#I am working on it but I have been working on the next one for like a solid month

[danganronpadespairtime]

Chapter 3 Progress Report (August 2025)

Hello, it's been a while since I wrote one of these, hasn't it? This is a long update post about the behind-the-scenes of chapter 3 work and other things.

TL;DR: I finished writing the first draft and am working on proofreading.

About the progress

I finished writing the first draft for all of chapter 3, as well as the bonus episodes of chapter 3. I've also written the first draft for some other stories that I would like to release before chapter 3: bonus episodes of chapter 2, an interlude about Teruko's childhood, and an additional thing.

The next steps are to proofread all of these scripts. Please keep in mind that for me, proofreading is also a rather long process. For chapter 2, the time spent on proofreading alone exceeded 6 months. I apologize, it seems like it's rather slow. But also, please keep in mind that the amount of script to proofread is a bit. The combination of everything is several hundred pages. I'm surprised I wrote so much… I'm worried that some of it is too long.

Thoughts about chapter 3

It's very long!

Hopefully not too long!

…Sorry, there's not much else I can say without spoiling anything!

It's longer than chapter 1 and chapter 2, but not longer than both of them combined. That's about as much as I can say right now.

There are no guarantees on this, but I think that this might be the longest chapter in DT, and the rest will be shorter. I think in general, chapter 3 of Fangans are longer… That's just my guess, though.

Future plans

Work on visual assets will begin after proofreading, so once that begins, I'll have more interesting things to show you as previews. Currently, I don't have anything I can show…

I'm changing the program and method with which I use to produce episodes, so I hope that the end result is that I will be able to make them more quickly and efficiently than in the past.

I will definitely do another round of FTEs before chapter 3. Some time in the future, I'll put out a poll asking for what character pairs you would like to see an FTE of. Think about it carefully in advance until then!

I may start thinking about hiring additional staff. I may need art assistance, especially for the Argument Armament, Closing Argument, and Execution, because these things took a lot of time in chapter 2 to make. (It would be nice to have an animation assistant as well, but finding someone like that is probably out of the question…) There is the appearance of additional side/background characters, so additional voice actors may be needed.

Well, there is no guarantee at this point in time for either of these things. Working with people is overwhelming, so I'm unsure about it... It's just something to think about.

Lately, I feel like I want to remake the prologue. The quality is low, and many things have changed since 2020, so I feel like it no longer reflects the rest of the story well. However, I have a lot on my plate right now, so I'm not sure where I'll fit in the time to do such a thing.

Other notes

I would like to post more small content, like illustrations and comics, during this hiatus, but working on chapter 3 is very busy and unfortunately it's hard to find time to work on these things. Still, I do my best to post something every month or every two months. Please continue to keep an eye out for it.

Music videos aren't planned in advance, and they aren't part of a greater plan of the story. There is no such guarantee that every character will get a music video, or that all MVs follow some such theme, or something like that. They are just things I make on a whim because I like a song. You can consider them like doodles I post to social media.

Closing thoughts

It will be a long time until the release of chapter 3 is ready, so I am deeply thankful for your patience at this time. If you have the patience to wait until then, I am grateful. But even if you lose interest in DRDT during this time and move on to something else, that is alright too. As long as my works were able to bring you happiness at some point in your life, then I am grateful nonetheless. Please don't worry about these things.

Even now, I'm really surprised that it seems like there are a lot of people who are into DRDT. I'm very honored! Thank you to everyone who has supported me, and to everyone who will continue to support me. I'll continue to work hard on DRDT!

🩵

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 ... how are they reacting to a strip tease/lap dance from reader? 💃🪑

Well, howdy! I know this ask has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute! But here I am, finally getting around to it (sorry for the drastic wait.) I had a lot of fun with this, especially taking the prompt in different directions. Hope you enjoy it! Thanks for dropping this into my inbox!!

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (mdni): cyberpunk au (Gaz), cult au (Ghost), piv penetration, undercover missions, truth or dare, strip clubs, brief alcohol, grinding, dry humping, brief angst, 141!reader (Price & Soap), virgin!reader (Ghost), mild dubcon (Ghost)

Word Count: 2.7k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Have a gift for you. To finalize our agreement. Show of good faith.”

If John could spit in the man’s face, he would. Sitting on the opposite couch is a U.S. Congressman wearing a tailored suit and smarmy smile. The deal is done, and the person listening on the other side of John’s ear piece is already readying the infiltration team.

This congressman believes John’s an ally. That the two of them have made a solid deal. But there is no money. No weapons. There will be no exchange. This shit-stain of a man will be dragged out of here soon, and John’s part of the mission will be over.

“A gift?” questions John, swirling his whiskey around in the glass.

The man snaps his fingers, and a trio of women emerge from a side door. At first, John dismissively looks away, but as he glances back, he nearly drops his drink.

The congressman across from John isn’t the only target in this establishment. There are others scattered around in the pulsing club. You, John’s subordinate and teammate, should be out there, sitting in laps, flirting, pretending that you care about any of them just to absorb any and all information you can. But you’re not where you’re supposed to be, and based on the look on your face, you know this.

John shifts, placing his drink on the table in front of him. One of the women breaks off, heading toward him, but you’re faster, cutting her off and delicately kneeling beside him on the sofa.

“They’re gorgeous. Aren’t they?”

John inclines his head. “Stunning.”

One of them falls into the man’s lap, the two of them grinding on each other. John glances away from the spectacle, only to stiffen when you place your hand on his inner thigh. You’re far too close to his groin, but John can’t tell you to back off. It would be suspicious.

You twist slightly, and John sees the apology in your gaze. The two of you just need to pretend until the infiltration team arrives. Should only be a few more minutes.

“Give him a dance,” barks the congressman. He snaps at you, pointing at John. “I’m paying you.”

It takes every ounce of control for John not to launch himself across the table and break the man’s nose. While the anger flares, there is you, and your cooling touch. Firm. Palm flat. Pushing against his chest. Shoving him back against the sofa.

John’s focus on the man across from him wanes. Shifts to you. How you look utterly relaxed yet completely in control. A force to be reckoned with. You lift your leg and place your high heel on the sofa next to him, opening your legs, giving John a clear view.

You’ve been waxed, the glittery black thong you wear hardly covering your labia. John wants to reach out and cover you, to allow no one this view but him. A silly fucking notion since the two of you aren’t a thing. Only teammates.

But John is just a man. He won’t deny that, especially when your hips start to move, your cunt coming dangerous close to his face. John scents your natural musk, and that only sharpens his desire. He inhales, attempts to reroute the thoughts in his brain.

It doesn’t work.

Blood rushes to his dick, and John indulges, caressing the backs of your thighs as you turn around, bend at the waist, and shake your ass. The thong shifts, exposing your pussy. John inhales sharply, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs as he focuses in on your slickness.

The thoughts in his head are lecherous. He shouldn’t have them. Not for you. But it’s hard to resist, especially when you drop in his lap, ass grinding against his obvious erection. Yet you are ever the professional, pretending like you don’t notice the bulge.

John sends up a silent prayer that the rest of the team isn’t watching this on the cameras.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Finding anything to your taste?”

Gaz tilts his head in the direction of the voice. It’s more robotic than human, the inflections on certain words a bit stagnant as it attempts to replicate human expression. What stands behind the counter appears to be a woman, but as Gaz peers closer, the smaller details emerge under the neon glow.

An odd shine. Thin lines beneath the skin pulsing electric blue as the android’s artificial nervous system sends out signals. The eyes aren’t entirely right either. A shade of purple found in plenty of ocular cosmetic changes, but with the faintest glow.

Gaz’s gaze shifts back to the dancing holograms. Bright, flashing words appear around their writhing bodies, attempting to entice customers to spend their few credits.

Try our newest models!

Now more human!

Feels like the real thing!

Gaz’s eyes narrow. “The sign outside advertised humans.”

The android inclines its head. “We have humans.” Turning, it motions toward the menu.

“Those are modified,” corrects Gaz. “And the other half are sex robots.”

“Unmodified humans are uncommon.”

Gaz leans against the bar top. A paired couple walk by, their laughing hardly audibly over the pounding music. “But you have them,” he says, and it’s no question.

The attendant inclines its head. “We do. For our wealthy clients.”

“I have money.”

The android remains perfectly still as its eyes shift, the pupils dilating and expanding quickly. A scan. Probably checking his pockets.

Slowly, it reaches under the counter, producing a small handheld device. Gaz extends his arm, lining the scanner’s light up with the chip in his arm. A ping, and a few moments later, a happy beep comes from the device.

“Room twenty,” says the android. “Up those stairs. Down the hall. First left.” Returning the scanner to its dock, the android hands Gaz a small key card. “Hold this up to the door. Wait for her arrival.”

Gaz takes the key card without a “thank you.”

He passes the main bar where people linger, ordering fluorescent drinks and smoking sticks that give off iridescent smoke. Gaz ignores them, ushering himself up the stairs and to the door the android indicated. The lock on the keypad turns from red to green when Gaz holds up the key card.

As he steps inside, the lights come up. They aren’t bright, just a soft glow. Merely for ambiance. Just inside and to the right is another door that leads into a full lavatory with toilet, sink, and shower. To the left are a series of shelves with different sex toys, condoms, quick-result STD tests, and some personal cleansing wipes. Beneath it is a rubbish shoot, a mini-fridge full of beverages and items for temperature play.

Before him is a large bed with dark sheets encased on three sides by huge windows that overlook the city. The bright advertisements and neon signs on the various skyscrapers provide enough light to see by.

Gaz finds the control panel, darkening the window tint to dim the light but also obscure others from peering inside. Tapping a few more buttons, he finds what he’s looking for. Gaz extends his time, maxing it out. If she’s not fully human—if she’s modified—he can ask for a refund. But if she isn’t, then Gaz can have the whole night.

Time hardly keeps him waiting.

The door beeps, and you appear, dressed in a sheer, flowy robe that hides nothing. Gaz’s mouth instantly waters, fingers itching to touch you.

“Hi,” you breathe, smile warm.

“Hi,” he replies, a little breathless himself.

You softly shut the door behind you. Reaching out, you lightly tap at the control panel, the screen shifting with each press of your finger.

“I have to address a few things first,” you say, pausing your tapping. You turn toward him. “There is a mandatory physical. Where I inspect you. Check for…possible bumps. Rashes. Things like that.”

Gaz nods.

“Standard procedure,” you murmur.

“I understand.”

“The other is an s-t-d screening. If you don’t want to use protection, you have to do it. Otherwise—”

“I’ll take it.”

You lightly bite on your bottom lip, and Gaz inwardly groans. “I have to administer it.”

“Course.”

Grabbing one of the unopened tests, you also reveal a small panel. From it, you grab a set of sterilized gloves. They take cleanliness seriously, which is more than most establishments like this.

“You’ll need to remove your clothes. Sit on the edge of the bed. Legs spread.” Clinical, but your voice is sweet.

There is no objection from him. Gaz removes his clothes one at a time, stripping until he’s down to his boxer briefs. Only then does he pause, glancing up. You give him an encouraging nod. Gaz hooks his thumbs beneath the band, shoves them to his ankles. Kicks them to the side. When he straightens his spine, he notices the way your eyes drop to his dick. How they widen with surprise, and then appreciation.

Gaz eases onto the edge of the bed, hands placed firmly atop it, legs spread. You approach, dropping to your knees between his legs.

“I’m going to touch you now. Is that okay?”

Gaz nods. “Yes.”

You are gentle, and that alone sends blood rushing to his dick. Even as you inspect him, he’s starting to harden, but you don’t appear to mind. And from his position, Gaz can observe you, look for any signs that the android downstairs was deceptive.

But there is nothing.

Your movements are fluid and human. Natural. No stiffness in your muscles. No twitching or slight jerk of the interior wiring. No glowing eyes or glowing veins. No metal imbedded in the skin. You are perfectly human. Perfectly normal.

Which is what Gaz wants. To feel human for once. To pretend that his modifications aren’t there, that the military didn’t do so against his consent.

“I’ll do the swab now.”

The swab is the worst part, but it’s over quickly. You stick the swab into the tube and swirl it around, waiting thirty seconds before discarding the swab and adding a few drops of the test liquid onto the strip.

A minute later, and the results are in. “You’re clean.”

Gaz shifts back on the bed, scooting toward the pillows. You smile demurely, and reach up to undo the filmy robe.

“Wait,” says Gaz, holding up his hand. You pause, a slight concern in your eye. “Go slow. I want to admire you.”

This time, you appear embarrassed, almost like no one has ever asked this of you before. But you do. Achingly so. Your fingers are ghosts across your body. Gaz’s gaze follows every movement, admiring the delicate way you reveal yourself.

It’s inches of skin at a time. A glimpse here and there. A breath.

Gaz’s dick is rock hard. Throbbing. He can’t help it. Can’t help fisting the base, watching with pleasure as your gaze feasts on his self-pleasure.

With every inch of skin revealed, the more Gaz understands that you’re unmodified. And Gaz can forget, pretend that you are simply two people enjoying an evening together.

The fabric parts. Falls to the floor. You place your hands on the bed, then your knees. Crawling. Crawling up his body. Swaying your hips. You bring his hand between your legs, and Gaz’s fingers part your wetness.

No. There is no waiting.

Gaz seizes your hips, and brings you down on him.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You’re up.”

“Taking the piss, you are.”

“Go on!”

Johnny takes a long swig of his beer. It’s lukewarm, but it goes down easy. Kyle is grinning, those pearly whites trained on you.

“Dare,” you reply boldly.

Kyle’s grin widens. A slow shift, and Johnny sees Kyle’s amusement for what it is.

“I dare you…” Mischief. Kyle is up to something. “To give Soap a lap dance.”

Price stares, gaze growing distant. Simon chuckles, low and husky. Johnny remains perfectly still, not daring to reveal the glee he feels. Kyle knows how much Johnny likes you—certainly heard him jerk off enough over it.

You knock back the rest of your drink and snatch Simon’s cigarette out of his mouth. A quick puff and you pop it right back between Simon’s lips.

“Fine,” you state, popping up from your chair, sauntering over like a honeyed vixen.

Startled, Johnny leans back, the feet of his chair coming off the floor. “You—”

With a wicked smile, you straddle his lap, grinding down on him before pushing back up. Another roll of the hips, and Johnny’s cheeks go pink. Just over your shoulder, the rest of the team is in shock, their mouths hanging open as you gyrate your ass against Johnny’s groin. And what a beautiful bonnie ass it is. His focus shifts, and he absorbs every movement, imprinting this on his brain forever.

When you completely bend forward, shaking your hips, Johnny loses it. All the blood in his body rushes to his dick, and his brain short-circuits.

“Fucking hell,” murmurs Simon, the shock melting into appreciation.

Price coughs. “Jesus,” he blurts, face bright red as he glances away.

Kyle laughs, covering his mouth as you stand up, grab Johnny’s face, and shove it between your breasts. Johnny groans. The vibrations of your giggle greet him.

“It’s what you’ve always dreamed about, Soap!”

Johnny breaks away from your breasts long enough to smile—and breathe.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You fear me.” Ghost’s voice is husky, like your hesitation excites him.

“We all fear you. You are Father’s fist. His executioner. His arm of justice. All cower at your feet.”

Ghost’s gaze roams over your body. “Except you.”

With a sharp inhale, you fall to your knees, admonished that you did not give your new husband his due. But before your knees hit the floor, Ghost grasps your arms, hauling you back to your feet.

“Congregation’s not here,” murmurs Ghost.

“It’s what you’re owed.”

Ghost draws you in close. “Yes. When you weren’t my wife.”

Only hours ago, you belonged to no one except Father. He who shepherded all of you from the Wastes—from the fraught civilization formed there. Guided you to a new refuge with the promise of a future Eden. The Floods will not drown you.

And you, following every order, did as you were asked. Ghost, Father’s most faithfully violent servant, deserved a reward for his loyalty. Ghost could have asked Father for anything, yet he asked for you.

“We are not equals,” you whisper.

“No,” agrees Ghost. “We’re not.” He drops his hands, takes a step back, and sits on the edge of your marriage bed.

The room itself isn’t exactly spacious. The bed is small and plain, just large enough to fit the two of you. This is your new life now. No longer will your curl up on the floor amongst the rest of the congregation. You will have your own bed. A pillow. A husband to keep you warm and safe.

“Take it off.” The gruff command is a vice to your muscles, seizing all control. “Slowly,” corrects Ghost as you go to remove your veil.

It is customary for a bride to be completely covered during the ceremony. A symbol of your essence shifting to another. That you alone belong to Ghost. That his gaze is all you’ll know from this moment on.

But it’s only that. A symbol. Ceremonial.

And it’s time to shed it.

The veil, gauzy and red, comes off first. Like liquid blood, the fabric flows with the removal, wilting to the floor in silence. Ghost remains unmoving, yet his gaze shifts, following the movements of your arms, the curl of your fingers, and the surrender of the flimsy material.

The collar holding up the dress is next. Buttons snap. Draw down. Revealing breasts and stomach. You’re within arm’s reach, and Ghost extends a hand, lightly cupping one breast and then the other. Fabric catches around your hips. You curl your fingers around the filmy material, slowly easing it over your hips and down to your feet. It’s a delicate reveal, like opening a fragile gift.

As you straighten, Ghost delves between your legs, fingers parting you. You gasp, reach out and grasp his shoulders. His mouth meets your nipple, and then you’re straddling him, rocking your hips, grinding down for even greater pressure.

“Mine,” murmurs Ghost. “Mine.”

[m3mento-m0rii]

HIYA!!! First of all I am absolutely INLOVE with your writing!!! LIKE HOW IS IT SO GOOD?????? ❤️❤️❤️❤️ IVE SORTA JUST BEEN GOING THROUGH AND READING ALL OF YOUR HEADCANONS, WHAT IFS,ETC.

This is my first time asking for a request, so apologies if it sounds kind of awkward? Basically what if the saja boys S/O had a plushie of them but they gave the plushie more attention then them, how would they act??? (I have a very big bias to mystery and baby ❤️)

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING ❤️ LOVE YOUR WRITING AGAINN ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Plush Problems—

2.6k words; Saja Boys x Reader Masterlist | Requests paused!

You can't just replace them with the doll. That's simply incorrect.

A/N: Hi anon!! Thank you so much for your kind words, and I'm sorry it took me so long. It's been a busy week for me, but . . . yeah I'm back. Anyways I love to hear that you've been reading everything!! And your request isn't awkward, it's fine. Also, I interpreted your request initially as them gifting the doll to reader as well, but . . . I think it's still okay? I hope you enjoy!!

Jinu—

You had asked him to go to the store before he came over to get snacks! It was time for another one of your movie nights with him—a tradition that started when you tried to teach Jinu about pop culture. And as any good boyfriend would do, he ended up walking between aisles, hunting down all the snacks you had listed in your last text. 

It had taken him a little longer, though, because in wandering around, he managed to get a little lost in the process. 

Well, ‘lost' is a strong word. Perhaps better is ‘side-tracked’.

In his defense, stores are a lot different than how he remembered them!

Eventually, though, he was walking back to checkout, trying to remember how you said it worked. Passing displays meant to tempt you into last minute buys that you didn’t need—food, toys, plushes.

That’s when his eyes settled on a particularly special display. Small,stuffed, familiar faces that he’d come to see every day, outfits that meant costumes for most and average wear for him. Among them, the only one with dark hair—a plush. Of him.

And who likes plushes?

Jinu easily plucked it off the shelf, placing it carefully in the basket next to the other snacks. He offered a playful grin to the cashier, who looked between the mimicry and him almost gobsmacked.

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

Your apartment was almost more familiar to him than his own. More homey, too—how could it not be, when you had filled it with things that proved a life lived.

Cute, too, with all the stuffies lying around, and whatnot. His favorite was the lopsided bear one on the couch.

“Did you find everything alright?” You asked, and Jinu rustled through the bags he carried—he flashed you something proud and knowing, pulling the little doll out from its plastic confines.

“Better.”

Gasp. Sparkles. The world lit up, and you pulled the little plush from his hands. “What? I didn’t know they were making this kind of merch for you guys already!”

“I just didn’t think they’d be in the stores so soon,” Jinu tried to say casually, secretly preening as you cooed over him. Just tiny. You beamed, taking him by the hand and pulling him quickly towards the couch. “It reminded me of you when I saw it, silly-!”

“Sit!” You laughed, sitting in the middle of the couch as you reached for the remote. Some classic slasher was on the TV, as it had been for the rest of the month, too. Jinu didn’t really mind—really, there was something fun in complaining about the dumb decisions characters made. 

Except, there was one problem, starting easily about fifteen minutes in.

Why are you cuddling with the plush instead of him? It’s YOUR movie night, not the stuffy.

When someone’s being brutally murdered on screen, you pretended to cover the DOLL’s eyes instead of his. It can’t see. It lacks anything to perceive everything with! And you hold it close to your chest at the tense parts—even if you’ve seen this a hundred times—instead of nestling into his side for the experience. 

He’s right there?

Hello??

Jinu doesn’t think anything of it. You know what? It’s okay. Little him can have you today, because he gets you every other day AND twice on Tuesdays.

Until you start intentionally messing with him about it taking his place.

“Your hand is free?”

“He’s already holding it!”

You couldn’t be serious.

Finally, though, Jinu had enough. A few days of enduring this blasphemous treatment resulted in him taking your hands, a grim expression on his face. He could feel your pulse jump under his fingertips. “We need to talk.”

Talk? What was there to even talk about?? Jinu watched you practically freeze under his gaze. Instant fear.

“About the doll.”

Instant laughter.

“Why are you laughing?? It can’t take my place, (Y/N)!”

“HE, Jinu, HE!”

He glared at you, gently shaking your shoulders. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, holding on to his arms. “What about your very real Jinu . . .”

“Are you jealous of—”

“No.” He quickly cut off. But your smile softened into something more affectionate, and his own expression shifted, too.

“I only love him because it’s you . . . but I guess the real thing is much better.”

Now? The stuffed copy of him lies waiting patiently on your bed, and Jinu did, too; but only one of them got to be in your arms. This time, it wasn’t the doll.

Take that . . .

Abby—

You were having a rough week.

It was just . . . one of those periods that everything seemed to test you. People stressing you out, too many dumb, little things that went wrong, swarming and spiraling into problems that felt impossible.

Lucky for you, you had . . . Abby!

. . .

Is what you would say, if he wasn’t finishing up a tour. Being an idol made him busy. Not because he wanted to be; he was always only a call away, but sometimes that also meant another city. Another country.

Nothing made Abby feel worse than not being there for you physically. What was possibly the point of his size if he couldn’t give you the best hug after the worst day? How could he fix this? What could he do?

Lightbulb.

You crashed into him the moment he stepped into your place, arms tying around his torso as you pressed your face into his chest. Abby laughed at you, pulling you tight, enough to remind you that yes, he was there, and you had him again. “Missed me, huh?”

Even though it was a tease, even though he smirked, he still felt a little guilty. Hopefully, this would solve that. You only hummed, sighing. Your body melted more into his, and Abby’s arms loosened. Just to reach for something.

“Okay, I know you had a rough week. I think I have a solution,” he lifted your head, presenting you with . . .

Little Abby!!

IMMEDIATE game changer.

Abby fell for the way your expression changed into something sweeter, the tired look on your face thawing into something more tender. “When did—where did you get him?”

He carefully dropped the plush into your hands, noting the way you handled it carefully, observing the floral print of his shirt, the small details meant to mimic him.

“A fan was selling them at our last show! Spitting image of me, right?”

You smiled, genuinely, the kind that you can see in your eyes, and he knew that he had done his job properly. “How was your trip, Abby?” And everything was fine again.

At least, up till the point you stopped talking about your day when he couldn’t see you??

He’d wait. Maybe you just forgot. Then, on the next call, you wouldn’t mention it again. You sounded okay . . . but, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to hear from you.

When he got back and you didn’t say anything about it in person, continuing past his slight pout without a thought, Abby gave in.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me about your day?” He raised a brow, watching expectantly.

“Oh, I already told lil’ Abby.”

??

“Okay, but what about me?” He felt like he shouldn’t even have to ask that question! Right?

But you seemed hesitant. Unsure. Your eyes flitted away from him, and he knew that it was more than just ‘forgetting’ to tell him. “. . . Did you still want me to tell you?”

What?

“Of course I do. It’s not to stop you from talking to me,” he gently pushed your head back towards his, but he couldn’t force you to meet his eyes.

“I don’t know . . . sometimes I feel like I complain too much. Or I’m too sensitive.”

How could you be? Abby didn’t think about those things at all. All he really thought was that you’d need some extra love the next time he saw you (which he was always happy to give, even if he teased you about it). Because life could be tough. Gently, he tapped your cheek, your eyes slowly meeting his brown ones.

“Look at me . . . I’m your boyfriend. You’re supposed to complain to me and I’m supposed to make you feel better. Just like you do for me.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

Abby huffed quietly, shaking his head. “It bothers me that you don’t think I wanna be there for you.” And he meant it. You were never a burden. He liked hearing about everything, even your problems, because it made him feel like he could be there. And if he helped you solve them, well, that was one weight of your shoulders and his. “You can talk to me about anything, alright? Even when I’m gone. Especially when I’m gone.”

Just like always, you found yourself in his arms again. And at the same point, the weight of them settled carefully around you. Real hugs were better than plush hugs, anyway (but don’t let lil’ Abby hear you say that).

Mystery—

Honestly, you didn’t know when the little copy of your boyfriend had become a part of your collection. You were just admiring all the plushes and . . . Oh, look. It’s there.

It felt kind of alive sometimes. You swore you didn’t move it around, but . . .

Though, it quickly became your favorite thing. And Mystery enjoyed seeing you with it, in those subtle ways of his. It might have been a slight source of pride, it made him smile, because . . . it made you happy. Seeing him made you happy.

The only problem? It was with you. ALWAYS.

Oh, Mystery’s come to flop into your lap? Little Mystery. Trying to wrap his arms around you? Little Mystery. He’s lying on your bed, trying to get comfortable against you amongst your sea of stuffies? Take one wild guess who sits atop them, king of them all.

Did you guess? Well, if you said, ‘Little Mystery,’ you’d be correct!

One day, Mystery is just watching you. Staring. His lips quirked into the tiniest frown, but it seemed more sulky than anything. 

“. . . It’s in the way?”

“Huh?”

Mystery pushed the plush out of your reach, pulling you closer to him instead. “That.”

Your gaze flicked to the plush, once sitting harmlessly at your side. Now hunched over in a way actual Mystery could never be. “He’s just vibing.”

“He wants your attention. It’s my attention.”

“It’s still YOU.”

“Not if I can’t feel it,” Mystery insisted. “Put him up. Please.”

You nearly protested. Mystery had long since found a way to bypass that, though. All he had to do was shove those bangs of his out of the way, let you see his eyes, and look at that, little Mystery wasn’t a thought in your head.

Because little Mystery couldn’t compete with his soft, golden puppy eyes. And he couldn’t help but feel triumphant at that.

Romance—

It was a nice day. Just . . . the kind where the sky felt more blue than it usually did, and the sun more present, and the people more happy.

Romance noticed these things. He lived for these types of days. The world didn’t feel so terrible when people smiled and kids laughed, when the air was warm and the wind gentle. A good day!

For you, though . . . he hadn’t talked to you today, honestly. Not yet, he was supposed to see you anyway. But how could he guarantee you would have just as good of a day without having seen you yet?

Something caught his eye. He had to get it. All it took was a little pose, a picture, a simple, cute caption and you were blowing up his phone.

“DIBK YOU BIY IT??”

“WHAT STORE IS THQT?” “IT’S MY BOYFRIEND AOINGSOIN”

He grinned, taking the plush to the checkout.

Romance saw you about an hour later, holding the little (boy)friend up for you to see. And then you were running to him!

Oh, it was like a scene out of a romance movie. Somehow, the lighting seemed to enhance just at the sight of you, had he ever told you that? He playfully opened his arms, prepared to catch you . . . “Hi, love!”

Nothing. And an empty hand. A squeal, but not next to his ear, no gentle weight around his waist, nada.

You were cooing at the PLUSH instead.

Maybe it was more of a comedy.

“WHAT ABOUT YOUR VERY REAL BOYFRIEND??”

“What do you mean, he’s right here?”

Romance glared at you, walking away. Scorned. “. . . I’ll remember this.”

“WAIT it was just a joke. Romance, come back—!”

Baby—

Baby didn’t keep too many things fans gave him. He just . . . didn’t. There wasn’t that much value in some things, and he was gifted too much to keep it all.

There was an art piece, dusty and untouched in the corner by his desk. He kept a few necklaces and bracelets just so no one could say he didn’t wear their stuff. A little clay figure someone had made that Romance and Abby insisted he kept because everyone had got one.

This time, someone had gifted him a plush of himself. Perfect shade of candy blue locks. His little hat, puffy and perfect, overly sweet expression on his features. It was well made. It didn’t look like him, in his opinion (he wasn’t that soft looking, was he?), but it was well done. It would be a shame to just . . . throw it away.

But he didn’t want more things cluttering his shelves . . .

Who WOULD appreciate it?

“A fan gave it to me,” Baby offered up. “I thought maybe you’d want it instead. I mean, I don’t really . . .”

“I’ll take it!!”

You and baby Baby? BEST FRIENDS. He came everywhere with you! He was amazing! But most of all . . . 

You could use him to get on Baby’s nerves.

Baby would reach for a brand new, open chip bag. You smacked his hand away. “That’s Baby’s??”

Baby gave you an incredulous look. “I’m Baby.”

“Baby Baby needs to eat, too!” You huffed, trying to hide the way your lips quirked up.

“HIS MOUTH IS SEWN SHUT.”

That wasn’t even the end of it. He tries to sit next to you on the couch? “That’s Baby’s spot.”

You couldn’t be serious. He stared, you stared back. His eyes flickered to the doll, then back to you. 

“He can sit in the cracks.”

“RUDE.” So you put the plush in your lap. And you refused to let him touch you. Okay. Okay, fine.

The final straw, though? 

How were you going to avoid one of his kisses!

You pushed his face away, ignoring the indignant twitch of his eyes as you stopped him from chasing. “What now?” He already knew you were going to say something dumb.

“Not in front of the baby.”

He only watched. You laughed, keeling over. He had something for you.

The next day, Baby was strangely pleased with himself. Not an annoyance (doll) in sight, nothing to get in the way of him and you; and you seemed to have realized that from the way you had stormed in.

Arms crossed. Expectant brow raised. No Baby in hand. “Why, pray tell, is Baby locked in a glass case screwed to my shelf??”

Baby only shrugged, continuing to scroll through some social app on his phone. “He got tired, but he still wanted to see.”

“You made him a little cellphone and a sign that said ‘positively do not open!’”

He only masked a mischievous grin, staring at you from over his screen. “What? He needed to be able to talk to Annabelle, duh.”

“BABY—!” »                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: Okay, trying to get back into the requests! I hope you enjoyed, and see you soon!

—Captain Morii 🌤️

Morii's Business Class: @kpopmultistans @momentomoribitch @queensnowlake-wof

[illumoria]

"Tell Me More!"

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⋆·˚ ༘ .⋆𖥔 ݁ ˖۶ৎ clark kent/superman x reporter/journalist!reader

content warning!!: fluff | talking to your charming co-worker about your silly little crush on a certain superhero

🏷️: @angel06babysworld @rafeysvenicebitch @chuuuchuuutrain @alize2007 | click here to be added!

masterlist!────────────────୨ৎ───────────────

The Daily Planet's TV screen was bright and loud, playing the usual news–something you were used to ignoring as you worked, but this time? Your eyes were practically glued to the screen.

"Superman saves the day once again" The news anchor woman's voice echoed, playing short clips of the superhero–"a red and blue blur " that lifted a derailed train like it weighed nothing, shielding a family from falling debris, offering a boy his baseball cap with a soft smile.

You were smiling without even realizing it, goofy–like you'd just been caught thinking about something you really shouldn't have.

And apparently you had.

"You're staring again."

You jumped slightly, turning around to see your co-worker behind you. Clark Kent. In all his dorkiness with a coffee cup in his hand.

"Clark..gosh, you scared me." You chuckled, sheepishly looking down at the floor, shifting your weight on your feet like a scolded puppy.

"Oh–sorry, I didn't mean to." He smiled sweetly, taking a step closer to you, his eyes drifting up to where yours had previously been.

"Superman, huh? Pretty...pretty good guy am I right?"

You let out a quiet huff of laughter, slowly shaking your head. "Pretty good guy" is definitely an understatement.."

Now he was the one smiling like he'd been caught red handed, hiding the slight curve of his lips with the rim of his mug.

"Are you a fan?"

"Clark, the entire world is." You smiled wider, forcing your eyes back on him, even though a part of you wanted to just sneak one last glance at the TV in front of the both of you.

It was different to hear it from you. He knew people liked him–who could hate a guy who saves people lives? But it..it was something else coming from your lips. Like you really meant it.

"You just–just seem particularly fond." He replied, taking a small sip from his coffee, his expression a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Is that your way of calling me love-sick?' You mumbled, shooting him a suspicious look with your eyes narrowed, accusatory.

His brows shot up, his sentence coming out in a tumble of words. "W-what? No, of course not! I..I mean–unless you are?"

"I'm just..well I'm just saying that if Superman wanted to whisk me away in the clouds with him I wouldn't exactly resist. Who would?"

A surge of confidence sprouted in his heart, his nervousness melting into something else as he murmured a quiet, 'Tell me more.'

"Tell you more?–You seriously want to hear about my dumb crush on Superman?" You laughed, feeling your face grow warm under his gaze. His stare was intense and you felt as if you couldn't escape it. It was...an odd feeling. Especially since it was–well, it was just Clark. Clark.

He tilted his head slightly, his glasses gliding down his nose ridge a little. "Well, hypothetically..if Superman did–literally sweep you off your feet..what would you do next?"

You look back up at the TV, the superhero still on screen– like something out of a story book.

"I guess.." you trailed off, meeting Clark's eyes for a second too long before you suddenly backed off.

"This is embarrassing–I can't do it–"

"Oh come on!" He laughed, "not one thing you'd say to him? What would you say to Superman right now?"

"I ...like the way you lift..stuff?"

He made a noise as if trying to hold back his laughter, hiding his mouth with his mug as if that could make it any less obvious.

"Don't laugh at me, Clark! I'm very much on the spot!"

He brought his cup down, setting it onto a nearby desk. "Hey, how come you don't like it when I lift stuff?" His voice teasing–light and playful.

"You lift printer paper."

"Did you forget that one time I carried three coffee trays by my self?" He added triumphantly, his chest puffing out ever so slightly.

"And then you dropped two of them."

He chuckled under his breath, deflating a bit–a smile still on his lips "Tough crowd..."

Your eyes wandered back to the screen–than back to him, as if comparing the two silently. Letting yourself take in his features, studying him. It didn't last long of course, not when he turned his head only to see you already staring at him.

"You...sorta look like him y'know?"

His brows shot up, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, holding back a smile.

"You think I look like Superman?"

"Same jawline..a little"

"Oh yeah?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. "Don't let it get to your head, Kent." You giggled, swatting his shoulder before walking back to your own desk, tabs of different articles already on your computer.

It was a silly thought that stuck in your head even as you typed away–Clark? Superman? No...they were too different. Were they?

You rolled your eyes, muttering to yourself under your breath as you typed.

"Great..now I have a crush on two guys I can't have."

Safe to say you definitely had a type.

line dividers: @/hyuneskkami

[bm571158]

Lessons In Love- LN4

Description: Lando decides to offer to help his inexperienced friend gain some sexual experience because he can’t face the idea of her doing that with another man. The only issue is that everyone but her knows he’s secretly been in love with her for years, and this is only going to make it even more complicated.

18+ 🔥

Part One

Lando and Alicia had been friends for as long as he could remember. He’d met her brother karting in the early days, she’d always followed the two of them around and they’d just clicked. Her brother James had stopped karting and Lando didn’t see much of him anyone, but Alicia had stayed. A constant in the chaos of F1.

She was busy with her own stuff these days and he didn’t get to see her nearly as much as he would’ve liked, but when she’d told him that she’d booked some modelling work and was going to he in Monaco for a few weeks he’d been quick to suggest that came to stay with him. A chance for them to catch up, even if he was going to be away racing for half of it.

Initially, she’d been unsure, then she’d given into his pleading and agreed it would be nice for the two of them to catch up. But from the moment she’d stepped foot in his apartment it had been almost a kind of torture for Lando. Because she might’ve been blissfully unaware, but he’d been completely and utterly in love with her since they turned fifteen. He’d just never had the balls to tell her in case it ruined everything.

She’d gone out that particular night to meet some friends. Short, tight black dress. Ridiculously high heels and looking like she’d walked straight out of one of his dreams. When she’d given him a twirl and asked him to take a photo of her before she went out he’d not been able to muster anything more than a “you look nice” because all he could think about was her going out in Monaco and having a load of other men’s eyes and hands on her.

He wasn’t about to say that out loud though, so he’d told her to have a good time and call him if she needed picking up. She’d winked, told him not to wait up and gone skipping out of the door.

He had waited up though, just in case. Just because he wanted to make sure that she got home okay. Couldn’t sleep without knowing that she had. It had been a good job that he had as well, it was nearly two in the morning when she’d called him, sounding slightly panicked and between tearful apologies asked if he could come and pick her up.

The address that she gave him caught him by surprise. It was miles away from where she had said that she was going to meet her friends. When he picked her up she was all dishevelled, stood outside an apartment building on her own and her makeup smeared from where she’d obviously been crying.

“What happened?” He asked quickly as she got in the car.

“I went home with this guy and…” she hiccuped.

“Did he…? Because I swear I’ll go up there and-“

“Lando.” She laid her hand on his arm. “He didn’t do anything wrong. It was me, I panicked and just… god I feel so stupid.”

Lando relaxed a little, but still didn’t move.

“Can you please just take me home? I don’t want him wondering why I ran out of his apartment like a lunatic and am now just sitting in the car outside.” She pleaded.

Lando looked over at her again, then started the engine and drove the two of them back home. Once they’d got back she thanked him quietly, but was quick to disappear into the spare room that she had claimed as her own as soon as they got in and before he could try and ask any more questions about what exactly had happened.

When she still hadn’t appeared by nearly lunch time the next day, Lando had decided he was going to have to stage an intervention. So he’d made her a coffee, walked down the hallway to the door to the spare room, and after a quiet knock on the door he cracked it open and peeped around it.

She was sprawled out in the bed, one leg kicking out from under the duvet. Face buried in the pillows. He closed the door behind him, then walked across the carpet and sat down on the bed beside her.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to wake up.” He nudged her gently.

“Fuck off.” She groaned, burying her head further into the pillows. “My head is going to explode.”

Lando laughed quietly. “I brought coffee.”

She stilled a little bit, and the lifted her head just a fraction. “I might need more than one.”

“I can manage that.” He laughed, and when she reluctantly sat up he handed her the mug, watching as she clutched it like her life depended on it.

“Thanks for coming to get me last night, I’m sorry.” She mumbled, between sips of coffee.

“Any time.” He reassured her, pausing for a second. “Are you going to tell me what happened now?”

She took a huge gulp of coffee, which was still burning hot, trying to avoid him for a second. She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks already. “It wasn’t him, it was me.” She mumbled.

“More words than that.” Lando prompted.

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, the half drunk mug of coffee dropping down to her lap and she stared at it to avoid his gaze. “We uh… me and my friends we were drinking and they were all talking about sex and I uh… I don’t know why but I told them I’d never… y’know… and I was so embarrassed. They all said I should just have a few drinks, find a guy on the dance floor and go home with him. Get it over and done with… so I did and he was really nice but I just got there and I panicked.” She blurted out.

“You’ve never… like with anyone?” He asked, the words tripping out of his much before he could stop himself. “Like ever?”

“Do you have to make me feel even worse?” She asked, burying her face in his shoulder. “It’s so fucking embarrassing. I don’t you to make it even worse.”

He was quiet for a long moment, still trying to process what she had just told him. Because how many nights had he laid awake when she’d been out all night trying not to think about some other man with his hands all over her body?

“You don’t need to do that with some random guy in a club.” He said softly. “You did the right thing… that’s not… it’s not something you do with a random stranger when you’re drunk, not the first time.”

“I’m sick of all my friends taking the piss out of me for it.” She mumbled, still too embarrassed to sit up and look at him. “Why not just get it over and done with.”

Lando inhaled sharply. “No, not like that.”

“Well have you got any better suggestions?” She asked sarcastically. “Because it’s pretty fucking hard to get past a second date when I then get all awkward and don’t know what to do. I’m going to die alone at this rate.”

“You’re twenty three.” Lando chuckled. “I don’t think you’re quite in the dying alone territory just yet.”

“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes.

He was quiet for a long time. “I uh… if you’re sure you don’t want to wait… I could… you know… teach you.”

He held his breath as he said it. He’d almost certainly crossed a line and said something he couldn’t take back. But the idea of her doing that with some random guy in a club while she was drunk… he just couldn’t bear it.

There was a long pause, and just as he was about to start hurriedly back tracking and trying to claim that he had been joking she’d sat up and looked at him.

“I… you’d do that?” She asked curiously. “It doesn’t… like freak you out that I’ve never, you know… because you’ve….”

“If you call me a manwhore again I’m walking out.” He told her. “It was a very bad couple of months and I regret it.”

“Wasn’t going to say it.” She laughed. “But yeah you’ve… got experience.” Her lips twitched into a smirk again.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” He sighed.

“Probably not.” She agreed. “But really, it wouldn’t like… make things weird?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you going out and doing that with some random guy when you’re too drunk to know what you’re doing. If it’s what you want I can teach you… we’ll be fine.”

“Really?” She asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

He nodded. “If it’s what you want.”

She dragged her teeth along her bottom lip, looking over at him. “I want to do it.” She nodded. She looked at him expectantly.

“Not right now… I’m going to go make some breakfast. You need to eat something and sleep off your hangover. We’ll talk properly later.”

She’d showered, changing into fresh pyjamas, and wandered out into the living room, taking the plate of waffles Lando offered to her before flopping down on the sofa. Lando had joined her not long after, flicking idly through Netflix for something to watch. She finished her food, put the plate on the coffee table and shifted around on the sofa to get comfortable.

Eventually Lando had got fed up with her fidgeting, grabbed her legs and pulled them into his lap. His hands resting on her shins, fingers running back and forth over the smooth skin of her legs. His eyes were fixed on the screen ahead, but she could see the way he kept glancing over at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Lando?” She said softly.

“Yeah?” He turned to look at her.

“I think… I think I’m ready for you to teach me.” She breathed, her heart already hammering in her chest with nerves.

He looked at her for a moment, and her stomach twisted nervously, thinking he was about to say no. That he’d had the realisation that he didn’t want to be with someone who had no idea what they were doing.

“Come here.” He said softly, and she sat up nervously.

His hands fell to her hips, sending a shiver down her spine, guiding her until she was straddling his thighs, knees bracketing his hips. Her face level with his.

“You okay?” He asked softly, brushing her hair out of her face. “We don’t have to do anything… if you change your mind at any point, you just tell me and we’ll stop.”

His hand trailed from her hair, down her cheek and collar bone leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips.

“I’m good.” She breathed.

“You’ll tell me?” He persisted. “You promise.”

“Promise.” She nodded.

“Good girl.” He said softly, hand making its way back up to cradle her jaw, moving his face closer to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed hers, slowly and gently to begin with, like he was just testing the waters.

His other hand splayed across her back, pulling her in closer to him until her chest was pressed against his, the kiss deepening and his tongue slipping into her mouth with a quiet groan.

The kisses were soft, unhurried and like he had all the time in the world. A million miles away from the guy she’d left the club with the night before. She didn’t have that same riding sense of panic that she’d had with the other guy. She didn’t know if it was because she was sober, or because it was Lando and she knew he’d never hurt her, but she felt safe as she leaned in and kissed him back enthusiastically, fingers twisting into the curls of his hair.

His hand slid down her back, tracing the curve of her ass, giving it a squeeze that had a breathy moan escaping her mouth and catching her by surprise. The sound went straight through Lando, his cock already straining at his sweatpants and he couldn’t help but wonder if she could feel quite how hard he was already.

He reluctantly pulled away from her lips to catch his breath, tipping her head back and dragging his lips down her neck, teeth nipping at her skin and then soothing it with his lips.

“Lando, please…” she gasped out, she didn’t even really know what she was pleading with him to do. Anything. Something. Everything.

He let out a quiet hiss as her hips ground down into his. His hands grabbing her hips to keep her still. As his hands splayed across her thighs, his fingers toyed with the hem of her pyjama shorts, looking at her to try and gauge her reaction.

“Is this okay?” He asked, fingertips slipping just inside her shorts.

She nodded, biting her lip.

“Words, darling.” He reminded her.

“Touch me, please.” Her voice faltered with nerves. “I want you to touch me, Lando.” She repeated, sounding a bit more confident this time.

“Good girl.” He praised her softly. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts and panties, lifting her up enough that he could tug them both down her legs, leaving her sat in his lap completely bare, with a blush creeping up her neck. She buried her head in his neck, suddenly feeling incredibly explode.

“So pretty.” He said softly in her ear, fingers trailing teasingly up the inside of her thighs. “Don’t hide from me, you don’t need to be shy. You still okay?”

“Yeah.” She breathed. “I’m okay.”

“Relax.” He said softly. “You’re okay.” His hand crept higher up her thigh, fingers trailing softly through the slick mess between her thighs. He sucked in a breath as he realised how wet she was, trying to calm him self down as it felt like every drop of blood in his body rushed to his groin.

He dragged his fingers slowly back and forth between her folds, spreading her wetness, watching as her head tipped back and and her eyes fluttered closed. A quiet gasp escaping her as he applied a little more pressure.

He took it slowly, as much as he wanted to lose himself in her, letting her get used to it until her hips started twitching against his fingers, chasing a bit more friction. As she shifted on top of him, he let his thumb find her clit, pressing down on it with more pressure.

She folded over, hands on his shoulder and face buried in his neck, another gasp escaping her. “Oh my god… Lando….”

“Doing so good.” He praised. “So good for me.”

Her hips twitched again, her body reacting on instinct as she chased her high. He could feel her breath in short, sharp bursts against his neck. Feel the way her hips stuttered as she got closer. Could feel the way that her thighs were trembling around his.

A couple more flicks of his thumb against her clit and she was moaning our his name, muffled as she buried her face in his neck, hips jerking as she came.

He worked her through it, fingers slowing as she wriggled away from the over stimulation.

“You okay?” He asked as she tried to catch her breath.

“Fucking hell..” she panted, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m good, I’m so good… we’re definitely doing that again.”

Lando laughed quietly. “Fine by me, darling.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “What about you… that doesn’t look comfortable.” She glanced down at the tent in his sweatpants. “Should I…?”

He caught her hand as it began to head toward his lap. As much as he wanted her to, he didn’t want to rush her. “That’s a lesson for another day.” He said softly, leaning in to give her another kiss. “Let’s do this slowly. No need to rush.”

[myxo-gabriel]

it really hurt me, even when I saw it in the game itself...

hehe.

. . .

that's probably the reason why I'm still working on my project... but hey, that's fine! even when I finish this project, and I have nothing to do... but hey, it's going to be okay! I'm just the creator!.. even if I'm just an empty creature with a few character traits... heh... heh... I'll just go, and... make more molten parasites!.. I still have to come up with new varieties! heh. heh... the hell...

if I forget my unreal friends, I will quickly become depressed. again...

but hey, that's fine!..

. . .

yeah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started this depressing shit. even if I planned to say it all when I would have completely finished my project... but... uhh... I've always thought and always will think that I feels like Kris, but that's how Toby Fox shows Ralsei in 3+4... ugh... "that's... that's fine! look, Kris, I'm smiling!"... I'm smiling... heh... even if I'm not really smiling... I'm smiling with my soul!.. "that's fine!" I'm saying... did everyone who promised they wouldn't leave me alone stop texting me the next day?.. that's fine!.. has the person I love been cheating on me all the time?.. t-that's fine!.. no one wants to communicate with me irl, but they do it just for a joke?.. that's fine!.. does my family not notice that I'm not quite okay?.. that's fine!.. Did my parents always forbid me to express my true emotions when I was a child?.. that's... fine!.. in this game, that they call "life", I'm just a toy that you can play with and throw away!.. this project is just a ghostly chance to show that I'm more than a toy, but this opportunity is just an illusion... and that's fine!.. even if I'm real, it's not as a person... not as an individual... and that's fine!.. no one will accept me for who I am, and that's fine! you don't have to!.. no one have to... but... I will!.. even if no one will accept me, I will try to accept everyone!.. I'm just an empathic toy!.. even if they just use me to ask for support or emotions, or if they drunk, then they'll just throw me out later!.. they'll just forget me forever!.. and... that's fine!.. I will not argue with fate!.. even if I continued to communicate with them, they would be reluctant to communicate with me so as not to offend me, but I feel it!.. you can offend me, and it's not punishable!.. I'll just say that that's fine!.. and I will never come back to you, because I feel that you never wanted to know me!.. but you can take me again, use me again, and throw me away again!.. and that's fine!.. I will not demand to be treated differently!.. because I know that my screams will only make things worse!.. yes!.. and that's fine!..

therefore, whoever you are, please don't lie to me that you won't leave me or that you like me, I... I feel like you're lying... but that's fine!.. but if you not... then just forget about me and make some real friends. I'm not for friendship, I'm for use!.. I'm like a plush toy that you hug when you're sad, but never again!..

. . .

I'm sorry.

please don't throw reports at me about the need for psychological help, I won't be able to use this help. in no way. my parents will never understand that I need help. and that's fine!..

as long as I have fictional friends, I'll be fine!..

by the way, Deltarune 3+4 is really neat.

I let myself say a lot of unnecessary things. I'm sorry.

and once again, I'm sorry. I promise I probably won't bring this up again. I'm here to work. and that's fine. even if I'm bad at it.

and... I'll be okay. kinda.

[unintentionalseductress]

hii!! was wondering if i could ask for you to please write on the LADS guys helping you after having to leave a friend after they became super mean? i'm not feeling awesome :( thank you!

Warnings: none needed, some angst, swearing in Sylus's A/N: Hello there anon! I have a lot of experience with this, unfortunately. 😞😞😞 It always surprises me how people can change on a whim, and I hope you feel better.

.ೃ࿔*:･LaDS men helping you after leaving a mean friend...

.ೃ࿔*:･Zayne Zayne notices how withdrawn you were after coming home from meeting your friend. He makes you a warm cup of cocoa, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream, and serves it in one of the cute ceramic mugs you'd made together some time ago. Your eyes well up with tears as you accept the mug, and Zayne sits next to you, drawing you to his side.

"What's the matter?" He asks softly, and after you take a sip of the sweet concoction, you tell him.

"She's not my friend anymore. She says I spend too much time with you, and I don't have a personality anymore. Something about flaunting my happiness." You angrily dash away a tear rolling down your cheek and take another sip, inadvertently getting whipped cream on the tip of your nose. Zayne fights down the urge to smile at the sight when you're obviously hurting, and thumbs away the whipped cream, and you glance away in embarrassment.

"I'm not flaunting my happiness am I?" you ask uncertainly and Zayne shakes his head no.

"You haven't exactly been handing out fliers with our picture on them. To be honest, she sounds jealous," he murmurs as he licks his thumb clean. "And not the type of person you want as a friend. Friends don't tear you down just because you're in a relationship."

Realizing the truth in his words, you feel your heavy heart unclench and sigh.

"How much sugar did you put in this?"

"Enough to wash away the bitterness of today I hope."

.ೃ࿔*:･Sylus Sylus immediately suspects something is wrong when you're practicing your shooting at the private range in his base. Your body is tense and your teeth are gritted, yet all your shots keep missing. He puts a hand on the gun, forcing you to lower it and look at him.

"What?" you ask sharply, and Sylus quirks an eyebrow.

"Something has you all worked up, kitten. You never miss this badly."

"Like I need to be good all the time?" You hurl back, anger seeping into your voice, then all at once, you burst out with your problem.

"She's such a bitch!"

Sylus's eyebrows raised in surprise for a moment before relaxing. "I'm assuming you're talking about your friend?" He makes air quotes around the last word.

"Hah, with a friend like that who needs enemies? She turned my entire group against me! I knew the energy was off when I met them, but it was humiliating, sitting there, wondering what was wrong when she fed them all those lies! And she pretended like she didn't know!"

"I told you she was never your friend to begin with sweetie. I didn't like her the moment I saw her."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised. As the leader of Onychinus, I know when someone is being insincere. Let them all go, sweetie. They're dead weight."

He takes his hand off the gun and points to the target. "Imagine her face right on the bullseye."

You follow his advice and shoot it dead center, and Sylus puffs up like a proud mama bird.

.ೃ࿔*:･Caleb "Pipsqueak?" Caleb knocks on the bedroom door after hearing your quiet crying. When you don't respond, he enters anyway, his heart breaking as he sees your tear-streaked face.

"What happened?" He doesn't need an invitation and lies down on the bed, gathering you against his chest. "Did your reunion not go well?"

"This one girl ruined everything." You sob, tears staining Caleb's shirt. "I was telling the group about how you and I finally got together, and while everyone else was happy for me, she asked me how I pulled that off."

Caleb soothingly rubs your back, pretending to be nonchalant, but an arrow of rage has wedged itself into his chest. "What did she mean by that?"

"She said you were too good for me. She remembers all your games and said you were too popular, too handsome to date me. She said you only did it out of pity because we grew up together!" Your voice is so sad and pathetic and you can't help but feel like an ugly monster.

Caleb's heart squeezes painfully at your admission, and at the same time, he feels bubbling anger for the girl who said all those awful things to you.

"Now you listen to me, pipsqueak. Don't listen to a word she says. Sounds like she had a crush that she never got over. And isn't that a litte sad considering how long ago high school was?"

You sniff and try to dry your tears. "She did sound jealous."

"Of course she is! Because she doesn't get why I didn't pay attention to anyone else." He hugs you tightly until you're gasping for breath.

"You're beautiful pip." Caleb says fiercely. "Strong. Determined. And loyal. To find all that in person? It's so hard. No one holds a candle to you, princess." He kisses your forehead.

"She's an ex-friend now yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

.ೃ࿔*:･Xavier You look miserable when you walk into Xavier's apartment. His blue eyes watch you silently as you flop down on the sofa, looking pensive.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his soothing voice only pushing you closer to cracking. You sniff and shake your head.

"Did you not have fun with your friend?"

"She stood me up."

Xavier's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "That's an awful thing to do. And she didn't even tell you she wasn't coming?"

"No. But I suppose I should have taken the hint. She's been cancelling on me for months now. I'm the one that kept pushing to meet up. But it still hurts."

A tear escapes your eye and you wipe it away. "I sat there at the restaurant like a fool. I waited for nearly 2 hours, Xav! Then when I finally texted her, she said she had forgotten! How do you forget you've made plans with someone?" You look at him, distraught, and Xavier draws you into his arms.

"People can be mean sometimes, angel. I'm sorry this happened to you." He rocks you gently in his arms, and you feel some of your sadness lessen.

"This person doesn't sound very nice. They're not worth your energy. Maybe reconsider if they're worth keeping in your life."

"I already told her I'm not meeting her again."

"That takes courage." Xavier starts scrolling his phone and you look at him curiously.

"What are you doing?"

"Ordering hot pot. The food for heroes. Do you want chicken or seafood?"

.ೃ࿔*:･Rafayel He catches you aggressively deleting pictures from your phone.

"Hey cutie, what's gotten you so pissed?" he asks as he steps into the studio. In reponse, you show him a group photo and point to one girl in particular.

"I am not friends with her anymore. I'm deleting all my photos with her."

"Hold on now." Rafayel smoothly steps forward and locks your phone screen.

"What'd you do that for?" you ask furiously.

"Don't delete all your pictures with her. Some of them are with other people you still like, yeah?" he plops down next to you, and you realize he's right. You wondered how many photos you had deleted in your rage just to get rid of any trace of her.

"Then what do I do, Raf?" you ask, lying back on the couch cushions dramatically. "I can't stand her. She's the sort of person who always wants help, but never shows up when I need her. And then she has the nerve to say I'm not supportive of her."

"She sounds like a barnacle. Attached and only sustaining herself. You can do better than that."

You give him an exasperated look. "A barnacle might be a bit of stretch."

"How? You're the one that said she takes and never gives anything back. That's a barnacle. I suppose we could call her a parasite, but that sounds meaner than a barnacle."

"Raf!" you chortle, his pettiness elevating your mood. "You're wrose than I am!"

"Well duh. That's why I'm the brains, and you're the brawn."

"I'm the brawn?" You asked amusedly.

"Yes, that's why you're my bodyguard. Now regarding that friend-"

"Ex-friend" you interrupt and Rafayel shrugs.

"Can I use her photo as a reference? I've been commissioned to make an art mural at a school. I was thinking I could make her into a sea monster chasing some fish."

A fit of giggles overcomes you and Rafayel laughs along.

"I'm serious though. Send me the picture."

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh @brekkersgf @shddyboo @venussakura @ravenclaw-jojo @thesoftuglywrites @belt0-0 @snatched-bubblegum-bitch @ibreathesmut @williamafton26 @aenishas @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @ladyparamount @tokyorevengersrin @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @decileste @wynter-lily @delphiakira @thedeepspacecadet @mcdepressed290 @plzdonutpercieveme

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!? chapter nine preview

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and F! reader

Warnings -A LOT of emotional angst, insecurities in reader, distance, hurt/eventual comfort. I'm afraid this is very emotional and only gets moreso from here. Will be out in a couple days! This will likely be the second to last chapter! :')

You all have thought I went completely fluffy too!

You know it’s just acting, but without even being in his arms, being near him for a month now, it hurts that much more to see Satoru’s lips on another pair, to see his hands cupping the pretty movie star’s face. His snowy lashes fluttering shut, you know it’s all for the cameras, but it doesn’t stop that sharp stab in your chest.

You look away, focusing on making a drink, when they cut off to an interview. They ask him -

‘They say you love the cute, ‘girl next door type’, is that true?’

You look up at that, seeing your handsome boyfriend’s scowl, you feel your stomach drop, knowing he’s angry at that, but wasn’t it true? Weren’t you the cute girl who literally grew up next to him, the small town girl who everyone knows, you’re not some starlet. 

Would he one day want that?

The longer without him, the darker your thoughts are, the more hurtful to yourself. Without his hugs and kisses and bright smile, without the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in existence. It’s just one thing after another, it’s all just too painful, and it’s nothing Satoru is doing, it’s the very nature of this distance, of your worlds being completely different. 

‘My type is her, yeah she grew up with me basically next door, so what?’ Satoru’s voice is clipped.

‘So you didn’t date anyone in Hollywood because you prefer more… normal girls? Small town over the city?’ He scoffs now, his jaw setting.

‘Nothing about her is fucking ‘normal’ got me? She’s exceptional, and I don’t want to hear your dumb fucking questions. I’m done.’

Satoru yanks off his mic and tosses it across the room, the live interview quickly shuts off, and once it does shoot over to the awkward announcer, you feel the eyes of the bar on you, sympathetic, kind, they all make you feel sicker and sicker even so. He calls, so you quickly walk out, feeling the emotions begin when his husky voice is on the other end.

“Toru…”

“Fuck, she was so stupid,” he grumbles, already slipping in the back of the limo, leaving mid interview. “Calling you fucking normal?”

“Well, I am. In comparison-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, sweetheart,” your eyes well up with tears, standing outside in the cool night, missing his warmth. “You’re beautiful, you fucking know you are.”

“I know you think that, but that girl you just kissed? She’s insanely gorgeous, she's glamorous. How can I ever compete with it? I’m not even there with you…” You’re sobbing now, you can’t help it, you’ve been holding it all in for a month, building and building the less you hear from him, the more you see his clips. “I should be supportive of you, n-not needy.”

“You are supportive.”

“I constantly need reassurance.”

“I’ll constantly give it to you.”

“Toru, don’t you deserve more?” Satoru blinks his own tears now, hating the trembling in your voice, hating your words.

He hasn’t talked to you enough, he’s not had a moment, and when he does – you’re at work, or taking your classes, or you’re asleep. Every time gets shorter, the longer he’s on this dumb fucking set, he doesn’t want to kiss someone else, he has to think of you to evoke this ‘chemistry’ him and his co star have. You know that, but he can tell it’s too much.

Now you don’t feel you’re enough?

It's been a month since I got to these babies! I had to psych myself up just a bit </3 DW it will all end happy!

[just-nc-tea]

TO MY FIRST 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

⭑.ᐟ A rainy Highschool reunion trip with Exes Med Student!Y/N and Lawyer!Sunghoon You knew Sunghoon would be there. Of course he would be. You had made your peace with it. You’re friends now, kind of. It’s fine. Really. Seeing him at your Highschool reunion was kind of a given. That you agreeded going onto a trip with your friends, including him, later that year, however surprised yourself. Sunghoon can somehow still read you like an open book. Of course he could. He was the person you once planned to marry...until life got in the way. You buried yourself in work, in reaching your goals. Between helping out with Jay's toddler, pretending you're not running on empty, and trying to avoid old feelings during the trip , you start to realize something: Somewhere along the way, you stopped living the life you actually wanted. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still time to fix it.

⋆｡◛ ⊹ ⤳ requested ･:*:･｡☆

ᝰ genre. exes to lovers, fluff, angst (just a tiny bit tho) and loads of yearning, heavily inspired by the kdrama 'Love Next Door' ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warning. stress at work and uni , mention of burnout, insomnia, mentions of death, Y/N is lowkey unhappy with some life choices she made .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 31.5 k .ᐟ₊ ⊹

“Y/N. You have to come”, Yunjin whined into the phone loud enough for you to lower the volume of your phone with your free hand. 

“I don’t know Yu”, the emart you were in was fuller than you expected it to be on a Thursday morning at 9 am. “I really don’t see the point in going. We are still in contact, aren’t we? All the people that I want to see, I do, and there are way too many I am glad to not see ever again.”

“Y/N that's the whole point! What about Chaehyun? Or Jake and Jay? Or, oh I don't know, Gaeul? You haven’t met up with her in months?”  You signed and walked towards the frozen section in the supermarket. Lately you didn’t really feel like cooking nor had the time to do so. Jaemin did cook sometimes but most of the time the two of you just got takeout or cooked ready to eat meals. Ramen was your top contender. You’ve tried probably every flavour on the market.  “I called her pretty recently? And I know I haven’t really caught up with the boys. Don’t you think it would be weird to be close to my exes best friends?” “First of all you called Gaeul like two months ago, that's not recent,” Yujin huffed. “And I don't think it would be weird? We were all friends, even after the two of you broke up, remember?” “I know. I just…”, you really didn’t know why the thought of meeting everyone made you feel so queasy, Yunjin was right, they were your friends, or at least close acquaintances. “I don’t know Yu, I feel like it would be weird. I mean I am really a shit friend. I don’t keep up with everyone's life and I never have much to talk about except work or uni right now. That's all my life is.” “Oh, I know. I’ve never seen a worse texter than you, Y/N. But I don’t think the others would mind, they would probably all be excited to see you. It’s been a while and you really deserve a break Y/N. Even if it’s just one evening. Working yourself to the ground only to get your licence won’t make you graduate faster or a better doctor. I am worried you’re working yourself into a burnout”, she said softly. 

You swallowed and stopped in front of the big freezers, looking at the rows after rows of frozen products. She was right. In the last few years your focus has fully been on your studies, your residency or your Board Certification Exam and you didn’t have much time or mental space for other things. Right now work took up most of your awake hours, but somehow it was really fulfilling. Most of the time at least. You loved being a doctor, a gynecologist to be exact. You loved your job, helping people, healing people, bringing new life to the world. Of course there were the shadow sides like the almost 100 hour work week or the days you lose patients. Losing a life is never easy, and would never get easier. You hated shifts in the NICU. “I know. I know.”, you sighed again. “Look Yu, I’ll see what I can do. Maybe someone can switch shift with me, don’t get your hopes too high tho.”  “Yes! I knew I could convince you! You absolutely will be there!”, Yunjin cheered loudly again.  “I just said don’t get your hopes up?”, you shook your head and threw three packets of frozen vegetable mixes into your basket. “Nah uh! You’ll come. I’ll personally call the hospital to ask them to give you that day off, I swear.” You chuckled, “Please do. I would love to see that happen.” 

────────────────────────

You stood in your old room at your parents house, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked so different to the girl you were 10 years ago when you graduated high school. Your face looked pale in the reflection and your eyes lost the spark they once had. In the pictures glued to your mirror they were so full of life, of ambition. You were so excited for the future that was to come, not fully realizing that the path you choose to take will be harder than you and anyone else back then could have imagined. Nonetheless, you were proud of yourself and still excited to do what you do. You just wanted to finally be done studying, work in an office outside the hospital until you had enough to open your own, give care to mothers and young girls and whoever else has to go to a Gyno. The way to get there would be hard but so worth it. It was your dream after all. You opened your bag and fished for your makeup pouch, applying generous amounts all over your face. The blush you stole from your mother gave you a bit of color back.  You were staying at your parents house, since it was a lot closer to the event location where the 10 year reunion was taking place. It was weird to sleep in your childhood bedroom. Not much has changed in the last 10 years here. Your parents had enough rooms in the house to not really have a purpose for your room anymore. So they just left it be. All your pictures and trinkets in the places you left them. It was like walking into a different world. 

The picture of Sunghoon and you at your high school graduation that was glued to your mirror was fading in the sunlight, the colors slowly losing their vibrance. You reached up and straightened the corners, where the paper lifted from the tape and smiled. Sunghoon was really handsome back then. The way he looked at you instead of the camera made you feel so bittersweet. You always thought he would be the one you would marry, that you would have your first and only love for ever. But life was weird sometimes and it didn’t work out.  With the breakup and your life at uni getting more stressful you never really had much time for anyone but yourself and your friends maybe. Dating wasn’t really on your mind for a long time after you’ve overcome the heartbreak. You hoped he did. That today he would come to the reunion telling you about his wife, his kids, how great his life was. He deserved nothing more.

You sighed when the paper curled into itself again and turned around to get dressed. You and Jaemin, and Jeno, who had no choice, spent almost an hour trying to figure out what you should wear and the final verdict was a black pair of dress pants, the only pair of heels you owned for occasions like this, and a red wrap around top with rather delicate silver jewelry. You loved living with Jaemin, it was a lot of fun. The two of you met on your first day of uni and have been inseparable since then. When you and Sunghoon decided to end your relationship he immediately suggested moving together. He was living in the student dorm and was sick of it. 

So for the last almost 3 years now, you and Jaemin have been living in a rather beautiful apartment near the Seoul National Hospital. Last year he decided to adopt 3 cats, so now there was almost always a bit of chaos in your home. He got together with Jeno, a student, well back then a student a semester higher than the two of you almost 3 years ago now. They were super cute together, but Jeno decided to do his residency in Gangwon hospital, which meant the two of them didn’t really get to move together until Jeno is done and hopefully gets a job in Seoul. 

“Y/N?”, your mother startled you out of your thoughts, “Are you ready yet darling? If you want to be on time we have to go now.”  “Oh”, you turned around and looked at your mother, who was standing in the doorway to your room. She herself was attending a dinner with her colleague and an important client from overseas and offered to take you with her. She was styled impeccable, her gray hair in a strict bun and she was wearing a stunning one piece. You could gladly say you inherited her beauty and grace and annoyingly her work ethic. „I‘m done, mom.“, you nodded and grabbed your purse. „Oh look how pretty you look!“, your mom rubbed her hands up and down your arms when you passed her in the doorway. „My beautiful beautiful daughter. Let’s hurry! I don’t want you to be late!“  She ushered you towards the entryway, where both of you changed from slippers into your heels.

────────────────────────

The restaurant that was picked out for the reunion was an expensive looking one. The tables were all covered in thick white cloth, decked with wine glasses and multiple plates. Classical music was gently playing in the background when you made your way inside. The place was already buzzing with laughter coming from various groups at the entrance to the main room, enjoying champagne and the small appetizers displayed on various high tables.  You spotted Yunjin pretty quickly. She was talking to Heeseung and Jay, laughing at something she said. You didn’t really keep in touch with either of them after you and Sunghoon broke up three years ago. You all did grow up together but you didn’t want to make it awkward for them by still meeting up with them. And you honestly just didn’t want to know how Sunghoon was doing and you know you would have asked. Which wouldn’t have helped you getting over him.  Heeseung spotted you first, waving at you and smiling in your direction. You gave him a small wave back and continued your way through the crowd.  “Y/N!” Chaehyun, who was standing a few feet next to them, lit up the moment she saw you, standing to hug you tight. “You look so good! You cut your hair!” “Oh. Yeah. A few months ago,” you mumbled, glancing at your hair. 

“It looks fantastic, right? Do you know how long I had to endure her going back and forth about cutting it? Horrible!”, Yunjin whined and wrapped her arms around yours.  “I wanted to cut enough to donate it, but it wasn’t long enough, but I also desperately wanted to get rid of the hair”, you grumbled and shoved her away gently.  “Did you have enough to donate in the end?”, Chaehyun asked and passed you a flute of champagne from the table you were standing around.  “Yeah. I cut around 25 cm off.”  “Oh shit thats a lot”, Jake whistled and threw his arm around your shoulder, “Hi Y/N.”  “Hi Jake”, you laughed and boxed him into his side to get off you. You and Jake were going back to kindergarten days. Together with Sunghoon you attended kindergarten and elementary school until Jake went to Australia for a few years. The three of you were inseparable up until you and Sunghoon ended things.  “My mom told me you're almost done with your residency, will we be calling you Dr. Y/L/N soon?”, he asked and stole the flute out of your hand.  You took a deep breath in, “I already am Dr. Y/L/N if I might correct you. I’m done with my residency in a few months and then I have to study for the board certification exam. So some time next year I’ll be done with everything, yeah.” 

Just the thought of having to study for that exam made you want to curl into a corner and cry. The amount of stress that came with that exam and working at the same time was nothing anyone looked forward to.  “It’s so crazy you are pulling this through. You’ve got my deepest respect for that, Y/N.”, Jake tutted and shook his head.  “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor”, you shrugged and smiled at him.  “Everyone!”, Daewhi, your former class president, was standing on a stage further into the event location, “It’s lovely to see you all. Please take a seat, as we would like to start with ordering food. You’ll have enough time to mingle later on.” “Let’s go,” Jake pulled you with him toward one of the tables in the middle of the room, where your friends were already walking towards.  You settled down next to Jake and smiled at Ningning, who was seated opposite of you.  “I can’t believe it’s been ten years since we graduated,” Yujin said, glancing around. “When was the last time we were all together?” Jay answered without looking up. “The funeral.”

Ah. Right. You averted your gaze to look at your hands. “Yeah,” she murmured. “That wasn’t exactly the best time to catch up.” A suspicious looking ring on Ningning's ring finger caught your attention. But before saying anything you let your gaze wander towards Heeseung's hand. He was also wearing a suspicious looking ring. You weren't sure if you just missed it, or if they just didn’t tell you they got engaged, but your heart dropped a bit.  “Hey Jake,” you lowered your voice, to not raise suspicion if you just simply haven’t been told, “did Hee and Ningning get engaged?” His head snapped into your direction and then towards the couple, “What?”

“Look at the rings,” you said, having trouble suppressing your smile. Apparently they didn’t tell anyone.  “Heeseung what the fuck? You got engaged?”, Jake said excitedly.  Heeseung looked up mid-sip of water, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. “Huh?”.  “You are wearing a ring!” Yujin leaned in from the other side, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?!” Heeseung scratched the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. “Well... yeah. We wanted to tell you all tonight.” “You got engaged and didn’t tell me?” Jay looked personally offended. “We wanted to tell everyone at the same time,” Ningning said quickly. “We only told our parents. It’s been, like, three days.” The table erupted in noise, demanding details. You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. You felt pure relief, knowing that you weren’t the only one who didn’t know. You were never really close with Heeseung and Ningning joined your friendgroup a year after you graduated Highschool, when she and Heeseung got together, so you weren’t as offended as the rest.  “Okay, but where did he propose?” Yujin was practically bouncing in her seat. “Yeah, Hee, if it wasn’t romantic I’m gonna be mad,” Jake added with mock severity. Heeseung shot Ningning a sheepish smile before answering. “Her apartment. I brought flowers, cooked dinner, and then... just kind of asked.” Jay snorted. “Classic. That’s the most Heeseung thing I’ve ever heard.” “It was perfect,” Ningning said softly, and the way she looked at him made your chest ache just a little. You smiled again, this time more to yourself, and leaned back in your chair. The second you glanced away from your friends you noticed a very familiar figure making its way towards your table. 

Sunghoon looked immaculate.  He was wearing a navy suit, with his hair styled neatly and a bag slung over his shoulder. Your eyes met for a second and he gave you a small smile. You returned it almost automatically and then looked back at Ningning who was talking about her parents' reactions, but you weren’t really listening.  He made his way over, greeting Jake with a handshake and Yunjin with a hug, then slid into the empty seat next to you without hesitation.  “Sorry I’m late,” he said lightly, reaching for a glass of water. “Client wouldn’t stop talking.” “Do they ever?” Heeseung offered. Sunghoon laughed, low and tired. “I don’t mind as long as they keep on paying.” He was immediately informed about the engagement and his eyes lit up excited as he started asking the same questions the couple already answered.  You had to almost physically fight the urge to stare at Sunghoon. The last time you saw him was at Jay’s girlfriend's funeral a few months after your break up.  A few minutes of excited chatting later, the waiter brought the menus. The whole table quieted down for a few minutes while everyone was deciding on what to eat. 

You were flipping back and forth not sure what you wanted to eat when Sunghoon leaned a little closer. “Take the fish,” he said quietly. “You’ll like it.” You glanced at him, surprised. “The fish?” “I’ve been here before. It’s good. Not too heavy either. You’ll like it.” You gave a small nod, lips twitching. “You always did like telling me what to eat.” “You always needed help deciding,” he replied easily, looking at his menu again. A moment passed before he gently closed it and turned towards you again.  “So…” he said, “how’s work? Are you still at SN?” You nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think changing hospital would have changed my workload after all.” “Do you still like it?” he asked with a small hum. You hesitated. Your residence was one of the main reasons why you and Sunghoon broke up. It felt like a touchy topic. “Most days, yes. Some days are just hard. But every job is like that, right?” “Mhm. That’s true”, he turned aback towards the table, reaching for the wine card. “Are you still living with Jaemin?”  “Yeah.”, you nodded. “He adopted three cats a few months ago.” He laughed, eyes flicking back to you. “Three?” “Yep. And of course, Kai’s allergic, so I have to deep clean everything whenever he visits.”

That made Sunghoon pause, his brow ticking up slightly. “Kai?” “Yeah, you probably remember him. Tall, really soft-spoken, kinda chaotic. We study together sometimes.”, you shrugged.  Sunghoon didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded a little. You tapped the edge of your napkin and glanced sideways. “So… how have you been? With work and everything.” Sunghoon leaned back slightly in his chair, resting an arm casually along the back of yours. “It’s been good. I made partner this year.” You blinked. “Already?” He gave a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, it’s brutal hours, constant travel, and my phone might actually be fused to my hand now, but… I like it. Most days.” You nodded slowly. “That’s… impressive.” There was something oddly comforting about that echo of your own answer. “You started studying for the board already?”, he tilted his head a little toward you.  You blinked. “Yeah. I mean yes, I am. How did you…?” “My mom,” he said with a small grin, not even pretending to be subtle. “She keeps me updated. Involuntarily.” “Oh.” You paused, a little surprised. “Right.”

Your mother and his mother were close friends. You forbade your parents to talk about Sunghoon and they have never said anything about him to you. Your mother surely knew he was a partner, with how much his mother flexed with her golden son.  “She said you basically live in the hospital.” You huffed a soft laugh. “Oh lord. That comes from my mom. But yeah, she is kinda right. But, what can I say, night shifts pay better.” “Didn’t think she was wrong,” he said, glancing sideways. “After all, these ladies are the heart of the gossip mill in our neighborhood.” “That is right.”, you nodded slightly.  The waiter came and took your orders, interrupting your conversation. You ordered the fish.  Once the waiter stepped away, Sunghoon leaned in slightly, fingers idly tracing the stem of his champagne flute.

“And your parents?” he asked. “Still working?” You smiled a little. “Yeah. My mom’s been talking about retiring for three years now, but we both know she’d go crazy without it. She seriously has to find a hobby. My dad is still working in the hospital but not as chief physician anymore. He said he was too old for that amount off stress.” Sunghoon laughed quietly. “Sounds about right.” You glanced down at your hands. “I try to visit when I can or go on holidays with them, but it’s... not often. Last time I came down with a fever halfway through and spent most of the weekend in bed. My mom still complains about not having someone who actually takes good pictures around in Venice." “Didn’t know med students were allowed to get sick.” “We’re not. It’s humiliating,” you deadpanned, and he laughed again. You let yourself look at him, really look. His hair was a little longer than you remembered, styled neatly. There was a soft crease between his brows you hadn’t noticed when he first walked in. Tiredness, maybe" “Do you still live around Gangnam?” you asked. “Or did you move for work?” “I moved.” He hesitated. “Actually, I moved back in with my parents. Just a couple months ago.” You blinked. “Didn’t your sister move back in as well?"

“She did,” he said, then glanced down at his watch for a beat too long. “She and her husband divorced last year. But she’s back in Busan now.” “Oh.” You paused, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Sunghoon never really liked his brother-in-law, claiming he wasn’t good for his baby sister. They fought really hard when she told him she would marry him. SUnghoon and Yeji didn’t talk for months afterwards and he was devastated by it.  He shrugged lightly, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s alright. She’s doing better now.” There was a small silence.  “Why did you move back?”, you asked softly. He tilted his head slightly. “Mhm. I was living with my girlfriend. For about a year. We broke up in the spring and I moved into her apartment when we got together.” You felt a soft pang in your heart. As much as you wished for him to be happy, to have found love, it hurt a bit to hear that he actually did, while you were distracting yourself with work instead of tackling your feelings. “Oh. I’m sorry, Sunghoon.” “It’s fine. I am over her, she was nice but…it just… wasn’t working. I was always gone. And when I wasn’t, I wasn’t really there, you know?” He looked at you then, and you knew exactly what he meant. “We were both too tired to argue about it. It felt like a dejavu.” He chuckled softly at that and took a sip of his champagne. A beat passed. “And you? Any boyfriends in sight?”

You glanced toward where Ningning was showing off her engagement ring to Yujin, her hands gesturing animatedly. “Not really,” you said. “I thought about it. Dated here and there. But it’s hard when you fall asleep with your face on a chart at 2 a.m.” “That does sound romantic,” he said dryly. You grinned, a little ruefully. “I’m told I snore.” “I can confirm.” You laughed, eyes crinkling and slightly shoved him. “Hey! You snore way worse than I do.” Before he could say anything else, the lights dimmed slightly and Daewhi stepped back onto the small stage at the front of the room. “Alright everyone! Before the food comes out, we’d like to say a few words...” You both turned toward the front, Sunghoon’s arm brushing yours lightly as he shifted in his seat.  As the speeches started, you leaned in a little, voice low. “So… partner, huh? What are you working on currently?”

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath. “Right now? A cross-border IP case. A Korean company’s suing a European firm over design plagiarism, branding, packaging, whole lineup. My team’s handling compliance and preparing expert reports. It’s mostly just emails at 2 a.m. and arguing over clauses in licensing agreements.” You blinked. “That sounds miserable.” He shrugged with a half-smile. “It is. But weirdly satisfying. I kind of like picking apart their statements line by line, figuring out where they copied, what we can use." You tilted your head. “You always did like arguing.” “I prefer ‘debating.’ But yeah. The job’s a lot of drafting, negotiations, risk assessment. We do corporate governance stuff, too! Restructuring, audits, employee protection frameworks. Internal messes that execs don’t want to touch.” He smiled, lifting his glass. “And you?” You groaned. “Don’t even get me started.I honestly do too much in one day to summarize it all. Lots of rotation, many many crying babies and many many grandmas and grandpas that tell me I am doing my job wrong at 3 am when I just helped deliver their grandchild for like 4 hours.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You still don’t sleep much then?” “Not unless it’s at a nurse’s station in an empty hallway,” you said, trying to laugh. “But yeah… third year’s a step up. More decision-making, more pressure. I scrub in way more now. Still supervised, but I’m technically managing my own cases.” “Jesus.” He shook his head, then looked at you. “Also,” you added, leaning back a little, “I have become frighteningly good at drawing blood. I could probably even handle a crybaby like Jake.” Sunghoon gave a theatrical shudder. “Remind me to never pass out near you.” You grinned. “Too late. I already have a target vein.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast. “To poor life choices and me never fainting near you.”

You clinked it lightly. “And to knowing exactly what we signed up for.” “You know…” He ran a finger along the stem of his glass after setting it down again. “I still think it’s kind of insane, what you do.” You blinked at him, head tilting slightly. “What do you mean?” “I mean, yeah, my job’s intense. But I don’t have people’s lives in my hands. No one's bleeding out during a client pitch,” he said, his tone light but eyes sincere.  That caught you off guard. You opened your mouth, but he was already continuing. “And…” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing back at you. “I never got to say it, but, thank you. For what you did for Jay. And you helped with Haneul after.” Your fingers stilled on your napkin. “I just did my job.” “Maybe,” Sunghoon said quietly, “but it was important. To him. And to her.” You looked away for a moment, your throat tightening. “I still think about it sometimes. About whether I could’ve done more. Maybe she would have survived” “There wasn’t more to do,” he said, firm. “You know that." “I do,” you murmured. “But that doesn’t really make it easier.” Silence settled briefly between you. “Jay said you were really good at doing what you do,” Sunghoon added, his voice lower now. “And kind. That you didn’t panic.”

You huffed a small laugh. “That’s because I did the panicking in the locker room after.” He smiled faintly at that. “Still.” Sunghoon shifted slightly in his seat, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “Wanna see pictures? Jay sends way too many, and I’m not strong enough to delete them.” You gave a small laugh and nodded. “Yeah. I’d love to.” He unlocked his phone, thumb moving swiftly through albums until he turned the screen toward you. “Here, this was last month. She dressed up as a tangerine for kindergarten.” You leaned in, your smile slowly growing. “Oh my god… she’s huge already. And her hair’s gotten so long." “Right?” He grinned, flicking to the next picture. “This one’s my favorite.”

You let out a soft laugh, one hand subconsciously lifting to your mouth. “Wow. She looks so much like her mom.”

Sunghoon’s smile faded just a little, more fond now. “Yeah.”

You were quiet for a second, watching his screen as he kept scrolling, birthday parties, park visits, messy dinner selfies. Her in a doctor costume, holding a stethoscope upside down.

“She’s really cute,” you said, smile tugging at your lips as Sunghoon tapped through another photo. “She looks like trouble.”

“She is,” Sunghoon said, clearly proud. “But only when she doesn’t get her strawberry milk.”

You gave a small laugh and leaned back a little.

You didn’t say much else, but something in your chest tightened. You were happy for them, you really were. For Jay. For Sunghoon. For this whole, messy, beautiful life they had grown into. You’d just forgotten how far away you’d placed yourself from it all. The waiter brought your drinks and before you even took a sip Sunghoon tsked next to you.

“No Coke Zero?” Sunghoon asked, tilting his head. “Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?”

Your rolled our eyes. “I had three cans this morning.”

“There she is.”

You scowled and hit hid foot under the table. “I had to stay awake. We had a five-hour surgery and the scrub nurse kept humming the same damn trot song.”

Sunghoon snorted into his drink. “Still addicted, I see.”

“You know what?” You raised a finger at him, fighting a smile. “If you mock my Coke Zero consumption one more time, I will curse you out.”

“Oh, have fun with that. I’ll probably enjoy it,” he said with mock gravity. “I’ve heard you curse. It’s like poetry. Angry, caffeine-fueled poetry.”

You leaned in, smiling sweetly. “Park Sunghoon.”

“Yes?”

“I hope your protein shaker leaks in your work bag.”

He gasped, hand to chest. “You take that back.”

“Never.”

“You’re still evil,” he muttered, shaking his head with a grin.

“And you’re still annoying,” you replied, sipping your water, resting, giving him your middle finger like you did when you were sixteen.

“I am actually not drinking too many protein shakes anymore. I’ve switched to actually eating  healthy and protein rich meals.”, he said, sounding almost proudly. 

Yunjin snickered from across the table. “Now you do. I clearly remember a time where the only thing you all ate was chicken, unseasoned chicken, and protein shakes.”

Jay groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Don’t remind me. I was protein-shaking my soul away for like six months straight.”

“Six months?” Jake snorted. “Heeseung tried to bulk for a year. He was eating boiled eggs between classes.”

Heeseung shrugged, totally unfazed. “And I looked great.”

“You also smelled like eggs,” Ningning added flatly, reaching for her water.

You were shaking your head, your head gesturing accusingly towards Sunghoon. “You were the worst of all of them. I swear to god, if you’d asked me to meal prep plain chicken breast one more time I would have used my anatomical knowledge for some illegal activities.”

He gave a sheepish grin. “I was trying to hit macros. And you yourself claimed to appreciate my biceps.”

“I still have nightmares about our air fryer,” you deadpanned. “There were weeks the entire apartment smelled like chicken and eggs.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Sunghoon said, nudging you gently with his elbow.

“I am not,” you insisted. “You once brought chicken breast to brunch with our parents cause you were afraid they wouldn’t prep anything with proteins in it.”

Sunghoon shrugged, unbothered. “Gains don’t rest.”

“You were unbearable,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you gave him a narrowed look.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. “I was bulking.”

“You were insane,” you shot back. “Do you remember the protein powder in your coffee?”

“It tasted fine.”

“You mixed it with my expensive vanilla almond milk. And you made the entire kitchen smell like dirty socks.”

He grinned. “And yet you still ate my chicken.”

“Because I was too tired to cook my own, you menace”, you said flatly. 

You took a sip of your water, the conversation around you dissolving into background noise as Sunghoon leaned a little closer, resting one arm on the back of your chair again.

“I still don’t get how you survived my meal prep,” he said casually, eyes flicking to yours.

You gave him a look. “Oh, I didn’t survive. I suffered.”

He grinned. “That dramatic streak of yours hasn’t changed, huh?" “Park Sunghoon,” you warned, narrowing your eyes slightly, “I swear, if you say one more thing about me being dramatic, I will curse you out so thoroughly you’ll have flashbacks to every anatomy study session I ever made you suffer through.” “Oh, jeez please not. I don’t think I would survive that. You were so mean.” “I was under a lot of pressure!” you said, biting back a smile. “Do you know what it’s like to come home after a 28-hour shift just to find someone boiling chicken again at midnight?” He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. “I said I’d do the dishes.” “You never did the dishes.” “I did them… eventually.” “Exactly my point.” He just smiled at you, warm and unhurried.

You exhaled, tipping your head slightly toward him. “Do you still eat like that? Like are you still obsessing over your calories and everything.”

“Sometimes,” he said. “But my mom doesn’t curse me out if I stink up the kitchen.”

You hummed. “Tragic. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

He smirked. “Ah you and your endless compassion.”

“Oh shut up,” you muttered, lips twitching. “I’m about to be compassionate all over your fancy suit.”

He laughed again, quieter this time, and nudged your knee under the table.

“Still so scary,” he murmured.

────────────────────────

Since the reunion, Sunghoon somehow slithered his way back into your life. You’ve seen him at least 3 times in the last month, which is more than the last three years. Probably due to the new outbound clinic you were transferred to being close to your parents house, which caused you, much to your parents delightment, to sleep at home. And considering Sunghoon is living just over the street, meeting him after work was somehow something that happened now. 

Today though, you were prepared. You were standing in the kitchen of the venue your and Sunghoons mother rented out to celebrate their birthdays, cutting up a watermelon into bitesize pieces. Your mothers turned 60 last week, yours on Tuesday and his on Thursday and decided to celebrate together, renting out a small hall and inviting a ton of people. Sunghoon was currently carrying boxes of wine to put into the kitchen's cooler. Both of your mothers roped you in to help out preparing the celebration and who were you to say no. 

“That’s the last one,” he said, breath short. “The cooler’s full now.”

You huffed a strand of hair out of your face.

“Good. We still need to plate the sandwiches, preslice the cake, move the drink station out front and deck the tables.”

He gave you a sidelong look. “Should we demand hourly payment for all of this?”

“We’re being paid in love, you dumbass.”

He chuckled, stepping around your dad and his, who were currently wrangling a caterer sized metal food warmer. It took both of them to maneuver it through the narrow doorway without crashing into the counter.

You leaned away instinctively to avoid the chaos, and Sunghoon did the same, which brought him just a bit closer to your side of the counter.

“Remind me why we agreed to this again?” he asked, settling beside you and propping one elbow against the metal surface.

“Because your mom is scary,” you muttered, fighting with the watermelon rind. “And because mine is lovely and we love helping her.”

“They could have asked our siblings to come earlier.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who volunteered to organize the drinks as if you didn't know it meant carrying twelve crates of wine.”

“I thought that was the easier job,” he said, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. “I didn’t want to get my hands dirty.”

Just as he said that a watermelon slice slipped in your hands, leaving a pink stain on your white shirt and arm, when you caught it out of reflex. You hissed and leaned over the sink to rinse off quickly.

“You know we have, like, an hour left for everything? Including changing, right?” Sunghoon said, tossing you a towel as you returned from the sink.

You caught it, half-heartedly drying your hands, looking at the watch hanging on the kitchen wall. “Fifty-five now.”

He groaned. “Perfect. I sweat like a pig carrying those wines inside. I still have to shower.”

You wrinkled your nose, pretending to lean closer. “You should. You kind of stink.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Such lovely compliments you give,” he deadpanned.

You grinned, just a little. A piece of your bun came loose and a strand of hair slipped forward again.

He reached out and brushed it gently behind your ear. His fingers warm against the skin on your cheek.

Sunghoon and you both froze.

His hand dropped the moment it registered what he’d done.

“Sorry–uh. Reflex,” he said quickly, stepping half a breath back.

You blinked, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, well… I guess I give great compliments.”

You cleared your throat before he could say anything else.

“Anyway,” you said, turning slightly so he couldn’t read your face. “Let’s just carry the rest of the stuff out so we can go shower. Whatever we don’t finish, someone else can do.”

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Before either of you could move toward the trays, the kitchen door swung open.

“Sunghoon,” his mother snapped, stepping inside with her arms crossed. “Why are you standing around while poor Y/N is doing everything? You were supposed to be helping, not loitering.”

You blinked, startled, still holding the towel.

“Oh, no, no,” you said quickly, straightening up and pasting on your best polite smile, you reserved for his mom specifically. “He was just about to carry the platter outside, Aunty. I was making sure he didn’t grab the wrong one.”

Sunghoon blinked at you, seemingly caught off guard for a second. His mom narrowed her eyes.

“Well, don’t dawdle,” she muttered, brushing past him to hover over the nearest table. “We still have to set the cakes out.”

Sunghoon mouthed thank you as he picked up the platter.

You just winked at him and turned back to your watermelon.

────────────────────────

You locked your front door with your clutch tucked under one arm, heels clicking against the pavement. The sun had just started to dip behind the trees, casting a golden wash over the quiet neighborhood. When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you saw Sungoon. 

He was walking a few feet ahead of you, dressed in a dark navy suit. One of his hands was smoothing his hair and while the other typed something on his phone. He seemed tense.

You cleared your throat loud enough to make him glance up.

He blinked in surprise, then gave you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, look at that. Fancy seeing you here.”

You stepped toward him slowly, eyeing the suit. “You still wear suits every day?”

“Sure.”

“You’re rumpled,��� you said, frowning. You reached forward, tugging at the slightly crooked collar with practiced fingers. “God, how do you wear a suit every day and still not know how to wear one properly?”

His breath caught just slightly as you straightened the fold, your knuckles brushing his jaw for a split second. 

“Your mom would eat you alive if she saw this,” you added, trying to justify why you were suddenly in his personal bubble.

“Thanks for the save. Again,” Sunghoon huffed. “Ever since I moved back, she’s been on my ass non-stop.”

Your brows shot up. “How long are you planning on staying here?”

“Just temporarily,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My lease ended and I figured I’d take a break from paying Seoul rent. Mistake.”, he huffed, “She’s like: ‘You should be saving. You should get married. You should eat more. You should work less. You should stop slouching.”

You laughed, full and unfiltered. “Your mom is so intense. No offense, but she’s kind of terrifying. Like, how did your sweet dad end up with her?”

He laughed. “Everyone wonders. I think he just blinked and thirty-five years passed.”

You both chuckled as your steps fell into sync.

“She was grilling me earlier,” you said. “Asked if I had any ‘good eggs left.’ I thought she meant for the deviled platter, but nope she meant my ovaries. She told my how my job is so hard and asked whether I plan to freeze my eggs, because she would love me to have some precious kids. I think it came from the right place, but it was still kinda weird.”

Sunghoon winced. “That sounds about right. She still talks about us sometimes. Complains that I let you go.”

You looked at him sideways. “Seriously?”

“She always liked you more than she liked me,” he muttered. “Back when we were together, she used to ask at least twice a week if we were thinking about marriage. Said we’d have ‘sturdy’ children.”

You burst out laughing. “Sturdy? What does that even mean?”

“I think she meant athletic? Or that you wouldn’t let them do the stuff we did as a kid. YOu know sturdy kids. Clever and not trouble maker kids? "I dont know.”

“I probably wouldn’t. We did a lot of shit when unsupervised,” you said, grinning. “But she really did ask you that?”

“Repeatedly. Said she knows if you had my kids, she could more or less flex with her beautiful and clever daughter in law and even prettier kids, since you bring your moms genetics.”

You snorted. “Oh my god. I don’t know if that’s horrifying or flattering.”

“Both,” he said. “Mostly horrifying.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m no longer your ticket to high-functioning offsprings.”

“Tragic,” he said, with a dry smile.

────────────────────────

You hadn’t even made it ten minutes into the party, standing near the table with the drinks, waiting for Sunghoon to finish pouring himself a glass of wine when one of your moms coworkers came up. You recognized her but couldn’t put a name to her face, she certainly has been kinda friends with your mother for a while.

“Oh, Y/N!” she beamed. “Your mom never mentioned you had a boyfriend and such a handsome one!”

You blinked. “Oh no. No, no, that’s not–he’s not my–”

“Sunghoon,” Sunghoon offered, stepping beside you with a polite smile, holding his glass of wine and your glass of juice. “Just a friend. My mom is the other one celebrating.”

“Ahhh,” the woman said, "I was so sure you were. You are in so many of those pictures together.”

You gave your best awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess we’ve known each other forever.”

“Oh, I can tell,” she said, waving her wine glass toward the giant photo collage near the dessert table. “Look at that one,” She pointed at a photo from your family trip to Oahu. Your two moms beaming in flower leis, both of your dads awkwardly squinting into the sun… and in the middle, on a striped beach towel, were the two of you. You were in a sundress sitting sideways in Sunghoon’s lap, laughing at something he was whispering in your ear. His arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, while your hand rested comfortably on his knee.

"Yeah…” you said weakly, stomach dropping. “Those were… taken a while ago.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet. Just sipping his drink. You could feel the heat rising up your neck.

“We… used to date,” you offered, forcing a smile. “Our moms are best friends. So, you know…”

She nodded. “You don't have much choice to stay friendly with each other?”

You nodded mutely. Sunghoon gave a vague hum of agreement, and then someone called her name from across the room.

“It was nice talking to the two of you.”, she patted your shoulder, winked at Sunghoon, and wandered off.

You exhaled sharply.

Sunghoon tilted his head toward you. “You good?”

You nodded, eyes flicking toward the photo wall. “Yeah. Why did they have to choose that picture.”

He smiled faintly. “Because my mom is still hoping you freeze your eggs so I can give you some sturdy kids someday.”

You bumped his elbow. “Shut up.”────────────────────────

You were lying in your bed, your blanket pulled up to your chin, one arm shielding your eyes from the light bleeding through your half closed blinds. Everything was either too bright or too loud. And the cats kept taking turns climbing onto your chest or pawing at your face in demand of affection.

It was almost 1 a.m. and you were acutely aware that in just under four hours, your alarm would go off. You really, really needed to sleep.

But you hadn’t been able to, not properly, for a few nights now.

Ever since that dinner a few months ago, the old Kakao group chat had burst back to life. The others were texting and sending pictures what felt like nonstop. For a few weeks now they were talking about going on a trip in the mountains in the South, to relax and just hang out with each other again before the winter started. They were thinking about renting out a house with enough rooms for everyone and their partners. It sounded... really nice, if you were being honest.

But you weren’t sure.

You didn’t know if you could get the time off. You were still in residency, and vacation days weren’t exactly handed out like candy. And at that point you should probably be studying for your board certification like a maniac. 

Eventually, you gave up. Tossing your blanket aside, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled out of your room. You were somehow too tired to sleep and too restless to stay still.

The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the kitchen. You padded in barefoot and found Jaemin hunched over the microwave, heating up leftover curry. He was still wearing his scrubs and his hair was a mess.

You stood there for a moment, just watching him. Then, without a word, you stepped forward and dropped your forehead onto his back.

“Jesus,” he jolted slightly, startled. “You scared me.”

You didn’t say anything, just stayed there, your face pressed between his shoulder blades. He let out a breath, softening immediately.

“Long day?” he asked, turning around and opening his arms automatically.

You nodded and stepped into the hug, arms wrapping around his middle. He smelled faintly like antiseptic.

He held you for a moment, rubbing a slow hand up and down your back. “You’re warm,” he mumbled. 

You nodded into his shirt. 

“Can’t sleep again?” he asked after a beat, his voice gentle now. 

You pulled back slightly but didn’t let go. “My friends from school are planning. In October.”

Jaemin leaned back just enough to look at your face. “That sounds fun.”

“It does,” you admitted. “But I don’t know if I can get the time off. And even if I do... I should probably be studying.”

“You’ve been studying since July,” he said, deadpan. 

You sighed. “I just… don’t know if I can justify it.”

He gave you a look.

“Take your books with you. Study there. Wake up early and do your flashcards while everyone else is making pancakes or whatever. I am sure no one would be mad if you did a bit of revising.”

You pressed your forehead against his collarbone again, muttering, “I’ll think about it.”

He smiled into your hair. “You always say that.”

“Because I always do,” you mumbled.

The microwave beeped, and the smell of curry wafted up between you. He reached behind you blindly to open it, still holding you with one arm.

“I’ll warm you some up too,” he said, already grabbing a second bowl.

You just hummed and just closed your eyes not moving from where your arms were wrapped around his torso. He set the curry down on the counter with one hand and petted your hair softly with the other one.

“You know,” he said slowly, “you were so excited when you came back from the reunion. You kept talking about how good it was to see them again, how you missed this version of yourself. How you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you were sitting next to them.”

You blinked, but stayed silent.

“So don’t pretend like you don’t want to go,” he added, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You do. You just feel guilty about it.”

Your silence must’ve been answer enough, because Jaemin gently pushed you away from his chest so he could look into your eyes properly.

“You’re allowed to miss people,” he said, softer now. “And you’re allowed to want something that isn’t hospital walls and emergency pages and OB rounds at 3 a.m. You can take your books. You can wake up early and study. Hell, you’ll probably shame everyone into feeling productive.”

That earned a small, reluctant laugh from you.

“But you can also sit on a porch with your friends and a cup of tea and just be for a few days,” he said. “You’re burning yourself out againat this rate, Y/N. You deserve a break.”

You looked down, chewing on your bottom lip. The idea of a break sounded so nice it almost hurt.

He tilted his head and gave you a knowing smile. “And don't pretend like you're not already halfway convinced. You wouldn’t be standing here with your head on my spine at 1 a.m. if you weren’t.”

“Traitor,” you muttered.

He grinned. “Guilty.”

You huffed, then finally gave a slow nod. 

Jaemin slid a bowl across the counter toward you and sat down beside you, spoon clinking lazily in his curry.

“I mean,” he said between bites, “if I play my cards right, pull a few strings here and there… maybe sweet-talk your boss…”

You snorted. “You’ve never even met my boss.”

“I’ve seen him once. He looks like the type who caves when someone brings good snacks and compliments his hairline.”

You gave him a look. “He’s bald.”

“Exactly. Low bar.”

You rolled your eyes, but the edge of your lips tugged upward despite yourself.

Jaemin shrugged. “Just use like… two vacation days. Plan your night shift compensation properly. Worst case, you stack five NICU shifts and hate yourself for a week?”

“But wouldn’t I hate myself during the trip then? You know, the week after five NICU shifts?”, you asked, blowing the curry on your spoon, to cool it down slightly. 

He grinned into his food. “When don’t you hate yourself tho? I’m just saying: go. Take the trip. Drag your flashcards along, torture everyone with study sessions if you must. But don’t skip it. You’ll regret it.”

He was right. You would regret it. You would regret missing out again. But you couldn’t let that be a distraction. You didn’t look up, but your voice came out a little smaller. “What if I get behind?”

“You’re already ahead. You’re always ahead. For God's sake I haven't even bought the books I’ll need Y/N. You started two months ago. And you still have 7 to go.”

There was a long pause.

Then you murmured, “Okay. I’ll ask.”

Jaemin smiled, finishing his last bite. “Good girl.”

You lifted your head just to smack his arm with your spoon.

He winced dramatically. “Are you assaulting your emotional support roommate? Unbelievable.”

“Three cats are my emotional support. You just do the dishes.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Then let me earn my keep and make sure you don’t work yourself into an early grave.”

────────────────────────

You were taking your time walking home from work a few weeks later. You were stationed at an outbound clinic near your parents house this week again. Half of that clinic's staff was sick with Covid and the hospital stationed some of their residents there. So you decided to stay over at your parents house, sleeping in your old room and helping your mom babysit your niece for the weekend. You'd been spoiled with warm dinners and unsolicited affection all week as well. Honestly, you weren’t complaining.

You were walking slowly, enjoying the last beams of sunshine when you noticed Sunghoon walking past you. His jacket was slung over his arm and he was typing furiously on his phone. 

You accelerated your speed, stepping in sync next to him: “Sir, do you perhaps live in this neighborhood? I'm in dire need of directions, I might be a bit lost here.”

He flinched and his head snapped into your direction. 

“Jesus, you just scared the shit out of me, Y/N.”, he said, breathless, holding his phone against his chest. 

“Sorry Sunghoon,” you laughed and padded his shoulder. 

“I am afraid I can't offer you directions though. I might be equally lost right now. It seems like we are in dire need of a guide, that guides us towards a certain gs25 to buy some ice cream, perhaps?" he said, raising his shoulders in faux confusion. 

“Oh! I think I saw a particular gs25 on my way here, but I am afraid I really want to get home! It appears like my niece has been brought to my mothers and I really want to cuddle my very adorable niece, perhaps an ice to go?”, you nodded and walked backwards up the hill. 

“That’s a noble excuse,” he said, adjusting his bag and shifting his jacket to the other arm. “But would you accept delivery instead? My mom’s in a bad mood today and if I stay home any longer I might spontaneously combust.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. I suppose if you’re fleeing maternal wrath, I can offer sanctuary. My mom will probably force-feed you soup the second you walk through the door.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said, grinning as he fell into step beside you.

────────────────────────

The second you stepped through the door, your mom peeked around the corner from the kitchen, eyes lighting up.

“Y/N-ah! Oh, you brought a surprise with you!” she said, hands still dusted with flour. “How lovely!”

You sighed dramatically, kicking off your shoes. “I found Sunghoon on the street and had to rescue him.”

Your mom tutted but looked pleased. “Come in, come in. Look at you! So skinny! You need to eat something.”

She reached up without warning and patted his cheek affectionately, like she used to when you were teenagers. Sunghoon just blinked and let it happen, offering a half-bow and a sheepish smile.

“Hi, Aunty. Sorry to show up uninvited.”

“Nonsense. You’re always welcome here,” she said, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Sit, sit! I just made some jeon. Do you still like that?”

"Sure, Aunty!", Sunghoon said and took off his shoes.

You followed her into the kitchen. “Is Gaeun awake?”

Your dad’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Fell asleep about an hour ago. She’s still out cold.”

You groaned, deflating and turning back to walk to the living room, where she usually slept and played when she was over. “Ugh. I wanted to shower her with kisses. Telepathically tho. I am not about to get her sick.”

Sunghoon followed you. “Didn’t spend enough time with babies today?”

You shot him a look. “Not the cuddly kind.”

He raised a brow as you crossed to the blanket pile on the couch and gently peeked in at the sleeping baby. “Weren’t you at the clinic today?”

“Outbound rotation,” you said. “Lots of prenatal consults. It’s mostly OB-GYN. So yeah technically babies but unborn babies.”

“Ah,” he said. “Makes sense.”

You knelt beside Gaeun and ran your fingers softly through her hair. “She’s my one and only baby though.”

Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Do you have another niece I missed out on?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Just Gaeun. Which is why she’s getting spoiled for life. Everything she wants she will get from her cool aunt Y/Nie.”

“She’s lucky.”

Gaeun shifted in her sleep, one chubby fist curled near her cheek.

“She’s literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, doing your best to not wake her up.

Sunghoon crouched beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “You say that every time you see a baby or a dog.”

“Because it’s true every time,” you said, gently pulling her blanket up. “Look at her cheeks. I want to bite them. Is that weird?”

“A little.”

You gave him a side-eye. “She smells so good as well. I would die for her.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love, Sunghoon. You wouldn’t understand.”

He just shook his head, smiling. “You’re completely gone.”

“She’s going to grow up thinking I’m the cool aunt who brings stickers and inappropriate snacks and teaches her to lie about bedtime.”

“Which… would be accurate.”

“Exactly.”

You watched her for another long beat, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily.

“She’s going to be such a menace,” you whispered fondly.

Sunghoon’s voice was quieter now. “With you as her guide? No doubt.”

"Hey I am not that bad of an influence," you protested, brushing one finger over the babies soft cheek. 

"Yeah. Jake and I totally didn't have to cover for you whenever you did something stupid at school. You were always a lawful student," Sunghoon chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. "Looser. At least I had fun." 

From the kitchen, the smell of jeon drifted in, followed by your mom’s distant voice calling your name.

You sighed, standing up and stretching. “Alright. Let’s go eat before she decides we’re both too skinny and starts force-feeding us.”

Sunghoon followed you out of the room, glancing once more at the sleeping toddler. 

────────────────────────

The four of you sat around the small kitchen table, your dad pouring more makgeolli into his cup, while your mom fussed over whether Sunghoon had eaten enough rice. The overhead light cast a golden hue over everything. 

“So, Sunghoon,” your dad began, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Are you still working yourself to death?”

Sunghoon let out a small laugh. “Trying not to. But yeah, it’s still busy.”

“Busy is good,” your mom chimed in, but she gave him a narrow look. “But are you eating? Sleeping? The two of you never did when you moved out and were left to your own devices.”

“Mom,” you groaned.

“Don't tell me I am wrong. And now look at the two of you. So skinny and overworked. You should eat another serving Sunghoon, you have to stay strong.”

“I go to the gym 4 days a week, Aunty. I am strong," Sunghoon said, deadpan.

Your parents started grilling him with questions you were pretty sure they already knew the answers to. It was coming from a good place and very lighthearted though. After all, Sunghoon had practically grown up in this kitchen so it was a given they wanted to hear from the man himself where he was now in life. You couldn’t count how many times he’d skipped out on dinners at his own house to crash yours instead.

He answered patiently, a bit sheepish but not uncomfortable. You could tell he didn’t mind it, really. Not here.

By the time your dad had moved on from work questions to retelling the same story about your high school prank war for the third time, Sunghoon had finally settled deeper into his seat.

His sleeves were rumpled now. He’d unfastened the top button of his shirt at some point and rolled his shoulders back, laughing at something your mom had said about his childhood appetite. The tight line at the edge of his jaw had softened. His posture was less perfect. He looked younger.

You couldn’t stop watching him.

It wasn’t intentional, you weren’t even sure what had pulled your gaze back to him in the first place. You couldn’t stop thinking how familiar it all felt.

How natural it still was to have him here.

Like nothing had changed at all in the last ten years.

And maybe, in some ways, nothing had. Your parents still looked at him like he was the son they never had. Your mom still offered him second servings before anyone else. He still used the honorifics around your dad even though he’d been told not to twenty years ago. He still looked like the same boy who had come over three or four nights a week in high school, when his own house, despite being spotless and felt… cold. Unforgiving.

Sunghoon had always been the golden boy: top grades, varsity athlete, polite to a fault. Your teachers loved him, which was why he was able to get you and Jake out of sticky situations almost easily back when you were in highschool. He was admired by everyone. You couldn't remember a single person that didn't like him. But at home, he had never been enough.

You’d seen it yourself, how tense he got when his mother called. How he flinched slightly at praise, like it was a test he had to pass again. How he learned to be charming because being himself was never quite the right answer. You hated his mother for doing that.

He could’ve brought home the moon and his mom still would’ve asked why it had craters.

And yet your mom loved him the second you brought him home at age 5. She gave him as much food as he wanted, gave him all the attention he needed, and came to every skating event, even if his parents couldn’t make the time. She somehow managed to get off work, every time, sitting in the bleachers of those ice rinks cheering for SUnghoon together with you. She had treated him like a teenage boy deserved to be treated: not perfectly, just kindly.

He was laughing at something your dad said, his hands working though the perfectly styled hair, messing it up in the progress.

That was the version of him you fell in love with so many years back.

Not the one in suits. Not the one fielding client calls at eleven. Not the one sitting in meeting rooms with the weight of a multi-million euro deal in his jaw.

But this Sunghoon.

The one who grinned with his whole face. Who passed side dishes to your dad before being asked. Who muttered sarcastic little asides only you would catch. The one who used to steal bites from your plate and fall asleep on the living room floor with his head resting against your knee.

The version of him you thought you knew forever. The version you thought you would always have.

You were different now too, older, sharper. Always tried and always rushing. Every time you saw him now, which was admittedly only 7 or 8 times over the last months, he seemed stressed and tired. 

Sunghoon looked over, just briefly, catching your eye mid-laugh.

“What?” he asked, mouth still curled into a smile.

You blinked, startled. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m digesting.”

He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, but let it go.

You glanced down at your plate, heart suddenly too full and too tired at once.

So much had changed.

And yet sitting here, in your moms kitchen, her ugly table cloth spread under your dishes and you wondered if maybe not everything had.

Just then a sharp wail echoed from the living room.

You were already halfway out of your chair. “It’s okay, I got her–”

“Y/N, sit–” your mom began, but you were already waving her off.

“I got her,” you said again, grinning as you darted out of the kitchen. “My favorite niece is calling for me!”

Sunghoon chuckled as you practically sprinted down the hallway.

In the living room, Gaeun’s face was red and scrunched, tiny fists balled up near her cheeks, her cry high-pitched and frantic.

You knelt beside her, scooping her up in one smooth motion, pressing soft kisses to her temple.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you whispered, rocking her gently as you reached for the bottle your mom had prepped earlier. “You’re hungry, huh?”

She latched on instantly, her cries quieting between gulps.

You sat down with her in your lap, humming softly under your breath as she fed, your hand gently stroking her soft hair.

From the hallway, Sunghoon leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, watching quietly.

“Impressive diagnosis, Dr. Auntie,” he said softly.

You turned to look at him, bouncing Gaeun gently. “Years of clinical experience. And also I just… really love her.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you cradle the tiny baby. “I can tell.”

You smirked. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I’m not,” he said, but his voice had gone quieter. Softer. “You’re just… good at this.”

You glanced down at Gaeun, who had started to calm a little, blinking up at you with watery eyes.

Sunghoon didn’t speak for a moment, he came over and lowered himself onto the sofa next to you. When he did speak again, his voice was softer than before. “You’ve always loved kids.”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Still do.”

He nodded slowly. Then, without looking at you: “You used to say you wanted three.”

You laughed under your breath. “I did. I also said I wanted a dog that talks and a husband who bakes soufflés.”

He smiled at that but didn’t respond.

After a moment, you added, quieter: “I don’t know. The older I get, the more it feels… unreachable. Like even if I wanted a kid right now, I couldn’t.​ I’ve spent so long working toward this career… I’m just now getting to the part where all of it might pay off.” You took a breath. “Having a baby would derail everything.”

“That’s so sad,” he said quietly. “You always wanted this.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just rocked the baby gently and let the silence stretch between you.

After a few beats you glanced at him sideways. “How was your day?”

He groaned lightly and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Oh, you know. Same circus, different set of clowns.”

You raised a brow. “That bad?”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Not even surprising anymore. I spent my whole morning fixing a report someone else screwed up, then got blamed for responding ‘too bluntly’ in an email. And someone scheduled a meeting over lunch. Again.”

“That’s cruel.”

“It should be illegal,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t mind the job. Honestly, I like it. I worked my ass off to get here. It’s just…some of these people make me question humanity.”

You laughed. “That bad, huh?”

He turned to you with a dry smile. “If natural selection applied to PowerPoint formatting, I’d have peace.”

You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I wrong though?”

You shook your head, a little smile playing on your lips. “No. Just dramatic.”

His tone softened then. “But really... I’m lucky. I know that. I’ve got a solid team, good salary, stability. I just wish I didn’t have to babysit full-grown adults while pretending to care about their feelings.”

You nodded slowly, gaze dropping to the baby in your lap. “Sounds exhausting.”

“It is. But…” he paused, voice dipping into something more honest. “You kinda just accept it. Like, this is what it looks like. Being a grown-up.”

You were quiet for a second.

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You both sat in silence for a bit, the baby sleeping peacefully in your arms now. 

“You know,” Sunghoon said after a long moment, still gazing at the crib, “your mom… she really did take me in like a son.”

You turned to look at him.

“I don’t think I ever said it out loud, but I’m so grateful for her. And for your dad too. They’re such–” He paused, trying to find the right word. “They’re just… really good people.”

Your heart tightened a little. He wasn’t the kind of person to say things like that unless he truly meant them.

A beat passed before he added, more quietly, “And you… you’re turning out just like them, you know?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say, but before you could respond, your mom’s voice came from the hallway.

“Sunghoon-ah, my son,” she called warmly, stepping into the room in her worn slippers and a floral apron still tied around her waist. “I’m heading to bed. You should go home too, it’s getting late, you look tired.”

Sunghoon stood, his posture straightening instinctively. “Yes, of course. Thank you for having me.”

She waved him off, already moving to turn off lights and tidy a stray cushion. “Oh, don’t you worry about that! Come over more often, please, even if Y/N isn’t here.”

She paused in the doorway, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re getting too skinny again. Tell your mother to feed you properly.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll let her know.”

With a soft goodnight, your mom disappeared down the hallway, the floor creaking familiarly under her steps.

The room was quiet again, save for Gaeun’s slow breathing.

Sunghoon turned to you, his smile lopsided, softer than before. “Guess I better go before she packs me leftovers for the whole week.”

You grinned, standing to walk him to the door. “You know she probably already did.”

At the door, he slipped on his shoes and turned back toward you.

“Thanks for letting me crash dinner.”

“No worries,” you said, leaning against the frame. “You apparently needed it.”

He nodded, then paused, as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t.

Instead, he gave you a little wave. “Night, Y/N.”

“Night, Sunghoon.”

The door closed with a quiet click.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway.

You looked down at Gaeun, now snuggled against your chest, fast asleep. Her tiny breaths warmed the fabric of your shirt.

After a few minutes, you brought her into your childhood room, gently lowering her into the crib your mom had set up earlier. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

You stood there for a moment, just watching her, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the little sigh she gave as her fingers curled near her cheek.

Then, slowly, you turned and climbed into bed.

The ceiling hadn’t changed. Neither had the faint sound of cicadas outside the window or the way the floor creaked when someone walked down the hallway.

But you had.

And lying there, in the same room you used to stay up in texting Sunghoon under the covers, you felt the quiet ache of time slipping past.

So many things had changed.

And yet tonight, for just a few moments, it had felt like nothing had.

You turned onto your side, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder, your gaze drifting toward the crib in the corner.

“Night, Gaeun,” you whispered

────────────────────────

You were sniffling slightly when you stepped into your apartment two months later. It was quiet except for the soft clicking of claws on the hardwood floor when Luna wandered to the door to greet you. Her fur was soft against your hand, when you squatted down to pet her. “Hi love.”,you whispered and nudged her head against your palms, purring loudly. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath before standing up again. You dropped your bag in the door, only taking out your water bottle and empty bento box. The hallway mirror catched your attention when you looked up again. Your eyes were puffy, skin pale, your once neat braid now slipping out of its tie and clinging to the back of your neck.

Jaemin was right, you did get 4 days off, but you did hate yourself a bit. Five nightshifts in a row was almost as bad as it got, but you got to spend your time in the NICU so it was even worse. You were used to the intensity of the NICU, as it was one of the stations you worked most frequently, but today had just been a horrible shift. You lost two babies. Both were premature and it was almost clear from the start that their tiny bodies were too weak to fight for long. You had been the one to talk with the parents. 

You hated that part most. Hated the way their faces crumbled when they realized what you were about to say, how it somehow had gotten to be so normal for you that the words weren’t stuck in your throat anymore, how you now had enough experience with grieving families to stay professional.  

Your stomach growled loudly and you groaned because you knew you wouldn’t have time to eat anything. Jay would be here in less than thirty minutes and you still had to shower and finish up packing the rest of your clothing. You figured you could ask him to stop at a rest area on the way and get something to eat and a coffee there. Afterall, the others wanted to hike today so kaffeein sounded reasonable to keep you awake. 

You rolled your shoulders back and padded to the bathroom. Setting the water to the coldest temperature you could bear, you quickly washed off the hospital. You didn’t even bother applying makeup or properly styling your hair, only blowdrying it. You said yes to this trip because everyone kept telling you it would be good for you. A break. A reset. But right now, standing barefoot and with wet hair in your bedroom, the idea of spending four days around people felt more overwhelming than comforting and refreshing.

You got dressed anyway. Jay would be there soon, and he was punctual to a fault, even at 7:30 am.

You pulled on a random hoodie that was draped over your chair and sank down on your bed for a second. The hoodie still faintly smelled like Kai, who had borrowed it to you after you forgot to bring a jacket to the library and he had insisted you wear it on your way home to avoid getting sick. You really should text him again. 

For a second you thought about calling your mom, telling her how or anyone you were just tired and wanted to sleep, how you wanted to come home to her having cooked lunch, how you just wanted to spend time with her but it was early and she always rushed through morning phone calls with too many things on her plate. Your dad would probably be mid-surgery prep, he was the one who understood you the best at the moment, having gone through this exact process already. Yunjin would understand, or pretend to, but you’d see her in a few hours. You didn’t want to drop all of this on her before the trip even started. 

And Jaemin had been running on empty lately too. He and Jeno were going through a rough patch at the moment, with Jaemin spending his time working or studying, just like you were. It was hard for other people to understand, the constant pressure to be working perfectly and Jeno wanted to get at least a bit of his boyfriend's attention and time, which Jaemin just couldn’t offer right now. 

At least the cats were here.

Lucy had followed you from the bathroom. The second you laid back, she jumped onto the bed and curled up beside your hip like a small, warm stone. The other two weren’t far behind, hopping onto the foot of the bed and stretching out without a care in the world.

You reached out and gently scratched behind Luks ears. The silence of the apartment settled around you, soft and heavy. You closed your eyes for a second, trying not to think about the hospital or the certification. Just anything else. 

You stayed there, curled up with your cats, waiting for your body to gather just enough energy to stand again. You still had to pack. Jay would be here soon. You’d feel better once you hit the road and were under people again. Being alone never did you any good. 

A few minutes after you finished packing the rest of your clothing and fed the cats. You grabbed a mask and a cap, anything to make your puffy face feel a little less exposed, slung your laptop bag over one shoulder and wheeled your small suitcase out the door. 

The elevator was empty on your way down. 

Jay’s car pulled up a few minutes later. You straightened a little as he stepped out, smiling that big, comforting Jay-smile that hadn't changed since high school. His girlfriend was in the passenger seat, stretching backwards to hand Haneul, who was sitting in a booster seat, a piece of apple. Sunghoon sat next to her in the middle seat. He waved at you and you plastered on a tired smile. 

“Hey,” Jay said as he popped the trunk. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, lifting your suitcase in before he could. “I came straight from the hospital.”

He blinked. “You serious?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Did you work a night shift?”, he asked while closing the trunk door. 

“Man, I worked five nightshifts in a row for this trip. Just to see all of you losers.”, you joked as you followed him around the car, sliding into the seat next to Sunghoon. Before you could greet any of the others Haneul screeched: “Kitty!”

“Kitty?”, you said, blinking at her and then Sunghoon, who was looking at the toddler with an equally confused face.

“Kitty!”, she just said again and pointed at you. 

“Oh.”, Sunghoon laughed lowly, “On your hoodie.” He gestured to the two cats that were printed on the front of your hoodie. “She really loves cats.”

“Oh.”, you said and smiled at the child, “Yeah kitties, you’re right Haneul.” 

Sunghoons whole side was pressed into yours in the tight space of the backseat of the car. 

“Good morning Y/N,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you answered just as softly as you adjusted your bag in your lap. 

“Y/N, this is Seol,” Jay’s girlfriend turned around from the front, a warm smile on her face. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said quickly. 

“Yeah! It’s so nice to finally meet you as well! I’ve been told a lot about you by the rest.”, she said and laughed gently.

“Only good stuff I hope!”, you nudged Sunghoons shoulder with yours. 

“Nah I exclusively told her about how you are an awful cook and are obsessive about cleaning and hate chicken.”, he shrugged and smirked. 

“Okay Seol. Those are lies and he is exaggerating. I can cook decently and he is just as obsessive with cleanliness!", you exclaimed and punched him this time. 

Everyone laughed and Jay threaded the car into the morning traffic. 

“Is it okay with you if I sleep a bit? I just came from a nightshift and I am really tired.”, you asked shyly after a while. 

“Oh no no. Just sleep, we will wake you when we are there.”, Jay said and lowered the volume of the radio, which was currently playing kids songs. 

“Okay, thank you,” you nodded and rested your head against the cold window. 

────────────────────────

You stirred as the car slowed to a stop, the rumble of the tires on gravel pulling you halfway out of sleep. A moment later, a hand brushed your shoulder and gently nudged you awake. You blinked one eye open.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said softly. “We’re at a rest stop. Do you wanna stretch, pee, get something to eat?”

You squinted at him, brain lagging behind. “Mhm,” you mumbled, not even sure what you were agreeing to.

He huffed a quiet laugh, and the sound made you smile for a split second before your eyelids slid shut again.

“I’ll get you something,” he said under his breath, already maneuvering himself out of the car. You caught a glimpse of him awkwardly twisting his long legs past Haneul’s booster seat on the other side before the door shut with a thud.

The warmth of his body left with him.

You must’ve dozed off again, because the next thing you knew, the door creaked open, cool air slipping inside. Then something cool and plastic pressed lightly against your arm.

“Hey.” His voice was closer this time. “Here.”

You blinked up at him, disoriented. Sunghoon was standing just outside the car, holding out a plastic container and a bottle of water. His hair was a little messy from the wind, his sleeves pushed up.

“Will you let me in? I really don’t feel like climbing over Haneuls seat again”, he said, shaking his head. 

You groaned. “Ugh. Yeah. Gimme a sec.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and made your way outside of the car, taking the bowls and the bottles Sunghoon was holding. He climbed in and waited for you to hand him your breakfast back before returning to your original position. 

He handed over the lower plastic container. The lid was already cracked open slightly. It was an acai bowl. The same one you used to get back in med school when you had early study mornings. He bought them every time he went grocery shopping, picking out the bananas for you, because he knew you didn’t like them. You glanced down. No banana slices, not a single one. His bowl had what looked like an excessive amount of bananas inside.

You didn’t say anything. Just swallowed quietly and dug the spoon in.

The car started rolling again, Jay humming along to some pop song on the radio, and Haneul giggled as Sunghoon tried to open her triangle gimbap without tearing the nori apart. You ate slowly. The fruit was tart and cold, the granola soft but still sweet. It settled your stomach a little. When you were done, you capped the empty container and leaned forward, slipping it down onto the floor near your feet. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, eyes half-lidded again.

Sunghoon gave a small hum of acknowledgment, still focused on cleaning sticky rice off Haneul’s fingers with a napkin.

You let your head fall back against the seat, eyes drifting shut again. You didn’t notice when your head tilted to the side, bumping softly against the firm line of Sunghoon’s shoulder.

────────────────────────

“Y/N,” a voice said softly near your ear. “We’re here.”

You blinked awake, your vision was slow to adjust as you realized your head was resting on something warm.

Oh no.

You jerked upright, barely catching yourself with your hand against the door. Sunghoon’s shoulder was right there, where your cheek had been. Heat rose fast in your chest and flushed up your neck.

“I- ” you stammered, brushing hair out of your face, “sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

He just laughed quietly, unclipping his seatbelt. “You were dead asleep. It’s fine.”

“But I-seriously, I didn’t realize I-”

“Y/N.” He looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Shut up and get out. We both know you needed the sleep and I was not about to wake you because you used me as a pillow. ” He slid out of the seat with practiced grace and stretched his arms out. “I would have if you drooled on me tho.”

You nodded, flustered and still not fully awake, but you managed a muttered, “Right. Okay. Thanks.”

Outside, the mountain air was noticeably cooler than the air in Seoul. The morning fog hadn’t lifted completely yet, and the gravel crunched as you all moved toward the house you rented. Haneul was skipping ahead to Seol, her tiny backpack bouncing with every step.

The house was bigger than you expected. It was a two-level cabin-style place with warm wooden siding and wide windows. 

The house had enough rooms for each couple…and one for you and Sunghoon. Yunjin and Ningning both offered to room with you while Sunghoon slept in their room with Heeseung or Taesung. You declined, not wanting them to be forced to sleep in a room with you when they could be spending time with their partners just because you might feel a bit awkward. For the record you were feeling a bit awkward but this was also the ninth or tenth time you saw Sunghoon after breaking up. But not awkward enough to switch rooms, that's for sure. 

You followed, a step behind Jay and Sunghoon, your own suitcase rolling quietly over the gravel. At the base of the staircase, Sunghoon paused again and turned halfway to you. His voice was lower this time, not as even. “Um. You want me to carry yours up?”

You blinked. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

He nodded once and started up the stairs with your suitcase anyway, the quiet creaking under his steps the only sound for a moment. The hallway upstairs was lined with doors, the floorboards creaking softly under your steps. Sunghoon led the way, peeking into rooms, mumbling under his breath about finding the one with two beds. When he finally found it at the end of the hall, he stepped aside so you could see inside.

"Looks like this is us," he said, nudging the door open.

Two single beds, pushed against opposite walls, faced each other. A shared dresser stood between them, and soft afternoon light filtered in through gauzy curtains. You stepped in and dropped your backpack on the closest bed with a sigh.

“Man,” you mumbled, kicking off your shoes and letting yourself fall face-first into the mattress, “I’m so tired I might actually cry.”

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle behind you, the familiar sound making your shoulders unclench just a little.

“Then sleep,” he said, dropping your suitcase beside the dresser and his own against the far wall. “No one’s gonna judge. We’ve all been in the car for hours, and you came straight from work.”

You rolled onto your back with a groan, one arm over your eyes. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just power through.”

“Y/N,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Sleep. I am not dealing with a grumpy you just because you want to prove a point.”

You cracked one eye open and squinted at him. “I’m not grumpy.”

He gave you a look. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Sleep.”

You huffed and repeated yourself. “I’m not grumpy.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Right. You’re worse than a toddler.”

Your jaw dropped. “Liar.”

“I’ve dealt with an actual toddler. Extensively. Believe me. I know the signs.”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head. “You absolute menace.”

He caught it midair, smug as ever. “I lived with you for almost seven years. You were sleep-deprived for at least four of them.”

“Exactly, and I was very pleasant.”

“You were a hazard.”

You squinted at him. “Say that again and I’ll smother you with your pillow tonight.”

He just laughed, tossing the pillow back at the foot of your bed. “If you don’t sleep, I swear I’ll lock you in this room and take your phone and laptop with me.”

You stared at him. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

He raised a brow. You narrowed your eyes. Then flopped back down dramatically with a heavy sigh. “Fine.”

“That’s what I thought.”

You rolled onto your side, hugging the pillow. “Maybe I was a toddler. But you still loved me.”

There was a pause. 

“Shut up and sleep.”, he threw the pillow back at you and it hit your back with a dull thud. 

You smiled into the blanket, smug despite the exhaustion. “That’s what I thought.”

“Seriously, Y/N. If you don’t pass out in the next five minutes, I’m calling your attending and request sedation.”

But you didn’t argue further. You curled up properly, pulling the blanket over your shoulder and tucking your legs in. The bed was soft and smelled faintly of laundry detergent and cedarwood. The last thing you registered before sleep pulled you under was the quiet creak of the door as Sunghoon stepped back out. ──────────────────────── You had no idea how much time had passed when you felt the full weight of another person slam onto you. “Wakey wakey sleeping beauty.”, Jake whispered in your ear. “Jake,” you groaned, voice muffled into the pillow. “Get off me.” “I missed you too,” he said cheerfully, wiggling around on top of the blanket and fully ignoring your attempt to shove him off. “Congrats, you’ve been selected for a special mission.” “What,” you grunted, “the hell are you talking about?” “Grocery run,” he said, as if this was the most exciting thing ever. “You, me, and our favorite law nerd.” You pried your eyes open. “Jake. Move your fat ass.” “No can do,” he sang, “not until you confirm your participation.” You growled something unintelligible and tried to sit up anyway, managing to half-shove him off as you groggily blinked around the room. It was brighter now, early afternoon, probably. You felt puffy-eyed, warm, and absolutely not ready to deal with Sunghoon or Jake or any decision-making. Still, you sighed, stretched, and got up. “We were picked in a fair game of rok paper and scissors and Yunjin lost for you. So we’re going to emart.”, Jake grinned and watched how you tried to shake yourself awake. “Fine. Whatever.”

Jake grinned and clapped like a seal. “Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty.”

────────────────────────

The glass doors slid open with a cheerful chime, and you immediately veered off to grab a shopping cart.

"Okay, let’s be efficient and quick," you began, only to slow down as you reached the ramen aisle. "Actually… should we grab some for Heeseung?"

Jake perked up immediately. “Oh yeah, let’s goooo.”

Sunghoon groaned behind you. “God, not again. This is gonna be just like that trip to Sokcho, isn’t it? Where you and Heeseung lived off Shin Ramyeon and triangle kimbap for three straight days?”

Jake grinned. “Those were elite meals.”

You snorted, grabbing a couple packs. “You two are actual menaces. There’s a toddler on this trip now. No one’s living off processed soup. I will feed her and anyone else who might want to participate healthy and nutritious meals.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “Y/N is right. We have to be responsible adults now.”

Jake blinked. “You literally bought Haneul cereal with marshmallows inside.”

“Okay, and?” Sunghoon raised a brow. “I was totally planning on having an overly excited two year old running through my flat.”

You whacked the handle of the cart gently with your hand. “I swear to god, if either of you tries to feed Haneul overly processed sweet cereal on this trip i will murder.”

“She liked it!” Jake argued.

“She’s two!” you shot back, exasperated. “of course she would like Lucky charms!” 

The three of you kept bickering your way through the aisles, Sunghoon and Jake tossing in snacks and frozen dumplings while you tried your best to balance out their food choices with fresh produce and at least two kinds of leafy greens.

Eventually, as you neared the checkout, Sunghoon slowed near a display stacked with colorful plushies and plastic toys.

“Ha-neul would love this,” he said, reaching for a giant bubble wand shaped like a bunny, which apparently made fairy noises when used.

“Nope,” you warned, grabbing the cart tighter. “Absolutely not. Put it down.”

“But–”

“Sunghoon.”

“She’d be so happy–”

“She’d also swing that thing like a sword and decapitate one of us.”

“Honestly, I’d accept it,” Jake said, nodding solemnly. “I’ve lived a full life.”

You sighed. “You two are impossible.”

Sunghoon, completely ignoring your scolding, tossed the wand back dramatically like a child denied his favorite toy. “You’re no fun.”

“And you,” you said, pointing at him with a cucumber, “want us to not be able to sleep cause Jay's already very loud and energetic toddler has a very loud and annoying toy, Sunghoon.”

Jake just laughed, loading the conveyor belt with ramen packs.

────────────────────────

“You holding up okay?”

You were slumped a little in the back seat, elbow propped against the window only paying half paying attention to their conversation. “Dude,” you said, rubbing at your eye, “I am so tired. I’ll probably go to bed before Haneul tonight.”

Jake laughed a little and Sunghoon piped in: “She fell asleep in the car and snored.”

You shot him a look so sharp he should’ve bled. “Okay, stop.”

He raised his hands in faux innocence, grinning. “Just saying.”

You groaned and pointed accusingly at both of them. “Sunghoon snores like a fucking chainsaw and Jake, you do too. So if I might have quietly snored a little after crying my eyes out because I had to tell two parents their baby died–” Your voice cracked for half a second, and then you snapped your mouth shut, looking out the window. “I get a pass. Okay?”

It was silent for a long moment. 

“Yo, what the fuck,” Jake said softly.

You didn’t look back at them. “Let’s just not talk about it, yeah?”

There was another beat of silence, filled only by the soft sound of the radio playing another overplayed song. You really wanted to change the topic, Jake and Sunghoon would definitely never not talk about it so you had to distract them somehow. 

“You know what,” you said, reaching for Sunghoon's phone, which was resting on the middle console, “This radio channel is shit I will now be the DJ of our ride.” 

Sunghoon gave you a side glance. “I won’t listen to any of your musical songs right now. I can’t handle Hamlet while driving a car full of idiots.”

“That’s because you have zero taste,” you shot back, unlocking his phone. His pin hasn’t changed since high school, it was his sister's birthday. “We’re going full nostalgia today.”

Jake perked up. “Like, high school bangers?”

“Exactly.”

You scrolled through your old shared playlist, the one you all made back in your second year. A beat later, the opening notes of Hello by Joy filled the car, and you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face as you cranked the volume up.

“Oh no,” Sunghoon muttered. “Turn it down before you break a window.”

You ignored him and immediately began singing along.

“You’re throwing off my depth perception,” Sunghoon complained over the music. “I can’t see with you murdering the melody like that.”

“Oh really?” you leaned forward slightly, singing  louder now and way off-key on purpose “Hellooooo~”

Jake wheezed but joined in.

“I’m pulling over,” Sunghoon threatened, though there was an unmistakable smile tugging at his lips. “You’re going to get us arrested for noise pollution. Turn the music down at least a bit Y/N.”

“I can’t do that,” you said and shook your head, “but I can switch to the next song!”

The moment Jake heard Twenty-three start playing, he perked up.

“No way,” he grinned, mouth still full of seaweed chips. “Turn that up even more.”

You obliged. Sunghoon groaned audibly. “Absolutely not.”

Too late. You and Jake launched into the chorus at full volume, harmonizing terribly on purpose.

“I’m twenty-three, I’m a riddle~” you sang, leaning toward Sunghoon with a smug grin. “Try to figure me out, boy~”

Jake chimed in with a falsetto, “But you still won’t get itttt~!”

Sunghoon had his head resting against the steering wheel at a red light. “I’m going to crash this car on purpose.”

“Oh, come on,” Jake laughed. “You love us.”

“I used to,” Sunghoon muttered. “Before you both decided to assault me with IU.”

You turned around in your seat, eyes squinting like a grandma. “You used to like this song. You said it was genius lyricism, remember?”

“I was young and stupid.” ──────────────────────── The house was buzzing when the three of you returned. Everyone had already changed into hiking gear, sneakers laced and backpacks slung over shoulders.

“You’ve got ten minutes to change, my loves!”, Yunjin said instead of a greeting when the three of you arrived back. 

You groaned playfully. “We’re not even allowed to sit down first?”

“Nope,” Heeseung said, tossing a protein bar at you. “Fuel up and get moving, we don’t wanna miss the sunset.”

Jake was already halfway up the stairs, so you trudged up behind him with Sunghoon following suit. When you pushed into your room, you headed straight for your suitcase, searching for the leggings and the hoodie you brought for going on a hike.

Sunghoon stood awkwardly near the door for a second, “Uh, I’ll just use the bathroom, give you a minute to–”

You cut him off without even looking up. “Sunghoon, you’ve seen me naked like… many, many times.”

He froze.

You tugged out a hoodie and looked up with a raised brow. “In the last two years, not much changed aside from maybe me gaining some weight. Just turn around and change. Even if you peek, I don’t really care.”

He blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, already pulling off Kai's hoodie over your shoulders.

Sunghoon turned around and reached for his suitcase. 

You both changed in mostly silence. Mostly, because you started muttering curses under your breath when your sock got stuck in the corner of the suitcase and Sunghoon, still facing the wall, chuckled.

“I heard that,” he said.

“Great. I am glad your ears haven’t lost their function in the last ten minutes.” ──────────────────────── This was a mistake.

You were maybe thirty minutes into the hike and already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment. The incline was steeper than you remembered from Yunjin’s very casual description of the hike, and your thighs were burning. Your hoodie stuck uncomfortably to your back, your water bottle was nearly empty and you still had almost an hour to go, if not more.

You tugged your cap down further, wiping your sweat-slicked forehead with the back of your hand. You were never really a athletic person and considering you’re spending your time studying or working, this ‘small hike up the hill’ was a bigger workout than you anticipated.  “Who the hell thought walking uphill for two hours to eat dinner was a good idea?” you muttered mostly to yourself.

Sunghoon glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. He was only a few steps ahead, walking backwards now with infuriating ease.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to see more green.”

“I meant, like. Spinach in my rice. Not trees around me.”

You huffed and slowed a bit more. Your calves were screaming. This was not what people with four night shifts behind them should be doing. You should be home sleeping or studying, not sweating through your hoodie and trying not to trip over exposed roots.

Sunghoon waited at a bend in the path, hands on his hips. “You okay?”

You gave him a flat look. “Do I look okay?”

“Honestly?” He tilted his head. “You look like you’re about to just lie down on the floor and wait until someone is going to pick you up, like Haneul just did.”

You snorted. “I’m wasting precious study time to walk around trees, Park. I have fetal monitoring notes to memorize. Placenta slides to cry over. Meanwhile, I’m out here, climbing hills.”

He laughed. A real, full laugh that pulled his shoulders up and crinkled his eyes.

“Want me to carry you like the toddler you are?” he offered, already half-turning like he might actually mean it. You knew he could and would if you asked. 

You waved him off. “Absolutely not. If I’m dying, I’m dying with dignity.”

“Noted.” But he slowed down anyway, matching your pace without a word as the rest of the group drifted further ahead. ──────────────────────── The hike was worth it. The view was ridiculous.

Golden light spilled over the horizon, washing the mountains in soft warmth and making the little patio of the restaurant glow like something out of a movie. The food was incredible, grilled meat, fresh vegetables, jjigae bubbling in the middle of the table.

You leaned back in your chair, a half-full bowl cradled in your hands, and watched the others laugh.

Heeseung and Ningning were teasing Yujin’s boyfriend, who looked overwhelmed but pleased. Jake was narrating a story about a ski trip you did a few years ago to Seol, while Jay kept adjusting the tiny blanket wrapped around Haneul’s shoulders where she was now curled up asleep in his lap, her tiny face smushed against his chest. You felt something crack a little inside your chest.

This was the sort of evening you used to dream about. Group trips with the people you loved most.

You used to think… you’d bring your kid along. You always dreamed of having kids early, to raise them with your chaotic group of friends, just like Jay had.

You blinked slowly, staring down into your bowl of rice. 

You really should have been there. You should have taken the time out of your schedule when it wasn’t as stressful as it was now to stay in contact with your friends, to see Haneul grow up. To help Jay whenever he struggled. For god sake if someone knew how to handle kids, or well new borns, it was you. But you felt so guilty that you couldn’t even look Jay in the eyes. 

You hadn’t meant to drift so far away. You just… kept choosing work. Kept telling yourself there’d be time later. That after the internship, after year one, after the shift change, after this week of nightshifts… But the weeks had somehow stretched into years. 

You looked up, eyes flicking across the table. Jay was murmuring something to his girlfriend, brushing a bit of rice off Haneul’s cheek. He looked happy. 

You cleared your throat and reached for the water pitcher, blinking hard. ──────────────────────── Back at the house, everyone slowly said goodnight one after another, apparently drained from the hike up to the restaurant. You moved on autopilot, brushing your teeth, tying your hair up in a sloppy braid, pulling a hoodie over your tank top. Sunghoon was already in bed when you slipped back into the room. 

The air in the room was warm, a little stuffy, but somehow very familiar. A faint mix of detergent and something you couldn’t name but had always been his. Just... him.

“Goodnight,” you mumbled, tugging your phone charger to your side of the room.

“Night,” he said, his voice already thick with sleep. And not five minutes later, his soft, uneven snore rumbled gently through the quiet.

You laughed under your breath. He always snored when he was dead tired.

But somehow you weren’t even close to being dead tired.

You laid there, eyes open, staring at the slats in the ceiling. Your blanket was bunched at your waist, legs too warm to be under it, arms too cold to be free. The soft rise and fall of Sunghoons breath should have been comforting, it always was when you couldn’t sleep, but all it did today was echo in your chest. Usually if you couldn’t sleep and Jaemin was home you would have slithered into his bed and tried to fall asleep listening to his heartbeat or his breathing, but you really didn’t want to ask your ex to cuddle you because you couldn't sleep. 

God, the whole room smelled like him. That was unfair.

You gave up just before 2am.

Silently, carefully, you slid out of bed, grabbed your iPad from the tote near the door, and crept into the hallway.

The house was quiet. Not the hospital quiet you were used to, filled with beeping and heavy footsteps, but real quiet.

You made your way into the main room and curled up in the corner of the couch, dragging your hoodie sleeve over your hands to warm them. With a sign you opened anki and tried to focus. 

Somewhere around half an hour later, your phone buzzed.

Jaemin: The restaurant looks really good. How did they get you to hike up there tho?

You huffed out a soundless laugh.

You: It’s 2:37.  Why are you alive.

Jaemin: Nightshift.  And I’m on break. Why are YOU alive.

You: Can’t sleep.  Again. Brain won’t turn off. So i am studying. 

Jaemin: Of course you are. You absolute gremlin. If you are still active on anki when i take my next break ill come to that house and steal your electric devices! 

You in fact were still active on anik when Jaemin had another break at 4:30 am but decided not only because he was scolding you, but also because you finally felt exhausted, to sleep.  ──────────────────────── The floor creaked under your weight when you tiptoed back into your room. Sunghoon stirred as you slid into your bed again, but didn’t wake up. 

You weren’t sure what woke you, the creak of the door, maybe, or the sudden burst of cold air against your legs when the blanket shifted, but the next thing you registered was a high-pitched squeal:

“Uncle Sunghoon!”

You heard the thud of a small weight launching itself onto Sunghoons bed, followed by the sound of tiny feet thumping against the mattress and Sunghoon’s very quick, very groggy, “Shhh, hey. Haneul, not so loud. Shhh.”

You blinked your eyes open slowly. The light in the room was already too bright for how little sleep you’d gotten. Your head ached dully behind your eyes and your limbs felt like lead, every cell protesting the idea of being awake.

Still, a part of you couldn’t help the soft pull at your mouth when you saw Haneul crawling over the covers, tugging at Sunghoon’s sleeve.

“Aunt Y/N is still very sleepy so we have to be very quiet, okay?”, he asked her while sitting up and pulling the giggling toddler into a hug. 

“Breakfast”, she said with a bit too much enthusiasm into her pacifier, only to be sushed by Sunghoon again. 

“Let’s get some breakfast for you and let Aunt Y/N sleep, huh Haneul? Is that fine for you?”

The toddler nodded enthusiastically and clinged to Sunghoon's upper body when he untangled himself from his blankets.  

You didn’t say anything, just pressed your cheek into the pillow and let your eyes close again, heart catching strangely at the sound of Sunghoon’s voice speaking for you. 

The door clicked softly shut behind them. ──────────────────────── When you woke up again, it was well past ten.

It was quiet. You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes harshly before making your way into the bathroom on the hallway. It was cold inside, someone left the window open after showering. Soft morning light filtered into the room while you washed your face and brushed your teeth.

The floor creaked faintly when you shuffled into the kitchen. It smelled like food and your stomach grumbled loudly when you saw the plate of fried egg and toast on the counter. A stickynote was glued to the waterbottle next to it: “We took Haneul to the petting zoo! Didn’t want to wake you, you looked exhausted. We’ll be back around lunch. Text if you need anything ♡”

You stared at the note for a moment, rubbing at the sleep still clinging to your face. They left without you. You reached for the note. Somehow you were glad that they let you sleep in but you were missing out. Again. Even though you finally had the time to actually come along. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts quickly, they meant well. And them not being there until lunch meant you could maybe be a bit more productive than last night. After a long warm shower you actually styled your hair for once, curling the edges slightly and bundled yourself up to go down to the city. The air outside was crisp and smelled like rain when you took a deep breath through your nose. You wandered without much direction, letting your feet carry you past a few small shops before finding a little cafe tucked between two houses. Its windows were fogged up and it seemed like half of the town was squeezed into the little space. The bell above the door chimed quietly when you made your way in. A couple sitting near the window stood up the moment you entered so you settled into their seat as soon as they gathered their used cutlery. You ordered a coffee and one cookie and pulled out your Ipad. You almost didn’t notice the waitress returning with your order, already flipping through your notes. It was almost embarrassing how much comfort you found in pharmacology charts. 

Almost an hour later you took a toilet break and used the chance to look at your phone.

Yujin: where u at?? we're back!!! 

You smiled a little and typed back a short reply: Y/N At a café. I didn’t feel like staying in the house alone.  Thanks for letting me sleep in

Yujin: No worries. It was boring anyway. There were like 3 sheeps and a fuck ton of mud. Haneul was excited tho so it’s whatever She is napping rn and we’re gonna nap as well. She woke the whole house up at 7 am.  What do you wanna eat for Lunch later? Jay is cooking 

Y/N Yikes. I don’t really care.  Text me when you wake up, I’ll come back to the house <3

Yujin:Will do <3 

Fifteen minutes passed, maybe twenty, before someone tapped your shoulder. You glanced up, expecting it to be the waitress. But when you turned around it wasn’t the waitress, it was Sunghoon. 

His hair was slightly tousled from the wind and he was holding up two cups, wearing that same quiet smile you’d seen on him a hundred times before. One that was more eyes than mouth.

"Hey," he said, setting the drinks down before sliding into the seat across from you. 

You blinked. “Hi Sunghoon. What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t feel like sleeping,” he said shrugging. “And I have to work a bit. One of my clients has been sending me emails nonstop. So I figured I could join you.”

“I-uhm- sure,” your gaze dropped to the cup he placed in front of you. It was Yuja tea. Your favorite.

He leaned back in his chair, unzipping his laptop bag. “I swear this client is causing me to grow gray hair prematurely,” he said casually. 

You huffed a soft laugh, watching as he opened his laptop. “I know a good hair dresser that could help out with that.”

“Thank you Y/N. I’ll come back to that in a few years.”, he just chuckled.

You stared at him for a second longer than you should’ve before shaking yourself out of it and turning back to your tablet. “I’m sure it will be sooner than later if you can’t catch a break even on a vacation day,” you murmured without thinking.

He glanced at you, eyes crinkling. “Look at who’s talking.”

You didn’t reply, just hummed and pouted at him. 

You were halfway through your second set of flashcards when Sunghoon asked, voice soft but curious, “Did you sleep alright?”

You leaned back a little. “Yeah. Thanks for saving me from the Haneul alarm clock, by the way.”

That made him laugh quietly. “You owe me big. She was already so energetic at 6 am, I barely managed to keep her from waking up the whole house. Jay the traitor sent her to us cause he wanted to continue sleeping.”

You raised your brows. “He sent her to us? Why that? How did you manage to keep her quiet?”

“Bribery,” he said immediately. “I promised her the chocolate bread Yujin brought if she let you sleep. And that kid loves me. I am officially the favourite uncle so it's just logical.”

You smiled behind your cup. “You’re a real hero.”

“I know,” he said dramatically, then lowered his voice. “Honestly though, I don’t get how she has that much energy.”

You snorted. “Probably from her mom. Minhee was a morning person afterall. And I mean don’t complain you used to wake me up at the crack of dawn when you went out for a run.”

He gave you a look. “Please. Just cause you’re lazy and an evening person, I don’t have to be.”

“Still am,” you said with a grin. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging,” he said, mock-serious. “I’m just saying I’ve seen you do night shifts on nothing but Coke Zero and mint gum. And suffer when having to go to a morning shift even though you slept a whole 8 hours.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh. “I function just fine, thanks.”

He hummed like he didn’t believe you, then went back to typing something into his laptop.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the tapping of keys and the soft hum of conversation around you. 

It was strangely… familiar. The two of you, sitting in this calm pocket of the afternoon, sharing space again. Studying or working together in silence. ──────────────────────── Almost two hours later Jake called Sunghoon to come back to the house. Everyone, including the actual toddler, had woken up from their nap and they were about to start cooking. 

You looked up from your Ipad to look outside. Streams of rain were streaking down the foggy windows. 

“Mhm,” you said, wiping the condensation from the window with your sleeve. “Looks like we are going to get a free shower.” 

Sunghoon's gaze followed yours. “I think I have an umbrella in my bag. Wait a second.” 

He leaned down to lift his laptop bag onto his lap. A small teddy plush was dangling from its handle. 

You chuckled and reached forward to turn it into a front facing position while Sunghoon was searching around in his bag. “This is cute. Where did you get that?” 

“A colleague gifted it to me for my birthday last year,” he said absentmindedly, “ah ha! Look at that. An umbrella.”

You laughed at him when he triumphantly held it up into the air. “Now nothing is stopping us from eating whatever Jay cooked!” 

You both slipped your shoes on and stepped out into the drizzle. The umbrella opened with a snap, and Sunghoon tilted it slightly toward you as you huddled close, bags clutched to your chests.

After five steps, your shoulder was already soaked.

“Can you hold it higher?” you asked, trying to wedge in under the tiny canopy.

“I am holding it higher. You’re just hoarding the dry space,” he shot back, elbowing you lightly.

“Oh, please. I’m sacrificing my entire back right now.”

A gust of wind caught the umbrella from underneath, flipping it slightly and splashing a cold stream of water down both your necks. You shrieked.

You shoved him gently with your shoulder, nearly knocking him into a puddle. “Maybe if you worked out less, there’d be more room under here.”

He snorted. “Don’t blame the broad shoulders. You yourself said my arms are delectable, if i might remind you.”

“I did!”, you said, pressing your side closer into his, “but I didn’t know the consequences of you having a beautiful back and arms would be me being drenched in rain.”

By the time you made it back to the house, your jeans were clinging to your legs, your hair was stuck to your cheeks, and the only dry things were your laptop bags. 

You both stopped in front of the door and stared at it.

“Please tell me you have a key,” you said, already knowing the answer.

Sunghoon patted his soaked pockets uselessly. “It’s inside. I didn’t think we’d get locked out in the wilderness.”

You rolled your eyes and reached up to jab the doorbell. From inside, you heard the muffled sound of footsteps and then the click of the lock.

The door swung open and Ningning blinked at you both, horrified.

“Jesus Christ, what did you do?”

Without missing a beat, you shrugged. “Sunghoon and I decided to share a free shower.”

Ningning took one look at the sad excuse for an umbrella dripping on the porch and stepped aside. “You two are a cautionary tale.”

You walked past her with your bag clutched to your chest like a lifeline. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ning, I called dibs on being the first one in the proper shower.”

“I didn’t hear anything about dibs,” Sunghoon protested behind you.

“I made it spiritual,” you called over your shoulder. “Go dry your pretty arms somewhere else.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, kicking his shoes off. ──────────────────────── Jay had cooked enough to feed an army. The whole table was filled with plates and drinks, most of them non-alcoholic, to your surprise. Hanuel had claimed Sunghoons to be her chair of choice for the dinner. 

You’d ended up on the far end of the table, half-listening to a conversation between Heeseung and Jake about whether or not a smart fridge was a worthy investment, but your gaze kept drifting. You weren’t even trying to be subtle about it.

Sunghoon had one arm loosely wrapped around Haneul to steady her, the other wielding a spoon with exaggerated precision.

“Here comes the airplane,” he said, swooping the spoon in mid-air. “It’s approaching the hangar! Landing initiated in three… two… one!”

Haneul squealed and opened her mouth wide, clapping her hands when he made a whooshing sound as the spoon “landed.”

You smiled. You just couldn’t help it.

He did it again. And again. Each time with a new variation. Rocket ship. Puppy taxi. Bubble boat. Her tiny body rocked with laughter, head thrown back as he played along, utterly unbothered by the food smeared across her cheek or the rice sticking to his sleeve.

You watched the scene unfold with something warm and gentle blooming in your chest.

It felt a bit bittersweet at the same time. You were a stranger in a room full of uncles and aunties, despite knowing all the uncles and aunties for years, god forbid you even helped her being born, but you were never there. You never gave her a chance to know you as auntie Y/N.

Your eyes stayed on them.

He was so at ease. Smiling, shoulders relaxed, wearing a oversized hoodie, his hair still slightly damp from his shower.

He glanced up once, catching you watching. He gave you a little wave with the spoon before turning back to Haneul.

You looked down at your plate, cheeks flushed, fingers suddenly fidgety.

Jake nudged your elbow. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Jake hummed and you knew he didn’t believe you. You didn’t believe yourself either.  ──────────────────────── After you finished eating and cleaning the dining room, the group gathered in the living room. Haneul had asked if you could watch Cinderella so the whole group decided that, ten adults should somehow squeeze onto the two sofas in front of the TV to watch Cinderella. 

Someone had dimmed the lights, and you ended up tucked into one corner of the couch, knees bent, feet slipped under Yunjin’s thighs for warmth. She didn’t even blink, just handed you the end of the blanket.

Sunghoon was on the floor, his back against the couch, Haneul wrapped around him. Her small body had gone lax with exhaustion, one cheek pressed to his chest, her breathing deepening slowly halfway through the movie.

You had your kindle on your lap. You were reading one of the books you downloaded a while ago. It was something sweet and uncomplicated, the kind of story that usually soothed your overworked brain. But tonight, you couldn’t concentrate on the story at all. You signed and closed the book. Your gaze wandered through the room until it was stuck on Sunghoon again. 

He wasn’t watching the movie either. His eyes were half-lidded, head tilted slightly toward the toddler, arms looped protectively around her. The flickering light from the screen caught on his lashes and jawline.

Your stomach twisted. Not sharply. Just a soft, odd pull, warm and aching all at once.

He looked good like this. You had such a weak spot for kids and seeing him holding her like that just did something to you.

You ducked your head, trying to focus on your book again. But somehow, your hands wandered. You scrolled past your current novel and opened a medical textbook.

Prenatal Cardiac Anomalies: A Diagnostic Overview.

Somehow the thought of continuing reading through your textbook felt easier than reading a romance novel right now.  ──────────────────────── You were tired.

God, you were tired.

But your brain… your brain was still ticking. It didn’t matter how warm the blanket was, how silent the house had gone once everyone scattered to bed. It didn’t matter that Sunghoon was across the room, already passed out, snoring softly into his pillow.

Your eyes stayed open.

You lay there staring at the ceiling for ten minutes. Then twenty. Then maybe thirty. And still, your thoughts didn’t quiet down. 

So you slipped out of bed and crept down the stairs to curl up in the armchair in the wintergarden. You told yourself you’d just review a bit more.

Just enough to stop your brain from chewing itself alive.

But ten minutes in, you were still reading the same sentence.

Something about estrogen receptor profiles.

It might as well have been written in Greek. You read it. Then reread it. Then again. 

Your fingers clenched around the edges of your iPad, frustration was simmering somewhere between your sternum and your throat. You knew this topic. You’d studied it three times already. Why wasn’t it sticking? Why did your eyes feel too dry, your brain too foggy and your heart too tight all at once?

You didn’t even hear his footsteps until a voice broke through your haze.

“Y/N?”

You flinched so hard you nearly dropped the iPad.

“Jesus,” you gasped, clutching your chest. “What the fuck, Sunghoon.”

He stepped inside, hoodie tugged over his hair, barefoot. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You gave him a look and pouted. “Maybe don't sneak on at me then.”

“Sorry,” he said, coming closer to peer onto the glowing screen. “You coming back to bed?”

You shook your head quickly. “I’m fine. I just…couldn’t sleep.”

He looked at you, brow furrowed gently. “So you decided to study?”

“I had to,” you mumbled. “I didn’t finish everything I wanted to finish today.”

“You studied like 4 hours in that cafe today, Y/N.”

“I know, but I am still behind on my plan, since I didn't do enough yesterday.”

He didn’t say anything to that just let himself sink down on the chair opposite to yours, watching you. 

You tried to go back to the flashcards, but your fingers were trembling slightly now. You felt stupid. Weak. Like no amount of time would ever be enough to catch up. Like your worth was balancing on how much you crammed into your already overflowing brain. You did study for hours today, but it felt like nothing stuck. Everything you revised was gone.

“You do this often?” he asked after a while, voice quieter.

You hesitated. “Sometimes.”

“Do you always study when you can’t sleep?”

“Not always,” you murmured. “Sometimes I just… go to Jaemin’s room. Or he comes to mine. It helps. Being around someone. You know.”

He nodded slowly, eyes soft. “I get that.”

There was a long pause.

Then, wordlessly, he leaned forward and gently pulled the iPad from your hand. Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t stop him.

“You’re done for today,” he said.

“Sunghoon–”

“You’re done,” he repeated. “Come on.”

You blinked at him, heart thudding. “But I haven’t finished–”

“I know you haven’t.” His voice stayed calm. “But you look like you’re about to cry and that’s when it stops being useful.”

You stared at him for a second longer. Then finally, with a tiny exhale, you let him take your hand and pull you up. He was right, this was just a waste of time at this point. 

Neither of you said anything as you padded through the hallway together. He didn’t say a word as you crawled back into your bed and turned to face the wall and finally let your eyes close.

But you knew he was still awake, laying in the bed across from you. You heard him shifting across the room, rustling his blanket in the process.

After a few moments he softly said your name. 

“Y/N?” 

He moved again and his bed creaked. “Would it help… if we shared one bed?”

You blinked against the darkness of the room but didn’t answer him.  ──────────────────────── You came down later than usual the next morning.

The floorboards creaked under your socks as you descended the stairs, the scent of toasted bread and instant coffee already filling the air. 

When you turned the corner, Sunghoon was sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. His hair was slightly damp and unstyled and he looked just as tired as you felt. His laptop was in front of him, the light reflecting in his glasses and he was frowning at the screen. 

“Morning,” Jake offered cheerfully, mouth half-full of toast.

You smiled faintly at him, tearing your gaze away from Sunghoon's figure. He shouldn’t be working right now, he was on vacation. “Morning.”

You moved around the kitchen on autopilot, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and grabbing a plate. 

You sat down diagonally across from Sunghoon, not quite opposite, since you knew he didn’t like it when drinks stood behind his laptop. He didn’t look at you, but his foot nudged the table leg once, just enough to make the water in your glass ripple slightly and you look up. He smiled and winked at you. You just rolled your eyes and went back to your slice of toast.

Maybe you should have just said yes yesterday. You knew he didn’t sleep until he was sure you’ve fallen asleep, he never did. He was always too afraid that you would go back to studying if he slept before you did. You did your best and fell asleep shortly after laying down, your body was apparently exhausted enough to just sleep and overpower your ever running brain in the comfort of knowing someone, of knowing Sunghoon, was there.  ──────────────────────── The small market Yunjin made you go to was filled with noise and way too many people. 

The air was sticky and warm in the alleyway the market was located in, thick with the scent of frying oil and sweet batter, fresh fruit and grilled meat. You weaved your way past a stall selling steamed buns, following your friends. They were trying to  find the small samgyeopsal restaurant Ningning found on Naver yesterday. You slowed down a bit to ask Sunghoon if he would like to get some tangerines for his mom. She loved tangerines, especially those from the South of the country, claiming they taste sweeter and better. Whenever you were on trips, Sunghoon and you always brought some for her. You stopped walking when you realized he wasn't behind you anymore, and turned around to scan over the crowd of people. He was a few meters behind you, by the fish tanks, big plastic tubs filled with live octopus and silver fish darting through shallow water.

Sunghoon stood just behind the crowd, Haneul slumped against his shoulder, pacifier in her mouth, red-eyed and sniffly.

She must’ve cried recently, her face was blotchy and her nose was slightly runny. It was pressed against Sunghoon's shoulder, little hands fisted in the back of his shirt. His free hand was gently supporting her back, rocking her ever so slightly as they watched the fish dart around in the shallow water. 

You frowned. Haneul had been off all morning, a bit clingier, a bit paler, her usual chatter reduced to sleepy murmurs. The market noise and heat couldn’t have been helping.

“She didn’t want to be set down,” he said when you approached, his voice quiet. “She started crying again when I tried. We even had to get out her pacifier," he grumbled, seemingly unhappy about that fact.

You stepped closer and softly reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of your finger. “Oh no, Haneulie. Don’t cry, pretty girl,” you murmured.

The toddler blinked at you, her lower lip wobbling around the pink piece of plastic in her mouth.

You turned to Sunghoon. “Do you think she’d be okay with a little sugar?”

He glanced down at Haneul, then up at you. “Sure. I’m not her dad. Why would I say no to sugar? We will just give her back to Jay if she has a sugar high.”

You laughed under your breath. “Good point. I'll be back in a second. Don't move.”

With that, you turned on your heel and started weaving through the crowd again, dodging a group of elderly women with shopping trolleys to reach the fried snack stall. You came back with three twisted dough sticks wrapped in parchment, still warm in your hands.

"Here," you said already in motion to hand Sunghoon one of the kwwaebggis, when you realized he had his hands full of a toddler, "I thought you'd like one aswell."

"Thank you, Y/N", he said and tried to lower Haneul to the ground. She made an unhappy noise and strengthened her grip on Sunghoon's Shirt.

He paused mid-motion. “Okay, okay, I got you,” he murmured, adjusting her on his hip again. “No setting you down today.”

Her head dropped against his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh through her pacifier.

“She’s really attached to you, huh?” you asked, watching them both with an amused smile as you tore off a piece of the warm kwabaegi.

Sunghoon gave a helpless little shrug. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this loyalty, but I’m too scared to test it.”

You laughed softly and stepped a bit closer to the two of them. “Look what I got you,” you said softly, holding out a piece of the kwabaegi to the toddler.

She looked at it and shook her head, burying it more in Sunghoon's shoulder.

"Would you like to give me your pacifier to try? I promise it's very yummy, Haneul.", you said, offering the piece again, but she pushed it away with her tiny palm.

You ate the piece to demonstrate to her that it really is yummy. "Mhm. I really like kwabaegi, Haneul. Uncle Sunghoon does too."

He nodded and adjusted her in his arms. "You should really try one, baby. I am sure you'll feel better afterwards."

She just whined a ‘no’ again.

“Look, Haneul-ah,” you cooed, exaggerating your tone, ripping a piece of kwabaegi off and making an airplane motion towards Sunghoons mouth. “Uncle Hoonie says this is soooo yummy. Right, Uncle?”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened for a beat before he caught on. “Oh, yes. Delicious.” He leaned forward slightly and opened his mouth like a child, eyes wide and dramatic. “Mmm! So yummy!” he moaned, chewing the tiny piece you gave him like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. 

You snorted and ate a piece as well. “See? ”

Then you held out a small piece toward Haneul, who’d lifted her head just a little, eyes watching closely.

“Wanna try, baby?” you asked softly.

She hesitated… then grabbed her pacifier, let it fall to her shirt and opened her mouth.

You placed the kwabaegi gently on her tongue, and she blinked, chewed slowly and then reached for another piece from your hand, a clear sign of approval.

Sunghoon chuckled. “I see how it is. You trust Y/N, but not me.”

“She just knows I am the cooler one between the two of us,” you replied sweetly.

“Thats unfair and a lie. I did the dramatic chewing and everything!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face as you broke off another bit and handed it to her. Haneul leaned forward eagerly this time, her little fingers brushing yours as she took it.

You fished a small pack of tissues out of your bag and started gently wiping the powdered sugar from the corner of Haneul’s mouth, when the three of you finished your twists. Then you handed Sunghoon the tissue while reaching for her water bottle.

“Here, have a sip,” you said, coaxing the toddler into taking a few careful gulps. She wriggled on his hip but didn’t protest much. She was already visibly more content, cheeks flushed from the heat and her earlier tears, but she was neither pouting nor asking for her pacifier so you took that as a win.

Sunghoon stood still, holding the pack of tissues in one hand and watching you quietly.

You glanced up and caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you dabbed Haneul’s sticky fingers.

He blinked, then immediately looked away, letting out a small laugh, the awkward kind he did when he was trying to downplay something.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, taking a step back only to bump into a lady browsing dried squid behind him.

“Ah, sorry!” he murmured, half-bowing in apology, before shuffling back toward you with a sheepish wince.

You raised a brow. “Sunghoon. What was that?”

“Nothing,” he repeated, but his ears were turning red.

You didn’t drop it. “Seriously. What?”

He hesitated, then gave a tiny shrug, eyes darting to the toddler in his arms and back to you.

“It’s just… I don’t know.” His voice dipped lower. “That was really cute. You, with her.”

You blinked.

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, clearly regretting saying it out loud. “I mean…seeing you with kids. Your whole face just lights up. It’s…yeah. That.”

For a moment, all the noise of the market faded.

You swallowed, caught off guard by the softness of his tone, by how gently he was looking at you now.

You cleared your throat, quickly turning back to fish another tissue out of your bag, trying not to read too much into what he just said.

“Well, good thing I’m not completely useless,” you said, half under your breath.

Sunghoon smiled at that and Haneul reached forward again, tugging on your sleeve.

“Aunt Y/N… carry me?” she asked softly, rubbing her cheek against Sunghoon’s shirt.

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “Me?” you asked gently. “Oh sweetheart, I’m not nearly as strong as your uncle. I think he’s better for the job.”

Haneul frowned in protest, her bottom lip wobbling.

“But,” you added quickly, holding out your hand, “I can hold your hand while Uncle Honnie carries you, if that’s okay with you.”

She sniffled once, then nodded solemnly, her tiny fingers curling around yours.

You nodded and smiled at Haneul, who slumped back down onto Sunghoon's shoulder, again, her hand clasped in yours between you.

And when you glanced up, Sunghoon was already looking at you.

Not at the toddler, not at the path ahead. At you.

With a look so full of fondness it nearly knocked the breath from your chest.

You knew that expression. It was the same one he used to wear during study sessions in your kitchen. When you were half-asleep in your shared bed in the morning. When you’d laugh too hard at something dumb and he’d just… stare. Quietly. 

Your stomach flipped, and you looked away with a soft smile

Together, with Haneul nestled between you, the three of you made your way back toward the group. And for just a second, your brain jumped to a version of you and Sunghoon where you weren’t carrying your friend's daughter, but your own.  ──────────────────────── By the time you got back to the house, everyone was exhausted from hiking all day.

Haneul had refused to let go of either of you since the market. She clung to Sunghoon during the cable car ride, her tiny fingers twisted into his jacket. And when the buggy proved too slow and bumpy, she’d whined until you picked her up, only to eventually find her way right back into Sunghoon’s arms, where she dozed off on his chest for most of the walk back from the skywalk.

Now, sprawled out across the largest sofa, she lay curled into Sunghoon’s chest, half-asleep again, one small hand still gripping yours with determined force. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks pink from the sun, and her other fist clutched the sleeve of Sunghoon’s hoodie like a lifeline.

The rest of the group had put on Knowing Bros, half-watching while chatting quietly, half-dozing through the comfortable hum of the evening.

A heavy weight pressed into your side suddenly and you heard Heeseung grunt, while he tried to get comfortable in the small space between you and Ningning.

“Heeseung,” you groaned, cracking one eye open as you felt your entire side get squashed into the person on your right.

"Just continue sleeping Y/N. I'll just get comfortable here," he mumbled curling around his fiance and stealing part of your blanket you were sharing with her.

“You're stealing my space and my blanket,” you muttered, elbowing Heeseung without much force. There was nowhere to go, except closer to Sunghoon, who didn’t seem to mind when you shifted closer, pressed shoulder to shoulder now.

He didn’t say anything, just adjusted the blanket around Haneul’s little body to cover you as well and let her keep dozing on his chest.

The movie played on, and you decided you’d just keep your eyes closed. Not asleep, just letting yourself rest. You didn't want to fall asleep and miss out. You loved being with your friends, you loved how clingy Haneul was to 'Aunt Y/N' so you were simply resting your eyes a bit.

“Wow,” Jake muttered, grinning. “You two stole Jay’s kid and just… went straight back to being disgusting. Feels like high school all over again.”

Sunghoon huffed, not annoyed, but not amused either. His voice was low, careful. “Can we not do this right now? She’s finally sleeping.”

Jay chuckled. “She didn't get enough Coke Zero today.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon said. You could feel him shift, tucking the blanket tighter around you both. “She isn't sleeping at night. She comes up with us and gets ready and then an hour later goes downstairs to study. I had to talk her into going back to bed yesterday.”

There was a small pause, the only sound in the room coming from the TV.

Jake softly asked: “Is she okay?”

“I mean, yeah,” Sunghoon said. “She says she’s fine.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I didn’t say that,” he muttered. “It’s just… She’s tired.” “She’s always tired,” Yunjin said gently. “That’s what happens when you work twelve-hour shifts and study during breaks.” “No one would be surprised if she was burned out,” Heeseung added. “Honestly, with the way she pushes herself? She hasn’t slowed down in years.” There was a beat of silence. Then Yunjin spoke again, her voice tinged with guilt: “I kind of hoped this trip would be a break for her. Some actual rest. Not… cramming after we all pass out.”

Your fingers curled slightly under the blanket. You hadn’t meant for them to know. You were just trying. Trying to stay on track. Trying to not fall behind. Trying to not lose the rhythm you’d worked so hard to keep. Sunghoon’s voice was quiet now, something resigned in it. “She just doesn’t know how to stop. She never has." Ningning shifted beside you and whispered, “She’s gonna be okay, right?” Sunghoon exhaled. “She’s Y/N. She’ll keep going. Even when she shouldn’t.” You wished you could say something. Reassure them. Reassure yourself. But instead, you curled slightly closer and let yourself feel what you usually didn’t have time to: the ache of being known and the comfort of being loved, even if it was from behind closed eyes. ──────────────────────── It was past midnight again, and the house had long since gone quiet. The others had woken you up when they got ready for bed and you followed them upstairs, bruising your teeth, washing your face and curling into your bed, trying to fall asleep again. 

But sleep just wouldn’t come. 

You hadn’t reviewed any of your material today. Not even one section. Not one concept. You should’ve done more.

You needed to do more.

The exam wasn’t going to wait for you to stop being tired. You knew that.

So when Sunghoon's soft snores filled the silence in your bedroom, you silently removed the thick blanket of your body and crept out of the room, hoping he would stay asleep tonight. You felt incredibly guilty for worrying them all, but there was nothing you could do, nothing would help quiet down your head but finishing what you had on your study planner for today.

The soft creaks of the old wood under your feet were the only sounds as you tiptoed downstairs.

You settled on the stairs between the living room and the winter garden, legs tucked beneath you. 

You weren’t reading anything. Not really. Just staring at the same sentence for the fourth time, not even blinking. 

The door creaked open and you flinched slightly.

You didn’t look up until he dropped beside you on the stairs, a water bottle in one hand, his sweatshirt pulled on backwards.

“I thought you were asleep,” you said quietly.

“I was,” he replied, voice even quieter. “Until I wasn’t.”

You both sat in silence for a minute.

Then, finally, he asked, “Do you know why this keeps happening?”

You stared at your cards, thumb brushing one edge again and again. “I can’t shut it off. My brain. It just… keeps going.”

He just nodded slowly, indicating he was listening, so you kept going.

“After we broke up,” you said, your voice low, hesitant, “I was at the hospital.”

He blinked. “Yeah, I know. You worked there even before we broke up.”

“No,” you said. “Not as an employee. I was in the ER. I fainted during my shift. They diagnosed me with burnout.”

His head turned toward you sharply. “You what?”

“In the middle of rounds,” you said softly. “One second I was standing, next thing I know, I was in a hospital bed with an IV. They said it was burnout.”

“Jesus, Y/N…” he whispered.

You gave a small, humorless smile. “I think I knew it was coming. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

His brows furrowed, his jaw tense.

“It wasn’t just the job,” you continued staring outside. “It was the exams, the night shifts, the pressure, that one asshole attending who made my life hell and still trying to be a good girlfriend and friend. Going on dates, and meeting up with the others.”

You drew a shaky breath. “And then… Minhee.”

His head turned at you but you shook your head, not wanting to look at him. 

“That night…” you said slowly. “I think that broke something in me. I’ve never lost anyone before. Not like that. I mean I’ve lost patients yeah. But no one I knew personally. And then suddenly I was holding her hand while her heart stopped. Watching my colleagues trying to save Hanuel's life while her mother was dying right there.”

He closed his eyes.

You nodded. “I think everything that had been stacking up just… collapsed after that. I checked out. I barely remember the two months after.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you, raw and unguarded. “I am so sorry Y/N.”

You didn’t mean to say it, not really, but your voice came out anyway, small and rough.

“I just would’ve needed you back then.”

Sunghoon didn’t move.

You swallowed hard. “Not to fix anything. Not even to do much. Just… a little understanding. I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t care. I was drowning. Studying felt like survival, and everything else, dates, trips, even replying to texts, it felt like walking barefoot through fire.”

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?”

“I didn't know how to,” you said. “You were as close to burning out as I was. We barely even saw each other, and if we did, every conversation we had was around school or my residency or we fought.”

You felt him watching you. 

“I’ve never stopped worrying about you,” he said eventually, voice thick. “Not once since we broke up. We’ve known each other since kindergarten, Y/N. I thought I knew you better than anyone.”

“You did, probably still do.”

“I didn’t know you were collapsing at work,” he said. “I didn’t know you were–fuck, I didn’t help. I kept pushing you to spend time with me when you clearly weren’t doing okay, and I didn’t even see it.”

“Sunghoon.” You finally turned to him. “You were going through the same thing. You were studying for your bar exam. Your internship. Your parents were on your ass about everything. You weren’t supposed to fix me.”

“I still feel like I should’ve seen it,” he murmured.

You exhaled slowly, your head tipping just enough to rest against his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said. “It wasn’t mine either. It just… happened. Life just happened.”

There was a long pause until he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t lift your head. You just waited, breath held tight in your chest.

“I missed you so much,” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “And I hated myself for how things ended. For how I let it get to the point where we couldn’t even talk without hurting each other.”

Your throat tightened.

“I knew you weren’t okay. Not really,” he went on, a little steadier now. “And then…then you just… disappeared. Cut everyone off like we were part of the problem. And maybe we were.” He huffed out a short breath. “I asked my mom about you a few times. But I stopped. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, you know how she is. She would’ve started preparing wedding invitations.”

You let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh.

He didn’t laugh.

“I just didn’t want to believe we’d gone from everything to nothing. But I didn’t know how to reach you without making it worse. So I stayed away.”

You shifted just slightly, your hand brushing his.

“I missed you too.”

You were quiet once more, letting the sound of rain falling against the windows of the wintergarden fill the silence.

After a few minutes you spoke again.

"I think it's happening again," you said quietly, staring straight ahead. “Me burning out.”

Sunghoon hummed lightly, just enough to tell you he was listening.

You closed your eyes. “My last shift, it was NICU. We lost two babies. Two. I had to tell the parents. And I fucking hate that part. You never get used to it. How could I? Their whole world just…” You exhaled sharply. “It’s gone. And they look at you like you’re supposed to make it make sense.”

His hand found yours and he intervened your fingers, softly squeezing them.

“I love this job,” you went on, voice thinner now. “Or I used to think I did. I love the science, the surgeries, the rush of helping someone survive something impossible. But lately… I don’t know. I feel like I’m barely surviving. Like I’m pretending really hard every day. And no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”

A beat passed. Two.

Then you softly continued: “I think I just needed you back then. Even just a little. You didn’t have to fix anything. I just–” your voice caught. “I just needed someone to say I wasn’t crazy for feeling like I was drowning. That I was still me, even when I wasn’t holding it all together. Jaemin does that now. I think it's because he understands the situation I am in the best. He and his boyfriend are struggling a lot at the moment too. Will probably until we had our exam. We're selling our body and soul to work and the bar exam.”

Sunghoon didn’t speak right away. You could hear the sound of him swallowing.

“You should’ve told me,” he said eventually. “Even now. You shouldn’t be carrying this alone. I am glad you're telling Jaemin how you're feeling.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You never were.” He turned his head toward you then, and your gazes met. “Y/N, you were right, we were both breaking back then. I think I was too scared to admit I was burning out and the fact that you weren't saying anything about overworking myself annoyed me. I saw my friends' girlfriends being attentive and making them go out on dates to distract them. I knew you were stressed, I knew it. And I was still pissed you wouldn't look after mw, when I should have probably done that for you, and should have tried fixing our relationship.”

That admission cracked something in you.

You shifted slightly, resting your forehead gently against his shoulder, your voice barely audible now. “I didn’t need you to fix anything. I'm sorry I couldn't be a good girlfriend at the time. I just–I just needed you to stay.

“I’m here now,” he murmured, squeezing your fingers again.  You nodded against him. For the first time in years, you actually felt like crying. Your eyes burned, and you blinked aggressively, to stop your tears from falling. You weren’t going to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not again. You were over this, over him. Or at least you liked to pretend you were. But before you could even swallow it back, you heard it, the softest of inhales, the quietest shift in posture. You looked up.

Sunghoon had tears in his eyes. Your breath caught. Not because you didn’t think he’d care–you knew he did. But seeing it… seeing him like that, cracked something clean in your chest. You hit him lightly on the arm, voice a little hoarse. “You crybaby.” His mouth twitched. “Me? Look at you, Y/N. You’ve got, like, two tears in your eyes, while I only have one. ” You let out a half-laugh, wiping your face with your sleeve. “You’re such an idiot.” He smiled. The tension eased, just slightly, and he tilted his head toward the house. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go back inside. Just lie down for a bit. Fifteen minutes, max. If it doesn’t work, you can go back to your flashcards or your mad scientist scribbles or whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

You gave him a look. “I mean it,” he said, soft but firm. “Just try.” You hesitated. Then nodded. And let him lead the way. You let him pull you back toward the bedroom without protest this time. The cool night air clung to your skin. Your fingers brushed as you walked up the stairs, but neither of you said anything. Inside, the room was dim and still smelled like him, laundry detergent, something clean and woodsy, and a faint trace of his cologne. “Can you…”, you cleared your throat, “would it be okay for you if we slept in one bed?”

“Sure,” he nodded andpulled his blanket of his bed, waiting until you climbed into yours. When he settled beside you, it felt… natural. Not easy, not uncomplicated, but familiar in a way your body remembered even if your mind wasn’t sure how to handle it. You shifted closer, letting your head come to rest on his chest. His arm moved around you instinctively, pulling you in just enough. But under your cheek, you could feel his heartbeat, quick and uneven, a little too fast.

You blinked against his shirt. “Your heart’s racing.” There was a pause, then a small, sheepish laugh. “I’m a little nervous, okay?” You lifted your head slightly to look at him. “I’m in bed with my ex,” he added, grinning softly. “That’s a first. Cut me some slack.” You rolled your eyes and smacked his stomach lightly. “You’re so annoying.” He chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling under your cheek. “And yet you still chose my bed.”

“Shut up, Park Sunghoon.” “Alright, alright.” He held up his free hand in mock surrender, then shifted again, settling more comfortably. You closed your eyes again, letting the silence wash over you. You weren’t sure when his fingers started moving again. At first, you barely noticed it. Just the faintest drag of skin on skin, slow, barely-there motions on your back where your shirt had ridden up slightly. You stayed still, breathing shallow and quiet. But then he began tracing shapes. Letters. You tensed slightly.

A straight line… a curve… another curve…

“H.” Your brows knit together in the dark. He was spelling something. “I.” You bit the inside of your cheek. It took all your focus not to turn your head and answer. “S-T-I-L-L.” Still. He paused for a second. You weren’t sure if he thought you’d fallen asleep or if he just needed a breath.

Then more. “H-E-R-E.” Still here. “A-L-W-A-Y-S” You closed your eyes. Squeezing them shut to stop them from watering again. He kept going, slower now. His fingers drifted over your spine, across your shoulder blade, gentle and soft. He traced small hearts once. A spiral. A star. A shaky infinity sign that made your lips twitch the tiniest bit. Your heart pulled in two directions, overwhelmed by how tender it was, and aching because it had ever stopped being normal. You didn’t remember falling asleep. Only that somewhere between the letter R and the little loop he drew beneath your ribs, your mind finally, finally, shut up.

And this time, sleep came easily. ──────────────────────── When you woke up the next morning you were alone in bed. Sunghoon's side was still warm, so you assumed he just got out of bed a few minutes before you. You yawned and stretched yourself before making your way to the bathroom and then downstairs, where you found Jay and Sunghoon on the sofa, Hanuel curled onto Jay's chest watching bluey.  "Good morning.", you said, letting yourself fall onto the sofa next to Jay.  "Good morning Y/N."Jay greeted gently combing through his daughter's black hair. 

Her face was flushed. "Is Haneul okay?", you asked and reached out to put a hand on the toddler's forehead. "She is a bit warm, isn't she." "Yeah she got sick.", Jay mumbled looking down at her with a worried facial expression. “She woke us up twice tonight. Seol spent half of the night down here, reading and watching TV. She is sleeping upstairs now.” “Mhm,” you said touching your and Jay's forehead, “she definitely has a mild fever. Did you bring any medication? I don’t have child approved medication on me, but I could go down to the farmacy?” “Oh. No no, don’t worry about that. I’ll go down by myself when she wakes up again. I just don’t want her to wake up right now, she has just fallen asleep.” “Ah Jay. It’s not a problem. Imma get Haneul the good stuff and she will be up and about in no time.”, you said, lifting yourself from the sofa. “Are the others still sleeping?” “Yunjin and Tae are on a sunset hike and Hee and Ningning are probably still sleeping. Jake and Hyerim are doing god knows what.”, Sunghoon answered, lifting himself enough to look into your eyes. “Do you want me to come along?”

“No it’s fine, Sunghoon. Just continue being a pillow. I know my way around medications.”, you smiled at him and walked back upstairs. ──────────────────────── When you came back from the pharmacy, almost everyone was flopping around in the living room. A rerun of Hotel De Luna was running on the TV, while the others were spread across the living room. Yunjin had returned from her hike and was now tucked into a beanbag with Tae sharing her blanket, both sipping warm drinks. Ningning was sprawled across Heeseung’s lap, sleeping in a seemingly very uncomfortable position. Jake and Hyerim were talking to themselves. The only person who looked truly awake was Sunghoon, who sat in the corner of the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, hair still slightly tousled. He looked relaxed, almost peaceful. You walked in quietly, the door clicking shut behind you. He turned toward the sound instinctively, eyes softening when they landed on you. “Mission successful?” he asked. You lifted the paper bag triumphantly. “She’ll be back to bossing us around in no time.”

A few of the others hummed in acknowledgment, but most were too absorbed in the episode or their own tired haze to respond. A few minutes later, you crossed the room and dropped into the open space beside Sunghoon with a dramatic sigh. You were holding your Kindle in one hand and tugging the edge of the blanket with the other. He didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly. You nestled into the sofa, tucking your legs up and leaning into his warmth. His hand rested loosely around your shoulder.  You didn’t say anything, either. Just opened your Kindle and flipped through a few pages of a medical casebook, pretending to read. Truthfully, your attention was split, maybe 30% on the text, and the rest on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way your body fit so easily against his again, the quiet intimacy that still lingered despite everything unspoken. You probably should really speak about what was happening right now, how you just shared a bed for the night, how you almost automatically curled back into him here on the sofa.  He shifted once to help you get more comfortable, tugging the blanket up slightly over your legs. Somewhere in the background, IU’s voice echoed through the room, wistful and distant. ──────────────────────── You were half-curled into Sunghoon’s side, Kindle balanced against your thigh, when soft footsteps padded down the stairs. Everyone turned instinctively. Jay was holding a sleepy but clearly stubborn Haneul in his arms. Her hair was flattened to one side, and her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes lit up as she spotted you across the room. “Oh no,” Jay said dryly. “She saw her targets.” You smiled and waved. “Hey, baby.”

Haneul wriggled immediately, demanding to be put down, and tottered toward the couch with single-minded purpose. You shifted to make space between yourself and Sunghoon, assuming she’d collapse into his lap. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached for you, tugging at your arm with surprising insistence. “Auntie.” You blinked. “Me?” Haneul nodded seriously. “Wanna sit with you.” “Oh,” you said, glancing briefly at Jay, then Sunghoon, who just shrugged. “Okay, come here then.” You lifted her gently into your lap, wrapping the blanket around the two of you as she cuddled in, her body still warm with fever. She exhaled with a small sigh and pressed her cheek to your chest, thumb slipping into her mouth. A few seconds passed before she spoke again. “Read me something.” You laughed softly. “I don’t have any kids books, sweetheart.” “I’ll get one,” Sunghoon said, already pushing to his feet. He disappeared toward the hallway bookshelf and returned a minute later with a battered picture book in one hand and his laptop under his arm.

You adjusted Haneul against your chest and cracked the book open. The toddler watched intently as you began to read in a soft, lilting voice. Sunghoon flipped open his laptop beside you, fingers flying over the keyboard. His brows were furrowed in concentration. You glanced at him once between pages, catching the faint crease between his brows as he focused on whatever email or report had stolen his attention. You weren’t sure if he was even hearing you read, but every time Haneul pointed at a picture or giggled at a silly voice you made, his mouth twitched upward. Your voice stayed low, barely above a whisper. You were careful not to disturb the others scattered across the room. The rain hadn’t stopped outside. It clung to the windows, soft and persistent, like background music. And as you sat there, Haneul tucked into your chest, Sunghoon typing beside you, the slow unfolding of a quiet day, you felt something strange settle into your chest.

A deep, aching kind of comfort. The kind that made you wish time could slow down just a little more. ──────────────────────── Haneul had dozed off again halfway through the story, one tiny hand still clutching your shirt. You eased the book shut, careful not to jostle her, and glanced sideways just in time to see Sunghoon exhale sharply and throw his head back against the backrest. He looked tense. His jaw clenched, one hand still hovering over the keyboard as if he couldn’t quite let go of whatever he’d been typing. His laptop remained open, screen glowing faintly in his lap. “You okay?” you asked quietly. He didn’t answer right away, just ran a hand through his hair, eyes fluttering shut for a second before opening again. “I want to commit murder,” he said flatly. You blinked. “That’s a strong reaction for a children’s book.” He huffed a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his temple. “No, the client I’m dealing with. Complete nightmare. I’m technically marked as absent and yet they’ve decided today is the perfect day to need everything from me. Everything. Like the rest of my team just collectively forgot how to think without me.”

You frowned. “Wait, they’re contacting you now? I thought you weren’t on call?” “I’m not,” he said, voice tight. “But apparently my senior colleagues are allergic to solving things on their own. And this client–” he cut himself off, then muttered under his breath, “not even a fucking day of peace.” You raised a brow at the rare slip in language. “Sunghoon.” “I know,” he said, eyes flicking over to you with a faint grimace. “Sorry. I just–I really needed this trip. I wanted to turn everything off and just breathe, you know? But now I’ve spent the last hour writing emails.” You reached out with your free hand, pressing your fingers lightly to the back of his arm in silent reassurance “I get it,” you murmured. “Really. And… for the record? You’re allowed to be mad. You work harder than half the people I know.” He shook his head slightly, lips curving into something tired. “Coming from you, that’s saying something.” You smiled faintly and leaned back against the cushions, careful not to disturb the sleeping toddler. ──────────────────────── The house had settled into that kind of stillness only rain could bring. Outside, water tapped gently against the windows, and inside, nearly everyone had retreated to their rooms or dozed off somewhere across the couch-filled landscape of the winter garden and living room. The only sounds left were the occasional creak of the old roof beams and the faint hum of Bluey reruns still playing on loop. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

But between the warmth of the blanket, Haneul’s little body curled into your chest, and the rhythmic clacking of Sunghoon’s keyboard across from you, your eyes had fluttered shut. The last thing you remembered was thinking I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute. When you woke again, the light had shifted, softer now, dimmer. Late afternoon. Your head felt heavy against the sofa cushion, and Haneul was still curled into your front, snuffling quietly in her sleep. You didn’t move yet, not wanting to disturb her. Sunghoon was still there. Still working. Still typing. He looked up the moment your breathing changed, gaze softening as it landed on you. “Hey,” he said, voice quiet. “You’re awake.” You blinked at him, still halfway between dream and reality.

He leaned forward and, with gentle fingers, brushed a loose strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was fleeting but warm, and it made your chest ache in that familiar way. “You should go back to sleep,” he murmured. You made a low noise in your throat, the closest thing to a protest you could muster. “No. I gotta… study. A little.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval, leaning back into his corner of the sofa again. “You’re impossible.” You cracked one eye open. “You’re working too, Park. Don’t throw stones from your glass house.” That earned a small, reluctant laugh from him. “Touché. Without moving too much, careful not to jostle Haneul, you reached to your side and grabbed your iPad, placing it on the throw pillow next to you. Your thumb opened your note app with practiced ease, screen glowing softly in the dim room. You balanced it on your knee and leaned your chin against the top of Haneul’s head.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything more. Just returned to his laptop, fingers dancing across the keys, the occasional sigh slipping through his nose.

Hours later you sat curled in the corner of the bench, legs tucked beneath you and the blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. The rain beat gently against the windows of the winter garden, the soft patter rhythmic and constant. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out there, long enough for your tea to go cold and your thoughts to grow heavy. So much of your life has been made up of early mornings, late nights, bright lights, white coats, cold coffee. And now, watching your friends build lives around you, with children, with partners, with memories you weren’t part of, you wondered if you had ever truly lived at all. Or if you just... worked. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, knees tucked to your chest, trying to chase away the cold that wasn’t really from the rain. You hadn’t meant to think about the what-ifs again, but somehow, watching Sunghoon be so soft with you and Haneul all day, made you feel nostalgic for something you never had. He would’ve been a good dad. A quiet shuffle of feet behind you made you blink. You didn’t have to look. You knew it was him.

Sunghoon sat beside you, close enough for your shoulders to brush. The bench shifted under his weight. “Penny for a thought?” he asked gently. You didn’t answer at first. Just stared out into the night. “I always thought we’d get married,” you said eventually, voice smaller than you meant it to be. “I thought we’d have a kid by now.” He didn’t answer for a long moment, just let his gaze follow yours into the wet dark beyond the glass.

“I know,” he said. “I thought that too.” You finally turned to look at him. His profile was shadowed, the dim lights of the living room catching in his lashes, in the soft fall of his hair. “I had a whole proposal planned,” he continued. “In Vietnam, you know that trip we were planning? I was gonna pretend we were just taking pictures at sunset, hand you the camera, and when you turned around… I’d be on one knee.” You let out a shaky breath. “That sounds like something you’d do.” “Cheesy?” “Yeah. I would have loved it.” He laughed under his breath. “I thought so.”

You were quiet for a long moment, then said, “I’m sorry.” He looked at you, brows drawing slightly together. “I’m sorry for putting work ahead of everything. For choosing my studies over us. For shutting you out.” You paused, breath catching in your chest. “I thought I could balance it all. But I couldn’t. And then I didn’t know how to tell you that without feeling like I was failing at everything.” His gaze softened. “Y/N…” Your throat tightened and you had to fight the tears already. “I never stopped being proud of you,” he said quietly. “Even after everything. Even when you disappeared on us. I admired the hell out of what you’re doing. You’re literally helping people survive. I could never do what you do.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand. I’m not–” You swallowed. “Jay. I let Jay down. I let Minhee down.” He turned to face you more fully. “What?” Your fingers twisted into the edge of the blanket. “Minhee. She–” You exhaled shakily. “I know it wasn’t my fault, I know that rationally. But every time I see Haneul, all I can think is… maybe I did something wrong. Maybe if I had caught something earlier or said something–” “Y/N.”

“–or checked her labs again, or called the OB sooner–" “Y/N,” he said again, firmer this time, but not unkind. “You know it wasn’t your fault.” “I do,” you whispered. “But that doesn’t make it feel any less like it is.” He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because we had just broken up,” you said. “Like, just. And I didn’t want to burden you. You were trying to move on. And I felt like I was breaking into a thousand pieces. I kept telling myself I deserved it. That I couldn’t hold onto you and try to be this version of myself I thought I had to become. And you had to be there for Jay. His girlfriend just died and he had a newborn at home. And I couldn't bear being around him or her. I was too afraid he thought I was responsible, even if I wasn't.” “I would’ve dropped everything,” Sunghoon said, and his voice cracked slightly. “If I had known, I would’ve been there. No questions asked. Heeseung was there for Jay. Jake was too. His and Minhees parents. I could have been there for you.” You closed your eyes. “I wanted to call you. I did. A hundred times. But I thought… it would just make it worse.” He looked away, swiping a hand over his face. “I hate myself for not trying harder. For not asking. For just letting you go.” You exhaled slowly. “Do you think we would’ve made it?" He paused for a second. “Yeah,” he said. “If we’d had the time.”

Sunghoon was quiet for a moment again. Then he looked at you more fully, like he was trying to find the pieces of the girl you used to be underneath all the weight you carried now. “I never told you this,” he said softly, “but I used to love watching you dream. You were so sure about everything. Med school. Family. How you were going to do it all.” He paused. “Even when I didn’t believe in myself, I believed in you.” You closed your eyes, because if you didn’t you might really cry this time. “You know,” you whispered, “I feel like I’ve been running nonstop. And now that I’m here… I realize I haven’t really lived. I’ve just… worked.” He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. “I wanted to be with you,” you added, more quietly. “But I didn’t know how to let myself stop. Even now, the thought of having free time makes me anxious.”

He shifted slightly. “I think… we were both overwhelmed. I kept thinking it was just a phase. That we’d get through it.” “I should’ve fought harder for you.” “I should’ve known you needed help.” His hand found yours, slowly, uncertainly, but you didn’t pull away. Your fingers slid into his, warm and familiar. You turned toward him, your faces closer than they’d been in years. It would’ve been so easy. “We shouldn’t…” you began, voice trembling, uncertain. Sunghoon’s voice was low, steady, but there was a faint, familiar ache beneath it. “You remember when we weren’t supposed to kiss in your room? Back in high school?” Your breath caught.

You nodded, just barely. “We still did.” His lips quirked, but it wasn’t quite a smile. It was something softer. Sadder. Full of things unsaid. “Yeah. We still did.” His hand, warm and tentative, slid up your arm. A slow touch, like he was memorizing the shape of you all over again. Your skin tingled where his fingers passed, your breath tightening in your chest. There was a pause. A heartbeat. Then he leaned in.

You met him halfway. The first brush of his lips was featherlight. A ghost of contact. Barely there. You surged forward without thinking, lips slotting against his with years of yearning pressed into the space between you. His hand rose to your jaw, thumb grazing your cheekbone as he angled his head, deepening the kiss with.  His mouth was soft but certain, moving over yours like he already knew how you liked to be kissed, because he did. There was no rush, no hesitation, just heat blooming slow and deep between you as your hands found the front of his sweater, curling into the fabric, anchoring yourself to him. You shifted closer, your knees brushing his, blanket forgotten as your body tilted into his space. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck now, his fingers sliding into your hair, holding you steady as his other hand gripped your waist, grounding you. You made a quiet sound, when his teeth grazed your bottom lip. It had been so long. Too long. You’d forgotten how it felt to be wanted like this. To want like this. When you finally pulled away, your breathing was uneven, lips kiss-bitten and your heart in your throat.

You didn’t move far. Just far enough to rest your forehead against his, eyes closed, trying to gather yourself. “Sunghoon,” you breathed. It was all you could manage. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to–” “Don’t apologize,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I wanted to.” He nodded slowly, his breath warm against your cheek. For a long, fragile moment, neither of you moved. Then you exhaled shakily and leaned into him, your cheek resting against his chest, listening to the quiet thump of his heart. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, one circling your back, the other rubbing slow, grounding strokes up and down your spine. “Come to bed,” he said after a moment. 

Your gaze wandered to your Ipad again.  “Y/N,” Sunghoon said again, gently. “Come inside?” You shook your head against his chest. “I can’t.” There was a pause, long and quiet. “I think,” you continued slowly, carefully, “if I lie down now, I might actually go crazy. Just for a bit. I… need to be on my own.” Sunghoon didn’t speak right away.  “Are you sure?” he asked, low. You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come in later.” He lingered for another beat before carefully pushing you off his chest, reaching for the blanket and draping it over your shoulders. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll leave the door open.” You managed a small smile, just enough to make him go.

The quiet that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was taut. Sharp. You felt like a wire pulled tight, humming with tension, unable to let go. You didn’t cry or move. You just sat there with your thoughts screaming and the rain falling and the cold slowly sinking in. Eventually, hours later, exhaustion became heavier than the noise in your chest. It didn’t quiet the buzzing under your skin, but it dulled it. You stood up slowly, stiff and aching, and crept back inside. The house was dark and still.  You padded past the living room and paused. Sunghoon. He was asleep on the couch, arms crossed, head tilted back awkwardly against the armrest. Your heart cracked a little.

You crossed the room carefully and crouched beside him, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. “Sunghoon,” you whispered. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.” He blinked awake groggily, frowning like a confused toddler. “Y/N? Are you done?" You nodded, though it was only half-true. “Yeah. For today. Come on, let’s go upstairs.” You rubbed your eyes as you climbed the stairs, limbs heavy, thoughts slow and grainy. Sunghoon followed silently behind you, both of you lit only by the soft hallway light someone had left on. The house creaked with wind and sleep. When you entered your shared room, you automatically turned toward your own bed, but before you even made it halfway, his hand caught your wrist. You glanced back at him. His hair was a mess, his sweater wrinkled from the couch, his eyes soft in the dim light. There was no question in them. Just quiet certainty. The same kind he always used to have when he knew exactly what you needed before you did. He didn’t say anything, but gently pulled you towards his bed. You didn’t even hesitate. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to crawl in beside him. His arms settled around you like they never forgot how to, one draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. You rested your cheek against his chest, his warmth bleeding into your skin. His heartbeat was steady today, unrushed. ──────────────────────── Seoul greeted you with dull skies and even more rain. The drive back had been quiet. Peaceful. Haneul had napped for most of it. You rested too, half-asleep with your head against the window, the lull of the road and Sunghoon’s soft humming lulling you into a strange kind of calm.  The car slowed in front of your apartment. Jay helped unload your bag from the trunk while Sunghoon stood by, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his hair still mussed from sleep. Haneul, finally awake again, reached for you as Jay hoisted her up and you kissed her cheek, brushing her fever-warmed curls from her forehead. “Text me if she gets worse,” you said softly, and Jay nodded. Sunghoon lingered behind as Jay buckled Haneul back in. He didn’t say much, just held your gaze for a second too long. “I’ll see you soon?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. Soon.” There was so much more you wanted to say. But not here. Not now. You gave them both a small wave and turned toward the building. ──────────────────────── The elevator ride up felt longer than usual.  You dumped your bag, took a quick shower, and pulled your scrubs out of the drawer. It was already getting dark when you finished meal prepping for your nightshift. Seoul pulsed around you, busy and bright, and for once, you didn’t feel entirely swallowed by it.  A few hours later the fluorescent lights buzzed above you, sterile and far too bright. The ward was quiet tonight. You sat at the small desk near the nurses’ station, soft white light illuminating the open binder in front of you. The gynecology wing always had this strange hush at night, even with the occasional monitor beeping, and the distant hum of a cleaning machine.  You had just made your rounds, charted vitals, answered two sleepy buzzers, checked one incision site. Everything was fine. Calm. And yet, you felt like you might break. You blinked, slowly. Your limbs were heavy. Not because you were tired physically you were drained mentally. Your eyes wandered toward the window, where the sky was still black and the city lights blurred through mist. This was the life you had built, wasn’t it? Clean. Efficient. Hard-earned. You were good at this. You were doing everything right.

And still. Still, the ache didn’t go away. You rubbed at your eyes and tried to focus on the chart in front of you, but your thoughts slipped back to him.

To Sunghoon. You sighed. Being with him had felt so easy. So natural. His hand against your spine, his voice calling you inside, his quiet laugh when Haneul demanded your attention. His warmth at night.

You swallowed thickly. You had rested. Really rested. And now, sitting under fluorescent lights again, cold coffee untouched, you felt the absence of it so sharply it almost hurt. The thought of going home to your apartment, to Jaemin and the cats, made your stomach twist. You weren't lonely, no.

You were longing. For the life you hadn’t let yourself have. You could’ve had this. You could’ve had him. If only you hadn’t kept choosing the next task. The next round. The next shift. The next exam. You had kept saying later, later, later. And then later became never. Now, in the quiet lull of the gynecology wing, with healthy babies sleeping peacefully just down the hall, you sat and wondered if you had let your whole life pass by in the name of responsibility. A baby cried softly in the distance. You stood, checked your watch, and made your way down the hall with steady steps.

You were good at this. But you weren’t sure anymore if it was enough ──────────────────────── Two days later the taxi dropped you off just past ten pm. You hadn’t even texted ahead. Your body was still aching from your shift at the hospital today. It wasn’t a particularly hard one but you felt drained. You just wanted to go home. But not to your apartment. Not to Jaemin and the cats. Not to the stack of unread medical journals and the untouched laundry. You climbed the front steps to Sunghoon’s house slowly, heart pounding hard enough that you could hear it in your ears. You hesitated for only a second before knocking, not only because it was late, but because what you were going to do might be more than stupid. The door opened, and his mother’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Y/N?” “Hi,” you said, voice smaller than intended. You felt suddenly too casual in your hoodie and jeans, hair still damp. “I… Is Sunghoon home?” She blinked, recovering quickly. “Yes, of course, he just got back from a work dinner not long ago. He’s upstairs. Come in.”

You stepped into the hallway, offering a quiet “Thank you,” before climbing the stairs with shaky knees. You stopped in front of his door and raised your hand to knock, hesitated, but did it anyway. There was a shuffling sound, then the door opened a crack. He was undoing his tie, sleeves already rolled up, hair slightly tousled like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His eyes landed on you, and he froze. “…Y/N?” Your throat tightened. “I–” you started, then stopped. You blinked at him. 

You laughed, but it came out broken. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said quickly, words tumbling out faster than your brain could filter them. “I just– I finished my shift, and I was walking to the station and I couldn’t go home, I just– I kept thinking about you, and that trip, and how I felt like I could finally breathe and laugh and sleep for the first time in months, years, really–” You were rambling. You knew you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop. “I missed you,” you said. “I missed you so much it physically hurts sometimes, and I’ve been pretending I’m fine and that my work is enough and that I don’t need anything else, but it’s not true. I miss waking up next to you. I miss fighting over takeout menus. I miss your laugh, and how you always steal my side of the blanket." Sunghoon just stared at you, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry I shut you out. I was scared. I thought I had to be this perfect version of myself and I pushed you away thinking it was the right thing, and now I just feel like I ruined everything.” You looked down at your hands.

“I know it’s not fair,” you said. “And I know it’s going to be hard. I have my exam in February, and things won’t suddenly be easy. But if you’d let me, if there’s even a small part of you that still wants this, I’d love to try again. I want to try to be better. To be someone who doesn’t run. To be your girlfriend again.” You hadn’t realized you were crying until his hands cupped your face. “Stop rambling, Y/N,” he said, voice low. And then he kissed you. All the air left your lungs at once. It wasn’t a desperate kiss, or a rushed one. It was slow. Familiar. Steady in a way you hadn’t felt in months. His lips moved against yours like they remembered every detail. His thumb brushed under your eye, catching a stray tear. When he pulled back, your hands had found their way into his shirt. “I would love to try again,” he whispered, forehead against yours.

You laughed softly, tears still running down your cheeks. “Are you sure? I come with a lot of baggage.” He smiled. “You always did.” You swatted at his shoulder. “Rude.” But his arms tightened around you. “I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t care how hard it is. Or how messy. I just want you. Whatever you can give me, I want it.” You closed your eyes and leaned into his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear. “I don’t want to go home,” you whispered.

“Then don’t.” You stood there for a long moment, wrapped in his arms like no time had passed at all. Eventually, he tugged you inside the room and closed the door behind you. “Come on,” he said gently. “You look like you need food and sleep in that exact order.” “I need a lot of things,” you said. “But sleep next to you sounds like a good start.” He gave you one of his shirts, a pair of shorts and a towel, to dry your face after you’ve washed it. When you stepped back into his room, Sunghoon was already under the blanket, hair messy, expression soft. You crawled in beside him and sighed as his arm wrapped around you. His warmth seeped into your skin instantly, and for a long moment, you didn’t move.

“This is so nice,” you mumbled into his chest. “Sleeping next to you.” “You used to complain that I snore,” he said softly.

You smiled. “You do.” He chuckled, fingers gently brushing along your arm under the blanket. A few quiet minutes passed like that. “Your mom’s probably already calling my mom. Bet she thinks there’s finally a realistic chance of sturdy grandkids now.”, you said, readjusting your head on his chest. Sunghoon snorted but then he stilled. And when he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost careful. “Would you want that?” he asked. “Kids… with me?” Your heart gave a small lurch. You blinked slowly, shifting so you could look at him in the dark. His eyes were on you. You swallowed. “Honestly?” You nodded. “I can’t imagine having kids with anyone else.” He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath. You tucked your face back into his chest. “It’s not something I’m ready for. Not now. I don’t even know when I’ll be ready. But… if it ever happens… I’d want it to be with you.” His arms tightened slightly around you. “If this works out again, really works, I’d love that too. Just not right now. Not while you’re barely sleeping and fighting your way through hospital chaos and studying every free second.” You let out a breath. He wasn’t just saying what you wanted to hear. He meant it. You knew him well enough to tell. “I really would love that,” you murmured.

“I want you to have what you’ve worked for,” he said. “Your dream. Your degree. Your own timeline. I’ll support you through all of it. No matter what.” You blinked back the sudden pressure in your chest and reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his beneath the blanket. “Hoon…,” you whispered, not knowing what to say without breaking down in tears. “I’m not going anywhere and I won’t let you ever again,” he promised. And you believed him.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

all feedback and reblogs are welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ my masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @enhastolemyheart @dreamiestay @elairah @vviolynn @engenemilia  @xylatox @firstclassjaylee @mangoescrazy @seokjinthescientist @ddolleri

ᝰ an. ₊ ⊹  dear anons, I hope it was alright I mixed your requests and you enjoyed reading the story, even if I might not have encapsulated your request fully! Burnout is a shit thing to experience. If you feel like you are close to burning out, do take a break. Really. Do. No deadline or test is worth your mental and physical health.

[aethercoreheart]

sylus | 4:24 AM

“Sylus?”

You sweep your arm across his side of the bed and discover it to be empty. You squint into the darkness, your eyes scanning the room – he isn’t here. You sit up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You hear classical music faintly playing from somewhere down the hall. 

You gather the fur throw from the bed, wrap it around yourself and head out of the room. You pad down the hallway, your bare feet making little slapping noises on the marble as you do so. You follow the sound of the music and find yourself in one of the house’s drawing rooms. You stop at the edge of the doorway, peeking past the frame. You see Sylus, wearing his bathrobe, standing next to his vintage turntable, his fingers rifling through his collection of records. You watch as he pulls one out, then returns it, going through a few records before walking away, possibly deciding to leave the one he’s currently playing.

He comes around to the leather sofa, and takes a seat, his hand reaching for his gun on the coffee table in front of him. He starts pulling it apart, his hands deftly moving to disassemble it. He takes a small cloth from the table and begins to polish one of the smaller parts of the gun.

“Well, are you just going to hover at the doorway? Or are you going to come join me?”

His voice startles you, deep and still a little croaky – he doesn’t look up at you, his attention still on the work in his hands. You step out from the shadows into the dim light of the drawing room. Sylus glances at you sideways, and then motions at you to join him on the sofa by tilting his head. You comply, wordlessly walking towards the sofa and sitting down next to him, the throw you took from the bed still hanging around your shoulders.

“You should be asleep,” he tells you, continuing in his polishing. 

“So should you,” you counter, leaning against him. You’re not too familiar with the weapon he’s handling, but it looks to be an old-fashioned pistol. He sure does like collecting antiques. You watch him silently, entranced by the way his long, calloused fingers delicately handle the weapon. 

“So why aren’t you in bed?” you yawn, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Bad dream?”

He pauses in his work, pursing his lips before answering. “The inside of my head has been a little… noisy tonight,” he says, eyes still focused on the weapon. “But it’s fine,” he adds quickly. “I just need to… meditate a little.” He waves the gun in his hand. “This is my meditation.”

“I have another idea – this might help,” you pipe up, and he looks at you sideways again.

“Sweetie, we’ve already done that tonight. Four times for you if I recall–”

“Okay, Sylus,” you interject with a roll of your eyes. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

You take away the pieces of the gun in his hand, and lay them back on the table. He lets you take them, the corner of his lips tugging up into a subtle smirk.

You lay down on the sofa, pulling away the throw from your body. You motion at Sylus to lie down in the small space next to you, which he raises an eyebrow at. 

“Come on,” you croon, trying to make more space for him. “Don’t be shy.”

He sighs, then does as you suggest, lying down in between you and the backrest of the sofa. He squeezes in, half of his weight on top of you, his arm draping over your chest in a light embrace.

“I’m not heavy?” he asks in a murmur.

You shake your head, your arm wrapping around his broad shoulders as much as possible, pulling him into you. Your other hand takes the throw and you cover both you and Sylus with it. He nestles into you, his face nudging into the crook of your neck. 

“What now?” he whispers into your skin. His fingers go for a button on your pajamas, and he toys absentmindedly with it as you settle against him.

“Just listen,” you tell him, placing a hand in his hair. “Maybe this will help drown out the noise in your head.”

Your hand starts stroking his hair, your fingers ruffling through his silver locks. He lets out a long sigh, and you feel his body relax into yours. You start humming, a familiar melody you’ve heard from one of his records – one he puts on when he’s had a particularly rough day.

“I know this one,” he mumbles, his eyelids starting to flutter.

You continue humming, your fingers running through his hair, giving it a soft tug every so often. You listen to his breathing start to slow, his body becoming heavier. Soon, you start to hear him snore, and you finish the song with a last few quiet hums. You place a kiss onto the top of his head, into his hair, willing the voices in his head to be silent for the rest of the night.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Salutations, my liege

For 141 what if series..

...may i ask something silly— perhaps.. having a steamy flirt texting with them, and when they asked for a scandalous picture, reader send a rickroll-

...im sorry-

Absolutely you can! Yes, it's a bit naughty, but it's mostly silliness, and making the guys stress for no reason. Because, why not?

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (mdni): swearing, dirty talk, sexting, humor, pranks & shenanigans, established relationship

Word Count: 1.1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John is at work. But that doesn’t stop him. The texts come in one after the other.

Do you know how hard I am?

Been thinking about you all day.

Can hardly wait for later.

You take my cock so well.

You reply back with equal steam, describing all the ways you want him to fuck you. No detail is left unsaid. It is a lecherous image you paint for him. But fuck is it fun. The man will come home pent up, pouncing on you the moment he’s through the door.

The next text from John comes a full minute later.

Send me a picture.

Send a picture? You could. The potential of his coworkers seeing it over his shoulder isn’t something you’re particularly interested in though. Then again, telling John how horny you are isn’t enough. He might be on you the second he comes home, but you could do with a little roughness. A bit of punishment. Making John turned on and frustrated is always a sure bet you’ll receive what you want.

Opening YouTube, you find the song you’re looking for. A catchy song from the 80’s that’s now a viral trend.

Get ready, big boy, you reply.

You snap a quick, teasing photo. Sending it off.

I’m fucking ready, replies John instantly.

A swoosh, and the link is sent.

You wait. Laugh into your hand. A full minute passes. Then another. Finally, a text comes in.

Send the real thing or I’m coming home early.

You lock your phone, and set it aside, grinning madly as you wait for John to pull into the drive.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Separation has never stopped you. Simon might be elsewhere, but the two of you find time to indulge in every horny urge.

I’m gonna suck your cock until you look like an empty Capri Sun.

You laugh at yourself for texting him that, but as much as he seems aloof, Simon has a wicked sense of humor.

His response is immediate. You can try.

You snort, fingers poised to type out a return message, but the three little bubbles appear on his side.

Lube up the dildo. Suck it off. Send me a video.

You nearly choke on your own salvia. The idea of that is fucking salacious. And as much as you’d like to, you’re also feeling a bit lazy. You’re cozied up on the sofa, covered by a fluffy blanket. Instead of indulging him, you can be a bit of a shit, poking his buttons because it amuses him as much as it amuses you.

The video you do record is easy enough. It looks like you’re about to do the exact thing Simon wants, but with just a quick edit, the screen fades to black, and a certain 80’s hit appears in its place.

It’s hilarious. Sensational. Gold star to you!

You send it off, locking your phone, deciding that you’ll veg out to some mindless television and go to bed at a decent time for once. Simon doesn’t respond to your text, which is odd, but not unusual.

It’s not until after you’ve made yourself dinner that you find out why.

“You never sent me the video.”

Simon’s voice comes from nowhere. You scream, drop your bowl of pasta, and spin around, wielding the fork like a weapon.

“Where the fuck did you come from?”

Simon shrugs. “I have my ways.”

“Simon,” you warn.

His mouth stretches into the faintest hint of a smirk. “And I thought I’d come for the real thing.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is a dog. Hungry. Wanton. If he could, he’d probably live in your skin. Which is why he’s always texting you, sending dirty messages.

Touch yourself. Show me.

You could show him. Snap a few pictures of you pleasing yourself and send them off in intervals to prolong the teasing. It would work him up. Work you up. But there is a better option. An option that’ll drive Johnny crazy—that’ll make him more desperate for what he’s asking for.

You want a picture, you text out.

Aye. Course I do.

Not like he’s gone without. The two of you have exchanged countless photos, and it’s entirely likely that most of the photos saved to his phone are of you. Naughty ones, specifically. Johnny enjoys having them for when he’s gone for long periods of time. A little treat for him, but more like masturbation material.

It’s easy to manipulate a few files, find a GIF online of what you’re looking for. Via text won’t work. You opt for email. It may confuse him, but knowing Johnny, he’ll just be happy you’re sending a naked photo. Not that it is.

It isn’t. It’s you trolling him because he’s always doing it to you.

The email is sent off with a swoosh. You patiently wait, expecting him to reply back with a snarky response.

But when your phone starts to buzz, the screen showing not a phone call but a video chat, you know Johnny means business.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

My dick is so hard.

You taking it when I come home?

Want to see you bounce on it.

You’re grinning like an idiot as Kyle’s texts come in. Kyle doesn’t usually engage in phone sex or dirty talk over text. This is a bit of a treat, and you’re enjoying it, sending back messages that are just as filthy. Kyle isn’t shy about sex, but sometimes it’s nice to see him squirm.

Send a picture. I wanna see you.

He’s too sweet for his own good. And while you’d oblige him otherwise, you also see an opportunity. Why not poke at him a bit. Have some silly fun. What you send him is not a nude.

And Kyle’s response is not a text but a phone call.

You answer. Put it on speaker.

“Did you just send me a Josh Hutcherson fan cam vid set to a cover of Flo Rida’s ‘Whistle?’”

“Didn’t know you were so hip, Kyle.”

“I’m on social media,” he mumbles. He clears his throat. “I still want that photo.”

“Hm. Yeah. Sure thing,” you reply nonchalantly. Kyle says your name with a sternness that excites you. “Have to go!” you say with a bit too much cheer.

Without waiting for his reply, you end the call, and tucking the phone underneath the pillow as it begins to buzz again.

[keirareidss]

hey jude - s.r

♡ summary: Spencer and Jude have a cozy morning, while you struggle with having to be so far away from your family pairing: dad!spencer x mom!fem!reader warnings: heavily inspired by @luveline's dad!Spencer fics (I even stole the name but I literally could not think of a better name for Spencer's kid so all credits go to @/luveline for that) wc: 2.3k a/n: I am definitely planning on writing more dad!Spence (try and stop me I dare you) and I already have multiple in progress fics 😝

Spencer woke to a small weight on his chest. Now usually, that’d be you, or more specifically, the upper half of your body which had rolled over on top of him part way through the night. But you had an early shift today, so that couldn’t be you.

His eyes peeled open to find a mess of brown hair on his chest. His little baby Jude. Well, not technically a baby anymore. Jude Gideon Reid. 

Jude, something you’d suggested after the Beatles song you had always loved but something Spencer had adored because of Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes and desperate situations. And Gideon after Spencer’s mentor.

He raised a hand to smooth it down his son's back, feeling the soft fabric of his little footy pajamas.

“Morning, Judy.” He hummed in a rasp. Jude just snuggled further into his dads neck. “Are you hungry?”

“Kinda.” Came the boy's murmured voice. 

“What are you hungry for?”

“Eggs and juice.” Spencer smiled. He’s been teaching Jude to say exactly what he feels and wants. To tell him if he’s uncomfortable or upset, if he’s hungry to tell him exactly what he wants.

Maybe it was a little irrational to want to grant his son’s every wish, even if that meant driving to the store three times in one day because Jude kept changing his mind, but Spencer didn’t care.

He sat up, keeping the little boy cuddled to his chest, and headed to the kitchen. 

“Scrambled eggs? Or dunkers?” Dunkers were what he called a sunny side up egg and a piece of toast cut into strips for Jude to dunk into the yolk.

“Um… I want dunkers. And can I have apple juice?”

“Of course you can.” Spencer sits Jude in the booster seat at the kitchen island before putting a pan on the stove and plopping some bread in the toaster.

Jude rubs his eye with a tiny fist as Spencer puts a green sippy cup of juice in front of him.

“Thank you.” Jude uses both hands to grab the cup, a little thing that always makes Spencer smile. He wishes Jude would stay this small forever. Tiny enough to fit in his arms perfectly, little fingers only big enough to wrap around Spencer’s thumb.

“You’re welcome.” He drops a kiss onto his head, brushing Jude’s hair back slightly. He had brown curls like his father. He also had his fathers eyes, nose, and his personality. 

You weren’t jealous, though. You loved being able to look at a tiny version of your husband.

“Can I have a sausage?” Jude asked, looking up at Spencer with his big brown eyes.

“Just one?” Jude thought for a moment.

“Uh, I think two.” Spencer smiled at him, endeared.

“Okay. Two sausages coming right up.” He digs the bag out of the freezer, noticing the bag is almost empty and making a mental note to buy more next time he’s at the grocery store.

He’s been staying home with Jude since he was born. You, another BAU agent, decided to go back to work, as much as you wished both of you could stay home.

When you had first gone back, Hotch let you stay off of cases that were out of state. Even now, three years since Jude was born, you stayed in the office most of the time, only joining on a couple odd cases. 

Spencer on the other hand, hadn’t been back to the office other than to introduce the team to his son. He missed them, of course he missed them. But he was absolutely elated to spend every waking moment with the son he never thought he’d have.

He slipped the two sausages off of the pan and onto Jude’s plate. He turned the oven off and leaned back against the counter to watch his son eat.

You always like to say he had a ‘staring problem’. It happens with the people he loves. He gets so enamoured that he can’t help but watch their every move, as if he could somehow decipher why all of those atoms moving in that exact way were so appealing to him.

Why the act of his son lifting a tiny rubber fork to his mouth made his heart swell with adoration. Why watching you wash the dishes after dinner made time stop for a moment.

“I’m done.” Jude’s voice brings Spencer back to his kitchen. He notices the sausage and a half left on Jude’s plate, but he doesn’t care, popping them into his mouth before putting the plate in the dishwasher.

He brings Jude to the sink, wetting a washcloth to wipe his face clean.

“Did you get enough to eat?”

“Mhm.” Jude nodes, curling into Spencer’s neck, his little fists scrunching Spencer’s shirt.

“Okay. Do you want to brush your teeth now, or wait a couple minutes?”

“Wait.” He brought Jude to the living room, setting him on the ground next to the coffee table where his coloring stuff still lay out from yesterday. 

Spencer’s phone vibrated on the table and he flipped it over, spotting a text from you.

💜Wife: Hey, are you up yet?

Pretty Boy😍 : Yeah, what’s up?

💜Wife: We’ve got a case. Hotch wants me to go with.

Spencer typed out and deleted three different responses before deciding to just call you.

“Hey, honey.” Your voice was troubled and he could picture the tension in your shoulders.

“Hey, uh… are you going to go?”

“That’s kind of why I texted you. Would you be okay alone for a few days?” Before every case you went on, you liked to check in with Spencer just in case.

“I’ll be fine. Jude will be fine.” The boy perked up at the mention of his name. “I think you should go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, angel. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” You were still hesitant, making him smile. “I’ll call every night. And I’ll text as much as I can.” He chuckles now.

“Okay. When do you leave?”

“Hotch said wheels up in 20.”

“Okay, hang on.” He pulled the phone away from his ear. “Jude, do you want to talk to mama?” He quickly got up, climbing onto the couch next to his dad. Spencer puts the phone on speaker, handing it to Jude, careful to make sure he doesn’t accidentally hang up.

“Mama?”

“Judy is that you?” Spencer can hear your voice change in an instant, picturing the smile that grows on your face.

“Uh huh. Where are you?” Spencer noticed the pout on his face and smiled reaching out to caress the boys’ head.

“I’m at work baby. What are you doing?”

“I was coloring and I drew a picture of you. I wanna show you it.”

“Tell daddy to send me a photo.” Spencer gently takes the phone, snapping a picture of Jude’s drawing and texting it to you before giving you back to Jude. You gasp theatrically for his benefit.

“Wow, it looks amazing, Jude! Why don’t you go hang it on the fridge?” He drops the phone on the couch, bringing his drawing to the fridge where he hangs it with a little ladybug magnet.

Jude climbs back on the couch. “Mama, when are you coming back?” You go silent for a moment, guilt forming deep in your gut.

“Um… I’m gonna be gone for a couple of days, honey, it’s gonna be just you and your dad.”

“You’re not coming home?” Spencer’s heart broke at the sight of Jude’s bottom lip wobbling, tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Judy. It’s only a few days.”

“I want you to come home.” Before you could respond, Hotch called your name as he descended the stairs, go-bag in hand.

“Are you coming?” He paused near your desk and you hesitated, caught between two parts of your life.

“You can go. We’ll be okay.” Spencer’s voice came through the phone. He’d taken it from Jude, letting the little boy curl into his lap, the tears finally falling.

He stroked his hand up and down Jude’s back, trying to comfort him as best as he could. He didn’t want to make you come home just because Jude was upset. He didn’t want you to have to give up the BAU as well.

You held up one finger to Hotch, turning away slightly.

“He’s crying, Spence.”

“I’ve got him. I’ll keep him distracted and you’ll be home before we know it.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Okay. Uh, I’ve gotta go then. Love you.”

“I love you too.” You hang up, grabbing your go bag and following Hotch to the elevator, guilt sitting like a rock in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, Jude.” He lifted his son further up his chest into his arms.

“Mama.” He whimpered quietly, reduced to singular words from his distress.

“I know. I know, baby.”

You sighed as you slumped onto the hotel bed in your dark, lonely room. It was only the second day on the case in Georgia and you were already exhausted and homesick.

You checked your phone. Three texts from Spencer.

Pretty Boy😍: How’s the case going? 1:49 PM

Pretty Boy😍: I miss you. So does Jude. 5:01 PM

Pretty Boy😍: Are you back at the hotel yet? 7:22 PM

💜Wife: Just got back. Can I call you? 7:37 PM

Your phone was ringing a moment later and you picked up, hearing Spencer’s voice on the other end.

“Hey. How’re you doing?” He spoke softly and you pictured him lounged on the couch, maybe a book in his lap, abandoned so he could talk to you.

“I’m okay. Is Jude still awake?” Spencer’s silent for a moment.

“Uh, I just got him to go to sleep. I’m sorry.” You swallowed thickly, brushing a hand down your face, frustrated tears forming behind your eyes.

You hadn’t been able to talk to Jude since the night before you left. Three days. You missed him dreadfully.

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed, self-deprecation clear in your tone. He says your name with remorse but you cut him off. “Let’s just- can we talk about something else?”

“Okay. How’s the case going?”

“It’s rough. I can’t wait until we’re done. I can’t wait to come home.”

“Me too.” Silence replaces the quiet conversation. “Do you want to-”

“I should go-”

“Oh… yeah, sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Night, Spence.”

“Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You murmured before hanging up, tossing your phone on the nightstand, and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

It felt a lot more lonely laying in a dull hotel room without Spencer beside you.

Five days. Five grueling days away from your husband and son and you were ready to be home. You had called Spencer almost every night and texted often, in fact, you texted him as the plane landed that you were on your way home.

You sighed as you stopped at your front door, sluggishly flicking through your key ring to find the right one. Once you got the door open, you were immediately comforted by the sound of your son’s giggling and the scent of home.

“Honey, I’m home!” You called jokingly into the house, immediately hearing little footsteps approaching.

“Mama!” Jude came into view, a toothy smile on his face as you crouched down to catch him in your arms.

“Hi, baby.”

“I missed you.” He says into your neck, his hands fisting in your shirt as you hold him tight.

“I missed you too, Judy.” Spencer wasn’t far behind, appearing in the entryway a moment later. You try to pull away but Jude doesn’t let go, whining when you move, so you opt to stand, lifting him into your arms.

“Hi angel.” Spencer steps forward, wrapping his arms around you and Jude together his head on your other shoulder. You quietly hum an unintelligible response to him, basking in the warmth of your family.

Your husband moves away, letting you carry Jude to the living room where you sunk onto the couch, the little boy cozying himself in your lap, content to not leave your side for the rest of the night.

“Are you hungry? I made parmesan chicken last night, there’s still some leftover.” Spencer leaned over the back of the couch to look at you.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” You turned, slanting a kiss over his jaw. He goes to get you a water anyway, just to have something to do with himself or because he knew you tended to get dehydrated on cases, you didn’t know.

He passes you the glass as he sits down next to you, reaching over to stroke a hand up and down Jude’s back as the boy curled into you, yawning.

“Are you tired, Judy?” You cooed, endeared. He mumbles something too quiet for either of you to understand and you chuckle. “Should we go get ready for bed?”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” He lifts his head from your chest to look up at you with pleading brown eyes.

“Of course you can, baby. Why don’t you go pick out some pajamas?” He scrambles off your lap, rushing to his bedroom to dig through his closet.

Meanwhile, you shuffle closer to Spencer, letting your head drop on his shoulder as you sighed. He drapes his arm over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Good to be home?”

“Definitely. I missed you.” You murmur in a soft tone, afraid to break the peaceful bubble you’ve created.

“I missed you too.” Another serene moment passes before Spencer sighs. “Come on… we should go check on Jude. It’s been way too quiet.” 

You chuckle, letting him pull you to your feet. Finally being home felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, you could finally relax.

It was easy to breathe again.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni, @pixie-verse, @westanleovaldito, @khxna, @person-005, @cinnamoncunt

[nanamisbbygirl]

⚛︎ academic misconduct ⚛︎

chapter 1. game on

pairing; nerd! gojo satoru x nerd! reader

genre: college au, drama/ romance, academic rivals

summary: everyone on campus knew gojo satoru was smart, just as they knew you were his biggest competition. so, with a summer internship looming over your heads, the tension has never been higher. but, how far will each of you go to get that spot?

cw: nothing

a/n: a new series begins! i can't stress enough how grateful i am for @junuru for helping me out with this-- everyone go check out her page and comment thank you ivy on this post ily twinnnn

masterlist > next

Gojo Satoru was just as annoying as he was smart— which was something that you realized very early on in your academic career.

You had heard a handful of rumors about him— he had carried his whole team at the annual mathlete games, or that he’d made a teacher cry for not knowing the answer to his question. Yet, his unrivaled brain and scholarly merit alone was enough to intrigue you. So, upon hearing that you were in the same major, you knew there ought to be an overlap in your schedules. It was no surprise, then, that he was in almost every single one of your classes. 

The mutual loathing only grew as the semester progressed.

It came to a point where your peers could see this, the ferocity of your rivalry seemed to create a complete shift in the atmosphere, especially with the internship dangling over your heads. By midterms, everyone figured that it would either be you or Gojo in that spot, making the rest of them cowardly back away from it like wounded dogs. The fight was between you and him. Even your peers from other courses would say the same thing— any time you and Gojo were in the same class, things were bound to become heated. 

That meant you’d be fighting tooth and nail for the highest grade—every bonus mark, every top spot. Even if the competition went unsaid, you could sense the rivalry forming. It was a feeling that was brewing from the very beginning, ever since you stepped foot on campus. You wanted to win, to stop at nothing to see him come in second— to show your peers Gojo Satoru was not untouchable. You had something to prove, but so did he. 

Amongst all your intense classes, there was one that mattered more than any of the others: Dr. Mishiwaka’s class. Of course, everyone in your program knew what that getting that spot meant— it was something more than just bragging rights. The top student graciously gained an automatic acceptance into his extremely prestigious summer internship program. His course only ran once per year, and by the end, he’d save that position for one lucky student. Although, luck hardly had anything to do with it. 

So, like any eager student, the second the exam dates were released, you circled Mishikawa’s with a big, bold, red sharpie—letting it mark your calendar like a doomsday countdown. It was the most important exam—giving you the chance at an opportunity that could quite literally define your whole future. 

Unfortunately for you, with that cocky white hair boy in your class, your odds became infinitely slimmer—the way he’d raise his hand to answer every question, or how he’d stay every day after lecture to talk to the professor, buttering him up to the idea of him being in that lab. You’d try to talk to Mishikawa too, but as soon as Gojo was done, the professor would rush off, claiming he had another class to attend to. 

Had Gojo not been there, that internship would have been yours weeks ago— hell, you would’ve already had a lab coat with your name embroidered into it. Now, you were working twice as hard— which felt humanly impossible. There was no opportunity to take breaks, or to have fun. Every aspect of your life was dedicated to academics, specifically the workload for Mishikawa’s class. All you had to do was beat Gojo, outperform the natural genius—surely, you’d be crowned the top student. That was a big deal—something that you couldn’t let slip through your fingers, let alone fall into his hands. 

Getting that mark, though, was easier said than done, because—as you’d already established—Satoru was not easy competition. Your marks always seemed to balance out; you’d score a few points higher on bellringers, but he had you beat in terms of participation bonuses, always stealing your chance to speak. During labs, he’d flaunt the fact he was able to finish his calculations much quicker than you, as if it was simple, basic math— as if calculus was simple, basic math. You were always neck and neck, fighting over percentages, constantly trying to outdo one another when it came to academics. You’d gloat when outdoing him on a paper, and he’d mock you when your lab notes conveniently—and mysteriously— went askew. 

He was your biggest threat, and you were his. 

You’d bicker constantly, picking fights and pushing each other to your limits. It was a match made in hell—two brains clashing over beakers and microscopes. The competition had been like throwing oil over a fire, creating a flame that couldn’t be put out easily—only to stop burning when one of you had claimed your victory over the other. 

Despite all the tension and turmoil, you found yourself getting along on rare occasions.

There were times where you’d laugh together in the library, helping each other with flash cards and co-using study rooms. Hell, Gojo would always turn to you to be his partner during labs—something about how you were the only person who could keep up with him. Even if you were rivals, he didn’t trust the rest of your “stupid” classmates with the experiments. You were both cut from the same cloth in that regard.

Yet, there was still one degree of separation between you. 

Maybe it was because everything seemed to come naturally to him. He was born into a good family, one that owned and operated one of the best technological and research facilities in Japan. He was basically bred to be a genius—his parents might’ve even created him in a test tube. He was guaranteed a placement as soon as he graduated. He'd probably end up running the company someday, too. 

That was why you needed to beat him. He had everything in comparison to you—you had to bust your ass to get top marks, unlike him. It made you envious that he was given every single opportunity and he still couldn’t let you have this one thing. Sure, your marks could speak for themselves, but, one mistake, one wrong equation on that exam and your entire life would be over. Every fiber of your being hated him for this, for—what felt like—him robbing you of a golden opportunity, one that only came once in a lifetime. You hoped Gojo could figure that out for himself, but that hope was useless. 

He was always a little too self centered for his own good. His confidence was clear to everyone in your program and to the faculty as a whole. Clever and cunning; cute and charming– that’s how people described him, and they couldn’t have been more spot on.

Gojo would parade around campus, head held high, not shy about the fact that he was smarter than the average college student. It didn’t help that he also knew he was devilishly handsome and used this to his advantage, acting as if he was God’s gift to the university—everyone else a mere peasant, basking in the glory that was Gojo Satoru. Every step he took was with confidence, some of it was earned, while some was created by his own ego. 

He was always surrounded by girls—practically swarmed by them as he continuously egged them on. They’d gush over his pretty blue eyes—something you’d never admit, but was simply a term coined by those fascinated by their unique colour. They’d giggle mindlessly, asking him to tutor them, or to go out with them. Judging by his schedule, he didn’t have time to, but whether or not he took them to bed was beyond you.

You never really stayed long enough to listen to him flirt back. 

Yet, what you didn’t hear was the way he spoke about said girls to his roommate. 

“Please, they’re all bimbos—I don’t waste my time with girls like that,” he’d complain, rolling his eyes andgagging slightly. “They’re so easy too—only good for one night stands, and where’s the fun in that?” 

A challenge is what he needed, someone to push him beyond his limits—to make him work tooth and nail. You always came to mind when he thought about difficult things. 

He had underestimated you once before, and he couldn’t let it happen again. 

Gojo could remember the moment you walked into that fateful lecture hall.

The fall air was crisp, leaves crunching under his step. He shrugged off his light coat as he settled in his seat.

Anxious students kept their eyes on the door, waiting for the professor to walk in. He, on the other hand, was already bored deeming this class as one of his easier ones, paying no mind to the previously sent out syllabus and panicked chatter in the room. 

Gojo tapped his finger against the desk in front of him, mindlessly trying to practice patience. There was a buzz in the air that was quickly settled as soon as Mishikawa took a stand at the podium. 

That’s when you walked in, frazzled. Judging by the look in your eye, you had trouble finding the room. That was probably the case.

Every set of eyes, including his own, snapped from their focus to inspect you entering the room. He observed the fact that, despite being in a hectic rush, you were still well put together.

He figured a girl like you—one so effortlessly good looking—wouldn’t last long in the program. Surely you would crumble under the pressure and switch to something easier. 

He expected to at least get a good laugh out of his boring first lecture when Mishikawa cold called you. Gojo was sure that you were going to turn into a blubbering mess—getting a kick out of seeing the whimsy in your eye snuffed out. 

“You—” Mishikawa singled you out as a punishment for walking in late and disrupting the beginning of his introduction. “Can you tell me why, specifically, hydrogen gas doesn’t just spontaneously form water in the air? Considering we have oxygen all around us?”

Only, you answered his inquiry to a tee. Stating: 

“Because in order for that to happen, activation energy would be required.”

Impressive, he thought, leaning forward in his seat, watching you from across the lecture hall, seeing if you’d be able to complete the rest of the answer. For a brief second, he thought that maybe—just maybe— this class wouldn’t be so boring after all. 

“Not to mention hydrogen is extremely rare in Earth’s atmosphere,” you continued, much to everyone’s surprise. “Most of it exists in an already bound state.”

You take a deep breath, eyes shifting across the room, faces blurring until catching a glimpse of white hair from the corner of your eye. You double take, checking that you weren’t seeing things.

“Explosive reactions only occur if triggered by high heat like a flame or a spark—which was the cause for the Hindenburg disaster, right?” 

“That’s correct,” Dr. Mishikawa hummed, satisfied. “Take a seat.”

You made your way down the steps, taking a seat in the row in front of him, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. 

He leaned forward, allowing himself to rest his face just inches away from your ear. His amused expression was hard to ignore—eyebrows raised, eyes glimmering, smile lines twitching. Sliding his tongue over his lips before he spoke, he commented: 

“You forgot compression,” his hushed tone rattled in your brain, causing you to tilt your head, peering at him ever so slightly. Gojo only continued: “For factors that trigger reactions—under the right amount of pressure or shock the gas molecules collide.” 

“I know what autoignition is,” you quip, a displeased frown plaguing your face. 

“Mhm. Right. Just that…you forgot to mention it.” Maybe he wasn’t trying to sound stuck up when he spoke, maybe he was. He was trying to start a conversation nonetheless—someone finally peaked his interest. Yet, he managed to come across as condescending.

How typical of him. 

“I guess you’re right.” You were icy, your tone sterile, focusing back on the front of the lecture hall. Gojo sat back, huffing—kissing goodbye to his chances of getting on your good side.  

At that moment, he knew you and him were going to be in hot water and the game of cat-and-mouse had officially started. He would find every opportunity to piss you off, to show you he was still superior— to truly live up to the definition of rivalry. 

“You messed up the equation,” he said, catching you by surprise. 

Mishikawa’s exam was closing in, your stress was growing by the day— you had limited time to cram, hence why you had picked this private room to study in. It was the perfect spot to be studying. Alone. 

As you turned your head back to the whiteboard overflowing with math work, he stepped in, standing with two drinks, one in each hand. He smirked slightly, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. He promoted one of his hands, signalling the drink: “A peace offering.” 

“Go to hell,” you snap. “I’m trying to focus.”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, sauntering over toward where you sat. “Well studying with the wrong formula won’t do you any good.”

Gojo set down the drinks, sliding you your usual order. He proceeds to take the whiteboard marker from your hand into his, the palm of his hand brushing your fingers while simultaneously wiping away the majority of your work with his sleeve. 

His eyes narrowed in, his tongue pressing on the inside of his cheek and his nose flared slightly as if he was deep in thought. He began to draw against the white surface, gliding the marker against it like a figure skater on ice. You watched with intent, thinking he was actually going to correct you. 

Only, you should’ve known better. It was Gojo Satoru, afterall, he was equal parts fool as he was a genius. 

“Looks about right to me, now,” he declared as he stepped back, making you realize that he’d erased your work for nothing. All that remained on the whiteboard was a very childish, very primitive, and oddly detailed drawing of a penis. 

You scowl in disgust. “Are you five years old or something?” 

Gojo only let out a characteristic laugh, the base of his glasses fogging up ever so slightly at the sight of your growing frustration. 

“You shouldn’t frown so much, you’ll get wrinkles,” he pointed to your face, his index finger being swatted away. 

“And you shouldn’t be such a jerk, some of us are actually trying to do well on our exams.” 

“Oh and I’m not trying?” He raised an eyebrow, teasingly. 

You rolled your eyes again, “No, you’re not. Otherwise you wouldn’t be bothering me.” 

He chuckled again, taking a seat in the space across from you, not bothering to wipe away the lewd drawing taking up a prime spot on your whiteboard. 

“I came to check in on you, actually.”

You can’t help the way your face coiled in, as if you’d tasted something sour. Jutting your lips out, you give him an unassumed glance. 

“Oh, how sweet of you,” you remark, sarcastically. 

“I know, I’m so considerate," he paused briefly for a moment. 

You excited him, more than any other student did—he knew he had to give it his all. He was going to get that scholarship, and make sure you never forgot it. As evil as it sounded, he was going to crush you.

It went beyond friendly competition– he needed to win. 

Gojo proceeded:

“I was just thinking about the fact you have your stats exam right before Mishikawa’s,” he elaborates. “Just wondering how you’re holding up.” 

You narrowed your eyes, as if to question whether or not it was worth telling him. 

“Not well,” you admit, finally. “Stats is my worst subject thus far—long story short the TA is an ass. I’m trying to focus most of my energy on studying for that.” 

Something was brewing in his brain and it was subconsciously pulling at his lips, causing much of his energy to be put into not letting his smirk show. You could see this, though, as if a little, imaginary lightbulb had appeared over his head. 

“It’s not like I really need to be stressed about Mishikawa's exam— I know I’ll do well. It’ll mostly be review though, I think I know the content pretty well at this point—” 

Truth be told, Gojo had stopped listening.

Not that he didn’t care, but because he was too concentrated by the movements of your face—your eyes jolted around, catching different points of his own face; your jaw was tense, despite your lips moving so freely; your hands waved around, as if they were providing supporting claims to your rambles.

Your words blended together once they met his ear, and he only regained his focus when he heard you exclaim: 

“I’m still gonna get the top mark, as long as I have the night before to review– I’ll beat you to a pulp.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” he states, rising up, towering over you while lowering his gaze to look straight into your eye.

You could feel your pupils widen, your heart racing at the thought of the look on his face when you beat him. Your victory would be oh-so sweet. To see his shocked expression as you stepped into Mishikawa’s lab. Everything would be too perfect. 

Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the same. Thinking about squashing you as if you were an ant.

Slowly, the gears turned in his head, devising every miniscule detail in his plan to derail you from your goals. Studying your flustered features, it seemed like a god-send. For a minute he praised himself for being such a genius. 

“Game on.”

taglist: @spacefae-x @chewiebee @alienated-god @artbligh @inixox0 @karvokr @siennayaps @luvleixo @undermegumisbed @nerdjoswife @kitassecretgf @raendarkfaerie @br3aunna @mxtcha-lvr @suki91 @kpopwh0r3 @the0ishere @theleo28 @saltypuffin1040 @ehcilhc @alnoorim (open)

[lvenoir]

Sick Days ❣ᨓ

✧ genre/au: megan skiendiel x sick!reader [she/her]. friends to lovers. mutual pining. sick day softness. casual intimacy. ✧ word count: 2.4k

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𖦹

summary: you're running a fever, insisting you're fine, and megan shows up anyway—with gatorade, and no intention of leaving. she moves through your apartment like she belongs there. and maybe she does. it's quiet care, burned toast, forehead touches, and the kind of comfort you didn’t realize you wanted until she gave it to you.

━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

Your body felt like it had been dropped from the top of a six-story building, dragged through molasses, and then flattened under a semi-truck for good measure.

The fever was a relentless thrum behind your eyes, your throat burned with every swallow, and your muscles—usually strong and steady—felt like overstretched wires ready to snap. Your usual drive, the fire that kept you moving, felt soaked and smothered. You lay sprawled on the couch like a discarded towel, half-drenched in sweat, bundled in a mountain of mismatched blankets. Your phone sat precariously on your chest, screen dimmed, thumb hovering over a half-finished text to Megan.

> meg: how r u feeling?? > meg: seriously don't lie to me

you: i'm fine. don't come over. get some sleep

You hit send, wincing at the brightness of the screen, then groaned and turned your face into the nearest pillow.

A beat. Then another. You had maybe a minute of peace before the next vibration came.

> meg: babe. open the door.

Your brows furrowed.

you: what??

> meg: i'm outside.

There was a knock. You groaned again, this one louder, throat scraping as you dragged your aching body toward the front door.

When you opened it, you found Megan standing on your porch, cheeks flushed from the cold, strands of pink hair poking out of her hoodie, and a giant reusable tote bag swinging from her shoulder like she was prepping for the apocalypse.

"Megan," you croaked, leaning heavily on the doorframe, trying to look as annoyed as possible. "I told you not to come. I'm probably contagious. This is the opposite of being responsible."

She blinked up at you and gave a small, mischievous smile. "And yet here I am."

You attempted to block the door with your arm, but she ducked under it effortlessly, slipping into your apartment like she belonged there. She did, but still.

"You're unbelievable," you muttered, trailing behind her as she set the bag down on your coffee table. She was already unpacking before you could protest: orange Gatorade, saltine crackers, a digital thermometer, menthol rub, cough drops, and—for some reason—a single banana.

"What's the banana for?"

She didn't look up. "Potassium. Or morale. Haven't decided."

You sagged back onto the couch. "You should be in bed. You finally get two weeks off and this is how you want to spend it? Taking care of my gross, sweaty self?"

She glanced up then, expression unreadable. "You take care of me all the time. Literally all the time. Let me return the favor."

You hesitated, shoulders tensing. "Yeah, but that's... different."

She gave you a look. The kind that always made your arguments shrivel in your throat.

"You think being the strong one means you don't get to be taken care of?" she asked, standing now and walking toward you. She stopped just in front of where you sat, towering but slouched. "That's not how this works, babe."

You opened your mouth to respond but ended up coughing instead. A deep, chest-rattling kind that left you doubled over, gasping.

In a flash, Megan was next to you, hand on your back, murmuring soft nothings as she guided you into a more comfortable position. She tucked a pillow behind your head, then reached for the thermometer.

"You don't have to—"

"Shush."

She pressed the thermometer gently under your tongue. You glared at her, but the glare softened as soon as she brushed the hair off your forehead. Her touch was impossibly gentle.

When the thermometer beeped, she pulled it out, checked the number, and made a face. "One-oh-two-point-eight. No wonder you're acting like a vegetable."

"Meg," you rasped, eyes heavy, "don't get too close."

She smiled, and sat right next to you anyway, knees bumping yours. "Too late for that."

"You'll get sick."

"Then you'll take care of me after," she said simply, as if it was the most obvious arrangement in the world.

You wanted to argue, but her hand was already reaching for the heating pad laying around, tucking it gently beneath your hoodie.

"You really don't have to do all this," you mumbled, already sinking into the warmth.

She looked at you, eyes soft but firm. "You'd do it for me."

Of course you would.

You groaned when she pulled the blanket tighter around you, swaddling you like a burrito. "You're so bossy when I'm sick."

"I'm always bossy. You're just too tired to fight me this time."

You didn't answer. Mostly because she was right.

Megan disappeared into the kitchen. You could hear her shuffling around: the whirr of the kettle, cabinets opening and closing, a faint curse when something dropped. It should have annoyed you, but instead, it made you smile. She was in your space. Filling it with her presence. It didn't feel like an intrusion. It felt like warmth.

When she came back, she had a steaming mug and two slices of toast on a paper towel.

"Couldn't find the lemon honey packets," she said, settling beside you. "So I made a mess of your pantry. Sorry in advance."

You took the mug, your fingers brushing against hers. "Thanks," you murmured. "But seriously. Don't get too close."

She pulled her legs up under her and leaned back with exaggerated distance. "I'm sitting all the way over here, look."

You raised a brow. "That's still only like six inches away."

"Fine." She scooted another inch. "Seven."

Despite the heat in your face, you managed a chuckle. It felt good.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, the kind of silence that didn't need to be filled. Megan scrolled through her phone and read aloud bits from the Katseye group chat—Sophia, Manon and Lara bickering about what counts as a real breakfast, Daniela sending blurry selfies with her dog, Yoonchae sending absolutely nothing as usual.

When you laughed, it turned into another cough, this one sharp enough to make you wince.

Megan was by your side in a heartbeat. She set her phone down, handed you water, adjusted the pillow behind you, and laid a cool hand on your arm.

"You okay?"

You nodded, breath shallow. "Just... hurts."

Her fingers curled around your wrist, thumb brushing back and forth. "You always take care of everyone," she said softly. "Even when you're falling apart. Let someone else do it for once."

Your chest ached for reasons that had nothing to do with the flu.

You turned your head toward her, eyes glassy from your cold. "I don't know how to let people do that."

Her expression didn't change. If anything, it softened.

"Then I'll teach you."

You let your eyes close. Her hand never left yours.

Megan stayed with you the entire night.

She sat beside you when your fever spiked, swapped cool washcloths every hour, rubbed gentle circles into your back when you woke from coughing fits. She whispered dumb stories, reminded you how Manon fell asleep mid-soundcheck and Lara had to wake her up, how Yoonchae had to be bribed to wear heels, and how Sophia tripped while practicing.

You drifted in and out of sleep, the line between dreams and her voice blurring in a way that felt strangely comforting. Every time you opened your eyes, she was still there—tucked into the side of the couch, or perched nearby with a blanket over her lap, eyes watching you like you were something fragile she wasn't willing to let go.

It was after midnight when you woke again, skin clammy but cooler, breath easier. Megan had curled herself onto the floor beside the couch, one hand still clasped loosely in yours, her cheek pressed against your arm.

You stared at her for a long time.

You had always thought of yourself as the protector. The strong one. The steady one.

But tonight, Megan made you feel safe in a way you didn't know you could crave.

You squeezed her hand gently, eyes fluttering shut again.

For once, you weren't the one holding the world together.

And it felt okay to rest.

━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

The scent of something vaguely burnt stirred you from a half-doze.

You cracked an eye open, your throat still raw but your fever clearly broken—the cotton-stuffed fog in your head had thinned just enough to notice the early-morning light painting soft stripes across your ceiling. It took you a second to realize Megan was no longer near you.

Then came the clatter.

A metal-on-metal clang from the kitchen. A drawer slammed. The unmistakable *sputter* of a stove burner refusing to cooperate.

You sat up slowly, body protesting every movement. Even in recovery, you still felt like someone had steamrolled your spine. But concern—or maybe love—moved faster than pain.

"Megan?" you called, voice still low and scratchy.

A beat.

"No peeking!" her voice chimed back from the kitchen, followed by a not-so-subtle curse under her breath.

You dragged yourself to your feet, the sleeves of your hoodie swallowing your hands, your socked feet making almost no sound as you padded down the hallway. The closer you got, the more your chest filled with something warm.

There she was.

Your girlfriend stood in front of the stove in one of your hoodies, the hem of it skimming her thighs. Hair tied up in a messy puff, brows drawn in concentration, Megan looked so determined and so goddamn soft you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling out loud.

There were two eggs sizzling awkwardly in a too-small pan. A slice of bread had been slightly... scorched in the toaster. A mug of tea waited nearby, steam curling toward the ceiling.

You leaned on the doorframe, voice hoarse. "Babe."

Megan startled, nearly dropping the spatula. "I told you not to peek—"

"You're gonna burn my apartment down."

She huffed and put the spatula down. "You're supposed to be in bed."

You took a few steps closer, wrapping your arms around her from behind, your larger frame easily enveloping her. Your chin came to rest lightly on her shoulder.

"And you're supposed to let me help before you destroy my pans," you mumbled, your voice low and gravelly.

Megan leaned back into you without hesitation. "I was trying to be romantic."

"You are romantic," you murmured into her neck. "Just not a five-star chef."

She elbowed you gently, laughing under her breath. "Shut up and let me scramble these eggs."

You grinned and loosened your hold, stepping beside her. "At least let me toast the bread. You're banned from anything with a heating element for the next ten minutes."

She mock-saluted you. "Yes, ma'am."

You glanced down at her in your hoodie, the sleeves far too long for her, and the hem hitting mid-thigh. She looked so small in it. Adorable. You nearly kissed her right there.

Instead, you nudged her aside with your hip, grabbing the bread and resetting the toaster dial with a knowing look. "You were about to cremate it."

She watched with a playful pout. "I was going for... rustic."

The two of you moved around the kitchen like it was muscle memory—passing mugs, sliding plates, brushing shoulders in the quiet morning hush. Every so often, her hand would graze your forearm or she'd rest her head against your arm while you stirred the eggs, and you'd pretend your heart wasn't stuttering like a freshman on their first date.

When you finally sat down together at the small kitchen table—Megan's leg pressed against yours, your hand cradling the warm ceramic of your tea—you let the silence settle.

She looked at you sideways, soft-eyed. "You're feeling better."

You nodded, chewing a bite of slightly-overcooked egg. "Thanks to you."

Megan reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a beat longer than necessary. "You scared me last night."

"I'm not used to being taken care of," you admitted, voice low.

"Yeah, well," she smiled, eyes shining, "get used to it."

You looked at her then, really looked at her. There was a smear of egg on her cheek. The hoodie hung off her shoulder. Her hair was a mess. But she was glowing. And she was here.

And you wanted this morning to last forever.

She nudged your foot with hers under the table. "Don't get all sappy on me now."

You scoffed softly. "I'm not."

"Liar."

You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms across your chest with a smirk. "You love it."

Megan grinned, standing to collect the plates. "Maybe I do."

As she turned, you caught her wrist gently, rising from your chair. She blinked up at you.

"Thank you," you said again, quieter this time.

Then, unable to help yourself, you dipped your head and kissed her. Just once. Soft. Barely there.

She melted into it instantly, hands finding the hem of your hoodie and tugging you closer.

You rested your forehead against hers when you pulled away, noses brushing.

"You still owe me real pancakes when I'm not dying," you teased.

Megan giggled. "Noted. I'll even Google how to not burn them."

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her again, letting her settle into your chest. Your hands found the curve of her back, and hers looped around your waist.

And for a long while, neither of you moved. The world stayed soft. The morning stayed warm.

Because sometimes love wasn't some grand declaration.

Sometimes, it was your girlfriend standing in your too-big hoodie, trying not to burn the eggs.

Sometimes, it was the way she rubbed the sleep from her eyes while stealing glances at you like she couldn't believe you were still here.

Sometimes, love just looked like her setting two mismatched plates down with too much noise, beaming like she'd just won an award.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't neat. But it was real.

And that morning, with the tea cooling between you and your knee bumping hers under the table, you realized this could be it.

Not just a moment. Not just a fluke.

It could be the start of something that felt like home.

━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━

[smokebombsandspotlights]

🏁"doctor y/n to the paddock please"

Word Count: 1,099 (F1 grid x Platonic!femdriver!reader) Featuring: 2025 F1 Grid – including Ollie Bearman, Kimi Antonelli, Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc, Oscar Piastri, and more Summary: Y/N is the brilliant 19-year-old rookie on the F1 grid, simultaneously pursuing her degree in human biology. She’s fast, awkward, and impossible to catch unless your name is Kimi or Ollie. But once the rest of the drivers learn the magic phrase to get her to stay… things get chaotic in the best way.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

“Wait—where’s she going?” “She saw you walking over, mate.” “But I was just gonna say hi—” “Exactly.” “Oh come on, I’m not that scary!”

Oscar Piastri sighed, watching Y/N’s signature racing jacket disappear around the corner of the Mercedes garage like she was doing a 3-second sprint. Which, knowing her, she probably timed.

“Why does she only talk to Ollie and Kimi?” Charles Leclerc asked, sipping his espresso like this wasn’t the fifth conversation they’d had this week about “figuring out the Mercedes rookie.”

“She doesn’t only talk to us,” Kimi Antonelli added unhelpfully, scrolling on his phone.

“You literally had lunch with her twice this weekend,” Lando chimed in. “And she helped Ollie study for his media training exam thing,” Carlos muttered. “Which, like—what even is that?”

“She’s probably just shy,” George offered. “She’s 19. The rest of us are loud and annoying.” “Speak for yourself,” Charles quipped.

“Seriously though, how do we talk to her?” Oscar asked, voice dropping like it was some kind of covert operation. “You guys know her better than we do.”

Kimi looked up. “…Just ask her about biology or something.”

“…what.”

“No, he’s right,” Ollie said with a little grin. “Y/N’s in the middle of her human biology degree. She’s got like, anatomy flashcards in her driver room. She helped me understand what the liver does for like twenty minutes yesterday.”

Carlos blinked. “What does the liver do?” “Carlos.” “What?! I drive cars, not bodies.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

The next day, during the Silverstone GP weekend, Lando spotted Y/N walking toward the motorhome, head down, earbuds in, probably watching a video lecture about something way too smart for 9 AM.

He put on his friendliest smile and approached.

“Y/N!” She froze like a startled cat. “Don’t run, I swear I’m not gonna make you do a TikTok,” he held up his hands.

That got a tiny smile. “…Hi,” she said, soft, clutching her iPad a little tighter.

“So uh,” Lando scratched his neck, clearly reaching into the deepest depths of his brain, “I’ve been having this…weird pain. In like—my lower back? Maybe it’s the way I sit in the car? Or like—do kidneys go there?”

Y/N blinked. Her brow furrowed just slightly. “Lower back pain? Does it hurt when you wake up, or only after driving?” “I mean, kind of both?” “Could be postural. Or a psoas imbalance. Or dehydration. Have you been drinking enough water?”

He blinked. “Like…maybe? Not really?” She sighed like a disappointed professor. “Muscles get tighter when you’re low on fluids. You probably need to stretch and hydrate better. Could be causing referred pain.”

“…Referred pain?”

Y/N blinked again. “Pain that’s felt somewhere other than where it originates.” “Oh.”

Lando stood there, stunned. Y/N shifted awkwardly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—” “No, that was actually… super helpful?” She smiled again—this time for real. “You’re welcome.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

Later that day:

“Bro, it worked. I asked her about my kidneys and she actually stayed.” Oscar nearly dropped his water bottle. “What did she say?” “Apparently I’m dying from dehydration.” “…you are,” Kimi said flatly.

Suddenly, Y/N was in high demand.

Carlos complained about a shoulder spasm (“Have you been favoring one side when you sleep?”) Charles made up a headache (“You might be clenching your jaw, try magnesium supplements.”) Even Daniel joined in (“I feel like my spleen’s off.” – “That’s not even how it works.”)

She wasn’t fooled, of course. But she indulged them.

Every time, her voice would soften, her confidence would bloom, and she’d go on a little nerdy tangent about tendons, or hydration, or resting heart rates, and the boys? They were hooked.

“She’s like—Doctor Mike,” Alex Albon muttered after she explained Oscar’s stress-induced stomach cramps in detail. “She could probably take the MCAT and still beat us to pole,” George added.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

What started as a running joke (“Doctor Y/N to the paddock please,” someone said over the radio and she nearly threw her headset) eventually became something warmer, deeper.

Y/N stopped running away. She started eating lunch with the others. She gave Charles her notes when he said his back hurt again. She and Alex got into a debate about caffeine and resting cortisol levels that drew a literal crowd.

At the Austrian GP, a clip went viral of Y/N standing in the Red Bull hospitality tent, passionately explaining the vagus nerve to Lando and Logan using a sandwich as a prop.

“She's the first driver I’ve ever seen use a grilled cheese to explain autonomic regulation,” one fan tweeted. “She’s so real for that,” another replied. #DoctorY/N trended for the rest of the weekend.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

By mid-season, Y/N had won two races, earned a standing ovation for correcting a Sky Sports journalist about metabolic efficiency (gently, but still), and somehow become the grid’s favorite little sister and emergency medic.

“Y/N,” Carlos asked in Hungary, looking concerned, “my eye’s been twitching since Wednesday.” “Lack of sleep. Cut down your screen time after 9PM. Try magnesium glycinate.” “…you’re magic.”

Ollie and Kimi watched it all happen with barely contained pride.

“She’s so cool,” Ollie whispered. “She’s always been cool,” Kimi replied.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

At Spa, Y/N made history as the youngest woman to podium at the Belgian GP.

During the post-race interviews, Lewis Hamilton leaned over and said into the mic, “Honestly, I thought she was gonna diagnose me with iron deficiency halfway through that race.”

Everyone laughed. Y/N just grinned.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

By the time the season wound down, “Doctor Y/N” was stitched into the inside of her helmet as a joke from the Mercedes garage. The medical team actually joked about recruiting her post-retirement. Fans made lab coat edits of her podium pictures.

But the best part?

Y/N finally stopped doubting whether she belonged on that grid.

Not just because she was smart. Not just because she was fast. But because when she walked into the paddock, the boys didn’t just nod at her—they waved, smiled, joked, asked questions.

They listened.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

In Abu Dhabi, during the driver parade, Y/N sat between Lando and Kimi, squinting at her iPad and flipping through muscle diagrams. Oscar leaned over from the row behind.

“What are you studying now?” “Neuromuscular junctions.” “Oh cool. I have this weird ache in my foot—” “Oscar.”

She grinned. He did too.

“Doctor Y/N strikes again,” Charles said with a wink. She didn’t run away this time.

━⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅━

Let me know if you want a part 2 (maybe she has to treat someone for real during a chaotic weekend 👀), or if you’d like a banner or mood board for it to post to Tumblr!

[rootedinrevisions]

Make You Mine

Summary: What started as a movie you worked on together, turns into something neither of you expected.

Warnings: Just some making out/heavy kissing. Mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 1,367

Prompt + Pairing: “I want to make you mine.” with Glen Powell (RPF)

The party had long since wound down. What was once a house full of laughter, clinking glasses, and familiar music had melted into quiet. Low hums now played through Glen’s speakers, and dim light illuminated the living room of his home just outside Austin. You sat tucked into the corner of his oversized couch, legs curled beneath you, fingers loosely wrapped around a now empty glass.

The clock on the wall had long since passed 2:00 am.

Footsteps padded softly over the hardwood, and a moment later, Glen appeared, two fingers cradling a bottle of tequila and a small grin on his face. His tie was gone. Top buttons undone. The easy charm he wore so well was still there, but it was gentler now that most of the guests had left.

“You want another?” he asked, holding up the bottle as he settled in beside you.

You gave a lazy shake of your head. “I shouldn’t. I’ve gotta drive home.”

He leaned back, resting the bottle on the table without pouring it. “You know you don’t have to go anywhere. Guest room’s made up if you want it.”

You smiled, looking over at him. “You always offer your crew a place to crash?”

His eyes flicked to yours. “Only the ones I like.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It had never been with him. Even back on set during the long filming days, there was something about Glen that made the quiet feel easy.

But tonight, the quiet felt a little heavier.

Your gaze drifted over to him again, his fingers tapping against his thigh in beat to the music, his shoulders turned slightly toward you. His eyes weren’t on the tequila or either of your empty glasses. Nor were they on the stereo that was playing the music. No, his eyes were on you.

You blinked, and your question came out before you could second-guess it. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, even as your heart kicked up.

Glen’s smile that came next was slow and warm, like molasses melting over heat. “Just thinking.”

You arched a brow. “About?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he leaned in a little, elbow resting on the back of the couch, his voice a little lower than before.

“You.”

Your breath caught in his chest. He didn’t move closer to you, nor did he reach for you. He just let his words hang there in the air between you.

You don’t respond for a minute or two. But then you laugh, breathy and nervous.

“You’re not serious,” you say.

Glen just tilts his head, his eyes steady as he studies you. “I’m dead serious.”

You blink, searching for something clever to say. Something witty to quip back with. But your mind stutters.

“Did you hit your head? Or just have one too many tonight?”

He chuckles, and for a second, you think you’ve successfully diffused the moment. But then he shifts closer. It’s subtle. Not pushy. But deliberate. He drapes one arm over the back of the couch. His fingers graze your shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits softly, “for weeks now.”

You swallow as you glance down at your hands before looking up at him. “Glen…”

“I know it’s not ideal.” His voice is lower now. Gentler. “And I get it, really. But I like you. A lot. And I don’t know if or when I’ll see you again if I don’t say something.”

“This is a really bad idea.” You whisper.

You don’t date people in the industry. It was something you had both discussed and agreed on. You especially don’t date co-stars or people you’re working with on a project. And here he was suggesting you break that very rule.

“I know,” he says. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.” 

He watches you for a few seconds before continuing. Trying to catch any signs that you don’t want this. That this is making you uncomfortable. When he finds none, he continues.

“I’m not trying to mess with your head. Or make things weird. I just–” he shifts his hand, brushing your jaw this time, his fingertips feather light on your skin. “I want to make you mine.”

He doesn’t say it in a possessive way. There’s no arrogance in the words. Just a quiet reverence. A kind of certainty. He’s not claiming you, but maybe hoping you might want to be claimed.

Your hand moves before your mind can catch up. You reach out, hesitant at first. Your fingers find the soft cotton at the collar of his shirt, fingers curling there. He doesn’t pull away, and you take that as your sign to continue. You let your hand drift up, sliding under the fabric and across the warm curve of his neck.

You shift on the couch, rising slightly to your knees. You’re close enough now to feel the whisper of his breath against your lips.

Glen doesn’t move. Not yet anyway. He just watches you, his eyes searching yours.

Then, slowly, he leans in. His hand comes up, warm and sure, cupping your jaw. And when he kisses you, it’s soft. Intentional.

Your fingers curl at the back of his neck as your lips part against his. You melt into him without meaning to, and he shifts easily, guiding you forward until you’re straddling his lap. His hands find your waist, anchoring you gently but firmly, like he’s not quite ready to let go.

You pull back for air, just for a second or two.

Glen’s smile is softer now as he looks at you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.

Then his lips are back on yours a moment later, slower this time. Exploring and learning. Taking his time like he has all night.

His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, warm fingers splaying against the small of your back. And then he trails kisses down your jaw, each one deliberate. He finds the edge of your neck with his lips, warm and open-mouthed, and gently sucks. Your fingers tighten slightly against his skin.

You breathe his name out, it’s barely more than a whisper. He answers with another kiss to your throat, and another soft press of his hand against your lower spine.

Glen pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His chest rises and falls in a slow but heavy rhythm.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you like he’s still trying to memorize every detail of you. And maybe he is.

Then, with a quiet breath, he presses one last kiss to your lips before pulling you into him. His arms wrap around your waist with an easy kind of strength, and your body molds to his instinctively. The room is quiet again, save for the low hum of music still playing somewhere in the background. The moment should feel charged. It should feel complicated. But it doesn’t. It just feels…right.

You curl into his chest, legs tucked beneath you, your fingers drawing idle shapes over the cotton of his t-shirt. Glen’s hand brushes a few strands of hair from your cheek, then slides into the rest of it, his fingers combing gently through it, like he can’t help himself.

He gathers it loosely at the base of your neck, holding you there. Not tight. Not forceful. Just there.

His hand stays in your hair, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Stay with me tonight?” he murmurs.

You nod, already halfway asleep. “Okay.”

Your eyes flutter closed, lulled by the warmth of his chest and the weight of his arms around you. 

His voice comes one more time, low and rough and barely above a whisper. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

Your lips curve into a soft but sleepy smile.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

And then the night slips quiet again, the music fading, the world slowing until there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the rise and fall of Glen’s chest beneath you.