them.  

You knew, too, that he knew you didn’t want that. Any of it. You didn’t know if he had accounted for that. If all his fantasies had included babies anyway. If he thought you would change your mind. You knew you wouldn’t, not even for him.  

* 

Namjoon stayed for the remainder of the afternoon. He made you rice porridge (the Namjoon you had known wouldn't have even known where to start). He refreshed your hot water bottle. He rubbed your back. He sounded sad when he said he had to go. 

“I have to go and get Hajoon from Hayeon’s parents. They’ve had him since yesterday and it’s getting late for his dinner.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Namjoon wished he had said more. Maybe you couldn’t have talked but maybe you could have listened. He had thought long and hard about what he’d say, though most of it flew out the window once he realised why you’d left in such a rush. He was surprised you’d taken the risk; frustrated with himself for not having checked, for being reckless. He’d done that before and it had cost him you last time, too.  

He knew you didn’t want kids—and it wasn’t exactly how he’d have chosen to have another one, either—but he was surprised by the strength of his hope, impossible as it was, and of his disappointment. He thought about Hajoon, the single greatest joy in his life. You would be an amazing mother to him, to any child, if you wanted to be.  

You didn’t want to be. 

As he sat in your apartment, watching you rest, watching the sickly pallor of your face be replaced by its usual glow, he thought about the future and everything you said last night. About his fantasising, about how unreal it all was.  

He was so sure. Had been so sure. About all of it. You. Him. How right you would be, were. How easy it would be. How happy you would be. Now it felt like a house of cards. He didn’t want to ask, anymore. Didn’t want to hear you say that his son was the reason you couldn’t go through with this. Didn’t want to feel the twinge in his chest that said he wouldn’t choose—as if choice would even come into it. Between his son and anyone else, there was no choice. Hajoon always.  

Maybe you were right, because in his fantasies, he would never have to choose. In his fantasies, sure, you didn’t want more kids, but you loved the one he had already. Hajoon with four loving parents. Overflowing with love.  

He thought about you doing it reluctantly. Saying yeah ok, we’ll be together, I guess I can be a step-mum, if I have to. If you have to. If you have to. It made him sadder than he had words to express. 

* 

It was days before he found the courage to contact you. He noticed that you hadn’t contacted him either but he was grateful for it, because he wouldn’t have been ready to have this conversation. He wasn’t sure that he was ready, but it had to happen. Sooner or later. Might as well be now. Before anything else could be said. Before he saw you again and faltered, his weakness overpowering his strength. 

“Hi,” he greeted you simply, opening the door to let you in. 

“Hi.” 

It was awkward, though much less strained than it had been in years past.  

He offered you a seat and you took it. He took the one next to you. Neither of you started. You looked at each other. Namjoon took the time to study your face, as if it were the last time he’d see it: the slope of your nose; the swell of your lips; the tiny mole underneath your right eye; the slight dampness at your hairline because Korea was as hot and humid as it had ever been; your eyes, looking sorry, looking sad. Eyes that had been so often angry with him, sad, frustrated, guarded, now open and soft and sparkling.  

He loved you. As much as he ever had. Maybe more now because it was ending, because all of his dreaming couldn’t save it. Because it had taken this long; he had thought you were inevitable, but he could see now that this was. That heartbreak was. That it had taken him so long to get his shit together that he hadn’t seen this coming. He had spent all his time pretending to be happy in a relationship that wasn’t, then wishing for you, waiting for you. He had spent no time preparing for this. Preparing for the possibility that there would be no you. That this could end in a way that wasn’t the two of you together, forever.  

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. The things that needed to be said. But you weren’t saying them either. He swallowed, fidgeted, preparing to say something, though he didn’t know what. 

“We both know, right?” you asked, voice quiet.  

You didn’t need an answer. You knew. He knew. The world knew. 

“It’s Hajoon, isn’t it?” he asked. 

You physically recoiled, eyebrows drawing close. 

“Namjoon... It’s not... Don’t put it like that. It’s not Hajoon; Hajoon is great, cute, wonderful. It’s all kids. It’s that you want lots of them and I want none.” 

“I don’t have to have lots-” 

“Namjoon, you want lots. Aren’t we past denying ourselves what we want?” 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”  

“Not in the long-run. Look at what happened with you and Hayeon. You denied that you wanted out and look how long it took for you both to be happ-” 

“I’m not happy. I’m not happy right now. This isn’t what I want.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

He ran his hands through his hair, swore through gritted teeth. When he looked back at you, your eyes reflected the tears in his. 

“But I love you.” 

You nodded, looked down. 

“I love you, too.”  

It was the first time you’d said it. Namjoon wished he could have been happy to hear it. Not heartbroken.  

“And there’s no way-” 

“You know there isn’t.” 

You laughed to stop yourself from crying, because he knew you and he knew that was what it was.  

“Just think if we’d actually stopped to fucking think about this at any point in the last five years, we’d have saved ourselves this mess!” 

Namjoon couldn’t laugh, couldn’t raise a smile.  

“I don’t... I don’t want this to be over.” 

“Well, it barely started so-” 

“You think that makes this easier? Is it easy for you?” 

You scoffed, your breath hitching. 

“Does it look like it’s easy for me, Namjoon? I’ve actually been in this a lot longer than you have, don’t you forget.” 

As if he could. As if he had ever forgotten that there were years of friendship behind you, friendship that could have been more. If only he had seen. If only he had had the guts to end things with Hayeon before he did. Before any of this.  

Though it wouldn’t have changed this ending, would it? At some point, you’d have ended up here. Inevitable, the word resounded in his head and he hated it. Hated that it was true. Hated that he could roll the die a thousand times and it would never show your number. That he could shake this magic eight ball a thousand ways from Sunday and it would never show ‘yes’. 

You had been so close. He couldn’t decide if he was grateful or not, that you had one last night. That he had fresh memories stinging in the fresh wounds of his heart. Was he grateful that it had come to this: you, giving in; you, letting him in; you, loving him, letting him love you, only for it to fall to pieces? Would he have rather you kept pushing him away, acting as if you didn’t love him, as if he couldn’t love you? Would that have been easier? Would he always have wondered? Would he have let it ruin the next ten years of his life?  

“We can’t-” you said, wiping tears from your cheeks, blinking hard. “We’re toast.”  

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it’s easy. Not sure I’m that bothered.”  

And he hated himself for the sarcasm but he couldn’t bring himself to be sincere. Sincere was the tears on his water line, the embarrassing break in his voice.  

“Namjoon.” 

You stood, arms wide, welcoming. Like you hadn’t done for so many years. He went to you, wrapped you up, held you close, for the last time—it would be the last time like this he knew. He hiccupped, breath trapped in his throat. He tried to breathe you in, remember every tiny detail: the exact shade of every strand of hair, the notes of your perfume, the exact weight of your body against his, the slight tug of the hair at the back of his neck; he swore to himself that he would commit this to memory, never forget it. 

You drew back and took his face in your hands, rested your forehead against his nose, kissed him. One last time. If he could have frozen the moment, trapped it in amber, kept you just like this: sweet and soft and warm and his.  

The beep of Namjoon’s door lock sounded, followed by the whir of unlocking. 

“Dad!” Hajoon cried, thumping his bag down, throwing off his shoes.  

He was supposed to be at a sleepover, out for the night. 

“Changho got sick so I had to come home!” 

You sprang apart, both wiping tears, sniffling, trying to look presentable. 

“He got sick?” Namjoon asked, voice thick. 

“Yeah! His dad made me come home.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad, buddy.” 

Namjoon knelt towards his son, picked him up and placed him on his knee. He saw you turn away, collect yourself. Saw you, as Hajoon recounted the glorious story of what happened when a kid ate too many sweets and then went too fast on the roundabout, gesture towards the door, move towards it without a word. He heard the lock let you out, then lock you out. Could do nothing to stop you with his son on his knee.  

[jedi-luca]

Squable Up Incorrect Avengers

Avengers fighting off Hydra soldiers

Cap: Is- Is Y/N dancing?

The Avengers stop fighting to watch you dance and fight off hydra soldiers.

Tony retracting his helmet: It’s called crip walking but yeah I guess you can say that.

Natasha: I didn’t think they would use Rockets Christmas gift. 

Thor bobbing his head along: I quite like this Midgard music. What is this called? Rock? Pop?

Natasha watches you in amusement unsure if she finds this cute or annoying. 

Sam landing besides Thor: It’s called Rap.

You turn towards the group.

Y/N: If he hatin', disrespect, you better follow up with hands. Losses to the neck, but now I'm trophied up, I'm sayin', like-

You turn around knocking out the opps Kung Fu styles.

Y/N: Bing-bop-boom-boom-boom-bop-bam

You turn around towards the group after knocking them out.

Clint: Ohhhhhh! That’s where that’s from! I thought it was just a TikTok trend.

Tony: You’re on TikTok? 

Clint: Tony I have 2 teenagers.

Y/N: The type of shit I'm on, you wouldn't understand. The type of skits I'm on, you wouldn't understand. 

Natasha: Detka, we’re done you got them can we go now?

Y/N wagging your finger as you dance around her: Big dog business, I would not hold your hand. Broke bitch business, I could not be your man. Never got his ass whooped until we open up that can. Damn, alley-oop me bands, I'ma slam.

Hulk: I prefer Chappell Roan.

The Avengers look over at the Jolly Green Giant.

Hulk: What? I can be a pop girly.

*Bonus*

Suddenly more soldiers busted through the doors.

Tony sighed: This was supposed to be an in and out situation.

Y/N grins hearing the next song: Ayyyyyyy!

The Hydra soldiers stop looking at you in confusion.

Y/N: Reincarnated, I was stargazin'. Life goes on, I need all my babies (gyah, gyah)! Woke up lookin' for the broccoli. High-key, keep a horn on me, that Kamasi. IP, ownership, the blueprint is by me. Mr. Get Off, I get off at my feet.

Hydra Soldier: Vat, vat is this?

Nat looks over at Thor who is currently trying to copy your moves.

Sam cringing: Thor I love you man but that is not it. 

Y/N: I feel good, get the fuck out my face. Look good, but she don't got no taste. I walk in, walked out with the safe. Mando, let me know what the play.

Tony: Y/N, stop playing with your food.

Y/N: Squabble up, squabble up, Squabble up, squabble up, Squabble up (mh-mh), squabble up (mh-mh), Squabble up (mh-mh), squabble up.

Cap: You know what this is actually really good. I mean look at them, they took them all down on their own! I might just thank Rocket.

Thor: I would not do that Cap, he shall never let you live it down.

Bucky: I need to find that little raccoon he keeps stealing my arms! 

Y/N: Hol' up!

Sam: hol’ up

Y/N: Where you from? 

Sam: Where you from?

Nat lifting up the boom box: Okay Detka let’s do this on the way to the jet.

Y/N: Bye, bitch! 

Sam: bye, bitch! 

Y/N: I'm finna go dumb!

Sam: Finna go dumb!

Y/N: Sideways!

Sam: Sideways! 

Bucky: I will buy you both iced coffee if you please stop.

*Bonus #2*

Sam turning towards you and stopping you from getting too excited: Not yet we can get more.

You nodded towards Sam and turned towards Bucky: No.

Bucky sighed: Fine one iced coffee and one item of your choosing at the lego store.

You turn towards Sam about to burst. Sam nods and you quickly turn around towards Bucky: We accept.

Bucky sighed in relief as you let Natasha turn off the boombox.

Y/N sits between Natasha and Sam: I’m getting Barad Dûr.

Sam cackling: I’m getting Jabba’s Sail Barge

You both laugh maniacally. 

Natasha kissing your cheek: You two are such dorks!

Bonus bonus bonussss

Bucky grumbling holding everyone’s iced coffees.

Steve: Oh come on it’s not that bad!

Bucky: Steve they’re hundreds of dollars. I thought Lego was like 7 bucks.

Y/N carrying two sets: Okay I’m ready! 

Bucky trying to hold in his anger: Y/N, I said one thing.

Y/N: Awww, babe?

Natasha looking up from the build a lego: Barad Dûr.

You toss the other one behind you only for Natasha to catch it.

Bucky: Nat, are you serious? 

Natasha shrugging: They’ve been really good. Plus they’re so cute when they make their surprise face it’s like 😱🫨😵‍💫😍

[ensi-undertale]

Hey there! I really loved that imagine you did earlier and the fic looks great!

Tell me, for the skeletons of your choice, what would they do if a seagull snatched a hotdog out of their hand?

Thank you for the prompt!! I had so much fun with this, that I ended up making it into a set of drabbles. Hope you don't mind^^ I had a mighty need for the fluff.

Blue

‘AND THEN, WE SHOULD VISIT THE PIER. IT HAS AN ARCADE! YOU’D LIKE THAT WOULDN’T YOU BROTHER? …BROTHER?’

But Stretch wasn’t looking his way. His gaze was fixed on something just over Blue’s shoulder.

‘hey, watch-’

But it was too late. As Blue turned to see what he was staring at, the seagull honed in on the hot dog in his hand, swooped, and carried it away.

Stretch covered his mouth with his hand, stifling laughter. ‘o-oho. uhh… do you want mine?’

‘N-NO NO, THAT’S OKAY, PAPY. A HOT DOG IS ESSENTIAL ON A BEACH TRIP, AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO GO WITHOUT.’

‘thanks bro, but I thought it was fish and chips?’

‘…IS IT?’

Black

Black and Wolf were enjoying a late afternoon stroll on the beach, tucking into some hot dogs as the sun began to set.

‘SEE, BROTHER? THIS IS WHAT I TELLING YOU ABOUT THE SEASIDE AIR.’

Wolf sniffed pointedly. ‘hell yeah. that sure is some crispy air.’

Black batted one hand towards his brother. ‘KNOCK IT OFF, YOU TROGLODYTE.’

Unfortunately, in all the commotion the brothers missed the seagull darting towards them with intent. Black sidestepped the creature, but it was too late. It had stolen his hot dog.

He sighed.

‘you gonna let ‘im get away with that, bro?’

‘AM I…’ Black pinched his nasal ridge with his now very free hand. ‘YES PAPYRUS I AM, BECAUSE I’M NOT GOING TO SHOOT DOWN A BIRD IN PUBLIC FOR THE SAKE OF A HOT DOG.’

‘aw, that would’ve been funny.’

Black turned towards his brother incredulously. ‘DON’T YOU HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE? GO TERRORISE SOME CHILDREN OR SOMETHING!’

Sans

And now, this was more Sans’s speed.

After 6 hours of surfing classes, sandcastles, arcades, and volleyball (most of which Sans didn’t actually do… rather watch), there was nothing like lazing around, tucking into a fresh hot dog.

As he raised the dog and took a bite, his brother screeched, reaching towards him.

‘ACK! DON’T LET IT-’

But it was too late. A massive seagull had just brazenly plucked it from his hand, and bumbled off. It could barely fly with all the extra weight in its beak.

Papyrus’s outstretched hand dropped. ‘-TAKE… IT.’

‘hot dog, i did not expect that.’

‘SANS.’

…

‘absolutely ungullievable.’

‘SANS!’

Axe

‘THIS WAS NICE, WASN’T IT BROTHER?’

Axe looked up from his hot dog towards Willow, who smiled down at him. ‘yeah, ‘s a good day out.’

Willow nodded, and stretched his arms behind him. ‘MHM… THE SUN IS REALLY GOOD FOR MY BONES!’

At that moment, a large seagull divebombed the pair, aiming straight for Axe’s food. He batted it away with his free hand, and the bird dodged, snapping the hot dog between its beak-

But it was too late.

Axe had grabbed it by the neck, tearing the bun out its mouth. Unsurprisingly, the hot dog was ripped in two. Clutching half, he watched the other fall onto the sand beside his brother.

He maintained eye contact with the bird as he downed his half in one.

When he was done, he let it go, and it flew away as quickly as it had come.

‘SANS, COULD YOU… COULD YOU NOT DO THAT IN PUBLIC?’

Coffee

The pair leaned closer together on the wall. Coffee cackled under his breath while Wine muttered comments about everyone that passed them by.

‘AND HER? SHE’S BEEN MAKING ADVANCES AT HIM ALL DAY BUT IT DIDN’T GET THROUGH HIS THICK SKULL. LOOK AT THE WAY SHE’S GLARING AT HIM.’

‘you’re awful, Sans,’ Coffee snickered.

 ‘IMAGINE GETTING ALL DOLLED UP IN THAT BIKINI FOR NOTHING.’

Coffee nodded as he took another bite of his hot dog. It did look like Wine was on the money there.

Distracted, he didn’t notice the gull swoop over his shoulder until it was too late. He squealed as the bird nipped at his food, sailing away and tossing the hot dog into its mouth.

‘OH MY.’

Coffee looked at his empty, outstretched hand.

‘…again?’

[cryinthevortex]

What type of plant would Harding gift your Rook?

First of all, I would like to express my desperation for this. Seems a harmless question- except if one was a gardener, which incidentally I am. I shall be spending the next hour battling with myself what would be the best one. "One with green leaves" will not do.

To my Antivan Crow Rogue: she would gift a Venus Flytrap. She and Lucanis would feed and stare at it, but she would get bored with it quickly because of the slow digestion of one single insect. Lucanis would continue staring at it more patiently and she would stare at him instead and prod him. It would die in the end.

To my Warden, Warrior Male: she would give a peace lily for purification and peace of mind.

To my Shadow Dragon Elf Mage: she would give a dark pink hydrangea in a large pot. It would be outside the dining space and quickly grow too large and it would be repotted. Lucanis empties the coffee grounds on it every day to keep the soil perfect.

Do they like Harding's cooking?

Rogue: nope! She rather drinks more coffee and grabs something easy to go.

M!Warrior: He will eat anything offered and too much of it- even Harding's food. Only because he is fighting he stays in good shape.

Mage: Not really, but she is too nice to complain. She would even offer a compliment.

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook?

Rogue: A cat, she misses the cats of Treviso

Warrior: A dragon. Fascination is real.

Mage: A statue of the Architect

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin?

All three: resounding yes, but Warrior would like to be fed too, and drink more tea because he liked the buzzing in his head.

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case?

Rogue: good for talking someone to death or to act as a seductive bait

Warrior: if Neve needs someone to take someone head-on or needs a bodyguard, alternatively undercover work as someone functional after all drinking.

Mage: for company. Or in-depth newly found expertise in demonic possession.

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish?

All three: Fuck no.

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen?

Rogue freezes eyes in place and pretends to listen, when its quiet she nods enthusiastically or asks "yeah?" or "yeah."

Warrior changes the topic

Mage is interested, tries to learn but mostly listens.

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together?

Resounding yes from all!

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks?

Rogue: His twist on her mom's Antivan Carbonara.

Warrior: anything served using Lucanis' body as a plate. Alternatively what he has eaten.

Mage: Calcio e pepe with red wine

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market?

Rogue: a whetstone for her knives, but he would still sharpen her blades most of the time with his own

Warrior: draw between a gag to shut him up, or scarf to tie him down with, depending on the day.

Mage: Bouquet of Roses

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best?

Rogue: Highland Ravager

Warrior: Kaltenzahn, he is cooler than the dragon- he thinks so anyway.

Mage: Gamordan Stormrider

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often?

Rogue: yes, she brings a cheese tray and whatever she gets Lucanis to cook as snacks.

Warrior: Yes, only the first bottle is sophisticated drinking

Mage: certainly. It is a lovely evening every time. Someone has to hold her hair at some point.

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte?

All: Does Divine Victoria like nugs?

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook?

Rogue: Liquorice 

Warrior: He doesn't even try and makes him coffee instead.

Mage: peppermint

Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down?

Rogue: Lucanis takes her to Treviso canal to try to spot fish in the mucky water. Works every time.

Warrior: Emmrich tells a story about all the people who have shown romantic interest in Vorgoth.

Mage: Hug from Davrin.

@pixiedurango

Small Rook & Companion Questions:

What type of plant would Harding gift your Rook?

Do they like Harding's cooking?

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook?

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin?

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case?

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish?

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen?

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together?

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks?

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market?

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best?

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often?

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte?

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook?

Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down?

[oneforthemunny]

you could post the "The" from spongebob and we'd be kicking our feet

STOP omg you guys!!!!!!

ok fine, but don't get mad at me for it not being horny. the horny comes later, this is the build up. the set up if you will.

snippet down below the cut

“We’re talking about our resolutions.” Robin smirked, proudly, a little darkly. “And we wanna know what your resolution will be for this brand new decade? Hopefully a better taste in music?” 

“That should be yours,” Eddie snided with a scoff over Steve’s bark of laughter. “And yours,” A finger jabbed into your shoulder. “Both of you have the worst fuckin’ taste in music I’ve ever heard.” 

“Oh, says you-” 

“-Yeah, Ed, that’s really bold coming from you. All your music is just loud.” You huffed, rolling your eyes big, for show. You didn’t miss the way Eddie’s brow quipped in warning. It made your spine tingle. 

“Loud, yes.” Robin nodded. “That’s the best word to describe it. Just loud.”  

“Well, yours is just bad.” Eddie scoffed. “Madonna?” 

“Oh, please,” You laughed. “You love Madonna.”  

Eddie’s lips tightened, pinks burning gently at the chorus of laughter his friends gave. The statement was a stretch, you knew it. Eddie liked that you liked it, and he especially liked when you’d sing for him in the van, silly and sweet. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough kids.” Steve rolled his eyes, voice raising over Robin’s and Eddie’s. “Let Munson speak.” 

“I don’t have any resolutions.” Eddie shrugged. “I’m already perfect.” 

“Boo!” Robin cupped her hands around her mouth, sound echoing over the music. “Come on!” 

“I’m not participating in one of the stupidest societal pressures that have ever been created just because-” 

“-Here we go,” Jeff muttered, eyes rolling dramatically next to you. 

“-Fuck off, I’m right, alright? And you all know it’s stupid too. Over 90% of New Years resolutions fail, because they’re fucking unrealistic and stupid to begin with! I mean, you pick the middle of winter, after all these holidays to choose to get your life together? Fuck that.” 

“You got him all riled up now, Rob.” You passed her a grin, shoulder bumping hers playfully as you went towards the coffee table for another drink. 

“Hey, what about you?” Robin turned, leaning over the couch. “What’s your resolution?” 

“Hm, I dunno.” Your lips twisted in thought, legs a little wobbly from the liquor, yet you still poured yourself more. “I think I’d like to stop buying so much stuff. Save my money for big purchases.” 

[faaun]

pls i need to provide updates

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

not me curling my laptop charger wire the way you curl band equipment cords HAHAHA god i miss it

[lizardho]

When I came out, I was SO scared I was gonna get disowned. I wrote a letter to my parents, sent it to their emails, put a physical copy on the counter, and left the house for a few hours to give them time. In that time I tried coffee for the first time, which was a dreadful idea, and got all jittery. I kept waiting for a text or something but nothing happened.

After a few hours, I didn’t hear back from them so I went home. My parents were home and had stacked a bunch of groceries on top of the letter without opening it. They said “hi” and I said “hi” and went down stairs to the basement. I held my dog and panicked about what to do. My sister, who knew that I had written them a letter of great importance, told me they hadn’t read it yet. She also told me she could ask them to do so. I consented to this and stayed in the basement. A few minutes later my dad knocked on the door and poked his soft smooth little nerd head in and said “hey buddy” and I started crying so hard I almost vomited. He came over and gave me a BIG hug and said that it was gonna be OK, he was OK with this, he knew it must have been hard but he was here for me. He told me he and my mom had already talked years before they had me about how if they had to pick between their faith and their child they’d pick their child. It was a very sweet moment. I came out to my mom later that evening and we were both bawling the whole time.

The day after I came out to my parents, I came out to my brother @inbabylontheywept at a Mexican restaurant and he took it like a champ. That evening my mom took me for a walk and looked almost angry - she said she wanted to make sure that I didn’t use being a woman as an excuse to not go to grad school. I told her I wouldn’t and she instantly looked relieved and happier.

My dad, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with it. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I told him I did not. He kept asking me if I wanted to go clothes shopping with him and I did not. He kept asking me if I would let him go to some of my shows, and I had NO idea what he was talking about.

Finally, 6 months after coming out, of awkward misgendering and questions that didn’t make sense from my dad, he excitedly pokes his soft smooth little nerd head into my bedroom again and says “I found a movie about Your People.” My people. I was absolutely bewildered, but he was so excited and I knew he had been trying SO hard so I watched it with him. It was The Birdcage, and it was amazing. It also was revelatory in that I finally realized why my initially-supportive father seemed to be having such a hard time with my pronouns and stuff - he didn’t know what the difference between trans and doing drag was. After the movie he again asked if I would invite him to one of my shows, and I said, “Hey dad, you know how about half the world is women?” And he said “yeah,” and I said “Well, see, I’m on that half now. I’m not doing drag.” And it was like a switch flipped in his brain. He was like “omg that’s so easy? I was so confused about what to call you when?”

Anyway, my parents are charming and my family has been so kind and patient with me, I like sharing the stories of my little wins with them.

[cutieln4]

"Slut!" | LN4 smau

lando norris x reader

summary: lando has a reputation of always bringing different girls home. somebody changes that

fc: random pinterest girls

f1gossip

Liked by username1 and others

f1gossip Lando Norris caught kissing yet another girl! That’s the 3rd different one this week! Will his partying habits affect his driving?

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username1 W H O R E🫵🫵

username2 statistically, with all the girls he’s taking home, i have a chance

username3 yeah, no

username4 hey! so this is actually insane!

username5 how about we mind our business??

username6 This generation would not survive f1 drivers from 15 years ago

username7 fr the scandals back then💀

username8 why tf would this effect his driving???

ln4fanpage

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ln4fanpage pics of lando partying! from just this week alone😬

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username1 he’s so insane for this

username2 SIR YOUR TITS ARE OUT🗣️

username3 the shirt, the hair, the necklaces

username4 lord have mercy🤤

username5 HELLO??? I CANT BREATHE

username6 very mindful, very demure

username7 erm not really…

yourusername

Liked by yourbff and 71 others

yourusername update on my puppy: still cute🤗

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yourbff aww she’s so cuteee i miss her

friend1 so adorable!

friend2 bring her over!!

yourusername

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yourusername i 🩷 pink

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yourbff i 🩷 u

friend1 so so pretty

friend2 cutieeee

yourusername

Liked by yourbff and 82 others

yourusername that was fun! even managed to get a cute boys number after spilling coffee all over him🤗

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yourbff you had no idea what was going on the whole time

yourusername but it was still fun!! thanks for the free hat!

friend1 okay girl you got rizz

friend2 ughh so jealous😍

landonorris

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landonorris WOOHOOO P3!! Thank you Silverstone! You’ve been good to me😊

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username1 still not over that outfit

username2 cutie patootie

yourbff wish i got the chance to meet you😔

username3 not the charles leclerc driving pose💀

oscarpiastri Congrats mate!

username4 i love 444🥰

username5 he’s so—AHHHAJPKCJDUSNS

username6 GIMME the bucket hat

username7 the. out. fit.

landonorris added to their story

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danielricciardo they grow up so fast🥺

maxverstappen1 You just broke a million teenage girls’ hearts

username1 NOOOOOOOO

username2 how could you do this to me??? what about the kids??

yourusername added to their story

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yourbff why you soft launching the same time as lando norris💀

landonorris added to their story

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username1 WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH LANDO NORRIS? FLOWERS??

danielricciardo her puppy is the dog version of you

username2 SHUT UP DID YOU GET A DOG

username3 THAT PUPPY IS SO CUTEEEE

username4 nah no way bro actually got a gf

username5 you’ve changed smh. bring back party lando😔✊

yourusername

Liked by landonorris and 91 others

yourusername look at this cutie

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yourbff happy for you🫶

friend1 THAT’S YOUR MAN??

landonorris

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landonorris finally found the one for me🧡 (thanks for spilling coffee on me)

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username1 she’s adorable stop

username2 okay but what’s her puppy’s name?

yourusername pickles!

username2 STOP THATS SO CUTE

username3 i love her already

yourusername my sweetheart🫶🥰

username4 WAIT SO THAT PIC IN SILVERSTONE OF WITH THE BIG STAIN ON HIS SHIRT WAS WHEN THEY MET??

username5 she tweeted when it happened and it’s so funny, she had no clue who he was💀

maxfewtrell Congrats mate

danielricciardo About time!

username6 aww she was the one girl who was able to change him for the better

username7 no it’s literally so cute he used to take different girls home every week and no one could change that until he met her🥹

username8 her twitter is hilarious she fr had to clue who he was

username9 gimme that puppy

username10 bye sleeping on a highway tonight

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, yourbff, and 238,491 others

yourusername mine

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username1 OH MY GOD HES SO BABYGIRL

landonorris WHERE DID YOU GET THE LAST PHOTO

yourusername you're such a baby in it isn't it cute🥹

landonorris yes of course very cute😅

username2 con😭grats😭

yourbff you son of a bitch. you did it.

taglist: @evasmlp @partnerincrime0 @r0nnsblog @heavy-vettel @raizelchrysanderoctavius

Add yourself to my taglist here!

[the-froschamethyst4]

Young Gf and Older bf

————

Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

SFW & NSFW

————

————

SFW

Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste

Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl

Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house

Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man

“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.

“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”

“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”

“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”

Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military

Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about

Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was

“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.

“I’m…40”

“40!!”

“Y/N?!”

“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”

Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks

Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend

NSFW

Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties

Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it

“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.

“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”

“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her

Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex

“Fuck you!”

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.

“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.

“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”

“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks

Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt

DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe

Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face

Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it

Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen

He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously

Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk

Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny

“Simon what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.

“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans

Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace

Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Too Good to be Fake

Pairing: Jaemin x reader Description: If there was one thing Na Jaemin was known for, it was being a fuckboy with no interest in commitment. If there was one thing you knew him for, it was being your best friend…and long-time crush. When his group of guy friends gets tired of the roster Jaemin seems to be running through, they propose a deal - they’d each give him $100 if he could settle down with one girl for at least three months. But that was easy money to Jaemin. After all, he could just fake-date you. Content warnings: swearing, talk about sex, mentions/consumption of alcohol, a panic attack (not the reader), one punch gets thrown, reader has a somewhat bad relationship with her parents, their obliviousness to the other’s feelings makes you want to slam your head against a wall, some angst but it’s mainly through unaddressed fluff. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything. Word count: 31,947 A/n: I didn’t know I could write this much, but after making my smau, I was ITCHING for written work ahahahhahahahaha. Please enjoy, though who am I to tell you what to do…as always, feedback would be greatly appreciated. I love you :) also because I must tag @fullsunstrawberry in everything I do...here you go - I love you the mostest!

The semester was in full swing for just over a month, and Haechan was already tired of the amount of girls Jaemin had brought over to their apartment. The first two years of university cemented Jaemin’s image as resident fuckboy, but no one cared about the fact that they couldn’t keep him for more than a night because he was hot enough to make the one night worth it. Similarly, Jaemin couldn’t care less about being labeled a fuckboy - at the end of the day, all it meant was that he was able to get his dick wet with no added pressure from the expectation to ever commit; the concept seemed like heaven to him.

However, the start of junior year had his best friends thinking it was time for a change. As Jaemin sat down in one of their usual cafés for lunch, all eyes were on him. “Alright, Jaemin, we figure you’ve had your fun for the past two years now,” Chenle said with a gleam in his eyes. 

“Too much fun…” Haechan adds under his breath.

Jaemin looked around at the group with furrowed brows. “Whatever is going on, can we stop it and just have our coffee and sandwiches like normal? Why am I being targeted for the amount of fun I’m having? You’ve all had your fair share of fun, too.” 

Jeno let out a small laugh at Jaemin’s defense. “Yeah, but we aren’t nicknamed the campus fuckboy. Plus, we’ve all been in actual relationships during our time in college.” 

Jaemin’s face drops, no longer interested at all in the conversation they were clearly wanting to have. “I could be in a relationship if I wanted to be, I just don’t want to,” he’s quick to mutter in reply. 

“Why not?” Renjun asks, raising his eyebrows in wait.

Jaemin lets out a scoff. “All that love and commitment is stupid. You guys put so much effort into your previous relationships and yet, we’re all currently sitting at this table single. There’s no one who makes me want to even try being in a relationship. Why would I want to risk wasting all that effort on someone?”

His six best friends eyed each other around the table, either not buying it or not caring. “Look man,” Mark starts, getting Jaemin to turn his attention over to him. “Regardless of how you feel about love, Haechan is tired of listening to you and whatever girl you bring home that night…and he’s especially tired of it always being a different girl to walk in on him while he’s singing in the kitchen making breakfast. So, to maybe help him out, and also to test your ability because honestly, I don’t know if any of us think you’re capable…in the nicest way possible, of course. We wanna propose a bet- or a deal is probably the better word for it.” Jaemin shoots his gaze over to the rest of them, but no one bore a look of amusement, they were all curiously locked in. “If you can get a girlfriend and settle down for at least three months, we’ll give you $600.”

Well originally, Jaemin had no interest in any part of this, but if everything worked out the way his brain was planning it, that $600 could potentially be easy cash…not to mention a lot of it.

“I’m in,” he pipes up immediately, truthfully stunning his best friends at the table. Nevertheless, they all shake on it, and then Jaemin only has one thing to do…after finishing his coffee and sandwich, of course.

One day later, you get a text from Jaemin. Free to catch up today? Your cheeks blush warmly at the message. It wasn’t anything special, but after being glued to each other’s sides during high school, college saw you and Jaemin having considerably less time for each other; so it was always nice to see you were still a thought in his mind because truly, you missed your best friend like no other. 

Free to catch up everyday :)) You respond, and Jaemin’s reply comes instantaneously.

Perfect ;) meet you at the café in two hours

You check the clock before mapping out how you would spend all your time in between now and then, quickly deciding most of it should be directed towards making yourself look presentable, seeing as you’ve done nothing but rot in bed all morning.

Fast forward two hours and you were already sitting at one of the café tables when the bell rang as Jaemin walked through the door. He scans the inside before his eyes find you and he lights up. “Hi, best friend!” He says overenthusiastically as he pulls out the chair across from you. You furrow your brows at his tone, not to mention his usage of ‘best friend,’ when you think you remember Jaemin calling you that only once before when you were both still in high school, and had since never labeled you like that again - not that it was an incorrect label, but one that he typically didn’t make a huge deal about unless…

“Oh, god,” you start sarcastically. “What mess did you get yourself into now?”

“Hey!” Jaemin shoots back in mock hurt, moving a hand over his heart as if you’ve just shot him. You let out a light laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, Jaem, please continue.”

He immediately ducks his head to face his lap, his tone bearing a fraction of the force it previously had. “Okay so, I got myself into a mess.” You can’t help the genuine laugh that escapes you as you shake your head. Jaemin whips his head up to face you in response, but as you manage to stop your laughter, all you can do is meet his gaze with a softness in your eyes that perfectly balanced the playful smirk on your lips.

“I’ve missed you a lot, you know,” you respond, and Jaemin rolls his lips inward to try and stop the smile as he directs his gaze somewhere off to the side. 

“Yeah, hoping you’re still thinking that after I explain,” he replies hesitantly, and your face falls in an instant.

“You got me into a mess?!” You ask in disbelief, and Jaemin lets out a light sigh.

“Not yet, but that’s kind of the goal,” he answers, scrunching up his facial features as he waits for your reprimanding. Though it never comes, and instead, you speak plainly through a sigh.

“An explanation needs to come out of your mouth in three, two-”

Jaemin curls himself into a ball as best he can while sitting in the café chair, wanting some kind of physical defense before explaining himself in a rush. “I need us to fake date for three months so can you please please please be my fake girlfriend?” When he doesn’t get coffee thrown at him, he takes a moment to unfurl himself and look over at you again, his gaze met with your indifferent expression. 

“Why?” You ask neutrally, and it seems to finally hit Jaemin that you were still the same sane, comforting presence you always had been, even if the two of you hadn’t properly hung out in over a year. He settles more decidedly into his chair, though he still frames his words through a lens of embarrassment, figuring that might be the best way to get you to agree - if you knew he knew he was stupid.

“$600 and to prove something to my friends,” he replies, his words light but his demeanor dead serious.

“And why me?” You toss back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes as he throws his gaze off to the side again with a scoff. 

“Cause every other girl I know has a crush on me and it’d make this very weird. I’m not trying to actually be in a relationship. That’s the last thing I want.” His words this time are firm enough to match his demeanor, and it has you taking a sip of your coffee to fight back the awkwardness you would’ve otherwise choked on. 

“...Right,” you say in agreement, because out of all the times you could come clean about your huge crush on your best friend, right after he tells you that he doesn’t want a relationship is probably the worst time to do so. 

“So?” Jaemin inquires hopefully, snapping you out of your thoughts. You flick your gaze up to him before immediately darting it back to your coffee on the table, one of your hands messing with the straw absentmindedly. Then you give in, because you suck at saying ‘no’ to your best friend.

“...Fine, but then we’re making a contract,” you say plainly, swirling the ice around in your americano. Jaemin lets out something like a laugh, shaking his head.

“Y/n, you’re taking this so seriously-” He starts, but you whip your head back up to him in an instant, cutting him off with sincerity. 

“They’ll see right through it if we don’t,” you state, and you watch Jaemin’s adam's apple bob up and down in his throat as he swallows awkwardly. 

He shakes out of it before putting his hands up in defeat. “Okay, whatever. Go ahead,” he replies, disinterested. You roll your eyes, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from your backpack. Then you get to writing, because you were gonna need to set some intense boundaries if you were hoping to make it out of this alive. 

“Alright, I think this should be good for right now,” you say after a few minutes, sliding the piece of paper his way. He takes one glance at it before letting out a laugh and directing his gaze back to you with raised brows.

“‘No kissing?’ I don’t mean to alarm you, but that’s actually the quickest way for them to see right through it,” he quips. You run your fingers through your hair awkwardly as you dodge his gaze, finally nodding your head with a sigh. 

“Okay fine, we can change it. No kissing unless they bring it up or get suspicious. Good?” You ask, finally looking up at him again. He lets an amused smile paint its way across his lips as he stares at you across the table.

“Ha, we’ll keep it for now,” he agrees before turning his attention back to the paper and looking over the next thing you wrote. “‘No weird nicknames?’” He reads, popping his head back up to look at you for clarification. You roll your eyes, slightly embarrassed. 

“Yeah, like sugar, pumpkin, honey, buttercup, sweetie, sweetheart, cutie pie, baby, babe, darling-” You’re cut off by a genuine laugh from Jaemin, helping you realize you’ve missed the sound of it a lot, and not at all helping the awkward situation you’ve gotten yourself into. 

“Okay, you’re just naming every pet name imaginable,” he counters as though you were crazy. 

You roll your lips inward, hesitating on how to respond before opting with a near-whisper. “I don’t like them,” you admit quietly, and Jaemin’s demeanor falls from playful to understanding. He opens his mouth to reply but closes it again before any words get out, instead taking another moment to think. 

“They’re gonna expect me to call you something,” he finally says, speaking as though it were an apology. 

You sigh, knowing he wasn’t lying. Idly messing with your hands, you reply quietly. “...are they gonna expect me to call you something, too?” You ask, and Jaemin contemplates with a sorry nod.

“Yeah, probably. Look, you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with, and if that’s just ‘Jaem,’ that’s fine.”

A more lenient answer than you were expecting, you shoot your head up to look back at him again, though your brows slightly furrow as you address the part he didn’t. “What about you?”

Jaemin lets out a soft sigh. “How about I just limit my usage of pet names, and I won’t call you anything food-related,” he suggests lightly, figuring those nicknames having made up your first seven examples meant you hated them the most. You roll your eyes but a smile crosses your face regardless because he was right, after all…and caring enough to actually realize that.

“I can live with that,” you relent, and a big grin comes back onto Jaemin’s face at the progress. He moves his attention back towards the contract, but immediately is whipping his gaze back to you in hurt. 

“Why can’t I be the one to break it off?” He pouts, and you have half a mind to laugh, but you know he’s serious. 

“If you date me for exactly three months and then break up with me, no matter how believable we make it, they’re either going to know it was set up or they’re going to assume you learned nothing and probably not give you the money,” you explain, and Jaemin’s pout turns into an impressed nod.

“You have a point…” He breathes out, causing you to smirk.

“I know.” 

He bites on his bottom lip, deep in thought before turning back to you again. “We probably shouldn’t date for exactly three months then, either,” he adds, and you flash your eyebrows in recognition.

“That’s also true,” you say before putting together a calendar in your head. “Well, if today’s September 27th, three months is December 27th, so…we could have New Year’s Eve be our last night together?” You suggest awkwardly. Though, when you look back up towards Jaemin, he’s putting your timeline together with a nod.

“Works for me,” he cedes, scribbling your end date somewhere off to the side before continuing to scan down the list. His next question comes with the very last bullet point on the contract. “‘Come home with me for Christmas dinner?’” He reads before looking up at you in confusion. You shake your head with a laugh.

“Well, you didn’t think I’d do this for nothing in return, did you?”

Jaemin flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “Okay…so why Christmas dinner?” He asks, and you drop your gaze back to your coffee. 

“My family keeps riding my ass about not having a boyfriend. If you come back with me and pretend to be my boyfriend there, too, then even when we end things, they’ll at least be off my case for a while,” you admit, embarrassment tainting your voice before you rush to make the request sound more appealing. “And it’s not actual Christmas dinner! It’s that first weekend after finals week. You remember the big dinner we always had with other family friends and all that,” you drag off with an awkward laugh.

“Okay,” Jaemin agrees immediately, and you look back up at him in shock.

“Really? You’re agreeing to that?” You question, but he just shrugs his shoulders. 

“Y/n, you’re getting me $600, the least I can do is one dinner with your family. Besides, they’re practically my second set of parents. I’m pretty sure I had at least a hundred dinners with them during high school,” he jokes, and the tension in your shoulders falls. You guys were really doing this…all of this. The two of you left the café and parted ways soon after agreeing to the terms of the contract, Jaemin feeling $600 richer already with how easy this was going to be.

Jaemin picked you up from class on the first day you would be meeting his friends, five days after the two of you signed your contract to fake-date. He greets you with an easy smile outside of your classroom door. “Hey, you ready?” He asks, and you send a nervous smile back up at him. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” you reply with a laugh. He flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement, feeling much the same way seeing as this was probably the least conventional thing he’s ever done. 

He leads you outside and towards the guys’ regular lunch spot at one of the tables set up in the campus commons. Jaemin had told his friends beforehand that he had gone and gotten himself a girlfriend and thus, to start the three month timer, and they were the ones who begged him to bring you to one of the lunches so they could meet you, and now here you were - walking casually towards the lunch table with Jaemin…too casually, Chenle noticed, because you weren’t even holding hands. He keeps quiet, but lets an easy smirk come across his face as you and Jaemin sit down next to each other. 

“Alright, guys,” Jaemin starts as the rest of the friend group pins their full attention on you. “This is y/n. My girlfriend,” he says with a smile. The label sends ice through your veins. You could not believe Na Jaemin was introducing you as his girlfriend…it didn’t matter that the label was fake, the words sounded real coming out of his mouth. You turn your head to look at him, as if to get some kind of confirmation that it really was Jaemin next to you, calling you his girlfriend. By the time your gaze reaches him, he’s already looking over at you with a cheesy grin, nudging your side playfully with his arm and getting you to relax a little. 

The guys go around introducing themselves, but as they make their full way around the table, Jeno immediately speaks up.

“So, how did the two of you get together?” He asks curiously. A valid question, which is why the guys all lean forward in interest, because of course they would be dying to know how their fuckboy best friend got an actual girlfriend rather than a hookup. It was a horrible question though, because it was one you forgot would ever come up, and you had no game plan to go about answering this. Though, it seemed all you had to worry about was keeping your eyes from going wide, because Jaemin did have a game plan for this, and he answered smoothly.

“I just asked her out,” he says with a shrug. “It’s always been so easy with y/n, I take it for granted most of the time. Every time I’m with her, I’m reminded that it takes no effort to breathe, that I’m standing on solid ground. We met up for coffee the other day and she said she missed me and I-” He falters for a moment, and you finally bring your gaze up from your lap to face Jaemin, just to see him shake his head as if he were breaking himself out of a nostalgia trip. “I wanted to hear that again and again,” he finally says seriously, and you can’t stop the smile from reaching your face. “So, though now it just sounds embarrassing saying it out loud, I straight up asked her to be my girlfriend right after that,” he adds through a laugh. “I had been waiting for the butterflies that everyone always talks about, but the fact that I’ve never really felt that with her just made me more sure I wanna be with her - there’s no discomfort or anxiety,” he says, and with your head ducked back in to face your lap, you miss it when he turns to look at you softly. “She’s just always felt like home.” 

Jaemin’s answer seems to have done its job in convincing everyone, and it definitely did its job in reminding you that you were in deep trouble. Though, as the rest of the guys take in Jaemin’s words with an impressed nod, Mark tries to fill in his holes. “Wait, how long have you known each other?” He asks, which was another valid question seeing as Jaemin talked about you with history even though you had never met his friend group before.

“We’ve been friends since high school,” Jaemin says coolly, though this time, you’re the one to nudge him with a laugh.

“Best friends,” you add teasingly, and Jaemin chuckles as he looks over at your figure before nodding his head.

“Yeah, best friends,” he agrees fondly. “But, I’ve liked her for a while now,” he says, turning back towards the group as his face falls and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I just- obviously have the image that I do and I never wanted to get her tied up in it. She deserves more than being labeled as some fuckboy’s latest infatuation,” he says, and as you furrow your brows at him, he just shakes his head, moving on with a light smile. “Though, obviously, I saw her last week and couldn’t help it anymore.”

Sorry smiles cross most of the guys’ faces - they were no help when it came to keeping labels away from Jaemin, and he was sure putting on a convincing show, making it almost seem like it was their fault the two of you hadn’t already gotten together. 

Haechan swings his gaze over to you with raised eyebrows, shifting gears to try and not to let the dampened mood actually settle in. “And you? How long have you liked him?” He asks, and you have to stop the laugh from leaving your system. Instead, you just shake your head fondly.

“Forever,” you answer truthfully, turning to face Jaemin before immediately pulling your gaze back down to your lap in embarrassment. “Any girl will tell you, it’s impossible not to fall for Na Jaemin.” At this, all the guys roll their eyes, but Jaemin just turns to study you softly, biting on his bottom lip in contemplation as he tries to sort out whether any part of your statement was true or if you were just really good at acting.

However, with the rumbling of Jisung’s stomach, he quickly discards the topic of you and Jaemin, deciding that after all the intro questions were out of the way, food was much more interesting. The guys laugh along as Jisung rips through his paper bag lunch, but it does its job in getting them to focus on their own food in front of them, too. 

Casual conversation occurred over lunch, and you were pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t awkward at all. Not that you were expecting the guys to be awkward with each other, but you typically weren’t great at meeting new people; and now you were meeting six of them at once, somehow fitting right in, your occasional remarks causing the whole table to laugh - something you’d have to pat yourself on the back for later. The only disturbance comes from Chenle, who had begun leaning way back from the table, carefully balancing his weight on the bench as he seems to examine the ground by your feet. 

The entire friend group eventually catches on to his antics, turning their attention towards him with raised eyebrows. “What are you doing?” Renjun finally asks, the question coming out as though he thought Chenle were crazy…which probably wasn’t too far from his actual stance on the matter.

Chenle shakes his head, pulling himself back into a normal sitting position as he locks his gaze onto you and Jaemin. “Don’t most couples have a hand placed on the other’s thigh or something while sitting? Why are you guys like- a foot away from each other?” He asks plainly. Your face drops and your eyes widen.

“We are not a foot away from each other,” you remark firmly, but then Jisung peaks beneath the table as well, pulling back up with a shrug.

“Uh, you kinda are,” he says, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes.

“Didn’t think you guys were big pda enthusiasts,” he says, trying to laugh it off, but Chenle is relentless.

“Have you kissed yet?” He asks immediately, and you almost choke.

“What?!” You return in shock, but Chenle looks between the two of you with uninterested brows.

“You’ve liked each other for forever and you’re this awkward?” He shoots back in a taunt. You sigh, collecting yourself because you knew what you were about to have to do. 

“You’re right, Jaem,” you say, pulling his attention your way as you place a hand on his cheek and smile in disbelief. “Your friends are annoying,” you continue, and then you lean in and kiss your best friend and long time crush. 

Admittedly, you’ve imagined this moment more times than you could count, but none of those fantasies could have prepared you for what it actually felt like to kiss Na Jaemin. His lips were perfect, he was perfect, and you knew that already but now you felt it. You remind yourself of where you’re at, why you’re kissing him in the first place, and bring yourself to pull back after the one soft kiss, trying your best to make it seem as though that alone didn’t cause you to lose your breath.

As the two of you pull away from each other, Jaemin’s gaze locks on you, running over every inch of your face with an unreadable look in his eyes to contrast the softest of smiles on his lips. “Yeah, angel, they are,” he says through an exhale, and as your face goes completely pink, his smile eases into a familiar smirk. “But if you kiss me every time they piss you off, I might have to have them stick around.” 

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the side again as you focus on the playful banter and not on the fact that Jaemin just rewired your brain chemistry with one ‘angel.’ “Whatever, we both know I kiss you all the time anyways,” you tease, but as you try to shift away again, Jaemin catches your hand in his and looks at you as if you were crazy.

“No, I kiss you all the time,” he rushes to correct, and though you whip your head back to face him in offense, your eyes instantly soften upon contact, a tight smile playing at both of your features instead.

Your only thought was to kiss him again, and you’re thankful when Chenle cuts off any chance of that happening. “What is going on?” He asks in disgust, causing Renjun to laugh and shake his head.

“Hey, you were the one jumping their asses for their lack of public romance. This is your fault.” 

With the conclusion of lunch, Jaemin kept you company on the walk back to your dorm. As soon as you’re out of sight from the rest of the guys, you let out a heavy sigh and accompanying drop of your shoulders. “Well, there goes rule number one…” You say in defeat. If you couldn’t even follow the first rule during your first outing as a ‘couple,’ the rest of these three months were not going to bode well for you. 

Instead of matching your demeanor, Jaemin takes offense. “What, no! We changed rule number one to no kissing unless they brought it up or were suspicious, and they both, brought it up and were suspicious,” he claims firmly, but the playful tone underlying his words makes it so that all you can do is let out a small, wry laugh.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you say with a shake of your head, though the smile has made its reappearance on your face. Next to you, Jaemin stops walking, pausing for a moment as he stares at the pavement beneath your feet. As soon as you notice his absence at your side, you turn back around to face him and his small grimace.

“Thank you, by the way,” he says gently, and any remaining tension you were carrying falls away; because any time Jaemin fell softer, you were reminded of how you’d do anything for your best friend. “I don’t know if I really thanked you for letting me talk you into this. I know it’s stupid, but it’s nice to have them attacking me for whether or not I’ve kissed you rather than attacking me for my body count,” he finishes, and it feels as though all your joints had immediately locked up again. 

Jaemin’s title as the campus fuckboy was not lost on you, but talking about anything close to relationships was never a strong suit for you guys; and with him quickly finding his place within a new friend group here at college, it meant you were even less in the know of his whereabouts on any given day. The last thing you were expecting was for Jaemin to keep you updated on who he just fucked, but the entire realm of conversation was always so unreachable for you two. You knew nothing of what the campus fuckboy was truly getting up to; there was sometimes talk in your class when a girl would come in beaming as she told her friends she managed to spend a night with Jaemin, but instances like that were all you got informed by, and you never dared pry deeper into those overheard conversations. 

Sometimes your jealousy would damn near kill you - all these girls boasting about the fact that they had spent a night with Jaemin…you wanted to turn around half the time and tell them to forget about one night because you’ve spent countless days with him; that your entire high school career was covered in his handprints and bright smile which you were sure was laced with drugs - a smile you knew he wasn’t throwing around in the bedroom. 

You never did snap, though, because it was easier to keep your ‘best friend’ label with Jaemin under the radar at college, unless you wished for tens upon hundreds of girls to line up in front of you and ask your advice on how to win his heart. Jokes on them, you were still figuring that out, yourself.

“What is your body count?” You ask with a hesitant swallow, your curiosity getting the better of you now that he’s finally brought it up. 

Jaemin shoots his head up to face you but instantly dodges your eye contact again. For the first time since you’ve met him, he looks genuinely embarrassed. “Another time, y/n,” he says in soft dismissal.

You swallow harshly, in disbelief at what you were about to tell him, but as much as it would sting, it would keep your own feelings at a very needed bay. “If you still want to have sex, you can. I don’t mean to force you into celibacy. Just make sure it’s at the girl’s house so Haechan doesn’t find out,” you say lowly, and Jaemin immediately makes wide eye contact with you.

“Really?” He asks in something like shock. You act as though it’s no big thing, and you’re sure it probably shouldn’t be, anyways.

“Yeah,” you respond with a shrug.

Jaemin takes in your words with a contemplative head nod, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before his eyes light up in alert, finding another caveat to address. “What do we do if the girl starts talking about the fact that she hooked up with me?” He asks seriously, but you’ve finally found humor in the situation, shaking your head as though there were hardly a need for the question. 

“Jaem, just about every girl wants to sleep with you, or at least make it seem like she did…a random girl claiming to have hooked up with you one day is just going to sound like she’s desperate for attention. No one’s gonna take it seriously,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. Absolutely nothing you said was wrong, and with a deep breath, Jaemin seems to accept that fact.

As he exhales, he resumes his continuation on the walk back to your dorm, a light nod of his head accompanying his next words. “Okay. Thank you-” His casual start is broken as he turns his head back over to you at his side in question. “Are you gonna be okay? Are you gonna like- hook up- uh…with other guys?” He asks curiously. All you can do is laugh at him.

“Casual hookups aren’t my thing and no way am I getting an actual boyfriend while we’re doing this, but of course I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure your sex drive is at least ten times greater than mine. I can handle three months,” you reply lightly, and seemingly all of Jaemin’s worries about this new implementation fade away - it seemed perfectly doable without getting caught. 

As you get to your dorm entrance, you and Jaemin turn to fully face each other. “Thanks again for today. I think we got them somewhat convinced,” he says through a small laugh, and you flash your eyebrows in acknowledgement. 

“No reason to thank me for that - you did most of the talking,” you rebuttal playfully. 

Jaemin’s laugh turns into a knowing smirk. “You were the one who kissed me,” he teases, and you shake your head, but a wide grin spreads across your lips, regardless.

“It's not my fault that they both, brought it up and were suspicious,” you remind him, putting your hands up in defense. Jaemin takes a moment to laugh again before settling into a more fond look that was reminiscent of your high school days.

“We’re gonna have to start hanging out more again since they think we’re dating, but even before all that, I think it’d make me happy if we started hanging out more again just cause I’ve missed you…and I know it’s my fault we haven’t talked as often! I got a friend group of guys and an- agenda…with girls, and as such, my entire college career up to now has unfolded in that way. But I miss you because you’ve always been my friend, not because of some agenda or fake-dating scheme.”

“Mmmmmm, best friend,” you correct with a sure smirk, making Jaemin drop his head with a laugh of defeat.

“Yeah, best friend,” he cedes, and your smirk turns into a soft smile. 

“I never do anything, so just text me when you wanna hang. I’ll be there.” 

He looks back up at you with a small grin and a nod. “Same goes for you,” he replies. Then, all that was left was saying ‘goodbye’ in a much more awkward way than usual, before you went back up to your room to decompress from whatever the hell just happened. 

It was a week after that first lunch when you were alone and bored in your dorm. None of the guys mentioned anything about having plans for the weekend while at lunch, which you had begun to join in on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So, although you just saw him, you figured Jaemin wouldn’t have anything better to do than hang out with you some more today. You shoot your gaze over to the clock, agreeing there was more than enough time left in the day to make a hang out worth it, and then grabbing your phone to text Jaemin.

Hey, I’m bored. Wanna do something? You send, and Jaemin’s reply is instantaneous.

With a girl rn

For a text that’s letting you know he’s following your directions, it hurts more than you thought it would to read. You know it’s for the best that this be your reality. Jaemin had been your best friend for so long now, the last thing you wanted was to ruin that with your feelings; and while fake-dating wasn’t helping, this reality-check definitely did. He’s not just your best friend anymore, he’s the campus’ heartthrob…the campus’ fuckboy. It was the entire reason behind the bet his friends made in the first place - a circumstance like this was only expected. So, you’d have to forget about the hollow feeling in your stomach right now and instead support your best friend in a best friend way, cause no matter how many times in the next three months he’s destined to call you ‘angel’ or look over at you softly every time you talk in the group, ‘best friends’ is all you are to each other. Oh, look at you go! I figure I’m your alibi, so I guess I’ll stay in for the rest of the night so there’s no possibility of one of your friends seeing me

His reply this time took about thirty minutes to get to you, and even his last text didn’t prepare you for the brick wall that faced you with this one. Thanks 

Jaemin isn’t selfish, Jaemin is busy. It’s the mantra you kept repeating to yourself, because you know he’s not selfish; and while you were expecting a reply more aligned with an apology for forcing your Friday night to be spent indoors and alone, taking the time to text that out probably was not something Jaemin could manage while another girl was surely sucking him off. 

The next Thursday, it’s Jaemin’s idea to hang out after classes. The two of you decided to chill at your place so that you didn’t have to constantly pretend around Haechan, should he be in their apartment. As you swing the door open to Jaemin’s presence, he looks at you with a big grin on his face. “Hey, angel,” he says, patting the top of your head as he walks into your dorm. You track his figure deeper into the living area, looking at him quizzically because the whole purpose of him being here was that he didn’t have to call you ‘angel.’ 

You just shake your head with a smile as he plops down on your couch. “Hey, Jaem.” 

He looks up at you with innocent eyes. “What did you want to do tonight?” He asks, and you shrug your shoulders with a laugh.

“You’re the one who wanted to come over; my plan was to do homework.” Your answer has Jaemin’s face falling, and you watch as he gets up from the couch and immediately walks out the door, leaving you completely dumbfounded. You didn’t think homework was that repulsive to him. Though, moments later, there’s another knock on your door, and you answer it to be met with Jaemin again, this time his own backpack slung across his shoulders. “Wha-?” You question with a laugh of disbelief.

Jaemin sends a smirk your way before once again walking past you and towards the couch, immediately unzipping his backpack and placing its contents on the coffee table. “Homework,” he says casually, looking up at you with raised brows and a smirk. “Best friend, fake girlfriend, study buddy���you get all the fun labels,” he teases, causing you to shake your head before relenting and joining him at the coffee table. 

It was an incredibly normal night. After the two of you finished up the last of your assignments - though getting distracted every five or so minutes with stupid jokes, complaints of coursework, or a sudden remembering of a story that needed telling did not help push things along, the two of you watched a movie. You ended up making hot cocoa, because the privilege of thermostats meant that it wasn’t a crazy option, regardless of the outside temperature, and then sat on the recliner, Jaemin taking up considerably more space on the couch in response. 

The two of you had always been good movie watchers with each other. You both liked to enjoy movies in the same way - the lights off, no talking, no distractions from phones…even if it was a movie you had seen a hundred times. The two of you took movie nights seriously, mainly because with each other, you could. At least, you had yet to find anyone else who would sit and watch Coraline with you and not take a break to say something about how they find it creepy or flatout don’t like the movie when it’s not even halfway over. Though, Jaemin always happily watched, saving his only comments (typically about how “they just don’t make movies like that anymore”) for the credits. 

Just like that, it was like a night from high school, and it ended much the same way - a side hug with Jaemin and his promises of getting home safe, though it was you rather than your mother that he was making that promise to now. 

Walking back into his apartment, Jaemin immediately catches the attention of Haechan, currently making late night ramen in the kitchen. “Did you just get back from y/n’s?” He asks, pulling his attention away from the stove to turn his head towards Jaemin.

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers casually as he makes his trek through the front space and towards his room, only getting distracted when Haechan speaks up again with a playful lilt and a matching smirk on his face.

“Good night?” He asks, causing Jaemin to furrow his brows before realizing what Haechan was actually getting at. 

“What-? Oh, shut up,” he dismisses. Turning back around to face Haechan revealed him to be completely distracted from his ramen - his back now leaning against the countertop as his casual crossed arms added to the tease in his raised eyebrow. Jaemin rolls his eyes at the antics, especially considering Haechan was the main reason this whole deal was made in the first place - because he was tired of Jaemin having sex. “We didn’t have sex. We did normal couple things,” he states confidently before turning around again to actually make his way inside his room and behind his closed bedroom door. 

This meant Jaemin missed the way Haechan’s playful brows furrowed in confusion, his face falling flatter as he spoke through a soft exhale. “What?” Any more time he could have had to actually question it was overridden with the need to tend to his now boiling over ramen; so Jaemin got off easy the rest of the night. 

Haechan was not as forgiving the next time he saw the guys at Monday lunch, though. With you still nowhere to be seen and Jaemin in his line of sight ordering food, he addresses everything in a more serious tone than any of the guys were expecting. 

“Does anyone else find it odd that they haven’t had sex yet?”

Eyes go wide at the rest of the table. “They haven’t?!” Jeno practically shouts before immediately getting embarrassed and making himself as small as possible. Haechan just shakes his head.

“They haven’t even spent the night at each other’s places yet. He always comes back home after hanging out with her and it’s always just him.”

“Maybe they’re taking it slow,” Mark replies with a shrug, but all eyes lock on him with ample skepticism. 

“Does ‘slow’ seem like a Jaemin thing?” Haechan rebuttals. “I mean, come on. We’re talking about the guy who’s notorious for getting his dick wet at any available opportunity.”

“So, we think they don't really like each other? They’re faking it?” Renjun asks with pursed contemplative lips. 

Haechan’s the one to shrug this time in mystery. “$600 is a hefty amount. He’d do anything he can for that, including but not limited to getting a fake girlfriend and lying to us,” he states more firmly, but that’s as Jaemin joins the table; his brows furrowed and mouth hanging slightly open as he looked around at the guys in something like disgust.

“What in the world did I just walk in on? Y/n is not my fake girlfriend. The deal money is nice but I’m at least honorable about these things,” he argues, and immediately all the guys whip their gazes towards him, varying expressions on their faces as Jisung speaks up in genuine question.

“Why haven’t you slept with her yet?” The seriousness of the question and the sheer interest in the rest of the guys’ faces gets Jaemin to roll his eyes.

“You guys are atrocious, you know that?” He says in place of an answer. 

Chenle raises his brows. “The question remains,” he taunts with a smirk.

Jaemin looks him dead in the eyes as he responds. “She means more to me than that.”

“Means more to you than that?” Jeno reflects back with a laugh. “Jaemin, are you forgetting your love language?” This is the first thing you can pick up as you finally get to the table after questions from your classmates held you for more minutes than should be allowed. Regardless, you immediately jump right into conversation.

“Love language?” You echo with a smile. “There’s something I’m knowledgeable about. How’s my words of affirmation boy doing?” You continue, all your attention directed towards Jaemin as you shed your backpack from your body.

He looks up at you still standing by his side, eyes soft and speaking through a small smile. “Better now that you’re here,” he answers, and you don’t stop the bashful smile from coming across your face as you finally get situated sitting down next to him. The gentle moment is broken, though, with Jeno asking a question in total shock.

“Words of affirmation??” He begs for clarification, and the rest of the guys lean in at the table some more in apparent interest. You look at them all as though there was some joke you weren’t getting. 

“Yes? What did you think it was?” You question back, and they respond in almost perfect unison.

“Physical touch.”

You can’t stop the small laugh from leaving your system as you look back at all of them seriously. “Jaemin’s good at showing love through physical touch, no doubt, but words of affirmation is by far his favorite way to receive love, it’s not even a question. And sure, part of that is how he smiles like an idiot whenever I tell him he’s the most handsome guy on the planet - which is stupid because ‘handsome’ honestly doesn’t even begin to describe it…” You trail off awkwardly before shooting your head back up to face everyone. 

“But have you ever seen him receive a compliment that has nothing to do with his body or looks? The way his eyes light up like something just clicked for him? I mean, he’s so many more things before he’s physically attractive, and all he was waiting for was someone to recognize that. Every time we meet up after class and I say something like ‘I’ve been longing to be in your presence all day,’ or ‘thanks for bringing me more happiness than I’ve ever known,’ he’s practically on the verge of tears every time. It’s why when I told him I missed him that one day, all he could think to do was ask me to be his girlfriend. He’s been waiting to be missed on a level that had nothing to do with his body. He’s been waiting to be affirmed in a way that isn’t physical.”

That seemed to get everyone else at the table to shut up, swallowing awkwardly as they instead turned their attention to their food. You let out a small sigh of relief as you dig into your own sandwich, but Jaemin doesn’t think he can even take one bite anymore; a weird feeling in his stomach and his mind going a million miles an hour. When he does pick up his sandwich, it’s not because he’s finally convinced he can keep it down, but because not eating now would be incredibly suspicious to everyone…including you. 

Jaemin walked you back to your dorm after lunch, something that became typical since it wasn’t always possible to pick you up from class for lunch. You were walking in comfortable silence; in fact, an element of awkwardness was only introduced once Jaemin spoke up with a strange sort of cough and hesitant words. “I didn’t know I was a words of affirmation guy,” he finally says after a couple of minutes. 

With the two of you out of sightline and earshot of the others, you let your actions and reactions express more naturally. So, you paused completely, making him eventually stop and look over his shoulder at you in question. “Oh…really?!” You say in light shock before shaking your head and resuming your pace so you could catch back up to him and continue casually. “I mean, maybe you’re not then, but just from what I know-”

You’re cut off with a small laugh from Jaemin as he shakes his head softly, matching his contemplative tone. “No, I think you’re right. Everything you said I- I think you’re right.” He says it as though he were almost embarrassed by the fact, and you decide that’s the last thing you’re gonna allow him to feel in this situation.

“Oh, well, would you like me to affirm you more often then?” You ask seriously. “We aren’t exactly meeting up after class everyday and I’m not exactly telling you I’ve been waiting for that very moment, but I can.”

Jaemin is quick to dismiss the idea. “No, it’s okay. No use doing that when this whole thing is fake. I mean, rule number three or something is that everything is immediately dropped when we’re in private,” he tries to play off with a laugh, and as you finally reach the entrance to your dorm, you turn around to face him solemnly. 

“Jaem, that’s not me putting on an act. You do know I love spending time with you, right? And-” You shake your head, frustrated with yourself that this is something you obviously didn’t do a good job of communicating earlier. “Take us out of this whole situation thing,” you command, finding your footing in what you’re wanting to say. “Just- as friends. I love spending time with you. I want you in my life forever, yeah?” You finish softly, and when you look back up at Jaemin, he’s quick to break eye contact. 

“Yeah.”

The next few weeks saw to it that you and Jaemin were hanging out more than ever. What you saw as insane luck meant that every time you texted asking if he could hang out, he was never ‘with a girl’ at the time; and Jaemin was texting you and being the one to make plans at a far greater rate than you were, anyways. Instantly, your relationship reflected that during your time in high school - the only difference was that sometimes in the midst of trying to pretend you didn’t have the hugest crush on your best friend, you were also having to pretend you did have the hugest crush on your best friend. 

Hang outs were still mainly at your place so that the two of you never had to worry about Haechan, though sometimes you’d purposely have a night in at Jaemin’s to keep Haechan convinced. This was not one of those times. Instead, you opened your door to Jaemin as you have for the past three Friday’s now, which the two of you decided would be ‘date night’ in everyone else’s eyes while really, you’d just keep a low profile and do whatever you wanted. Due to schedules, you always had an hour for homework before you’d be met with Jaemin’s presence, and he was right on time today. “Hey, Jaem!” You greet with a smile as you swing the door open and step back to allow him inside.

“Hey angel,” he replies casually, because calling you ‘angel’ was now a very typical occurrence, regardless of who was around to hear it. He flashes a smile in your direction, but instead of beelining for the couch like normal, he stops to stand kind of awkwardly in front of you before continuing hesitantly. “Mark is having a Halloween party if that’s something you’re interested in…we could go together. I know parties aren’t really your thing.” He speaks as though it were an apology, and all you can do is chuckle at his antics.

“Don’t worry about that. I am your fake girlfriend, aren’t I?” You tease in reply, and Jaemin raises his eyebrows as though he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“...Yes,” he draws out slowly, and you just shake your head at him fondly.

“So, if you’re going, then I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you answer sincerely, and though you’d never be able to convince yourself of it, you made Jaemin blush - just the tiniest bit. 

He lets out something like a sigh of relief before nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Okay, I’ll tell Mark we’re going, then,” he says happily, and then suddenly it’s right back to routine as he heads for the couch to chill before the two of you could decide what all you actually wanted to do that day. 

The next time you saw Jaemin was two days later when he asked if you wanted to accompany him to the store. It was all light and casual conversation as you strolled through the aisles, most of the time pointing at random items and saying ‘you’ to try and see who could get the other to laugh more. The bit promptly ended when you pointed at a Scrub Daddy to relate Jaemin to, but he instead teased you endlessly for using an item with “daddy” in the name. The only thing to veer his topic of conversation away from that was when you passed the aisle that had been repurposed into Halloween decorations and costumes, making him stop in his tracks.

“Have you decided on a costume for the party yet?” He asks curiously, and you turn back around to face him and redirect your path to peruse the Halloween aisle, touching random bits of costumes before dropping them back to the rack with a shake of your head. 

“Well, I was gonna go as an angel since that’s kind of what you call me now, but if we do it as a couple’s costume, then you’d end up as the devil or a demon or whatever, and I don’t love the idea of that. So…would you wanna go as Team Rocket instead?” You ask in return. Jaemin swallows awkwardly as he takes in everything you just said, but he can’t take too long to explore the slightly comforting feeling brought on by you saying the idea of him as a devil wasn’t your favorite…because that wouldn’t be very ‘I don’t care what anyone else thinks’ of him. Instead, he resorts back to a familiar tease, an eyebrow raised as a playful smirk crossed his lips.

“Who said I wanted to do a couple’s costume?” He shoots back and your face immediately goes red as you scramble for words.

“Oh! You don’t- I was just- it’s not-” You’re cut off with a warm laugh from Jaemin.

“Breathe, angel, I was just messing with you,” he reassures with a shake of his head.

“Maybe you would make a good demon,” you deadpan in return, and Jaemin’s eyes light with fire as his jaw drops.

“Hey!”

“Just messing with you, Jaem,” you banter back, and Jaemin bites on the inside of his cheek to stop a wide grin from making an appearance at your behavior. 

“I’m fine going as Team Rocket, as long as I get to be James,” he says with a mock seriousness, effectively getting you to smile as you roll your eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t going to suggest you be Jessie,” you assure in the same manner, and Jaemin nods his head, seemingly content with the plan before another question comes to mind. 

“Are we dying our hair?” He asks, and this time he’s actually serious. You think about it for a second before giving into the idea with a contemplative nod.

“We can get the spray that lasts up until you wash it,” you suggest, and with a nod from Jaemin, your Halloween costumes were set - all you had to do was make them. 

Fast forward a week and the only thing left to do was iron on the ‘R’ decal on Jaemin’s top, which was exactly what you were doing in his apartment as he took the time to spray blue in his hair. You look up from the heat press as Jaemin walks out of the bathroom. “Huh,” you let out involuntarily, and if you were any less close with Jaemin, you would’ve been embarrassed beyond words. However, he just looks at you with furrowed brows and a curious grin.

“What?” He asks, and you shrug your shoulders as though it were nothing big.

“You look good with blue hair,” you answer, trying your best to be casual about it.

Jaemin’s curious grin had turned into a shiteating one. “Oh, yeah?” He digs, trying to get under your skin; though, you thwart the attempt immediately, instead responding with nonchalance - the exact opposite of what he was reaching for. 

“Well, no more than normal,” you reply, and Jaemin’s brows raise impossibly.

“Now, what does that mean?” He asks playfully, but you just shake your head.

“You’re the fuckboy, Jaemin. You know what I’m getting at.” With that, your attention was back on the iron as it beeped and let you know his shirt was ready. You pull it out from under the heat and turn it around so Jaemin could see the final product, and with a nod of approval, he grabs it from your hands and heads back to the bathroom.

“Looks great, angel,” he finally says, studying his appearance in the mirror before walking back out to the living area. You just drop your head as you feel your face heat up at the compliment. 

“I’ll uh- go get ready,” you say quietly, and then you grab your own costume and hair spray before trading places with him in the bathroom. 

Jaemin doesn’t hide his small smile as he watches you walk back out to the living area in your matching costume with him, and you try your best to pin your focus anywhere other than his soft gaze. “Um- drinking at parties isn’t really my thing so- I can drive us back here afterwards. You can drink however much you want,” you get out awkwardly before moving to sit down next to him on the couch.

Jaemin chuckles lightly in response to your behavior. “Are you sure?” 

You nod your head profusely. “Of course. You enjoy parties a lot. I don’t want you to change an aspect of it just because I’m there, too. So, however much you normally drink…go for it.” 

Jaemin studies your figure with ample doubt covering his features. “I don’t know. Me drinking while knowing I have a ride home typically means I turn into too much to handle,” he jokes, but any form of negative self-talk from him always grounds you, and you’re quick to refute it.

“Not for me,” you say, turning your head to make eye contact with him. “Never for me.” Your soft reassurance has Jaemin simply staring at you, and you quickly turn your head back to face your lap as you overthink every little embarrassing thing you’ve already done tonight. On the other hand, Jaemin didn’t even think twice before leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

Your cheeks puff out with a smile in immediate response to the contact, but as you lift your gaze back up to face Jaemin, your attention is caught by Haechan, who had just walked out of his room in costume - a vampire costume that was already iconic and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

Your soft smile turns into a full-on grin as you address him. “Woah, Hyuck. You look great!” You say with a laugh, and Jaemin whips his head around to face his roommate just to fall into his own bout of laughter.

“Oh, fuck off,” Haechan replies with a playful roll of his eyes as he walks towards the door. “Are you two gonna head out soon?” He asks more seriously, and Jaemin gives a light nod.

“Yeah, we won’t be too far behind you. Y/n just isn’t a huge fan of parties, so we opted for fashionably late rather than fashionably early.” 

Haechan flashes his eyebrows up in acknowledgement before turning back from the front door to face the two of you again. “Alright. Don’t violate the couch too much in the meantime. It’s my favorite couch,” he banters, and this time it’s you and Jaemin to roll your eyes.

“You fuck off,” you say through a grin, and Haechan drops his head with a loud laugh before bringing his gaze back to the two of you with a soft smile.

“I’ll see you guys soon,” he says happily, and with that, he’s out the door.  

It was about thirty minutes later when you and Jaemin entered the party house hand-in-hand. As soon as you got in, you realized your friend group was a lot more popular than you ever thought, because seemingly everyone you went to school with was here. For parties already feeling overwhelming, parties where you could hardly move without bumping into someone were even more so. Though, in the midst of the blaring music, a hundred different conversations, and all the dancing, your attention is turned to your interlocked hand with Jaemin as he gently rubs his thumb across the back of your hand.

You shoot your gaze up at him just to see he’s already staring back down at you softly. Unlike you, he looked completely at home in the party scene, though you figure one can’t truly get labeled a fuckboy without being so. That’s also why you assume he was able to tell you were already uncomfortable from the second you stepped inside. 

Hardly a few feet from the entrance, he leans down to you at his side, speaking slowly in your ear so you could make it out from the rest of the noise. “We’ll stay only as long as you want, okay? If you wanna turn back around right now, we can.”

You shake your head minimally, turning to face him and realizing that action placed your lips dangerously close together. You roll them inwards in hesitation before shifting your gaze to his own. “I’m not going to make you leave super early. You like parties.”

A smirk plays on Jaemin’s lips as he raises an eyebrow at you. “I like you more,” he replies playfully. 

You dart your gaze off to the side, ripping your hand away from his in the process. “I’m fine. Let’s just go find our friends.” You take a step out from the entryway but quickly notice Jaemin isn’t following. You whip your head around to face him just to see his hand outstretched for you again.

“If we’re going to go find our friends, your hand better be in mine,” he quips, causing you to roll your eyes before obliging and lacing your fingers back together. He gives your hand a light squeeze as he flashes you a wide smile and drags you to where he already saw Haechan, Jeno, and Renjun. 

“Hey, you guys look great!” Jeno says with a bright smile as the two of you join their circle. Jaemin finally slides his hand out of yours to instead place it on the small of your back. Despite yourself, a small smile comes onto your face, not at Jeno’s words, but at Jaemin’s touch, and you relax a bit more against his hand.

Jaemin is the one to actually respond as the other two guys turn their attention to the both of you as well. “Thanks! My incredible, beautiful girlfriend made the costumes,” he says, tossing his gaze over to you at his side. You roll your eyes at him, but your smile grows. 

“Making it is not the same as making it look good. You did that all on your own,” you shoot back earnestly. The three guys in front of you throw on a look of disgust, as if they weren’t the ones telling Jaemin he needed a girlfriend. Jaemin just looks over at you with a soft gleam in his eyes, his mouth straining as he tries to conceal a smile. He opts to just kiss you on the cheek instead, then reaching for your far shoulder and pulling you his way. He snakes his arms around you to keep you there in a hug from behind, his thumb gently rubbing up and down your waist. The five of you stood in a circle just talking for at least an hour. Occasionally, one of them would leave to grab drinks for the group, though you were sure to just stick to water the entire night as everyone around you became a comfortable state of tipsy. 

Eventually, Jaemin unwound his arms from your figure, causing you to turn your head and look up at him in question. He lets an easy smile paint his lips. “I’m just running to the bathroom real quick. I’ll come find you again in a few.”

You nod your head, and your eyes follow Jaemin for as long as they could before he became completely indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd. You turn your attention back to Renjun, Jeno, and Haechan. “I’m gonna go find Mark,” you start with an awkward laugh. “I don’t know if he even knows Jaemin and I are here.” The three of them nod at you, Renjun racking his foggy brain for where he thinks he last saw him. You nod, thanking them for their company so far, and then heading off towards the kitchen under the guidance of Renjun’s memory. 

When Jaemin steps out of the bathroom, he almost immediately runs into the body of another guy. Opening his mouth to apologize, the guest beats him to words.

“Jaemin, nice costume,” he says, and Jaemin loses his tension at the compliment.

“Oh, thank you-” He starts, but is quickly cut off again by the stranger.

“You got another one of your hoes to match with tomorrow?” He slurs with a smile, throwing an arm around Jaemin’s shoulder.

Jaemin’s eyes widen as he snakes out under the touch, guiding their hand back down to their side. “Uh, no, y/n’s my girlfriend. It’s just her and we’re just out for tonight,” he replies, turning his gaze away from the man to instead scan the crowd and try to lay eyes back on you.

“Ha! Good one,” the guy laughs out, and Jaemin snaps his gaze back to him in confusion.

“Good one?” He echoes back in question, but with a hard slap on his back that Jaemin thinks was meant to be playful, his conversation partner quickly leaves. Jaemin stands there for a moment puzzled, but he tries to shake out of the uncomfortable feeling as he directs his gaze back to the big crowd, looking for where you may have wandered off to once he sees you’re no longer with the previous group.

He quickly realizes he wouldn’t be able to find you by standing in one place, so he picks up his feet and starts weaving through the crowd again. When he feels a hand on his back, he assumes it’s you, and he whips around towards the figure. His face quickly drops when he realizes it isn’t you, and suddenly he’s extremely conscious of how everyone’s been touching him tonight. 

“Such a shame your costume shows so little skin,” the girl says with a small pout and a fake innocence in her eyes. Jaemin tries to take a step back, just to bump into more people dancing and forcing him back into close proximity. He swallows hard, accepting the fact that he was having to engage in this conversation now.

“My girlfriend picked it out,” he says firmly, and the girl in front of him just tilts her head to the side, now rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“Well, she’s ruining the fun,” she replies, something like pity in her eyes as she looks at Jaemin. He furrows his brows, his breath getting heavier as the air seems to get thinner. 

“Um, I- I think I’m still fun without showing skin,” Jaemin fumbles out, and the girl just laughs, finally letting her hand drop from his arm as her doe-eyed expression turns mean.

“You’d like to believe that,” she says, shaking her head and walking off.

Jaemin stared after her in a weird mix of hurt and confusion that he hadn’t ever felt before. “What?” He asks in defeat, but there was no one there to give him any clarification. 

He desperately starts looking around for you again. If he could just get back to you, if he could just slip his hand into yours, he was sure the heavy weight that’s found its way onto his chest would disappear. He was shaking, he didn’t know when he had started shaking, but it seemed to take the place of his breathing, and now he was worried about whether or not he would even have time to find you before he suffocated. Almost all the effort he was placing into finding you was now being placed into holding back his tears. Everything was too loud, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, couldn’t hear his voice if he spoke aloud, suddenly not sure if he was even getting any words out when he opened his mouth, which only worried him more because he was dying and he couldn’t tell anyone. 

Holding your hand, it was the only positive thought he could seem to cling to, the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor in a ball - he had to find you, he wanted to hold your hand. He thinks it’s a miracle that his feet are able to start moving again, especially when someone definitely put 50 lb weights in his shoes without him knowing. 

He finally lays eyes on you, now in the kitchen talking with Mark, Chenle, and Jisung. Though you were maybe ten feet away, it might as well have been miles, as another hand gets placed on his chest from a random girl in front of him. “James, let me know if you get bored of Jessie later. I can give you a good time,” she says with a smirk, and Jaemin feels like he’s going to throw up; though he can’t quite tell if that was because of her words or the whirlwind of the past three minutes. In fact, if he knew just how badly he was shaking, he would’ve questioned how she didn’t feel it when she placed her hand on his chest. 

He shakes his head as quickly as he could without getting too dizzy to continue his trek towards you. “No, I quite like Jessie,” he says through hiccups, not sure when the first stray tear made its way down his cheek. He pushes past the girl without giving her time to respond and make him feel worse. All he wanted was you, and when he finally got close enough to place his shaky hand in yours, all he could manage were whispered words that he prayed would reach you, or at least leave his mouth at all. 

“Please don’t leave me.”

Still in conversation with Mark, Chenle, and Jisung, you don’t turn too much attention to Jaemin slightly behind you as you settle your hand into his touch, but that’s when you feel how badly he’s shaking. “Jaem, are you okay?” You ask at your side, though your eyes remained trained on Chenle as he told the least dramatic story in the most dramatic way.

“There’s a lot of people here,” Jaemin whimpers out, the answer confusing enough to pull your focus away from Chenle. 

“I know-” You start, your gaze following from your interlocked hands up his arm and to his face, but that’s when you actually see the state he’s in and your face instantly falls into worry. A steady stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks, his eyes tightly shut to block out the extra stimulation, only opening them to look at you before promptly getting embarrassed and turning away. You immediately squeeze his hand a little tighter in your hold, getting him to train his eyes back on you. You pick up your words as he does so, careful to hide your immense worry in your tone and instead speaking softly for him. “Hey…let’s get you to a quieter room, okay?”

Jaemin nods his head minimally, able to let out a choked response. “Okay.” You take no extra time in telling the others that you were going to have to get filled in on the story later. Instead, you just make sure your grip on Jaemin’s hand is enough to not lose him while navigating through the crowd as you immediately lead him upstairs and into an empty room. 

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” You say, closing the door and turning on a soft lamp light before you whip back around to watch Jaemin pace the entire floor, his fingers running frantically through his hair. 

“I don’t know. Everyone keeps talking to me and touching me and everything is so loud and my head hurts and it’s so hot I’m sweating and dizzy and freaking out-” He spoke all at once, and you knew the last thing he needed was to run out of breath while explaining. You jump to cut him off, still trying your best to make your voice as calming as possible for him.

“Hey…it’s gonna be okay. Can you sit down for me?” The second you said it, Jaemin was on the floor, his heavy breaths visibly not making it to his whole body. Your eyes soften some more as you look at him. It didn’t take a genius to tell you he’s never been in this situation before, and all he knew to do was trust you. You let out a soft sigh as you move closer to him. “I know you said you’re hot and sweaty and overwhelmed with touch, but is it okay if I hug you?”

“Please.” The word comes out weak, riddled with enough tears to make you break. You sit down behind him, placing your legs out along his own outstretched ones as you gently hug him from behind.  

“You can close your eyes, just focus on my voice. You’re gonna be okay,” you state with confidence, rubbing a thumb gently up and down his side. Jaemin is quick to refute, shaking his head with an intensity you wish he wouldn’t right now.

“No, y/n, it feels like I’m dying,” he says, fear covering every aspect of his voice. You let out a soft sigh.

“You’re not dying, you’re panicking.” This, too, he refuses to accept. His response comes out as firm as it could through tears.

“I don’t panic. I’m the cool guy. I’m not panicking, I’m dying.”

Despite yourself, a small laugh escapes you through an exhale, and you hug Jaemin to you extra tight. “Baby, no matter how cool you are, there’s not a person in the world completely immune to panic attacks.”

Jaemin stills for a moment, the sudden switch confusing you before he speaks and confuses you even more. “I thought you didn’t like that word,” he says, wiping his face of tears and then placing his hands on your own arms around his torso. 

You furrow your eyebrows, though with him in front of you, there was no point. “What word?” You ask. Surely he wasn’t talking about the word ‘panic attack’ but racking your brain, there was nothing else you said that wasn’t just a normal word.

“You don’t know you said it,” he says curiously, a small sniffle coming from his figure as he tries his own attempt at a light laugh. 

“What are you talking about, Jaem?” You question again. At this point, you were sure one of you was going crazy, and you really were banking on it not being you. Though, Jaemin just dismisses the subject, and with you sitting behind him, you missed the small smile that now covered his features.

“Nothing, please just continue holding me like this,” he begs softly, and you nod your head, squeezing him tighter for a second.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply seriously, and there you and Jaemin sat for at least another ten minutes; the only noise to break the silence was his occasional cries as he still tried to rid himself of tears and calm down completely. 

When you couldn’t remember his last sniffle, you start to rub your thumb up and down a portion of his waist, disrupting the physical stillness before you spoke and disrupted the silence.

“I wanna get you some water soon,” you say gently, but any attempt to move from your position was shot down as Jaemin quickly fumbled to grab your arms and press them firmly back down across his torso, his body beginning to shake again at the idea of you getting up.

“No! Don’t leave! Please,” he chokes out, and almost all of the progress you thought he made in the past few minutes was erased.

You sigh, and refusing to think about the fact that you were practically breaking your own rule, you lean forward to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m staying right next to you, Jaem,” you start, and you watch as he basically forces his breathing to get back to normal at your words…or at least tries to. “Do you want me to call Jeno and get him to bring up water for you, or do you want to follow me down to the kitchen, grab a water bottle, and leave?”  

Jaemin thinks for a moment before dropping his head in what you assume was shame, which was the last thing he needed to be feeling. “I- can we leave?”

You squeeze your arms around his body once more in acknowledgement. “Yeah, come on,” you reply, and the two of you slowly make your way off the floor and into a standing position. As you let go of his waist, you immediately grab his hand in yours, looking up at Jaemin for confirmation that this was what he wanted to do. He stared back down at you with a teary smile and nod, and with that, you led him out of the bedroom and back downstairs. 

Thankfully, Mark, Chenle, and Jisung were still in the kitchen, meaning you had to cover no extra ground to fill Mark in on your departure. 

“Hey, I’m gonna take Jaemin home,” you say, turning to face Mark after grabbing a water bottle from the fridge he was standing next to.

Mark furrows his brows. “Everything okay?” He asks, knowing Jaemin wasn’t one to leave parties early, nor was he one to have tear streaks painted across his face.

You try to smile but it comes out more as a grimace. “Yeah, he’s just a little overwhelmed today. Thank you for inviting us, though. It was a blast.” 

Mark nods his head in understanding. “Thanks for coming. Are you driving?”

“Yeah,” you reply, and Mark forces some sobriety back in his system.

“You haven’t had anything to drink, have you?” He asks in worry, and you let a grateful smile paint your face as you respond.

“No, I’m okay.”

Mark nods before taking another sip of his own drink. “Okay. Be safe. I’ll see you guys soon.” You reciprocate his nod in acknowledgement and then immediately lead Jaemin towards the front door and back to the car.

You make sure he’s all taken care of in the passenger seat before you start messing with the controls in the driver’s seat to move it to where you could actually drive. You make a mental note to apologize about changing the position of his seat and mirrors tomorrow after everything’s calmed down, but as you start driving, Jaemin is the one to beat you to an apology. 

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, and you risk a quick glance over at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh, why?”

Jaemin fiddles with his fingers in his lap, unable to look anywhere else because of his embarrassment. “For making you leave the party. You were having fun,” he answers softly, and despite your best efforts, a small laugh escapes you.

“Jaem, I was having fun because all we did was hang around with our group of friends. I don’t care for parties in and of themselves, you know that. Truthfully, I’d rather just be with you right now,” you say, and as you pull up to a stop sign, you look back over at him again. Defeat riddled his features as he spits out a response.

“But I’m just crying.” He speaks those words as though he were mad at himself for it, and you don’t understand how your best friend came to believe that he always had to be some perfectly presented guy.

You let out a sigh before turning your attention back to the road. “It doesn’t change the fact that I like spending time with you. Besides, you’d be crazy to think I’d rather be anywhere else right now when you’ve got me so worried about you.” When the only response from Jaemin is another sob he tries to cover up, you frown. “I’m not mad at you for making us leave the party early, and I’m not mad at you for crying,” you add on, and Jaemin finally lifts his head to look over at you in his driver’s seat. He seems to scan your figure up and down, processing your words and the fact that you were actually taking care of him right now. He sniffles once more before abruptly turning his focus back to his lap, and the car ride is silent the rest of the way to his apartment. 

As soon as Jaemin gets into his own room, he already looks a thousand times better; the tension in his shoulders finally falls and his breathing gets more regular. You scavenge around his apartment for anything he may need during the night and next morning, because outside of his panic attack, he was still tipsy, too. 

With a fresh water bottle and ibuprofen set on his night stand, you bid Jaemin goodnight, running a hand gently through his hair as he laid down in bed. However, before you can fully turn around and leave, Jaemin catches the hand you just had in his hair. In shock, you whip back around, just to be met with wide pleading eyes.

“Please stay,” he says softly, and your breath hitches for a moment before you resume your cool, or at least try to.

“Jaemin-” You start, your tone already giving way to your refusal. Though, Jaemin cuts you off in an instant, his grip on you getting slightly tighter.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” he shoots back, and his voice is already shaky again from the sudden raise in volume of his claim.

You sigh, trying to slowly snake your hand out of his grip as you reply. “Yeah, but I was kind of meaning that for while we were still at the party, not…now, when you’re going to sleep.”

He refuses to let you out of his hold, and he pulls you even closer to the end of the bed. “What if Haechan comes back?” He starts, trying his best to talk normally. “He’d be really confused as to why you didn’t stay over after the night I had.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “There’s no shot Haechan makes it back tonight or is sober enough to think about anything but getting in bed himself. You’re just saying that to try and convince me.”

He finally lets his grip on you drop as he lets out a heavy breath bordering on the dividing line between defeat and hope. “Is it working?” He asks, and though you were finally free from his grasp, able to just say a final goodnight and leave to head back to your place, you don’t. Instead, you drop your head, speaking so softly you’re not sure Jaemin would even be able to hear.

“I want the side next to the wall.” 

With your gaze facing the floor, you couldn’t see the sudden warm glow behind Jaemin’s eyes as he pulled back the comforter on that side and pulled his legs up so you could crawl over by the foot of the bed, neither of you saying another word as you do. 

Jaemin didn’t know why he was so captivated by watching you fall asleep in his bed. The two of you must’ve been at least a full foot away from each other, as you immediately made sure to press up against the wall and make yourself as small as you could. That was fine by Jaemin. He wasn’t asking for the two of you to cuddle in the first place - this was still a fake relationship after all, and he was very much aware of that. In fact, that truth was probably more plaguing than ever at the front of his mind. Now instead of a reminder that he had to pretend to date you, it was a reminder that this was ending in two months. Jaemin’s tipsy brain couldn’t put together what the sinking feeling in his chest meant at the realization of that. So, he pushed it away, and just looked over at you sleeping peacefully right up against the wall. He didn’t need to have his arms around you - knowing you were next to him was enough, and for the first time that night since the party started, he was completely at peace.

When you wake up and realize you were more comfortable than usual in your bed, you open your eyes and figure out that it’s because you’re not in your bed. In fact, you’re hardly resting against a bed at all. Instead, one of your arms is lazily thrown over your best friend’s waist as your head rested comfortably, incredibly too comfortably, on his chest. The discovery that your legs were some kind of interlaced didn’t make things any better, and the full realization that you were practically on top of Jaemin had you jolt. This, of course, didn’t do anything but wake him up. With your head now propped up on his chest, you watch as he slowly peeks open one of his eyes, exhaustion still written over all his features. However, the second his gaze lands on you, he shoots open both eyes. Embarrassment quickly floods your being as you address everything. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

You’re cut off with a light chuckle and softly spoken words from Jaemin. “You’re okay.” Regardless of his response, you can’t shake the embarrassment. Jaemin’s arms fall from around your body as you try to get up, and that’s when you realize both of his arms were wrapped around you in the first place. You push the thought to the back of your head, turning to get off of his bed completely. 

You’re stopped by his hand grabbing yours. You quickly turn your attention back to Jaemin, who still had yet to move any part of his body but his arms as he looks at you softly, pleading. “Can we go back to sleep?”

You swallow awkwardly, your throat now suddenly dry. You dart your eyes around his room before sighing and just landing your gaze back on him. “Um, do you still need me here for that?” You ask genuinely. Jaemin breaks eye contact this time, as he just looks down at your two hands still holding onto each other. He gives a slow nod of his head, humming a little. 

You bite your lip to stop a smile from coming onto your face. It wasn’t often that you got to see your best friend looking as gentle and small as he did now. Jaemin, with the larger than life personality just wanting to stay in bed with you, it was hard to say ‘no.’ So, you don’t. “Okay.” Though when you move to resume your position back by the wall, he chuckles a bit and uses your still interlocked hands to pull you back onto him. 

The next two days after you woke up on top of Jaemin (again) were filled with an awkward period of zero contact between the two of you. You couldn’t blame him for not responding to your text to hang out the day after. You were both really good at never crossing lines back in high school, but Halloween put a blur on every single one…and it didn’t help that he was tipsy that night, too. Outside of whatever rules in your contract were broken, you were sure Jaemin was also just embarrassed to no end. 

There was a lot of pressure on him to be this man with no emotions; his label as a fuckboy meant people typically started and stopped all their thoughts about him at the sexual level, and he did his best to live up to their many expectations in that department, neglecting all the other parts of his being that needed tending to. Vulnerability was not a Jaemin specialty, largely because it’s never what anyone was looking for from him; and anything that lessened his sex appeal, and thus meant he couldn’t make a call and immediately have any girl he wanted, was a possibility he sought to avoid. 

You didn’t necessarily mind the no-contact, though. Your heart was doing flips and spins in Jaemin’s presence on Halloween, and you had to give yourself a cool-down period before seeing him so that you could act normal around him again - whatever it was that ‘normal’ looked like when you were having to convince a group of friends that you liked your best friend while convincing your best friend you didn’t actually like him. 

Jaemin made up an excuse for your absence at Monday’s lunch, but on Tuesday he finally messaged you again and asked you out for ice cream, which you of course said ‘yes’ to. He meets you at the entrance to your dorm and smiles at you with something like a sigh of relief when you smile back at him; though, with his messy hair, thick-framed glasses, and a hoodie adorning his figure, it was hard to do anything but smile - he looked criminally boyfriend. 

“Hey, I’m- sorry…for it being weird these past few days,” he gets out somewhat awkwardly as you start on your walk towards the best ice cream parlor by campus. 

You shake your head with a small laugh. “It’s okay. You’ve been going through it recently,” you joke, and Jaemin licks his lips before bringing himself to laugh as well. 

“Thanks for uh- putting up with me on Halloween.” He speaks as though the words were bitter on his tongue. “I’m sorry about forcing you to spend the night.” 

You let out a sigh. You wanted to stop and force him to see the sincerity in your eyes as you told him that you weren’t ‘putting up with him,’ but you knew you needed to keep this moment more casual so he wouldn’t find these vulnerable bits overwhelming and consequently shut down. So instead, you just keep walking with a small shake of your head.

“You don’t have to apologize for that. You just had a panic attack - if I didn’t spend the night, I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep. I would’ve stayed up all night worried about you. It was better that I was with you.” 

Jaemin lets something like a grimace cross his features as he responds with a wry laugh. “You care about me a lot,” he points out, making you look up at him by your side with raised brows.

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend,” you say seriously, and Jaemin looks down to meet your gaze, giving away the distant look in his eyes.

“Ha, fair,” he begins. “I care about you a lot, too.” As he continues, he drops his head to face his feet. “But I don’t think I’d know how to take care of you while you’re having a panic attack,” he admits regrettably, but all you can do is give a soft smile.

“I’m not expecting you to. All I ask is that you let me be there for you again if you have another one…and that you stop being so embarrassed about showing emotions,” you tack on, causing Jaemin to laugh a bit in defeat.

“Okay, angel, but only with you. I have a hot guy persona to keep up in the real world,” he says through a smile, but you shake your head.

“You’re hot, regardless,” you deadpan, and Jaemin’s face lights up as he nudges you in the side playfully.

“Well, look at that! You sweet talker. Maybe I’ll pay for your ice cream today,” he banters, and soon the two of you are in shared laughter as you elbow him back. 

“Whatever. I’m 80% sure you were gonna pay for my ice cream even before that.”

“80%?” He echos, bringing a hand up to his chest as though he’s been shot. “Such little faith,” he tuts, shaking his head and making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Am I supposed to have more faith in a fuckboy than that?” You tease, and Jaemin’s face falls into a mock seriousness, holding open the door to the ice cream parlor for you as he looks at your figure with raised eyebrows. 

“No, you’re supposed to have more faith in your best friend than that,” he says as you pass through the door, and you look back at him to share matching small smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I have nothing but faith in you,” you reply as he, too, fully steps inside and lets the door swing closed behind him. The proximity has you looking almost directly up at him as he stares down at you in much the same manner; playful gleams in your eyes and fond smiles adorning your faces. At once, he nods his head towards the counter behind you.

“Go order, angel. It’s on me today.” 

You scrunch your face up at him with a big grin. “Thanks, handsome.” Then you promptly turn around and head towards where the cashier was waiting to take your order, not even taking one chance to look back and see how red Jaemin’s face had gotten in response. 

Jaemin knew it was coming, that was the funny thing. He just wasn’t expecting the disconnect between his head and his heart to be remedied all at once; but looking at you standing in line and pointing at what flavor you wanted, he had never wanted to do this with anyone else, but he really really wanted it with you, today and every day after that.

Sitting down and actually eating ice cream included the most normal of conversations between you and Jaemin. He wasn’t your best friend for nothing - the two of you could talk forever and never run out of things to say or comfort and joy to find in each other’s presence. As such, when you finished your ice cream cones and left the parlor, interaction flowed as it always had while he walked you back to your dorm…meaning the two of you looked like just best friends; close enough on the sidewalk to hear each other but far enough apart so that there was no possibility of accidentally grazing the back of each other’s hands or anything. You were hardly conscious of it, elated at the fact that you and Jaemin were so close and consistent again after the past few years, but Jaemin could practically only focus on the distance between the two of you.

You had basically just stepped foot back on actual campus when Jaemin abruptly stopped, grabbing your wrist and turning you towards him as he spoke in a rush.

“My friends are looking, kiss me,” he says in something close to a panic, and so you immediately oblige, pressing up on your tiptoes to kiss him firmly. You place your hands on his chest to steady yourself as you break away, catching your breath - something that Jaemin always seemed to make you lose - as you turn your head around to look at the surrounding area.

“Where are they?” You ask through a light pant, turning back to Jaemin once you checked and double checked but caught no sign of his friends. 

Jaemin licks his lips hesitantly, shaking his head. “They must have left already,” he says through an exhale, and you take a deep breath, finally allowing yourself to step away from Jaemin’s body as you face the ground, trying to regain your footing from the whiplash it felt you just went through. Jaemin lets out an awkward cough before speaking up again. “We should probably hold hands all the time when we’re in public, though. I’m pretty sure Chenle’s the only suspicious one still out of the friend group, but it’d throw anyone off if we’re dating and not holding hands. And if there’s one thing I learned from the Halloween party, it’s that people don’t know we’re dating, and that should probably change so it doesn’t just look like an act put on for the friend group…or Chenle’s never gonna believe it.” 

He wasn’t wrong, and you knew that - you knew that before all of this even started. Rule number three was that the act is immediately dropped in private, but that came with the other side of things being that you had to put on an act while in public, regardless of who was around to witness it. 

You nod your head slowly. “Yeah, okay,” you cede, and Jaemin’s hand immediately finds yours, the warmth from the contact making you realize how chilled your bones currently were. There was no more hiding it from girls in your classes now - you were Jaemin’s girlfriend to the general public, not just to his six best friends. You needed these next two months to pass by quickly, because with the promise of Jaemin’s hand being in yours more than ever, you were sure your chances of survival just decreased dramatically. 

That Friday, your date night was replaced with a night in at Jaemin’s apartment. As soon as he shot you a text saying he was home from class, you made your way over to his place. He opened the door with the bright smile he typically revealed just for you, stepping back to let you inside with a fond, “hey angel.” 

You step inside with a smile and small greeting in reply. “What do you wanna do today?” You ask, turning around to face him once you realize you were aimlessly crossing the span of his apartment for no reason. Already preparing for the question, Jaemin moves his hand from behind his back to reveal a thick blu-ray case in his grip.

“Harry Potter movie marathon?” He asks with a smirk.

You look back at him with raised eyebrows and a small grin of your own. “You know I can’t say ‘no’ to Harry Potter at any point in the Fall or Winter seasons,” you reply, and Jaemin’s eyes find a new glow behind them.

“That and Gilmore Girls; though I’m much more in the mood for Harry Potter because if we started rewatching Gilmore Girls now, we’d have to get through all those episodes with that floppy-haired jerk and really, Jess is so much better,” he adds on seriously, and all you can do is laugh. 

“Hey, Dean is at least better than Logan,” you respond, and Jaemin lets out an actual groan.

“Please don’t get me started on Logan…can we instead get started on Harry Potter?” He asks again, waving the disc case around invitingly and causing you to laugh some more as you walk towards the couch. 

“Just waiting on you,” you answer as you plop down on the couch, making Jaemin roll his eyes playfully before turning around to set everything up on the TV. As the familiar soundtrack fills the room, Jaemin places himself next to you like normal, handing you a blanket to make the cozy night-in complete. 

Two hours later, as Jaemin got up to switch out the discs from The Sorcerer’s Stone to The Chamber of Secrets, you got up for a bathroom break, and when the two of you sat back down, there was maybe an inch less space between you both than previously. Not much else changed. That is, until not even ten minutes into the second movie. You catch in your peripheral as Jaemin moves his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. You don’t think anything of it until that arm doesn’t come back down to his side, but instead wraps around the back of your shoulders.

“Is Haechan here?” You ask lightly, trying to talk over the sound of your breath hitching. Haechan’s room was closest to the bathroom, and you don’t remember any sign of life coming from nearby while you were in there, but nothing else explained this, because this was not normal between the two of you. 

“No,” Jaemin answers shortly, and all you can do is swallow hesitantly as you fight for words again.

“Then why is your arm around my shoulder?” You ask, trying to make it sound as though your words were a playful tease and not a desperate question. 

Jaemin looks over at you with raised eyebrows and a playful smirk. “Because what if he comes back?” He replies casually, and you try to roll your eyes in much the same manner, as though his arm around your shoulder wasn’t single-handedly making your heart rate spike. He was right, anyway - if Haechan came back, it would be weird for the two of you to be sitting any other way.

It was during Prisoner of Azkaban when Haechan inevitably walked into the apartment. Busy with locking the door behind him, he was caught off guard when locking eyes with the two of you as he turned back around. Though, all at once, his gaze softened as he looked between you, Jaemin, and the television. “Hey guys,” he says warmly, and you mentally high-five yourself not only for the fact that you and Jaemin seemed to have truly won Haechan over, but also that you had won Haechan over; the main reason this bet was even made was because Haechan couldn’t stand whatever girl it was that Jaemin had over, but here he was, excited to see you cuddled into Jaemin on the couch, and that win was not lost on you. 

“Hey,” Jaemin replied with a smile. “We’re watching Harry Potter if you want to join,” he continues, but Haechan shakes his head at the extended invite as he moves to grab something from the mess that was the kitchen counter.

“Tempting, but- I’m all good. I’m about to head back out, actually. Mark and I are gonna hit a few bars and try to unwind from this bullshit week,” he says with a weak laugh. You and Jaemin flash your eyebrows in acknowledgement. 

“Let me know if you need a ride back home. We’ll swing by to grab you and Mark, or- I will, at least, depending on what time it ends up being. Regardless, be safe. I enjoy having you as a roommate,” Jaemin says, his tone turning more playful with every word. 

Haechan rolls his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t drink and drive. We all know I’m smarter than that,” he says, but when he makes eye contact with you and Jaemin again, he meets your wide-eyed stares of doubt, causing him to shake his head with a more hearty laugh. “You guys suck,” he says with a smile. “I’ll keep you updated throughout the night. It was nice seeing you, y/n,” he continues seriously, beginning to fiddle with the front door lock on his exit.

“You, too,” you reply genuinely, and with one more nod and wave goodbye, he was out the door. It wasn’t even five seconds later when Jaemin’s arm detaches itself from your shoulder, instead finding comfort at his side again. He didn’t pay any mind to it, his attention pinned solely on the movie. You do your best to not show any physical reaction to the absence of his touch, especially when you were the one giving him a hard time for it in the first place. You’re almost shocked by how well Jaemin is able to turn it on and off, though you figure the real problem was how poorly you were able to do the same. Jaemin was just doing his part, exactly as he said he would. 

Your heart had to stop looking for hidden meaning to every touch, every “angel,” because he was your best friend and crush, but you were his best friend and fake-girlfriend. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin ran through the same spiel in reverse inside his own head, figuring if he kept his arm around you now with the promise of Haechan being gone, you would surely catch onto the fact that he craved your touch more than typical of best friends - which was exactly what you both were going back to at the start of the new year.

It was the first Tuesday after you and Jaemin agreed to ramp up your public dating facade, and you were already the center of attention as you walked into class at 11:00. You tell yourself no one’s gaze locked onto you as you opened the door for class - that you were making it up; but at least some percent of that story was false, because as you sit in your chair and start pulling out your notebook for class, your name gets called from the seat diagonal to you. “Y/n, rumor has it that you and Jaemin are actually dating,” this girl, Hana, says. You knew she was looking for a response, so you don’t give her one, instead focusing on your pen mindlessly rolling between your fingers. 

“You? With a guy like him?” She continues, adding more bite and disbelief to each word. You keep your gaze focused in front of you, jaw tightening as you try to hide more robust reactions. That is, until she continues. “You can’t be that good in bed.” Your fist clenches as you whip your head towards her; furrowed, taunting eyebrows matching the fire in her eyes and the smirk on her lips, the rest of her friend group snickering behind her. You have the patience for none of it - you were not going to sit here and take this.

“Actually,” you begin, your kind tone dripping in sarcasm. “I know this is something you don’t have experience with, so bear with me, but Jaemin genuinely likes me as a person and so I didn’t have to win him over with just my skills in bed. Yeah! He actually wants to hold my hand and tell me pretty things and I’m just so sorry that he never had the desire to do any of that with the likes of you!” You give her one last look before shrugging a bit, even your fake smile completely ridden from your face. “Actually, I’m not sorry at all.”

Hana looks mortified, her friend group in the surrounding desks all watching the exchange now with wide eyes. You don’t even think any of them saw it coming when Hana got up from her seat and lunged towards you, swinging at your face. “You bitch!” She yells at you, her fist making contact with the area around your eye. You wince slightly but you refused to give her the satisfaction of a bigger reaction - you’d leave that for when you were alone. You move your hand up to touch the area, making sure none of her rings caught your skin and drew blood, but when your fingers came back clean, you just move your gaze back to her in disinterest.

“Are you done now?” You ask monotonously. You catch her fist clench again in your peripheral and prepare yourself for another hit because seemingly none of the other students were concerned with stopping the exchange. However, your professor finally walks in before Hana can even get another word out, and instead she’s told to take her seat as you swing back to face the front of the room in your own chair. The throbbing that half of your face was currently experiencing would have to wait an hour and twenty minutes to be addressed, you weren’t letting her win.

Thankfully, that was your last of two classes for the day, so you were able to head back to your dorm directly after. You throw your backpack down in the entryway and immediately head for your bathroom to assess the damages. “Fuck,” you whisper under your breath. The hour and a half was enough time for a proper bruise to start forming, and it wasn’t necessarily the prettiest of black eyes. You move a hand up to touch the area again, this time just the light pressure already putting you in horrid pain. With a defeated groan, you leave the bathroom and dig through your freezer for an ice pack to hold up to the area instead. 

Settling yourself down on the couch, you decide the last thing you need is for Jaemin to see you like this. With a sigh, you open your phone and pull up your texts with him. Hey, just a heads up, I don’t have a lot of time to hang this week or make it to friend group lunches.  

Jaemin’s reply is almost instantaneous. Is everything okay?

You frown at the message. You hated lying to your best friend, but explaining what was up would defeat the whole purpose of saying you couldn’t hang out anyways. Yep! You reply instead, thankful when Jaemin didn’t press any further. You’d give yourself a week to heal, and then you were sure makeup would be able to cover what little would be left of the bruising by then.

Those plans didn’t even last twenty-four hours. There was a knock on your door after classes on Wednesday and you figured it was your RA here to remind you not to leave your windows open while out at class with the chances of snow ever increasing. Though, when you lazily throw your door open, it’s your best friend on the other side. Your eyes go wide and you immediately move a hand up to cover the left half of your face where your black eye was still very much at its peak. “Jaemin, what are you doing here?!” You ask in a rush, but he doesn’t match your demeanor at all.

Instead, he shrugs, a light smile painting his lips. “I missed you, angel-” He answers as he brings a hand up to your wrist and gently guides your own hand down away from your face…and that’s when his energy completely flips, eyes going wide as he rushes to place a hand on your cheek and assess the damage himself. “Oh my god, what happened to you?!” He asks in a panic. You shake your head adamantly, trying to move his hand away from your face as you reply with a serious bite.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” you reply dismissively, and Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow as he scans your entire face.

“Is this why you said you couldn’t hang out?” He asks, almost mad if you had to put an emotion on it.

You shake your head, dropping your gaze to face the floor. “Jaem, don’t worry about it-” You start indifferently, but he cuts you off with enough emotion for the both of you. 

“What happened?” He questions again, this time his tone much firmer than any of his previous questions. His gaze bore into you, and you knew there wasn’t any getting out of this. You let out an annoyed sigh, shrugging like it was nothing as you go to reply.

“This girl in my class found out we were dating, and apparently that pissed her off because she didn’t think I deserved you or I was taking her spot and all that. And I snapped back so she punched me,” you finally answer, and Jaemin’s body language immediately softens as he looks over you once more with a frown and wide eyes.

“Y/n…” You don’t want to deal with his sorry tone. Instead, you move to meet his gaze again as you shake your head, the frustrated tears in your eyes rather revealing themself in your fractured tone.

“Please just sleep with her, Jaem. Tell her we broke up or something and then sleep with her. Or pretend you’re cheating on me with her…she’d love that, and no one would believe her if she said so, so we keep our cover,” you suggest in a rush, and Jaemin looks at you as though you just committed murder.

“No. Absolutely not,” he replies instantly.

“Jaem-” You start through a defeated exhale, but hearing you out was currently the last thing on Jaemin’s mind.

“I’m not fucking sleeping with someone who hurt you,” he states with force, and you don’t know why this is such a big deal to him, not when the solution was this simple.

“I would just rather have her satisfied and dealt with,” you respond hollowly, and Jaemin actually lets out a laugh.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to deal with her, don’t worry.” His angry promise makes you sigh, and all you can do is respond in defeat.

“Jaem-” You begin, and you’re not given any time to decide how you want to continue as he cuts you off. Passion still courses through Jaemin’s body as he shakes his head, taking a break from clenching his jaw to speak again.

“She should know better than to lay a hand on my girl,” he argues, and now you absolutely know you need to get him to calm down.

“I’m not really your girl,” you state plainly, and if you weren’t already feeling deflated, you sure did now as you admitted that. Jaemin seems to react to your statement in much the same way, his features softening for a moment as he looked at you again, bringing a hand up to run through his hair in frustration; though this time, the frustration was aimed towards himself. 

“I- I know. I’m sorry, I never should have asked you to do this for me. I was so selfish, goddammit,” he rambles under his breath absentmindedly as he begins to pace back and forth. You shake your head softly, reaching out to catch Jaemin’s wrist and force his movements to still.

“It’s fine, handsome,” you state firmly, and you watch as a million emotions run over Jaemin’s face, him just sucking on his bottom lip in hesitation. The hand that was previously caught in your grip comes up to cup your cheek again, his thumb lightly grazing your bruise as he studies you with a sad look on his face. 

“No, angel,” he begins with a sigh. “It’s really not.” 

You falter under his soft gaze and sure words, shaking your head as you fumble for words of your own. “It will be fine, then. Just let me lay low for a bit. I probably won’t be at lunch on Friday…I don’t necessarily need your friends seeing me beat up like this,” you try and laugh off.

Jaemin looks at you quizzically. “They wouldn’t-” He begins, but you cut him off with pleading eyes.

“Jaem, please,” you counter, and he just nods his head solemnly. 

“Okay.” He lets out a breath before darting his gaze around from you to the rest of the living area, locking eyes with your backpack and giving him a reason to stay in your presence for a bit longer. “Can we do homework together?” He asks, and you lightly sigh as you nod your head, guiding his hand down from your cheek so you could instead head towards the couch and set everything up on the coffee table for the two of you. 

Your main distraction from homework came in the form of whatever was on the television. Jaemin’s main distraction came in the form of you; he could hardly finish one part of an assignment without turning his head to look over at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he studied you softly, then whipping his gaze back to his laptop before you could ever feel his eyes on you. It was the least productive he's ever been.

Friday was the next time you saw Jaemin, when he came over as per usual for your ‘date nights.’ However, with you missing the friend group lunch for the second time this week, he immediately greeted you with a related request. “Hey, the guys miss you. They wanted to know if you were down for a movie night tomorrow,” he says casually as he closes the door behind him. 

You turn to face him with a straight face. “Jaem, my black eye isn’t going to be-” You watch as Jaemin rolls his lips inward and dodges your eye contact, and all you can do is let out a heavy sigh. “You told them, didn’t you?” You ask instead, and Jaemin’s hidden lips reappear to form a weak don’t-be-mad grin. That is, until he meets your eyes again and lets out his own sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he resets his facial expression to something more casual again.

“They wanted to know where you were,” he says in defense. You watch as the memory of lunch replays behind his eyes and he tilts his head slightly as he looks at you with an anticipatory cringe in how you were going to respond as he continues. “…and now they’re all pissed and want to be there to make you feel better, too,” he finishes with a dorky smile, as though his full set of teeth would fix everything. Unfortunately, he was right about that, and all you can manage is a huff of laughter as you shake your head. 

“Oh my. Sure, we can have a movie night,” you give in with a smile, and Jaemin lights up before pulling out his phone to text the group that the plans for tomorrow are a go. Then, your Friday night with Jaemin consisted of a large pizza, red wine, and board games. 

That Saturday night, Jaemin came to pick you up and take you back to his apartment where the movie night was being held, insisting that Haechan could hold down fort as he came to pick you up…and that no boyfriend would let his girlfriend drive herself over to his place when he had a perfectly good truck and an excuse to kiss you under the porch light before joining all the guys; you told him he was an idiot, but he met that with a kiss on your cheek, claiming that you were the idiot for not taking a free kiss under the porch light with the Na Jaemin…a low blow considering the reason behind your bruising eye. 

When you step inside his apartment, the rest of the guys silence mid-conversation, instead turning all of their attention to you. Their shoulders drop as your black eye comes into the light. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you turn into Jaemin’s chest, and he wraps his arms around you lightly with a warm laugh, kissing the top of your head before turning his attention to his friends. “I’m pretty sure you guys promised me you would be chill about this if she came over,” he states playfully, causing the rest of them to drop their heads with a small laugh of their own.

“Our fault for caring about her,” Jeno banters back, and all you can do is sigh and pull away from Jaemin’s chest, facing the rest of the group again. He was right, not about it being their fault, but for the fact that their frowns just meant they cared about you, and it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same way towards them - you’d frown, too if one of them walked in battered and bruised. 

You roll your eyes playfully with a mellow shake of your head. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” you assure, turning your gaze to Jaemin before tossing your head side to side with a small smirk. “Besides, I’d say Jaem’s worth a punch or two.” The guys in front of you laugh but Jaemin furrows his brows.

“Or two?” He echoes worriedly, making you turn to him again with a soft, sure gaze. 

“One,” you promise him and watch as a bit of relief washes over his figure, nodding his head as he takes it in. 

“Um, you guys wanna watch Transformers?” Jisung speaks up awkwardly, shattering whatever tension you and Jaemin just created and instead making everyone chuckle. 

Mark whips his head over to Jisung. “I thought we were watching Spider-Man…?” He adds sulkily. Jisung’s jaw drops, because apparently he had been looking forward to a Transformers marathon nonstop since the plans were made; but Chenle cuts off any chance of a response from him, instead just shaking his head rapidly.

“It doesn’t matter. Just choose anything before they take the pause in activity to make out,” he says as though he were horrified by the possibility, and Renjun lets out a sure laugh as he places a hand on Chenle’s shoulder.

“Still traumatized by the pda you asked for at that first lunch?” He asks, and Chenle looks at him with wide eyes.

“Can you blame me? So, they’re in a relationship…that’s great. Slightly cringe, but whatever. You know what’s not cringe? Spider-Man.”

“The Transformers!” Jisung corrects adamantly, getting everyone to laugh again.

“Sure, the Transformers,” Chenle agrees automatically, and Haechan rolls his eyes with a soft smile as he moves to set up the TV. 

The eight of you got situated before another beat could pass. Mark on the recliner, Chenle and Jisung on the small couch, and then you, Jaemin, Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun taking up the big couch in the middle of the room. You cuddled easily into Jaemin as he threw an arm around your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the side of your arm. 

For the group of you typically being a mess of chaos when you were all together, the eight of you somehow all followed the same unspoken rules when it came to movie night. There was no talking and, surprisingly, no one distracted by their phone. However, the peace of the perfect movie night was broken maybe twenty minutes into the first movie, when a chill ran through your body and the resulting shiver didn’t go unnoticed. “Do you want a blanket, y/n?” Mark asks softly. All at once, the guys whipped their heads towards him, furrowed brows adding to their glares at his disruption. That is, until it registers for them what Mark just asked, and all their gazes soften as they draw their attention to you in wait for your answer, Haechan pausing the movie entirely. 

You let out a laugh under your breath, shaking your head at Mark with a grateful smile. “No, I’m okay,” you say quickly, trying to get everyone’s focus back on the movie because one shiver was not enough reason for concern. The guys all flash their eyebrows at your answer, immediately accepting it as they turn their attention back to the movie. 

It isn’t long though before you shiver again, and while your attempt to cover it up was stellar, it wasn’t enough to get past the man holding you in his arms. Jaemin leans down so his lips are by your ear. “Go put on one of my hoodies,” he whispers slowly.

You shake your head minimally in response, eyes still trained on the Transformers. “I’m okay-” Your whispered words are cut off when the movie pauses, and you whip your head over to face Jaemin now, remote in hand and raised brows as he stares back at you seriously. A chorus of complaints erupt from the rest of the guys but Jaemin is only focused on you, and you can’t do anything but let out a light sigh. “Are you sure?” You ask, and Jaemin’s brows go from raised to furrowed.

“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure. You’re my girlfriend. Please go dig through my closet and wear my clothes,” he replies firmly, nodding his head now in the direction of his bedroom. You dodge any further eye contact with him as you instead slip out of his arms and towards his room. You don’t spend too much time in there, more than aware that they were all still waiting on you before unpausing the movie. You throw on the first hoodie you see, trying to ignore how much it smelled like him - how comforting it was to be wrapped in that scent. 

You put on a straight face as you walk back out to the living room, though you begin to think it was unnecessary considering their reactions, or- Jaemin’s, at least. He immediately broke from the idle chatter he was having with Jeno as he instead locked his gaze on you, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. You fall shy under his gaze, looking around at the rest of the guys to see if you missed something before accepting the fact that it was just Jaemin who had the answers. “What?” You ask hesitantly, and it forces Jaemin to snap back to reality and collect himself.

He lets out something of a defeated laugh, shaking his head as he concludes his look up and down your body. “You should’ve been swimming in my hoodies for the past two months already,” he answers seriously, and suddenly your cheeks are on fire. You hide your face in your hands and the rest of the guys let fond grins paint their face at the interaction between the two of you. That was the first time it truly hit all of them that they were each about to lose $100 soon. Though it was hard for them to even be mad about it, because in everyone’s eyes but your own, Jaemin was whipped, and that was all they ever wanted for their best friend. 

The group got through three movies before everyone started fading, eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. Renjun was the one to turn the lamp on at the side table beside him, putting everyone on the same page as they all got up from their seats and started getting ready to leave. Chenle is the first to say his goodbyes and head for the door, but as he places his hand on the knob, he whips back around. “Oh, wait!” He starts, louder than any of you were prepared for as you stare back at him in question. He shakes his head, the volume of his voice apparently even getting to him, but then he looks back at you all seriously. “I’m having my big New Year’s Eve party again. You’re all invited, obviously. I don’t know anyone’s plans after finals week, so I figured I’d just tell you now before we’re all in different places - if you wind up back at NCIT by December 31st, I’d love to have you, and if you wind up back at NCIT even earlier than that, please please please please please-” 

“Chenle,” you all cut him off in unison, and he gives an awkward laugh.

“Please consider helping set up,” he says flusteredly. You all let out fond chuckles as you nod your head at the boy, and he lets a wide smile grace his features before finally opening the door and leaving with a soft ‘thank you.’ 

Dropping you off at your dorm, Jaemin fumbles for words before you can even open the door back to your place, and you turn around to pin all your attention on him instead as he speaks up awkwardly. “Uh- about Chenle’s party…”

“Yes, I’ll go. We said that would be our last day together so we might as well be…together,” you say, and Jaemin nods his head slowly. 

“Okay; and for next weekend…?” He leaves the question at that and that’s when you realize you truly hadn’t given him much to plan with yet. You shake your head with a small laugh. 

“We’ll leave Saturday morning for my parents’ house. I have finals up until Friday anyways. The big dinner you have to be there for is Saturday night, so you can do whatever you would like with your break after that.” 

Jaemin processes the information with a distant expression before pulling it into a smile. “Alright, angel. Good luck with finals next week. I’ll be ready to go Saturday morning,” he says happily, and all you can do is match his smile.

“Good luck on your finals, too-” You start, but as you move to wrap him in one last hug, you catch sight of the hoodie covering your arms and jump back. “Oh! I’m still wearing your hoodie. Sorry-” You speak in a rush as you work to try and slip out of it, but Jaemin shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. Keep it,” he responds seriously, making you whip your head up at him and causing him to laugh. “It would be really suspicious if I came back home with the hoodie that I just said you looked cute in, and I’m not taking any chances with us so close to the three month mark now. Just don’t lose it…it’s my favorite hoodie.” 

You let out a flustered laugh. “Well, are you sure you don’t want it back, then? Haechan is probably asleep already-” You reason as you start pulling one arm out of the hoodie again. 

“Just keep it,” he cuts you off with a warm chuckle before continuing more somberly. “Our three months are almost up. I’ll get it back in no time.” If the words were bitter on his tongue, you didn’t notice. You were too preoccupied trying to neutralize your own emotions at the notion of this all ending soon. 

You’re scared your voice would betray you if you opened your mouth again to speak, so instead you just nod your head, finally wrapping him in that goodbye hug and then turning to let yourself into your dorm. 

Finals week somehow went by in a flash, and you’re scared to add up how many hours of it you spent in Jaemin’s hoodie. Though, the atypical schedule meant that you didn’t really have to worry about that - you only ever ran into Jaemin on campus for friend group lunches, and those were canceled this week since half of you would be in the middle of finals during the usual span of time; so, Jaemin never had to find out that you were practically living in the very same hoodie you had tried so hard to give back originally. 

Come Saturday morning, that hoodie was packed with all of your other clothes in your suitcase, currently in the trunk of your car as you drive over to pick Jaemin up before heading to your house. He places his luggage next to yours before opening the passenger door and sliding in. “Hey, angel! Ready to pull all this off for your parents, too?” He asks with a devious smirk. You roll your eyes, trying to buy into the playfulness to forget about the dread filling your system at the idea of heading back home right now.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Thank you again for agreeing to this,” you say seriously, and Jaemin looks at you as though you were crazy.

“Of course I’d agree to do this. Do you realize how much you’re doing for me?” He banters back, effectively getting you to laugh a bit as the tension in your shoulders drops. “Besides,” he continues more thoughtfully. “It’ll be nice to see our hometown again.” His words are much more mellow this time, and you look over at him with a sad grimace before shifting into drive and actually getting out on the road. 

As soon as Jaemin went to college, his family moved to Jeju Island, and for as often as the two of you talked about traveling there one day, it was much less exciting of an idea when it was already Jaemin’s home base and it’d just be you traveling to visit him. Even outside of that, you knew he missed the city - moving away from everything you know is only nice if it’s your choice, and moving to Jeju was definitely not his choice. 

It’s not like his relationship with his parents was impacted, though. He understood, and was very appreciative of the fact that they held out on the move until he graduated high school. Truly, if they were wanting to move, this was the time to do it. He’d graduate college and get his own place wherever he wanted; it’s just that now his place to go back to was Jeju rather than Seoul.

On the other hand, your family stayed put in the same house from childhood, but your relationship had gone through rough waters since you started college; something not even Jaemin knew, and now you were wondering how oblivious you could keep him of your current home-situation.

The verdict was ‘not very long.’ As soon as the two of you walked in your front door, your parents seemed shocked to be laying eyes on Jaemin with you. You push past them and towards your bedroom to put your stuff down, sending just a meek ‘hi’ their way. Jaemin watched you disappear with ample confusion, but his face quickly straightened up into a smile as he greeted your parents with hugs and gratitude for having him over. 

Your mom pulls back from the hug with a look of disbelief, shaking her head solemnly. “Jaemin, it’s wonderful to see you. I apologize for not having a space set up for you to stay. To be honest, when y/n said she was bringing a guest home, the last thing we were expecting was for it to be a guy,” she laughs off, and Jaemin’s eyebrows immediately furrow. Your own muscles tighten as you move to close your bedroom door, deciding that was already enough for you to hear. 

“Why?” Jaemin asks in return, trying to match the laugh from your mom, though his was half-hearted at best. 

Your mom shrugs it off like it’s nothing new. “Well, you know our y/n…doesn't exactly have a lot going for her-” 

“Y/n’s gorgeous, actually,” Jaemin cuts off with force, now taking a full step back from your mom and causing her hand to drop from where it was still at his forearm. “And sure, she has her guard up most of the time but that doesn’t change the fact that once she’s comfortable enough to be herself, she’s incredibly easy to love,” he continues, brows furrowed as he makes sure to get his point across. 

Your mom passes her gaze from Jaemin to her husband, taking a moment to exchange strange smiles with him before turning back to Jaemin. “Sorry, I seem to have offended you. I didn’t know you cared about my daughter that much.” She speaks every word as though she’s only half serious, and all it does is frustrate Jaemin even more. 

“Of course I care about her but that’s not even the point. You shouldn’t be saying that about your child and you used to know that, cause you never said anything like that when we were growing up. So, I don’t know what changed but I can tell you it wasn’t the worth of your daughter.” Setting all your stuff down, you open your bedroom door enough to catch his last sentence and immediately let out a heavy sigh, knowing you had to go out there and do something.

“Jaem?” You start, walking back out from the hallway. His face instantly changes from disgust to warmth as he snaps his head in your direction.

“Yeah, angel?” 

You nod your head back towards where you just came from. “My room is still the same one it’s always been. Since we’re apparently bunking together, if you want to go put your stuff in there so you’re not carrying it around throughout the house, you know where to go,” you say casually, trying to make it seem as though the sleeping arrangements were all you caught of his conversation with your mom.

Jaemin nods with a tight smile. “Alright, I’ll be back in a second,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as he passes you in his walk to your room and you take his place with your parents in the living room. You and your mom both watch as your dad looks between the two of you before immediately leaving to go outside, shaking his head as he does so and leaving just you, your mom, and the suffocating tension in the room.

You drop your head to face the floor and your mom is the first one to speak. “I didn’t know he liked you,” she says plainly, eyes darting towards the room Jaemin was currently in before landing on you again, your head now whipped up to face her with raised brows.

“Didn’t know he liked me or didn’t think I was capable of having him like me?” You ask in return, and your mom falters for a moment.

“Y/n…” She starts, but you shake your head.

“Am I good enough now? Is this enough for you? That I brought an attractive guy home who cares about me? Are you even the tiniest bit proud of me now?” The fire in your eyes soon matches that of your mother’s, her disproving gaze that you knew so well baring into you.

“Y/n, that’s not fair and you know that,” she counters, her voice raising with every word.

Your jaw drops as you look at her in disbelief. “What’s not fair is you judging me by the man I do or do not have to hold my hand at any given time.” You’re thankful when the words come out firm; you’ve never stood up to her like this, and when your mom studies you with intensity, it’s as though she doesn’t know the woman in front of her this time. 

“Well,” she breathes out, bringing her gaze back to your own. “Being with him has apparently given you some confidence…or a voice, at least.” Her tone borders between indifference and slight disgust, and all you can do is shake your head, unsure of how your relationship with your mom ever turned into this.

“I refuse to believe that you find an issue in the fact that he makes me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world,” you say in almost a plea for her to tell you it’s not true, but she never does; instead, it’s just Jaemin’s breath hitching in the hallway that he tries to cover up so you wouldn’t know he was listening. When neither you nor your mom turn your heads towards him, he realizes he was still under the radar. So, he prepares himself to walk back into the living room as though he just got done putting everything away in yours.

When he gets back by your side, he lightly kisses your temple, turning to face your mom as he sneaks a hand to rest on the small of your back; your mom stares at the physical contact and you think her eye actually twitches. Jaemin opens his mouth to start casual conversation back up but your mom cuts him off before he can even begin. “Your father and I are going out for the day. We will be back to cook dinner,” she states, and your eyebrows furrow immediately.

“You haven’t seen Jaemin in years and you’re just gonna leave right when he gets here?” You ask in shock, and your mom glares back at you.

“Dinner,” she replies sharply, and then she’s out the door. 

Jaemin’s hand on your back begins to rub lightly up and down, and as you turn to bury your face in his chest, he wraps you in a full hug. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, and Jaemin shakes his head. With one hand, he lightly guides your chin up so that you make eye contact with him, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, angel. It’s all okay. How about we just watch TV or something, go outside maybe…what’s gonna destress you?” He asks, his hand that was underneath your chin maneuvering to instead caress your cheek. 

You shrug, doing your best to dodge eye contact as you reply. “Anything in your presence,” you say seriously, missing the way warmth just reached every corner of Jaemin’s being at your words. 

“Okay,” he responds surely, and that’s how you found yourself walking the streets of your hometown, hand-in-hand with Na Jaemin. You visited his old house, the old playground, anywhere you could before the cold air finally caught up to you and you had to retreat back inside for some hot chocolate and more Harry Potter from your last unfinished rewatch session. 

Jaemin never brought up the obvious tension between you and your mom, something you were thankful for, but it also left you feeling guilty because you knew it was on his mind - the equation of where things went wrong between you and your mom after he left Seoul was continuously being worked out behind his eyes. When you explained this part of the fake-dating contract, he wasn’t expecting for your parents to actually be on your ass about not dating anyone, but stepping into this house was like a minefield, and any conversation around the topic turned into an explosion.

He wasn’t gonna make you talk about it though, you obviously weren’t ready to. Instead, he just wrapped his arms around you as best he could, making sure you and your cocoa were always kept warm throughout the duration of your latest movie marathon. 

Surprising you, when it was finally dinnertime, the atmosphere was lighter by the tiniest bit. Your parents were engaging with Jaemin, at least, and the presence of other long-time family friends put you at ease, too, because you knew a big fiasco is the last thing your parents would allow to happen in front of others. 

“Are you staying with us all of break?” Your mom asks as she puts her fork down and places all of her attention on Jaemin. He gives a sorry grin in return as he shakes his head.

“No,” he begins, and your face immediately drops, forcing you to take another bite so it’s less noticeable. “I was thinking I would surprise my parents. I haven’t seen them since the summer, and I figure that means it’s time to fly out and see them again,” he continues with a light laugh. “Though, when y/n asked me to come back with her for this dinner, I- well,” he drags off, taking a moment to turn and face you at his side, a fond smirk on his lips before he turns his head back to face his lap before you can notice. “I realize I’ve gotten incredibly bad at saying ‘no’ to her,” he finishes, his own light chuckle following his words.

Gazes soften all around the table as they listen to Jaemin, but you can’t bring your head up to look at him, sure the look in your eyes would give away how desperately you were wishing for those words to be real.

Your dad is the one to pick up the conversation again. “Well, we’ll be sad to see you go so soon, but it’s sure been a pleasure having you fill our house again,” he says with a tight nod that Jaemin reflects back to him, slightly softer in his perfect Jaemin way. 

That night, you and Jaemin went to bed before the rest of the adults did, but they had the advantage of alcohol to keep them occupied, and while that option was technically open to you and Jaemin, you both decided it would probably be best to stay under the label of ‘innocent youth’ with your parents and family friends.

You walk back into your bedroom after washing your face and putting on pajamas to see Jaemin already laying down. You trace his outline underneath the covers and sigh when you realize how little room was left in your full size bed. You slip under the covers and begin to turn on your side so you could take up the smallest space possible, but Jaemin evidently has other plans as he reaches over and pulls you so that you’re laying against his chest. “What are you doing?” You ask, propping your head up on his chest as you stare at him in confusion. 

He looks back at you as though there were no need for the question, his smirk playing lazily against his lips. “If you’re going to end up on top of me anyways, I’d rather just hold you there,” he replies, and all at once you’re vividly reminded of Halloween night. You don’t argue back, instead just rolling your eyes and resting your head back against his chest as you try to hide most of the blush on your cheeks. 

Jaemin idly draws shapes on your back as he watches you fall asleep on him. He swallows awkwardly, remembering what your mother said about you…what you said to your mother, and a kind of frustration fills his chest. He listens for any signal that you were still awake, and when he finds none, he presses the lightest kiss to the top of your head. “You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he whispers. His mortification comes when he feels you tense under his hold.

“You don’t have to pretend when it’s just us, you know,” you whisper back, and his heart breaks in his chest. His tone is firm as he replies, because if you were going to be awake to hear him say that, he might as well get his point across. 

“Some stuff I never had to pretend for. Some stuff is just a fact.”

You let out a heavy sigh, flipping which way your head was facing on his chest before speaking softly. “Go to bed, Jaemin,” you say, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the feeling of defeat that arose knowing you don’t believe him. He thinks about saying more but he figures now is not the time for it…that in your friendship, it may not ever be the time for it. So, he lets out his own light sigh, his grip around you going slightly tighter as he gets to work on actually falling asleep. 

The next day, all you really had time for was breakfast before you had to drive Jaemin to the airport. As you pull up to the curb for departures, Jaemin doesn’t even think twice before leaning over the center console to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for dropping me off,” he says sincerely amidst the rustling of him gathering his bags from various spaces of your car. You laugh as you open your own door, sliding around to the back of your car to pop the trunk and grab his suitcase.

“I’m coming inside with you, you know?” You tease lightly, missing the way Jaemin’s eyes soften at the care before he quickly vetoes your carrying of his luggage and rips his suitcase from your grip, causing you to laugh some more as you turn to face him now at your side. “But, of course, it was no problem,” you say genuinely, stepping inside the airport with him and too quickly facing the security checkpoint where you’d finally have to split. “Have a safe flight,” you continue, and with each word he’s now taking a step further than you dare to. “Tell your family I said ‘hi.’” 

Jaemin looks over his shoulder to smile back at you. “I will,” he promises firmly with a matching nod, and you throw a grin and final wave his way as he turns back to actually face where he was walking towards the entrance for security. As soon as you’re out of his line of sight, you allow your face to drop slightly alongside your gaze, letting out a light sigh at the feeling of him walking away from you. However, your attention is caught by the increasingly loud sound of heavy footsteps. You shift your gaze back in front of you to see Jaemin had changed his path and was instead heading straight for you again. 

“Jaemin-?” You question, but you’re cut off the second he gets close to you because he wastes no time in dropping his bags, cupping your cheek with his hand, and pressing a sure kiss to your lips. You melted right into it, something you would have to kick yourself for later, but at the present moment, all you could think about was his soft lips still lingering against yours.

“I’ll see you in a week, okay?” He says in a near-whisper. His words weren’t so much a statement as they were a reassurance, like he needed you to know that all you had to bear without him was a single week, like he intended to never leave you again once he came back. All you can do is swallow awkwardly, nodding as you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Yeah.” 

Jaemin’s gaze roamed over your entire figure as best it could with the two of you still in close proximity. You wanted to press up on your tiptoes and kiss him again for the hell of it, or maybe for the comfort of it, but Jaemin is the one to take action first, simply running his thumb gently across your cheek with a small smile before immediately turning to grab his bags and actually make his way through the security checkpoint. All you can do is stand and watch helplessly as he walks away from you. You’d see him in a week, sure, but then it’d be New Years before you knew it and all of this would slip right out of your hands…it practically already had. 

You were back at NCIT before Christmas, trading in family-time for time with Chenle, who was the only other one of your friends on campus for most of that duration. He tried to pretend that he needed to meet up with you to talk about plans for his New Year’s Eve party, but most of it was just excuses to hang out when he got lonely. One by one, the guys all made their way back to NCIT, Jaemin being the last to do so, coming in on the evening flight December 26th. 

You had brought Chenle with you to go pick him up, mainly because Chenle begged you to let him tag along. The two of you stood at the baggage claim for maybe fifteen minutes, Jaemin’s hoodie adorning your figure and providing you with comfort amidst Chenle’s constant nagging that you guys should have brought a sign saying that Jaemin was coming back from prison or something else more embarrassing. 

The baggage claim carousel had already begun spinning for Jaemin’s flight, and eventually even Chenle stops talking to instead join you in a frown as the two of you search for Jaemin. The verdict was that he must have just been the last person off the plane, because around five minutes later, you catch sight of his figure. “There he is- what’s he doing?” You ask confused as you look at Jaemin speed in your direction.

“Running towards you,” Chenle answers as if it were the most casual occurrence ever. He tosses his gaze over to you with raised eyebrows before continuing. “And I think you should probably start running towards him unless you’re prepared to catch his weight, cause I’m pretty sure he’s ready to jump on you.” 

Your eyes go wide at his words as you shake your head. “God, having a lunatic boyfriend is a lot of work,” you respond, feigning exhaustion. Chenle throws his arms up in defense.

“Hey, you chose him, not me,” he quips, making you smile before realizing you really had to start on your run towards him, because of all the things you were prepared for, catching Jaemin’s weight was not one of them.

You take off from where you and Chenle were standing, running up and meeting Jaemin somewhere in the middle as he lets go of his carry-on and puts his arms out for you. “Jaem!” You exclaim, jumping into his arms and wrapping around him like a koala.

“Angel!” He replies just as enthusiastically; hugging you tightly and spinning around once with the momentum.

“Chenle’s here so you have to kiss me,” you whisper in a rush, cupping his cheek with your hand as Jaemin steadies himself again.

He lets out a genuine laugh, catching your gaze with the brightest of smiles in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t gonna run all this way towards you for nothing,” he says surely. Then he presses his lips to yours, and the resulting warmth in your body should’ve made the snow outside impossible. 

Jaemin breaks away from you when he feels a tug on his shirt sleeve, and the two of you turn to make eye contact with Chenle. “You’re being cringe now, can you please take me home?” He asks plainly, making you and Jaemin laugh as he puts you down on the solid ground again, slipping his hand in yours as the next best option. Then, after making sure Jaemin had all of his things, the three of you were on the road back to NCIT.  

The next day, Jaemin and the guys went out for lunch, one you weren’t invited to because it was one you “couldn’t know about.” Sitting around the table in a perfect reflection of the start of the semester, the guys around Jaemin all wore a mixture of looks on their faces, ranging from impressed to sulky…though that last one was only Chenle, who despite having the most money in the group, hated giving it out. 

Mark is the one to finally address the reason they were all there. “Well, you did it. I’m sure we don’t need to be the ones to tell you that you’ve been dating y/n for three whole months now,” he says with a light laugh. Jaemin can’t bring himself to join in on the smiles and playfulness around the table.

“I can’t believe it’s been three months already,” he says hollowly, but both his tone and the distant look in his eyes go unnoticed by his friends, their tunnel vision on their childish bet covering over Jaemin’s anguish at winning. 

“Here’s your $600,” Haechan says after having collected everyone’s shares from around the table. “Can't wait to have a new PS5 in our apartment,” he quips, but Jaemin whips his head up at him, grabbing the $600 from his hands defensively. 

“I’m not spending it on a PS5…” He begins, dragging off as the fire dies from his tone and he returns to a contemplative state of being. “I’m gonna buy y/n something nice.”

Gasps are heard from quite literally everyone else at the table, all of them looking at Jaemin with wide eyes. “Really?” Jeno asks in disbelief, and Jaemin makes passing eye contact with all of his friends, giving them all odd looks for being so caught off guard.

“Yes, really. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me, and I don’t know how to give her the world, but I can at least get her the best that $600 will buy,” he explains surely, and the rest of the guys all exchange glances with each other before turning back to him, Renjun being the one to take a jab this time through a hesitant laugh.

“Are we still talking to Na Jaemin?” He asks, making the rest of the guys laugh as well. Jaemin just lets out a sigh, finally able to find a bit of humor as well as he shakes his head, tucking the money away and turning the afternoon into a regular lunch hang out. 

Two days later, you get a call from Jaemin sometime after dinner.

“Angel?” He says softly once you pick up, his tone making you smile on the other end.

“Yeah, handsome?” You respond warmly. 

“Wanna go on a drive?” Jaemin asks, giving away no hints as to his current state of emotions, and your eyebrows furrow as you pry more.

“No destination?” You ask, and Jaemin shakes his head, not that you were able to see it anyways. His response is sharp.

“No.”

“Everything okay?” You question, the warmth in your tone turning into concern.

“Yeah,” Jaemin responds immediately. You let a beat pass in silence and it’s enough for Jaemin to want to fill it again on his own. “Just want some more time with you,” he explains shyly, and you let out a small breath of laughter as you oblige. 

“Let me get my shoes on.”

“I’ll be there to pick you up in five,” he replies firmly before immediately hanging up. 

True to his word, it only took five minutes before you’re opening the door to Jaemin. “Hey,” he says as soon as you make eye contact, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey,” you reply, your face hurting as you try not to smile too widely at his actions. Jaemin wouldn’t have noticed if you did, though, because he immediately turns to face the floor sheepishly. 

“Sorry if you were in the middle of something,” he finally says, making you furrow your brows at him - this wasn’t a Jaemin you were used to.

“Nothing that couldn’t wait,” you assure him before prying some more. “What’s up?”

Jaemin pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he shakes his head hesitantly. “Nothing. It’s just our last few days together. Figured we could hang out before you go off and get an actual boyfriend and I-” You watch as he fumbles for words, eventually giving up with a shrug as he finally makes eye contact with you again. “Go back to doing whatever it is I do.”

His answer doesn’t relieve you of any worry, and you move a hand up to cup his cheek as you tilt your head in study of him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Jaemin nods his head slightly against your hand, a fond smile at your touch replacing the distant expression he previously held. “There’s just a lot on my mind. Nothing for you to worry about. Just wanted to hang out with you and kind of escape it all for a bit,” he explains casually, eventually bringing both hands up to guide your own back down from his face, idly playing with your fingers as he asks his next question. “Do you still like cloud watching?”

“You know I do,” you reply with a laugh, and Jaemin finally bares his teeth as he smiles back at you. He checks to make sure you actually did put your shoes on already before switching his grip so that he was just holding your hand as he walked the two of you to his truck.

You ended up at one of those nature parks, where the fields are preserved for fields-sake rather than playgrounds. The two of you got out and made your way around to the tailgate of his truck and you register that he already had blankets and pillows in the back, completely reminiscent of high school. 

You both sat in silence for a while, staring up at the sky and giving yourselves a chance to be at peace, at least somewhere away from the false sense of urgency that always seemed to be around. Eventually, you move your gaze from the clouds above to where your arms were wrapped around your knees, debating with yourself before finally breaking the silence.

“Jaem?” You call softly, and he turns all of his attention towards you.

“Yeah, angel?” He replies in much the same manner. You dart your tongue out to lick your lips, anything you could do to prolong your question - which you were currently thinking should’ve lost in your inner debate.

You finally let out a sigh, still focused in front of you as you talk. “You know you’re much more than the image you’ve picked up around campus, right?” 

Jaemin’s face immediately whips back to the front so there would be no chance of making eye contact with you. “Um…” He begins, but that was the only word he could come up with before forfeiting with an awkward swallow. You know that means it’s up to you to continue.

“I know that day I first met your friend group, you had to make up a ton of stuff on how we got together and everything, but I don’t know if you were necessarily lying when you were talking about how I deserve better than getting tied into your fuckboy image. I just- wanna make sure you know, in case that has ever been your thought process for anyone you’ve had a crush on, that there’s so many more sides to you than that. An image is an image, okay? Don’t let it get to you.” Your courage is built with every word and you finally turn to face Jaemin as you continue softly, surely. “They don’t know you like I do.”

Jaemin’s lips part with a heavy exhale before he rolls them inwards in hesitation. “Do you mean it?” He finally asks, and there’s just a trace of sadness riddling his voice.

“Of course I do,” you say firmly, and Jaemin takes in your answer with a slow nod.

“It’s been hard. I-” He grimaces before letting out an awkward laugh. “Oh, this is kind of weird to talk about with you,” he continues, making you laugh, too as the atmosphere lightens.

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s me.”

Surprisingly, that seemed to do it, because the tension in Jaemin’s shoulders falls as he lets out a light sigh and finally finds his words for what seemed to be the first time that night. “I used to not care. If they wanted to label me as a fuckboy, that was fine. Truthfully, if I was getting my dick wet, I was good-” He cuts himself off at the sound of a slightly louder exhale than normal from you, and he whips his head your way with a pout. “Don’t laugh, I’m being vulnerable.”

You stare back at him with a fond smile on your face and raised brows. “I’m not laughing,” you assure, and Jaemin turns to face his knees again as he accepts your denial of the claim without a fight. Then he starts back up with his explanation, his tone heavy and contemplative.

“Lately though, I’ve just been thinking I want so much more out of life. But, I spent so long under the fuckboy label I didn’t know if I would ever be able to break free from it, if I could ever be more.”

Your gaze on him softens but your eyebrows furrow; there was something so weird about knowing he’s never viewed himself in the way you do. “Na Jaemin, you’ve always been more,” you respond firmly. The lightest of exhales escapes as laughter from Jaemin, and he lets a weak smile play at his lips before responding. 

“And you’ve always felt like home…” He says, matching your tone as he finally turns to look at you again. “That’s another thing I wasn’t lying about that day.” 

You immediately dodge eye contact, knowing it’d reveal to him in milliseconds your real emotions towards all of this…towards him. Probably against your better judgement as well, you lean into him at your side, resting your head against his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’ve had a nice three months with you,” you say, your own weak grin making an appearance.

“Yeah,” he agrees, wrapping his arm around you casually. “It hasn’t been too bad, has it?”

There it was, the reason you needed to snap out of it, because for Jaemin, it just wasn’t ‘too bad,’ and meanwhile you’ve been over the moon these past three months. You’d come to your senses eventually - remember that ‘breaking up’ was the plan all along, that the last thing Jaemin wanted was to be in an actual relationship, and that you were going to have to be as okay with that as ever. However, for now, you figured you’d just lean into him a bit more while you still can. 

The next day saw all eight of you at Chenle’s place, helping him decorate and prepare for the big party, and then it was New Year’s Eve. Only you and Jaemin knew that it was your last night together before the ‘break up;’ and neither of you knew that the other didn’t want it to ever end, meaning when you placed Jaemin’s hoodie in his backseat as a way to return it before the party, you didn’t know the idea of giving it back nauseated him possibly more than it did you. As such, the air was tense and awkward between the two of you, trying to keep hidden how devastated you knew you were going to be at the end of the night, and too dumb to realize the best thing you could do is talk about it. 

Hand-in-hand with Jaemin, the two of you join the rest of your friend group, already standing around in a circle somewhere on the outskirts of the set up dance floor. They greet the two of you with bright smiles, none of them plagued with the knowledge that their favorite relationship was ending tonight. However, with the eight of you chatting about anything imaginable, the night became incredibly casual, despite the overwhelming amount of people flooding in around you all.

Eventually, the group divides up, deciding a range of different activities sounded best for the time being. You ended up with Chenle and Jisung, the three of you indulging in the indoor s’mores kit that was set up. Jaemin never moved from where the big group of you originally were. Instead, he let the crowd all pass around him as he stayed focused on you, gaze aimed in your direction with a fond smile as he watched you interact with his friends.

The only thing to break him from his staring is when Mark taps him on the shoulder and hands him a cup of water. “Man, I hope you know you’ve turned into a completely different person,” he says as he does so, making Jaemin furrow his brows in question; though Mark shakes his head as though it were no big thing. “You got this glow about you that scares me, and the look in your eyes when you’re staring at her…I didn’t think I’d ever see that from you - you know, being so against relationships and everything,” he ends with a light laugh.

Jaemin drops his head, his own laugh escaping his lips. “It’s just what happens when you’ve found your person, I guess,” he replies seriously. “I mean, to me?” He begins, finally looking up at Mark in sincerity before throwing his gaze your way. “For her?” He shakes his head, his smile turning into a dumb grin on his face as he finally admits to what’s been on his mind for three months. “Everything’s worth it. All the risk, all the effort, I’d do anything for her.” He looks your way once more before his gaze turns distant and he lets a grimace slip across his features. “It just took being with her to make me realize…I want to believe in love,” he finally says, meeting Mark’s eyes once again. 

Mark’s smile was painted widely across his face, though he stared at his best friend in something like disbelief. “Want to believe it? Jaemin, you’re in it,” he says firmly, and Jaemin immediately lets his gaze fall to his feet as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“It’s less scary than I thought it’d be,” he finally says, and Mark’s smile turns fond as he gets a glimpse at how his best friend operates. He puts on his best voice of comfort as he replies.

“You said it yourself, it’s what happens when you’ve found your person. You should tell her,” he says, tossing his head in your direction casually, but Jaemin’s muscles tense up.

“No, I can’t,” he says in a rush, and Mark lets out a laugh.

“From the one who says he isn’t scared,” he teases, but Jaemin shakes his head - it wasn’t that.

“I- it’s a weird situation,” he says, letting out a huff with his bad explanation. “I can’t tell her. Not tonight, anyways…she won’t want to hear that from me,” he concludes, dragging off miserably. Mark’s face completely flips as he stares at Jaemin quizzically. 

“But- she looks at you the same way, you know?” He says surely, but Jaemin shakes his head again.

“No, that’s just how she looks at me. Even when we were in high school.” He takes a moment to pause, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips before continuing with conviction. “No, she doesn’t love me. Not like this,” he says, and then he’s walking away, leaving a very confused Mark standing there with parted lips.

“...I thought she’s liked you since high school,” he says under his breath now that he knew there was no way Jaemin would hear anyways. He looks between you and Jaemin before shaking his head - the last thing he needed on New Year’s Eve was to engage in overthinking.

You had just broken away from where you were talking with Chenle and Jisung to instead make your way over to the punch table. Grabbing yourself a glass, when arms wrap around you in a hug from behind, you know the only person it could be. “Hey, handsome,” you say with a smile, turning your head to the side to try and lay eyes on him.

“Hi, angel,” Jaemin replies, taking the opportunity to place a small kiss on your cheek before continuing. “Are we kissing at midnight or are we ending things before then? I’m not sure if you want to start the new year with me or not.” His tone borders on defeat, and you turn around in his arms to stare at him with raised eyebrows and a playful smirk.

“I’ll be your new year's kiss if you’ll be mine,” you reply, and Jaemin lets out a small chuckle. “Besides,” you continue more seriously. “Ending this doesn’t mean you aren’t still my best friend. You’ll be a part of my new year no matter what. We can kiss and just pretend that was our way to say ‘bye’ to dating, cause you know, I guess it will be.” For a moment that you always knew was coming, admitting its near occurrence now felt like you just had the wind knocked out of you. Jaemin just stares down at you with a wide grin, nodding his head along to your words in approval. 

“Alright best friend, then I’ll make sure to find you again before midnight,” he replies, the entire thing making you swallow awkwardly as you nod your head back at him slightly.

“Yeah…” You respond in something like a whisper, and with one light kiss on your forehead, Jaemin vanishes again into the crowd. 

The rest of the New Years party was a blast, no doubt, but the knowledge of what was coming, or more so ending, plagued your thoughts and eventually you just needed to slip away from the rest of the noise. You ended up on the balcony attached to some random bedroom, the cool air something of a relief for your current state.

The only pull back into reality was when the ever-present loudness turned into synchronized cheers, and you catch as the entire party starts counting down from fifteen seconds. You whip around to start on your rushed journey back inside, realizing you never told Jaemin where you would be; but as you turn, you make eye contact with him, just stepping onto the balcony himself, an easy smile crossing his features. “No need to rush. I told you I’d find you before midnight,” he says with a light laugh, and you drop your head with a small exhale as your own form of laughter. “Ready to say ‘bye’ to all this pretending?” He asks, stepping up to where he was directly in front of you.

No. “Yep,” you respond with the best fake smile you could. You already made it this far with no problems, you refused to let it slip that your heart was fully in this right when it was about to end. 

Jaemin matched your smile, and as the crowd’s counting reached the ‘3, 2, 1,’ his hand came up to find its favorite spot at your cheek again. Then he leaned in and kissed you right as the party erupted with cheers of ‘Happy New Year.’ 

Your hands gripped tightly at his shirt, keeping you steady and keeping him close to you; though he wasn’t necessarily going anywhere with one hand cupping your cheek and the other placed firmly on your waist. Unlike any of your other kisses, this one…lingered. The two of you kept steady pace with each other, you gently sucking on his bottom lip and figuring for as long as he’d let this go on, you would take it for all it was worth, trying to pretend you could ever kiss him enough for a lifetime. 

When you think he’s breaking away, you’re instead met with the feeling of his tongue running across your top lip, asking for permission - permission all too easily granted by you as you open your mouth to let him explore. Your New Year's kiss turned into a greedy make out session, which was probably the last thing you were expecting, but you couldn’t take the time to question it because you were too busy drowning in his taste. You loved the taste of Jaemin on your tongue, and his own soft moan - which he tried so desperately to cover up but that you still very much heard, let you know he was currently feeling the same way; and you’d mark that down as a tiny win in the midst of the huge loss you were about to incur. 

Against your better judgement, you finally break away when you truly couldn’t breathe anymore, and Jaemin rests his forehead against yours. The air was just filled with the sound of panting as the two of you tried to catch your breaths. You swallow awkwardly once you do, taking a small step back as you process what just happened, Jaemin’s hand running down your body until you were no longer in reach. “You’re awfully good at ‘goodbye,’” you say in between breaths.

Jaemin immediately dodges your gaze, facing somewhere off to the side as his adam's apple bobs up and down. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he responds quietly, to the point where you were practically just reading his lips, and then he’s gone, leaving you alone on the balcony to deal with your flooding emotions on your own…not that you could do so in his presence anyways. 

You hated that it hurt this much - that a goodbye you knew was coming still seemed to blindside you. You had allowed your heart to indulge in his every romantic gesture, and while on the surface you knew they meant nothing, you held onto hope in some deep dark corner of your heart that maybe it wasn’t all just pretend; and yet here you were, grouped in with the vast category of girls he’s said ‘goodbye’ to in the way he knew all too well. You were his best friend but you were no one special, and you didn’t expect the resurgence of a fact that you already knew to affect you as much as it did - to make it feel as though you had been hollowed out, bones chilled from the empty space your soul used to occupy. 

You and Jaemin weren’t in contact the entire first day of the new year, though you couldn’t complain because talking to him right away was not something you figured your heart could handle. Instead, you went to work out at the gym and run errands and all those other things people do when they’re single and making a point to say they’re okay with that. To be fair, it kind of worked. Not that you were okay with whatever you and Jaemin had gotten yourselves into coming to an end, but that day of productivity and endorphin-inducing activity helped you ground yourself - these past three months were you helping out your best friend, that was all it was ever supposed to be. 

The next day was far less productive, but you were still functioning like normal. The only disruption from your typical daily routine came with a phone call from Haechan. As soon as you pick up, he starts speaking.

“Why did you go and break Jaemin’s heart all of the sudden?” He asks angrily.

You furrow your brows, though it wasn’t like he could see it anyways. “What do you mean? The breakup was mutual,” you counter in confusion, and Haechan lets out an actual ‘HA’ in disbelief before he replies with animosity.

“I need to know what the hell your definition of ‘mutual’ is because Jaemin hasn’t stopped crying for the past twenty-four hours.” 

You think he’s kidding, like this is one last stupid test of whether your relationship ever added up - but you shake the idea away, he already got the money, it was a week past three months, there wasn’t anything for you to mess up now, the story you’ve been telling would work as it always had. “Crying? What? We both agreed we worked better as friends,” you reply instantly, confusion adequately painting your voice. 

Haechan cannot believe his ears, and he makes sure to let you know so. For as much as you were confused, he didn’t understand why you were acting this way, ten fold. “No, I don’t believe you at all now. He wouldn’t agree on that. I don’t know how Jaemin talked to you, but he talked about you as though he’s never held anyone’s hand before until he held yours. Y/n, it was like you were the one to put every star in his night sky, I swear there’s no way this breakup was mutual.” Your whole world stops and you go speechless on the other end. Haechan was being dead serious, or else he wouldn’t be angry, he wouldn’t be pushing the subject. His words turn over and over again in your head. Jaemin talked about you, evidently when you weren’t around. You were fake-dating and yet Jaemin went out of his way to speak of you fondly to his friends. Jaemin, who never saw the point of getting romantically attached like that, doing more than what was needed in expressing his feelings about you. You push down the feeling of nausea and instead let out a deep sigh.

“I’ll be over in five minutes,” you say quietly, and then you hang up the phone before ever getting a reply from Haechan.

You race over to their apartment, and before you could even knock, Haechan is swinging the door open for you. The two of you make eye contact and about a million emotions pass between you, but it was easiest to pick up on the uncertainty. Haechan opens his mouth as if he’s about to bombard you with questions, or maybe yell at you again…you weren’t sure, but instead he just lets out a breath, nodding his head back in the direction of Jaemin’s room with a soft, “in there.” 

You throw a thankful smile his way, not that you were necessarily guessing at where Jaemin could be, but you were very grateful he was letting you off so easily. Even by looking at Haechan, you could tell Jaemin had truly been crying for the past twenty-four hours…Haechan looked exhausted. 

You lightly tap on the door of Jaemin’s room before entering, breath hitching as you lay eyes on his figure, curled up in a ball and clad in his favorite hoodie that you had given back - the hoodie he now knew you had lived in for the past few weeks because he already caught your own scent on it. Tears raced down his face, and he immediately turned away from you to hide them as he squeaked out choked words.

“Please go away,” he says, and reality hits you all at once. It wasn’t like you thought Haechan was lying, but now you truly had to face the fact that you were the cause of Jaemin’s tears; he wanted you to go away. 

“Jaemin, I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly, shaking your head to emphasize the point. Though, as you do so, your gaze catches onto a gift bag on his dresser, a label with your name written on it in his stupid perfect handwriting. 

You walk up to it, swallowing hesitantly as you turn your attention from the bag to Jaemin and back again. “What is this?” You finally ask. Jaemin shoots his gaze your way, not having previously realized what had caught your intrigue.

“Please don’t-” He rushes to say, but in the pause, you had already pulled out a diamond necklace, holding it gently between your shaking hands. You shake your head, eyes wide and jaw dropped as you’re unable to form a coherent thought. You turn back around to face him, your gaze darting every which way because you’re not sure you can confidently hold eye contact with him.

“Jaemin, what-? Why is this in a gift bag labeled for me-? When did you-?”

He cuts you off, visibly annoyed. “It’s what I used the bet money on. Now please go away,” he demands more firmly, but you wouldn’t be able to follow through on it even if you wanted to, because as you process his words, you lose the ability to move. 

“You spent the $600 on this?” You ask in disbelief, turning your attention fully towards him to try and find any cue that he was lying. “On me?” 

Jaemin turns his head to the side, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs up and down with an awkward swallow. When he finally answers, his voice has lost its tension, his words instead coming out as though he were ashamed. “$700,” he corrects. “I didn’t want it to feel like I was just gifting you something from the guys.”

You think you’ve gone crazy, or maybe Jaemin has, but all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. “I-”

He quickly finds his fire again, apparently having had enough embarrassment for a lifetime in those few seconds. “Please leave,” he spits out. He dares look up to make eye contact with you before immediately regretting his decision and staring back down at his bed again, wiping more stray tears from his eyes as he fumbles out his next words. “You can take the necklace if you want but just- please leave.”

“Jaem-” You say softly before he can cut you off.

“What?!” He quips, though when he shoots his gaze back to you in irritation, he realizes you’re no longer standing at his dresser, but sitting at the edge of his bed with him. Your fingers barren of the necklace, you instead occupy one hand by placing it on top of his own.

“You could’ve told me you fell for me, too,” you say seriously, and Jaemin stops breathing for a moment as he looks up at you with wide teary eyes.

“Too?” He echoes weakly, and all you can do is give a tight smile, moving a hand up to wipe under his eyes as you try to hold back your own tears.

“I refuse to believe I played off my huge crush on you since high school that well.” You reply with a hoarse laugh.

Jaemin finally recovers his ability to breathe as he lets out a heavy exhale. “You like me?” He asks through tears, and you finally break, having to wipe your own stupid tears off your face before nodding at him with an embarrassed smile.

“I always have. Why do you think I made all those stupid rules to try and make sure we acted like a couple as little as possible?” A bittersweet laugh gets caught in your throat as you think back on it. “If I had to listen to you call me cute names all the time, I wouldn’t have survived knowing it was eventually going to end,” you continue seriously.

Jaemin’s finally able to let out a bashful smile and sorry laugh. “...I called you cute names all the time anyways.”

You nod your head with a fond smile. “I know.”

“I couldn’t help it,” he explains as more tears rush down his face, though this time, they’re at least sliding down next to an embarrassed grin. 

You look at him with playful raised eyebrows. “Just like how you couldn’t help it when you kissed me every time you saw me? Or looked over at me super fondly?”

Jaemin softens as his eyes trace over your figure, the distant look in his gaze letting you know his mind was rather preoccupied with reliving the past three months. “Exactly like that,” he says lowly, and you let out a breath, forcing your gaze away from Jaemin as you instead focus on the way your fingers were idly fidgeting with each other.

“God, Jaem. I’m sorry. I should’ve realized-” You speak apologetically but Jaemin cuts you off again.

“No, I should’ve communicated. Well…” He lets another soft laugh leave his system, the tears finally drying on his face as he works towards fully collecting himself. “I should’ve communicated when you knew I was serious.”

You smile at his words, shaking your head again as you relive every moment of the fake relationship. “I didn’t even know you had time to catch feelings for me,” you begin with something like wonder in your tone. “I mean- weren’t you still hooking up with-”

When Jaemin cuts you off this time, it’s with the most flustered of cheeks and the weakest of laughs. “Um, about that…the very first girl I hooked up with after we added that rule-” He shakes his head with a small smile as he corrects himself. “Well, I say that…she was also the last girl I hooked up with.” Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you process the information, but Jaemin doesn’t give you much time to do so before throwing in another wrench. “I uh- accidentally moaned your name.”

Your head whips in his direction, your wide eyes straining against your dropped jaw. “Jaemin! You did not!”

“Why would I make that up?!” He quips back with a hearty laugh. You move a hand over your gaping mouth, unsure at what exactly you were supposed to do with this news. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Oh my god, what did she do?” You ask, curiosity dripping from your voice. Jaemin bites on the inside of his cheek before giving in again with a light sigh.

“Well, we immediately stopped because we were both mortified, I think. She said something about how I obviously had to go figure some things out, to which I agreed, but for different reasons than she thought…” He drags off a bit but instead just shakes his head and goes in a different direction. “I practically begged her not to say anything about it, but she laughed and said I was crazy if I thought she was going to tell that story and humiliate herself,” he finishes with a small chuckle, and you just stare at him with no less shock than before.

“I can’t believe this,” you manage to get out playfully. 

Jaemin flashes his eyebrows in acknowledgement before his eyes light up and he rushes through more words. “Oh! The best part is, a week or so later, she saw us holding hands in public and texted me saying that she’s rooting for us,” he recalls with a shiteating grin. 

“Stop!” You get out, the idea of it damn near killing you. Though, before you can end up dying of laughter with Jaemin, another piece of information fits itself into the puzzle and you come back to your senses in seriousness.

“Wait wait wait,” you begin, focusing your gaze fully on Jaemin again. “So, you’ve been celibate for like…three months now?” You ask in shock. Jaemin isn’t even the tiniest bit regretful as he responds with a shrug, his sincere gaze meeting your own.

“I only wanted you. Wasn’t going to waste mine or anyone else’s time pretending any different.”

Your gaze softens immediately as a fond smile plays against your features. “Jaem…” You aren’t necessarily sure where you were going from there, but Jaemin picks it up anyways with a small shake of his head; his own weak smile making an appearance again as he recounts those first few moments.

“You kissed me that first day and I assumed I was fucked,” he explains casually. “Everything felt like it changed, and not because it was affection but because it was you.” His cheeks puff out again with a bigger grin as he continues. “Then I had that slip up and I knew I was fucked. Couldn’t get you out of my head for even a moment. It was starting to drive me crazy how much I wanted to make you happy.”

His eyes meet yours again as he finishes, and you search them for answers you knew you would have to ask for. “A good crazy?” You question hesitantly, but Jaemin is quick to shut down any worries.

“The best,” he assures, moving his hands so that he could interlace them with yours. He moves his gaze from your physical contact back up to your face before continuing seriously. “I love you, y/n.” 

You swallow hard, trying to not let any more tears run down your face, albeit happy tears weren’t so bad. You squeeze his hands in yours as you nod your head. “I love you, too.”

“Can we date for real?” He immediately asks, his wide pleading eyes making you chuckle.

“It’s been ‘for real’ for a while now,” you say warmly, but Jaemin shakes his head, not having it. 

“Yeah, but we’re currently broken up if you don’t remember. The entire reason you’re over here is because I couldn’t stop bawling my eyes out…which was the worst feeling in the world, by the way,” he banters back with a weak laugh. You let a grimace cross your face before pulling it into a fond smile. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll never break up with you again,” you assure him softly. Jaemin doesn’t hide his wide smile as he shifts himself so he can easily lean in and kiss you softly, resting his forehead against your own as he pulls back to smile against your lips.

“I’m holding you to it, angel.”