#Like. I feel like it romance codes them a little

[polaris-stuff]

Do you have any Dark Sun headcanons?

Hi hi, anon!! ✨

It's currently 3AM where I am, but I'll take advantage of the fact that I'm taking a break from work to respond quickly (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

CW for content of a ship with high toxic content. You have been warned.

I don't really think I have too many HCs for Dark Sun, but I really like playing with his past, especially involving his Moon and the romanticism in cannibalism, hehe.

"Fellas, is it gay to eat your counterpart?" Dark Sun asks after devouring his Moon XD

Well, basically I feel like those two didn't even consider themselves a couple or anything like that, it was more like a toxic and abusive codependency that no matter how you looked at it, you knew it was going to end very badly. But they still stayed there and kept hurting each other because they liked it.

Dark Sun (and really, all Suns) loves to be in control so the ability to not only be able to manipulate his Moon the way he wants, but also break it and put it back together the way he wants, make him tremble and then coo him to calm him down. And GOD, Moon loves that, feeling so delicate and weak, the feeling of slipping into pieces through Sun's own hands, stopping feeling, stopping thinking and then it all comes back at once, and it's a shock of adrenaline that Moon can't never get enough of.

And so Dark Sun kept doing it, until it was no longer satisfying. Doing the same thing over and over again, same reactions, same results; it wasn't fun anymore. So he went further and these pieces he tore off he started eating.

In canon he and Moon have different bodies but I like the idea that they were never separated a little better so Dark Sun basically ate the pieces of Moon's code until make them part of himself. Idk, the romance of eating the person you love to be closer than ever lol

The only reason their codes didn't end up creating an Eclipse was because of Dark Sun's literal willpower to be stronger and in control. So Moon's code was of no use other than his intelligence and knowledge, because the Killcode was destroyed by tearing off the pieces.

Other than that, I don't think I have anything else about his past!!

Oh! I also have the HC that he likes birds more than cats.

And lastly, I have the HC that Dark Sun manipulated not only the situation and conditions to create Nexus, but also used the black matter generator to guide NSP to New Moon and basically poison him little by little. It was when Dark Sun completely ripped the Old Moon chip out of Nexus' head that the accumulated NSP took the chip's place (and consequently, finishing distorting Nexus' mind)

[hurlingdown]

ive always wanted a shanks x mihawk threesome especially considering how opposite they are to each other

of course shanks is into the tangle mangle, get up in each others mouth and absolutely globber each other to oblivion. have him shaking in a puddle of his juices, drunk and happy. of course mihawk is into the romance of love, holding each other gently while looking into each others eyes, warm "i love you" exchanged over the haze of moonlight

though it would be funny for shanks to love romantic sex and mihawk being a little freaky boy. maybe shanks is weirdly the shy one between them both and mihawk is sex god supreme rider of the states just an odd think it out during coding thing

- oath anon

i think we all need a sex god supreme rider of the states mihawk in our lives.

this is canon idfc shanks would so be into slow and gentle lovemaking under the stars, just kissing and caressing each other's scars and old wounds, loving the feeling of being so intimately connected to his lover.

on the other hand, mihawk would totally fail at this due to his inconceivably GARGANTUAN ego. after a few minutes into your attempt at having "romantic sex" with him he'd bark out something like "is this all you've got" or "you're disappointing me" to delude himself into thinking he's superior in said situation and then the two of you end up having some insane rough sex

[tonariofjananda]

I think about this moment a lot.

Like. It feels really rude that Fushi’s just brushing Tonari off like this, jerking his hand away as if he’s annoyed she even tried to touch him in the first place. The fact that we don’t even see his expression when he does this makes it feel extra brutal. But I think a lot of people see this scene as if Fushi rejecting Tonari’s ‘advances,’ so to speak, and I’m not convinced that’s what’s happening here.

Like, yeah we see that big love bubble at the corner of the panel while she’s telling Fushi how important he is to her, but Tonari’s just reflected on how she feels about him and ultimately rejected her own feelings. Romantic love is not something she wants to feel for Fushi. So I don’t think she was working her way up to a confession. At least, not intentionally (it’s not her fault Fushi’s an empath)!

Instead I think this scene is supposed to be a parallel of the moment that happens between Gugu and Rean.

Gugu doesn’t tear his hand away from Rean’s because he doesn’t want to hear her confession. He isn’t running away because he doesn’t love her back. Gugu pulls away from Rean because he’s rejecting the concern she has for him and his safety. He realizes there’s something greater that he needs to focus on, something he feels only he‘s strong enough to take care of. And he wants to take care of it to keep her and the people he loves safe. Gugu loves her, it’s just not the right time for him to indulge in it.

In my opinion Fushi feels similarly to Gugu (not the reciprocation part though). He appreciates Tonari’s concern and love for him- that’s why he smiles a little and thanks her- but it’s not the right time for him to indulge in that. He‘s still trying to prove that the world is at peace (something he’s doing because of her, for her), he doesn’t need or want her getting involved in his fight against the nokkers.

I wanna reemphasize that I’m not trying to argue that Fushi secretly reciprocates Tonari’s romantic feelings- he’s already said he’s never felt that way about anyone before. I just don’t think he’s outright rejecting them either.

I think the hands in this scene are also what get people thinking this scene is a little more romantic than it is. It’s a standard cliche where one character stops another from leaving after all lmao. But this to me is what solidifies this as a scene that’s not inherently romantic.

Them grabbing at each other like this is a much older, a much deeper thing for them. Back when they were on Jananda, they’d often grab at each other’s wrists because they could never quite see eye to eye. Tonari specifically would grab at Fushi’s wrists a lot when trying to impose her will on him and drag him along. Once they start understanding each other, however, their hands actually touch (ex. Tonari pressing Oopa’s blow dart to the back of Fushi’s hand).

This scene is a little mix of the two. Tonari’s grabbing Fushi’s wrist to stop him from leaving (imposing her will on him) but her hand overlaps with his palm a little (trying to understand him). Tonari doesn’t know what’s happening completely, but she knows enough to know something’s wrong. In a way, Tonari grabbing for his hand is her appealing to Fushi to open up, to let her in, follow through on this connection that’s always been theirs.

But he doesn’t. Fushi rejects it.

I think the chapter image shows it all pretty well too. They’re both reaching out for each other. But while Tonari’s solid in her attempts to reach him, Fushi's all fuzzy. It's as if these are his emotions. Like, subconsciously he wants to reach out, but he can't. So close, yet so far…

[pixelatedraindrops]

Mm I think I'm slightly into makoyuma/yumako.

But I like them platonically. I just love them together in general.

As brothers or friends idc they are the duo ever.

They make me happy 💜

[womanenthusiast]

Accomplice (Keith/Tenebris & Custom MC)

No romance, just a no good very bad day for everyone involved. Bambi and Keith discover they’ve been cheated on at the same time and things go from bad to worse. Inspired by this ask.

TW: blood & gore, swearing

AN: I haven’t written anything since 2017/2018, but the call of the @dualityvn fanfic contest was too strong. Please forgive any issues, I have no idea what I’m doing.

The knock at the door was unexpected, the rattle of a key in the lock even moreso. When Keith stepped out of the bedroom to see what was going on, his partner, Sam, met his eyes with a guilty look. She seemed to know what was about to happen, her shoulders straightening resolutely as the door opened.

Another woman stumbled in, arms were weighed down by groceries making her unsteady. Sam stepped forward to take a bag and balanced the woman with a hand on her elbow. The motion was domestic, familiar. Keith’s stomach sank.

“I’m so sorry to drop in unannounced, I noticed you were low on some things the other day and wanted to make sure you had enough for the week, I know how crazy work’s been.” The stranger was pulling out items and restocking Sam’s cabinets with practiced movements. When she finally spotted him, she jolted with surprise. Keith tensed too, readying himself for a confrontation. It didn’t happen. Instead, her face brightened into a welcoming smile. “Shit sorry, I didn’t even see you there! You must be a friend of Sam’s.” 

The woman’s attitude caught him off guard. She didn’t seem to be aware that anything was wrong. His brain rushed to smooth the edges of his assumptions; maybe he wasn’t being cheated on, maybe he’d been too hasty to assume. A sister or cousin? A friend? An assistant? Tenebris stirred in the back of his mind, drawn out by the frantic chaos of his thoughts. The woman’s next words startled them both into silence.

“My name’s Bambi, I’m Sam’s fiance.” Bambi wiped her hands on her jeans and offered one to him to shake. “I just stopped by to drop off some groceries, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll be out of your hair in a sec.” 

Keith took her hand without thinking, but couldn’t bring himself to shake it. Bambi’s smile wilted at the look in his eye. They both heard Sam cough behind her. 

“Keith, listen-” His hand tightened around the stranger’s at the sound of Sam’s voice, colored with guilt. The remnants of Bambi’s smile crumbled away as the pieces began to fall into place and she squeezed his hand back involuntarily. They stared at each other, frozen.

Keith looked pale. Bambi would later come to see the omen in the blue splotches crawling up his neck and the uncanny curl to the corner of his mouth, but at the time her frantic brain twisted the strangeness into something she could understand. A lifetime of self-imposed service pushed her legs toward the window, the clamminess building in her hands making it easy to slide out of his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, incredulous.

She blustered about the lock with hands numb and shaking as though she’d just plunged them in ice water. An old routine turned awkward and clumsy with the shock to her system. “He needs air.” 

Did he? Keith wasn’t sure. His head was a mess of his own swirling thoughts and the frustrated prodding of Tenebris. The other inhabitant knew something was happening and wanted to step in, but Keith wouldn’t yet relinquish control, regardless of the temptation to just let go. There was an innocent here and he could tell by her demeanor that Bambi hadn’t known, either. He didn’t know how far Tenebris’ rage would extend if he didn’t take the time to sort his thoughts and inform him of the situation properly.

Sam seemed to take pity on Bambi and nudged her away so she could undo the lock and slide the window open herself. Bambi looked confusedly at her own trembling hands. Sam wasn’t shaking at all, which seemed wrong. She felt like it should’ve been the opposite. 

Bambi had learned young that relationships were fleeting, frequently slipping through her fingers. She refused to be lonely but kept a loose grip, letting one relationship go and then reaching back into the bucket for more. Made herself useful so they’d have a reason to keep her around a little longer, but not begrudging them when they left. The way her mother had held a white knuckled grip to her cheating father had seemed embarrassing to her in her adolescence. The longer it had gone on, the more Bambi had wanted to take a hammer to those fingers so her mother would finally let go and fall away somewhere better. The desperation of wanting to hold on to someone like that became associated with the sympathetic humiliation Bambi had felt for her. She’d vowed to never do that to herself long ago, so why was this affecting her so? 

She squeezed crescents into her palms, shame coloring her cheeks as everything came together for her. She’d gotten too comfortable, held on too tight. Just like her mother. A toothbrush wrapped in a paper towel, found shoved into the back of the medicine cabinet. A sweater, out of place in Sam’s pile of laundry. The orchid that had been thriving on the windowsill despite Sam’s self proclaimed touch of death. How long had she willingly ignored the signs? She’d let Sam become important, let the ring on her finger dig a mark into her skin. Hers. Mine. 

She willed herself to feel anything else about her own lot, but embarrassment reigned over all. In the face of that, she decided instead to feel for Keith. There was more there to work with, bubbling up in her chest like a witch’s brew. Indignation. Anger. Offense. Sadness. Pain. She tended to those emotions, urging them to loosen her own grip on the relationship, pop her fingers off the ledge one at a time as though breaking a seal. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. A deep breath, a release of tension.

“What the hell, Sam? How long has this been going on?” 

“Not long, I swear! It was just some fun, I wanted to try something new before we tied everything down.” She mistook Bambi’s anger as hurt for her own self, a loose thread in the sweater that Sam could pull to unravel her into forgiveness. She knew Bambi didn’t like to fight, that she’d roll over and show her belly if it would make the conflict stop, regardless of her own feelings. This wasn’t about Bambi’s feelings, though. Her need to defend overshadowed her aversion to conflict.

“Something? He’s a person and he’s right here!” She didn’t bother asking if he knew, the truth was written in his wide eyes, turned towards the floor, and the distressed pinch to his brows. His mouth was clenched shut and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Keith looked like he was having a conversation in his head and feared he’d speak it aloud if he eased up even a fraction. 

“Keith, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I-” She didn’t know why she was apologizing, maybe because she didn’t know if Sam would. Someone had to be sorry. “I don’t know what to say.” 

He didn’t either, a small part of him just wanted to take her hand again. There was comfort in being tethered to someone as lost in the situation as himself. 

Seeing that placation wouldn’t work, Sam bristled and turned defensive. “I’m sorry it turned out like this, but Bambi you’re so fucking hard to love! You keep everyone away, even me!”

“What?”

“I thought we could make things work, that you’d open up if things between us were more stable but you’re so damn cold! I was lonely, that’s it.” Sam scoffed, “you’re not even crying! You cried watching a fucking documentary last week but not over this?” 

There was a stabbing feeling in Bambi’s chest, a rage clawing to the surface at Sam’s assessment of her. She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to strike back, find a soft spot in the other woman’s armor and dig her nails into it, but she didn’t know what to say. 

She didn’t have to say anything. A blur of movement tore past her line of sight and collided into Sam. The snap of a rubber band pulled too tight. For a moment Bambi didn’t move, only to stumble back a heartbeat later as though hit with the shockwave of Sam and Keith’s impact. 

He drew back a blue fist -was it always that color?- and something wet landed on her cheek. As though in a trance, she brought a finger to it. Red. Oh shit. 

“APOLOGIZE!” He shouted, his voice was raspier than she’d expected. There were other words too, but they all sounded garbled and incoherent to her. Through the fog of the shock, she thought the sound of it didn’t quite suit Keith’s delicate features.

Sam didn’t apologize, Bambi doubted she could anymore. She couldn’t see much past the haze of his movement, but each thud of contact was beginning to sound like an open palm slapping the surface of a pool. 

Bambi was on the ground. She didn’t remember dropping, but her tailbone ached so it couldn’t have been graceful. When she tried to scoot away, her sock slid tractionless through the pool of blood lazily inching towards her. When had she taken her shoe off? 

It wasn’t long before he stopped moving, shoulders hunched, and she noticed the faint shape of a women's size nine and a half printed on his sleeve in dirt. Her other, still shoe-covered, foot managed to gain a bit of traction and she shot back into the cabinets behind her hard enough to knock the wind out of herself. 

He turned to face her and she saw that he was different. Blue skin, eyes wide and bloodshot with pinprick violet irises. Odd lines stretched from the corners of his mouth which pulled back in a grimace full of knifelike teeth. She wasn’t as hung up as she thought she should be on this change in appearance. Perhaps she was fresh out of shocks to her system. What else could today throw at her? Why not this, too? 

“Are you okay?”

What an odd question to ask her when her former fiance was a pile of meat beside him. She shook her head violently, not wanting to test his patience by not answering quickly enough.

“Keith doesn’t want me to kill you.” He let out a puff of air through his nose, “Sam hurt you too?”

She nodded. Should she call the cops? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Her phone was in the car. Not-Keith was between her and the door. Fuck. 

“Do you talk?”

He wasn’t hostile yet, maybe she could get out of this if she played her cards right. Talk her way out of this horror show. Bambi nodded, eyes flicking momentarily to her feet. The blood puddle was encroaching on her space again. She’d always suspected the floor in this code violation of an apartment building wasn’t level, what a way to have that confirmed. She turned her gaze back to him. “Who are you?”

He tilted his head like he was surprised she wasn’t running screaming out the door. To be honest, so was she. She might’ve had a chance to escape back when he was busy with Sam and she was genuinely baffled that the shoe had been her first instinct instead. “Tenebris. I’m a part of him.” 

Sure. Normal. Tenebris sat down across from her. Very normal. Just two people and a puddle of blood. Having a conversation. 

Bambi opened her mouth but a knock sounded at the door before she could say anything. Both of them straightened, making startled eye contact.

“Is everything okay? I thought I heard yelling.” Bambi recognized the voice of Sam’s neighbor, two doors down. She’d met him once. What was his name? Luke? Lake? Lance?

Tenebris was looking at her, his eyes narrowed slightly: this was a test. Her mouth was still open so she snapped it shut with an audible clack. The motion caused a tear to streak down her cheek. 

“Sam? You in there?” 

She tried to read what Tenebris wanted her to do in his face. He gave her a small nod; great, he wanted her to cover. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, steadying herself. “We’re good, man. Thanks for checking up. I sat on the remote and it blasted the volume.” She clenched her hands into fists on the floor, distantly aware that they were now wet.

Panic was beginning to set in. The fear of being caught, the fear of Tenebris sitting across from her, the distress of sitting in the blood of the woman whose name was next to hers on a pile of wedding invitations in her living room. She was shaking badly, every muscle in her body taut as though bracing for some sort of impact. 

Tenebris didn’t look impressed with her improv, but he wasn’t turning her into a human smoothie so she suspected she’d done well enough. 

Luke or Lake or Lance scoffed on the other side of the door, “well don’t fucking do that again, I have a night shift tonight.” Neither of them moved until they heard his footfalls disappear down the hall and his apartment door open and shut. 

When the coast was clear, Tenebris rose and offered a hand to Bambi. She took it without thinking, but cringed when her brain finally caught up. He pulled her up easily and she tried not to slip back onto her ass in her haste to pull away again. 

“What’s your name?”

“Bambi.” 

“Like the deer?” 

She tried not to let the instinctive disdain for the question show on her face. “Just like the deer.” 

He nodded, making an expression like he was proud to have correctly made the connection. “Do you know where she keeps the cleaning supplies?” A nod. “Show me.” 

Bambi led the way, wet sock slapping against the vinyl flooring, to the half bath that contained the cleaning closet. Everything was where she’d left it last time she’d cleaned. Sam had always hated cleaning but Bambi found it relaxing and would stop by to vacuum, mop, and do her laundry for her quite frequently. Most of the things inside had been purchased by Bambi herself. Tenebris filled his arms with supplies and indicated for Bambi to do the same. 

“We’ve gotta make sure this place is spotless before dark so we don’t have to come back after we get rid of the body.” 

He strode out of the bathroom after dropping that bombshell and she watched his back disappear around the corner towards the kitchen. Bambi nearly dropped the bleach on her foot. Fucking we?

From the other room, Tenebris barked a laugh, “Is this your shoe? Did you throw that at me?” His tone seemed a touch too casual for the situation, if you asked her.

Bambi laughed back, though there was no humor in it. Her brain had finally caught up to what was going on and she felt the weight of everything that had and would happen fall onto her shoulders. Their lives were about to become very tightly intertwined.

Son of a bitch, he was making her an accomplice. 

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Some people really are so obsessed with interpreting canon (and making sure others interpret/see that they interpret canon) as two characters being in a sibling or parent/child relationship that in their own postings they give these characters sibling/oedipus complexes (hope this is the correct term) accidentally.

[urfriendlywriter]

small things that just matter in romance:

( feel free to use hehehehe | @urfriendlywriter

my favorite is 2, 6, 9, 14, 19, 25!! tag me when yall write plssss!! would love to read <3 )

little teasing pecks after kissing passionately

giving you a little twirl whenever you wear a dress > <

that gaze when they're introducing you to people using your relationship status

"this is my ___, everyone!" and that proud smile. AAAAH <3

"hey lover :)" with an eye crinkling smileeee aaaah.

their touch on your nape when they're clasping a necklace for you. (hey god its.. uh me again heh).

kissing in the rain!!! ✧♡

holding hands while he's driving! (and then they crash- obv safety first kids :))

them sneaking into your bedroom window to see you!!! (taylor swift coded I tell you)

slow kisses, dreamy, lazy, lips gently touching the teasing the other's, eyes fluttering closed, feeling all shy SJSJKJS

undressing infront of each other !! with no crazy 18+, just wholesome kisses here and there and then going to bed ^^

love letters sealed with kisses

"hey, buzz off, that's my wife!" "ayo, you think you can talk about my husband like that?" kekekeke

draping arms around each other's waists while walkinggggg >>>

booping noses n giggling

brushes of lips with shaky breaths and a tired smile after a long day. :')) me when

flowers. tucking hairs behind your ears. caressing cheeks.

buying dinner and eating it in the car together! or in like the back of the caravan!

beach dates, running close to the waterline and tackling each other <33

midnight dances in the kitchen, going full out n crazy and not just slow dancing.

tugging at their collar when kissinggg kekekeke

mutually loathing someone and shit talking ab them (do yk how fun it is)

mini dates in the rooftops, lying on a macrame chair/hammock on top of each other and watching the moon !!!!

hugs first kinda love. seeing each other after work? hugs. and being picked up during hugs >>>

mumbling to each other in a room full of people and quietly laughing. having eyes only on each other when the world is watching you.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P1]

(Yandere × F!Reader)

[Series link]

[Warning: obssessive, workplace/academic discrimination, xenophobia, mention of SA, slowburn, dense plot, not even sure if its dark romance, not sure if its romance at all]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

You knew his type. Rich, spoiled, and never told no. In college, you would see them flocking down walkways in goofy polos, or if there were events, in color-coded suits and ties as if going to their first communion. They were never alone, stuck in bubbles of laughters and champagnes and vape vapors. You were not there besides them. You sat rooted in the library chair, dropping in and out of kickbacks of other students who also never fit into their puzzle of oxfords and high heels. You didn't resent them. You had your own little life. You found comfort in turning it up in the weekend with your fierce eyeliner and fishnet when your bank balance was full, or sitting in your friends' living room greening out on Mexican weed when you were broke.

So when you graduated side by side with them, ordered by names, you didn't feel as if you missed the school spirit. Your ex was chatting up with his crowd a couple rows down, arms in arms with a known rapist. In a sea of them you treaded in your scuffed heels and walked the stadium to your fine, leather-bordered diploma and took a half-hearted photo with the dean before sneaking out early, never to see any of them again. Sure, you missed your friends, but you could always call and catch flights (when your bank balance so permits). The rest of them slipped off your mind easily like vapor.

You moved country. That was the right move. Sure, you could stay in the States and try out a desk job, but you didn't find it in you to belong. Plus, with the recent development of AI  technology coupled with the impending economic recession, you weren't too optimistic about finding a position that lasts. So you packed up and left, missing barely anything. 4 years of your life remained in the tissues your cried into in the dingy airport toilet. You called your family to let them know your ambition. They scoffed, trying to talk you out of it for the last time yet, before their persuasion became discouragement. Before they told you that the corporation needed an heir, and that you were stubborn just like your father was. You turned off your phone and boarded. Your 20s seemed wide open, soaring with you, louder than the plane engine that roared even in your sleep.

3 years later, in your little cubicle in a Japanese high school, you didn't feel like you were soaring anymore. Perhaps your wings got caught somewhere, shredded in the engine just before you landed. You buried your head into piles of notebooks, your red pen gliding. The power to decide who passed and who failed was in your hands, and the soft-hearted nature you carried with you squirmed as you had to mark down zeros and ones. You found yourself smiling at your students and encouraging them, as well as enduring the resistance from the rebellious ones. Little by little, the spark of hope in you matured into a quiet resolution. You learnt to be calmer, to hang your head more, and to speak less of your opinions. In the mirror, you saw a new face.

You pushed on, narrowing your shoulders in the subway, cooking your dinner in your modest kitchen, and packing your own lunch at five in the morning. Sometimes you went out with your coworkers, sometimes you remained indoor. Settling in a monotony as Tokyo raged on with its flourescent storm, you feel, in your quiet moments, as if you were half asleep.

Then one summer morning just before another school year ended, the head of the foreign teacher department walked in. Walking by her was a face you didn't recognize.

"This is Mr. Lukas."

As customary, you stood up and greeted with a polite smile.

"Yes, good morning Mrs. Tahara. Good morning Mr. Lukas."

"I know this is late into the school year", Tahara said, "but Mr. Lukas is the perfect fit for our school. He has plans to stick with us for the next 2 years, so I was hoping he would get the training he needs by trying out at our summer program."

"That seems like a lovely idea", you acknowledged.

"Since you have the most experience in our department so far, and also the only one left since the rest of the team has taken an early vacation as customary for them", Tahara continues, finally building up to her point, "I was wondering if it is not much trouble for you to mentor him this summer. I know that you have said that you would take the summer off this year, but there is nobody else we would trust quite as much!"

You felt a knot of frustration in your chest. After 3 years of dedicating yourself to the summer program, you did finally decide to take the summer off to have some time for yourself. Truth was, you had found yourself growing weary of the monotony in your life which had lulled you into a state of daydream. This summer was supposed to be for you to travel and visit your family. Plus, with the money your had accumulated by pinching your purse, you were hoping to finally fly to LA to meet with a long-term friend you had been dying to see.

But you knew this was not a request. It was an order. Though Tahara was smiling, she was not going to take "no" as an answer. The woman did not climb to her position in this expensive international high school in the heart of Tokyo by being softhearted like you.

"I see", you nodded, the blank smile yet to leave your face, "Very well, then. I will do my best."

Tahara also did not let hers falter when she tried to soothe you, "I heard the staff vacation is to Thailand this year. How exciting, right? It is the 10th year anniversary of our school after all. Tell you what, I will lobby for you the best room there is!"

The pang in your heart did not go away as you chuckled, "Oh, there is no need at all. Please, I am happy to do this job."

"Nonsense", Tahara insists, "Best room there is! Please leave that to me. All you need to worry about is Mr. Lukas."

You bowed your head.

"Thank you very much. I will do my best."

With that, Tahara turns to the newcomer: "Your cubicle is right here next to her. Please get settled in, and she will show you around. You have her full attention for today- I checked, there are no classes today, right, Miss?"

You nodded at the last part. Tahara briskly walked away, leaving Lukas standing in front of you.

You finally turned your attention to him, getting a good look for the first time yet. Lukas was tall, black haired, with a strong nose and freckles. His defined body was complemented by his white button-up and slack pants. The way his body opens up by his wide shoulders and his face held up high told you that he was a stranger not only to this work environment, but to the country as a whole. He still seemed alert, yet to be lulled into sleep like you.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lukas", you held your hand out for him to shake. His hand was soft, and his grip was gentle. You could tell clearly now... he hadn't been a working man.

"Hi", he smiled, "I'm so excited to be here. I'm all yours now, so... lay it all on me!"

American, you mused in your head, noticing his accent and the loud, overly friendly manner. He reminded you of the people you knew from college.

"Of course. Let me give you a quick tour of the school before we get started!"

"Great! It's a beautiful school. Can't wait!"

The moment you and him exited the teacher lounge, Lukas couldn't help but immediately make small talks.

"So... how long have you been working here?"

"Oh, for 3 years now", you replied absentmindedly.

"Woah, that's a long time. To be honest, I just graduated college last December, so this is all totally new to me."

You hummed and pointed out to him the nurse's office, letting him know that he could find assistance there in case of student injuries. Finding it difficult to simply ignore his attempt at a conversation and partially feeling sympathetic at the assumption that he may feel alone in a new country, you picked up the small talk.

"I understand it may feel intimidating at first. I was just like you... moving from an American college to work here is a big change."

"Oh, you were in the States, too? Where at?"

His head turned toward you. He seemed intrigued.

"Yes. I was studying in Texas. X Univerisity."

"So you are smart, then. I was in T University. Your rival school."

"That's a good school, too. What did you major in?"

He sheepishly grinned.

"I was in their business program. What about you?"

You didn't want to divulge more information about yourself, so you directed the focus back on him: "Business? Then what makes you decide to teach here in Japan?"

"Well, I wanted a change of pace... My family, they have a job lined up for me already, and I can come back for it whenever I want. So right now I guess I'm just, like, trying to live my life, you know? Figuring myself out. I thought Japan would be a nice start."

A part of you felt that you could relate to him. Indeed ... if you wanted, you could simply go back to your own family company and work toward inheriting it. But from the way he was talking, it seemed he had a better relationship with his folks.

"That's a great way to challenge yourself", you nodded, now leading him to visit the indoor gym. Your indifference toward him left you with a lukewarm response.

"What about you? You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

It was your turn to look at him now, a bit bewildered. You didn't expect him to show interest in what you do. Most people usually got caught up in talking about themselves, especially with you who knew to ask more questions to evade the attention.

"Oh... well, I guess I've been interested in linguistics ever since high school. This place put me into curriculum development and researching, so I figured it would be a great addition to my CV."

He narrowed his eyes barely.

"So you have a plan?"

"I do."

"You wanna get a Master's?"

"Well, higher, if I can."

"Ahhh... so you are smart smart."

Uncomfortable now that the topic was you, you quickly looked away: "Not really. Tell me, what is the position your folks have lined up for you?"

He chuckled.

"Business consultant. It's nothing special, but it's steady."

"Where are they based?"

"New York."

Right. So they have money money.

"Are you perhaps a nepo baby?"

He laughed.

"Well, I guess you could say that. But I don't want to be defined by them. I want to create my own ... my values, you know?"

You almost felt yourself sympathizing with him, but the feeling of seperation came back. You remembered the looks you received and the empty seat next to you in classes filled with his type. You remembered being talked over and put aside when you wanted to speak on team projects. You remembered the blatantly perverted things you were told, the arms that linked with rapists, the lack of protection that you and your friends got from anyone when one of them had laid his hands onto a girl you knew.

"Anyway... would you be free for dinner sometimes this week? I'm totally new and alone here, and I could use someone to show me around, you know?"

You held back a sigh as you looked at him who had stopped in his track. He still was younger and, as he said, new and alone in Tokyo. When you were just like him, your coworkers indeed did you the same favor he was asking of you.

"Yes, I can arrange that."

"Does tonight work? If you don't mind, of course."

Against the strange aftertaste that lingered on your tongue, you agreed: "I can do that."

You knew that it wasn't in your nature to ignore someone who felt lost. But you decided that you would not be too close a friend with him. After all, you knew his type.

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy (2)

PART 2 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I was wondering doing a bonus part about Fernando POV throughout everything (to show he was ALSO miserable), but I don't know if i have the time and energy for it. Let me know if you guys would be interested in it and I'll do it in headcanons/topics.

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was taking way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

PART 1 | FERNANDO'S HEADCANONS

You were moping and crying in the living room when the phone started ringing. Looking at the little screen that showed the number that was calling, you knew it was Fernando. You had memorized his number at some point in your lifetime. Your parents weren’t home, so you hesitated. You took so long that his call went to voicemail.

“I know you’re there,” he said, voice sounding tired, low and inpatient, “please pick up the-”

You pulled the phone cable, unplugging the call and silencing him. Wiping your tears, you stared at the unplugged phone on the little side table for what felt like hours, until your parents returned from work, when you got up to plug the phone back and pretend like you didn’t spend the whole day mourning a friendship you always thought would last forever.

After two days ignoring all calls, even Flavio’s, you decided that you’d shield yourself from now on, and you wouldn’t give Fernando any more ammo to hurt you. You met with Flavio at the next race, face heavy with makeup to cover up the sleepless nights you had gone through. You put your bag down and stared at Flavio across the table.

“Good morning. Let’s go back to work,” you said, gently pulling the stack of papers from his grasp. He called your name in that tone, of someone wanting a heart to heart.

“We should talk about the f-” He started but you cut him off.

“No, I don’t want to talk about that,” you said.

“I talked to Fernando and he-”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it. He’s dead to me.” You repeated slowly, finally looking up at him. Flavio must’ve seen something in your eyes because he let the topic go.

You didn’t see Fernando for two more days, and when the weekend officially started, you avoided him like the plague. Even when you two were in the same place with other drivers, you’d ignore his existence for the most part. Whenever you were in a little circle chatting with other drivers and he arrived, you’d leave immediately. Press conference, you convinced Jenson to switch places with you so you could be as far from Fernando as possible. Even with team debriefs, with Flavio trying to make you talk to Fernando, you refused.

The rest of the season was insane, during team meetings and debriefs you were cold and barely talked to him. He didn’t try to talk to you either, and the silent distance only grew.

You were head to head in a race, you were P2 and Fernando P3 right behind you.

“Switch with Fernando,” your engineer said on the radio.

“He won’t fucking pass me,” you said into the radio, holding your position and pace. He was less than a second behind, and you refused to let him pass.

“I repeat, let him pass,” That was Flavio.

“If he manages to overtake me, he can go.”

He didn’t. You knew you had more pace, but still he insisted, and through the mirrors, you could see him closing in behind you. He tried to overtake but you pushed the car fast, and when he couldn’t anymore, he turned into you, touching his front right tyre to your rear left tyre. You were too fast. The mere touch of his tyre bursted yours. You couldn’t even get angry as you lost control of the car in a millisecond, the speed making your car fly into the air as it hit the gravel. With your car overturning a few times in the air, you watched your sight going ground, sky, ground, sky, ground, sky.

Then you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were on a stretcher being placed carefully inside the ambulance, you tried to get up, dizzy and someone handed you a bag where you threw up inside.

You had an insane headache as they took you to the medical center. Apparently, everything else was alright as you checked your own body for any injuries or problems. The doctor checked you but still made you through a round of tests and injected saline solution diluted with pain medicine in an IV drip. They also decided you’d stay overnight to make sure nothing was wrong. 

Your dad, who was watching from the garage, was the first to find you in the medical center, visibly worried and crying. He hugged you for a whole minute, before taking a step back and touching your face to make sure you were really alright.

“I’m ok, Papá. Just passed out when the car was spinning in the air,” You smiled softly, wanting to dissipate his worry.

“When you didn’t answer the radio-” He choked back tears.

“It’s ok, I’m ok now.”

“What are you feeling, darling?” He pressed, holding your hands to look for injuries in your arms.

“I’m all in one piece, Papá. Just a little sore, but that’s normal whenever a racing driver crashes,” you let him know, and he nodded.

“Let me just call your mother. She was so worried she wanted to get into the first flight here,” He told you.

“Tell her I’m alright and I love her,” you whispered and he nodded, going outside.

You sighed as you were left alone, trying to find a comfortable position where you didn’t have to move too much, since your whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck. The door opened and you thought it was Flavio, but you were faced with Fernando, still sweaty and in his overalls. He looked disheveled, but he was full of worry, even his eyes looked a little misty as he stood there a few meters from you.

But you couldn’t look past the anger when the memory of him diving into your car came back. He had gambled with your life, out of pettiness, out of envy, he couldn’t pass you, so he decided the next best thing was to take you out, not even caring about the danger he was putting you through.

“Leave.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Please,” he begged with his voice softer than you had heard for almost a year, “let me just-”

“Leave! You could’ve gotten me killed, Fernando. Get out!” You said, louder. “Do you have any idea that you could have ruined my life in a moment of anger?! That you could have gotten me seriously injured or worse?! I would have never done that to you!” You pressed your index finger to the nurse button repeatedly, and a few seconds later, a nurse came in, “Ma’am can you escort him out please?”

You could see in his eyes that he was hurt by your words, but in that moment, all you felt was blind rage, for what he did the last time you spoke and because he crashed into you on purpose. You didn’t want to hear any excuses now that he realized he put your life in danger just because his ego couldn’t take a hit.

The next day, after you were discharged, you traveled for a meeting with Flavio at Renault’s headquarters. He met you alone in the meeting room, talking to you about the accident, and after making sure you were physically fine, he went off.

“What you did yesterday was reckless and you went against express orders from the team and from me. This is not happening again, or you will be risking your seat at Renault,” He said, his voice never leaving room for debate, you swallowed and nodded, “When the team orders you to do something, you do. No questioning, and no going against it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fernando was really worried about you yes-”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” You cut Flavio off.

“You two are best friends, it’s really sad to see you lose all that because of Formula 1” Flavio said, gently.

“He put my life at risk, Flavio. This is not something a friend would do,” you stood up, walking away but you stopped by the door, “Kinda curious how motorsports, the very thing that brought us together, is the same that tore us apart.”

Then you went to meet the engineers for the next race strategies. 

That night as you laid down at home, you thought that you’d never compete with Fernando solely because he was Flavio’s favorite. If it ever came to Flavio to decide whether you would win or Fernando would win, he’d always pick Fernando. You could’ve been fighting for the championship this year, he had promised you, instead you were being used as a step in Fernando’s path of glory, when you could be fairly racing him for the championship. You’d always come second to him there. That was also the moment you stopped seeing Flavio as a friend, and confined him back to a position of Team Principal.

You reread the Sauber proposal that came to you that year to start racing for them the next season, tempted to just go and make your name somewhere else. Somewhere where you’d be put first.

But deep down, a sense of indebtedness had rooted into your heart ever since the day Fernando told you the truth. You had to pay Flavio back for his trust and for his money, and the only way you thought you could do it was by becoming world champion under his team.

There was still a little kid inside you, a little kid who aspired to prove Fernando wrong, to become a champion and prove to yourself you’re more than him. More than who he wanted you to be, more than a loser.

You turned down the offer from Sauber.

The rest of the season you went almost robotically. You still gave your all every race, but your mood would always damper when you had to follow team orders.

“Ask if me and Fernando can switch, I’m faster!” You said on the radio. You kept driving, Fernando a little less than two seconds in front of you, but you were getting closer and would catch up to him in two laps.

“Negative, protect his position.”

“There’s a McLaren right behind me! They’ll pass us both!”

“Negative, team orders.”

You swallowed and held your position, trying to maintain your P2 and Fernando P1. But when the McLaren got close to you, they managed to pass you after a brief battle, going for Fernando a couple of laps later.

Later, you stood on the podium, looking ahead knowing that P3 could’ve been a P1 if they had let you fight for it. You didn’t look at Fernando on the other side of the podium, you just stood there, eyes watery. You pretended to take part throwing champagne for a few seconds, forcing a smile knowing that it would look bad not to.

The post race interviews were torture, and you wanted to go home and vent to your parents.

“How has it been to manage your friendship with Fernando outside the track?” A reporter asked, and your smile disappeared from your face.

“We were never really friends,” you shrugged, annoyed, you added “Are there any questions about racing instead of my personal life?” The reporter was silent, visibly taken aback by your responses, you had rarely been hostile toward a journalist before, you knew he would have a field day with just those replies, especially when your PR manager gave you a hard stare, “No? Thank you, see you around.”

You finished P2 in the race Fernando became champion for the second time. When you got out of the car, you watched as Flavio and Fernando hugged, jumping from the ground and celebrating. The number one and your team principal. After the podium ceremony, you didn’t bother to stay to spray champagne, just leaving and going straight out.

You got a couple more proposals from other teams, and you were tempted, until Flavio told you Fernando was leaving for McLaren the next year and offered you an extension. You took it under the condition to become the number one driver now that Fernando was out of the picture.

A part of you mourned the death of the dream, the one you had at fourteen to become teammates with your best friend. So many things had happened in between everything, now you would miss it. Only the good, not the bad and ugly. You wish you could go back in time, redo everything, and never allow yourself to lose your best friend on the way.

The next year you ended up striking an unexpected friendship with Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg and eventually the two rookies Lewis and Sebastian, who had been very vocal about being fans of yours.

You didn’t go back to talking with Fernando. You didn’t try and he didn’t either. It felt like the bridges were too far burned to recover.

One day as you walked out of the garage, you saw Fernando with a girl on the opposite side. She was clinging to his side, whispering. You knew he had his fair share of fun with grid girls but he never invited them to watch the race from his garage. You wondered if he was dating again, after a couple of years being nothing more than a player. You also wonder why it made a pang of pain flare through your chest.

You don’t linger too much. He had no reason to tell you. You weren’t even friends anymore.

You moved on, as much as you could. And eventually, you met Kaka, or Ricardo, as you preferred calling him. He was a footballer, a big name in the sport, playing for a big team in Italy. You actually met him at a gala party, the both of you being silly introverts, bumping into each other when trying to find a way out. You two ended up talking for hours on the balcony, watching the city lights.

He reminded you of Nano before Formula 1.

And you actually wanted to smash your own head against the handrail as you thought that.

After exchanging numbers and calling a couple of times, you managed to convince Ricardo to come to a Grand Prix. His presence was calm, funny without being mean, and so gentle. It was actually the calm between the storm your life and job was.

You were pacing around outside the motorhomes to try and see if he had arrived yet, since the last you had talked to him was when he was on his way. While waiting, your eyes found Fernando’s on the opposite side in front of McLaren, he was sitting down with his girlfriend telling him something. You stared at him for a whole minute, and for a brief moment, the anger left his eyes for something softer, something like-

“Hi, minha linda!” Ricardo showed up out of nowhere, and he hugged you so tight he actually swiped you off your feet.

Once the surprise passed, you hugged him back, your fingers finding their way through his hair. And he laughed, spinning you before putting you down. You talked for a bit, your face lit up as he told you about his day.

Your eyes unconsciously turned to Fernando, because you could feel that he had been staring at you for as long as Ricardo was there. His face was back to anger.

“You want me to give you the grand tour?” You offered, just so you could escape the weight of Fernando’s glare.

You took Ricardo by the hand and showed him all around, even introducing him to part of your team. After that race when you placed third, Ricardo invited you to a date, the first official one. After a couple of months and a few kisses, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You only hesitated for a second before smiling and squealing a yes.

Being the main driver of your team allowed you to live an entirely different season as a racer. You didn’t want to be arrogant, but you had it in the bag. You had the best car, the best engines, and just the perfect amount of boldness. Add insane strategies, and you were unstoppable.

Despite Fernando being your close rival on track, he was way too busy beefing with Lewis, his surprisingly great rookie teammate.

During summer break that year, you were on a trip to Brazil with Ricardo, but still, the night of July 29th, you got up at two a.m., slowly went to the fridge, where you got an ice cream pint. With a spoon, you sat on the handrail in the balcony, and watched the waves breaking on the beach a few meters away.

It was weird keeping the ice cream tradition alone, but you supposed it was even weirder not keeping the tradition. Staring at the stars, you wondered if Fernando had any ice cream to celebrate his birthday that day.

“Hi,” you heard Ricardo behind you, his hands sneaking around your middle and he hugged you from behind, laying his head against your shoulder, “everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted a little treat,” you mumbled, closing the lid on the ice cream, because a selfish part of you didn’t want to share the tradition with anyone other than Fernando. It was silly and stupid, and still… you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You put the ice cream back in the freezer and smiled at Ricardo as he pulled you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

You came back from summer break with a renewed sense of focus. Deep down you knew that was your season. Your season to become world champion, and nothing was going to get in the way of that. As you won the first two races after summer, you became first in the standings, this sense of purpose being the one thing motivating you every weekend to give your best.

It was Interlagos that year when you needed only a podium to become World Champion, pretty much the same as Fernando two years before. The race was tough, and it felt like Fernando was out to get you, especially in a moment right in the middle of the race, when you were behind him in P3 and he tried to brake test you again, but this time you were quick to react, avoiding his rear and using his own dirty trick against him, turning sharply to overtake him from outer side, moving past him fast enough to gain some precious couple of seconds.

After that, you managed to smoothly overtake the P1 with a carefully planned pit stop that allowed you to come out first. Later on, you saw a crash, nothing too bad, but you found out it was Fernando and Webber.

“Are they ok?” You asked via radio to your engineer.

“Yes, they are already back on the pitlane.”

You sighed and focused back to your race, keeping your P1 safe, and going smoothly to take the checkered flag.

“Congratulations, Y/N! You’re a Formula One World Champion!”

You felt the tears coming down and dampening your balaclava, as you took one last lap to parc ferme, waving at the crowd that went insane.

It was like a huge weight was lifted from your chest. Because you were now world champion. You were there, and you deserved to be there, among the best. You didn’t need to prove yourself anymore, and you had finally paid Flavio back.

You jumped out of the car straight into your team, jumping with them, and Flavio ran up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. Jenson also found you and hugged you firmly, patting your back and Nico also hugged you, both of them were on the podium with you.

As you looked down from the podium, with a watery, emotional smile, you saw your dad crying like a baby and clapping his hands. Unconsciously, your eyes looked for Fernando, silly hoping it mattered something to him, that at least in the name of your former friendship, he would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen, and you felt like that was another nail in the coffin of your friendship.

Deciding to forget it, you drank champagne straight from the bottle, laughing as both Nico and Jenson paired up to drown you in champagne, looking happy for you.

After talking to your mom on the phone, you stood up, taking your bag and going out to look for your dad. You didn’t make it very far, as you came out in the hallway, you found Fernando, leaning against the wall. You paused, looking up to him while your heartbeat went up.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispered. And you wanted to believe it really badly, but thinking about him brake testing you during the race, trying to take you out, made you roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, you are,” you said sarcastically. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, like he was disappointed you didn’t believe him, “my debt is over now.”

“What?” He frowned, confused.

“I just paid Flavio for his investment,” you explained, “I’m not just here because you asked him to support me, I’m a damn great driver. I’m here because I deserve it, not because you took me out of pity.”

Fernando stared at you completely shocked at your words, something painful stabbing at his chest. He never thought you’d think like that over disgusting words he said in a moment of anger. Words that never meant anything to him, that he didn’t even believe in himself. The hurt in your eyes was the same from the day he said the words, when you cried looking into his eyes and telling him he was dead to you.

You walked past him and away. He wanted to shout that he never meant those words, that you were so much more, so much better. But you just left. Fernando followed you outside, trying to catch you and explain himself, maybe fix things between you, making peace.

But as he got outside, he paused, seeing you jumping in your boyfriend’s arms, laughing at something he whispered to you. Fernando swallowed, closing his fist and jealousy burned through his limbs, with such force that it felt like a fever.

Right after the Brazilian Grand Prix, Ferrari got in touch with you, offering a two year contract to become teammates with Kimi Raikkonen and drive for what was one of, if not the most classic team in Formula 1. After negotiations, it was a no brainer. You didn’t owe Renault anything any more. And that’s what propelled you to meet with Flavio that winter break in a cafeteria in Monaco. When you had called, he said he wanted to talk to you about something, which was convenient.

After pleasantries and small talk, you were ready to start, but Flavio cut you off without noticing.

“I have to tell you something,” he started, carefully, “Fernando is coming back to Renault next year.”

You froze for a second, not wanting to think too much about the implications of that. The fact that Flavio was willing to force you and Fernando to be teammates again even after the catastrophic ending you had before. Sighing, you covered your face for a second.

“I know you have reservations, but I’ve talked with Fernando and he’s willing to-”

“I’m going to Ferrari.”

And Flavio understood, after talking for a while. He knew Ferrari was most drivers' ultimate dream, and you weren’t immune to that either. Unfortunately for you, Fernando released the news he was going back to Renault a week before Ferrari announced you, and the media had a field day with that, tabloids and media outlets doing numbers of articles about you avoiding being teammates with Fernando again, since he was coming back and you were conveniently leaving almost at the same time.

Your races with Fernando kept being dangerous, one always trying to one up the other, dangerous moves and overtakes, close calls of crashing into each other, and more and more jabs publicly. The attacks at each other never stopped, and the media seemed to enjoy it, feeding into it ever so often.

One occasion, you were going for a win, and the only thing between you and that damn P1 was Fernando Alonso. So you kept your P2, biding your time as you tried to close the gap, leaving your chance at overtaking for the last few laps. When a fast turn came, you advanced, overtaking him, Fernando tried to defend his position, but you were getting the lead, and both of you were in high speed. Someone had to back out, otherwise you two would crash. But you were feeding off of anger and hurt, and you didn’t back down well into the turn, but suddenly, Fernando slowed down, giving up defending. You took the P1 and after a few laps, the checkered flag. You knew on the podium that Fernando was seething, his face didn’t hide that. Later, at an interview, someone brought up the dirty move.

“So, a very dangerous move at turn 2 during lap 47, no?” The reporter asked, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I thought it was a pretty common battle, no?” You said, a condescending tone imitating him.

“Well, it could’ve caused you both to crash.”

“I took a risk, either I would pass and win, or we would both crash and DNF. Alonso was wise and went for the safest option.” I gave the reporter a fake smile.

You knew that answer would piss Fernando off, and a part of you knew he deserved it. Sometimes you acted on pure rage and pettiness, feral and way more aggressive against Fernando on track than you really needed to be. But he just pissed you off. Walking around with his model girlfriend, his attacks at your racing abilities, his pretty eyes that always seemed to find yours at the most inconvenient times.

Then, the race weekend would end, and everything that was left was shame. Your burning shame every time your mom’s eyes shone when she asked about Fernando, hoping you two would have made peace. You, looking away from her face every time you told her you knew nothing about Alonso because you didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

Later that year, after your two year anniversary with Ricardo, you accidentally found a ring box in his suitcase. A proposal ring, a beautiful big diamond ring, probably worth a small fortune. And you tried to feel happy about it, but you could only find dread in your heart. Despite loving Ricardo, you knew you didn’t love him as much as you could. And certainly not as much as she loved you. You didn’t love him as much as you loved-

Closing your eyes, you also closed your heart, and after that just like the coward you were, you broke up with Ricardo the kindest way you could. He was confused, because your relationship was tranquil, without many problems. It broke your heart to break his heart, but you couldn’t lead him on, you knew Ricardo was husband material, and the earlier you let him go, the earlier he would find his true happiness.

Ultimately, you decided to only pursue love after your Formula One career. Having a bit of fun here and there, and a couple of casual relationships even with other drivers, but nothing serious or public. When you found out Fernando was single again, a flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but when you saw him go back to his playboy ways… It died down.

Sometimes you would dream of a different life, of one you never lost your best friend… or even better, one that you never had to suppress the love you felt for him. And sometimes it felt too much, like all this love was just filling up your hollow heart, filling up until it overflowed, until you felt like you were drowning in it, because there was nowhere for this love to go. And you wondered, what do I do with this love, there's no one to give it to, there's no recipient to put it. So you would just ground your teeth and bear it, holding onto anger because that much love, that much longing did nothing but cause you pain.

Every time someone mentioned him outside race weeks, you felt ashamed.

Despite being in a top team like Ferrari, you’d only get a few wins, and some podiums here and there, so it wasn’t like you didn’t achieve anything. But you were a woman so it was obviously not enough, and the media started questioning your career and your place in Formula One.

After two years of you driving for Ferrari, Domenicalli, your team principal, sat you down to let you know Fernando Alonso would be joining the team the next year, and you bit the inside of your cheek, considering just retiring. The criticism was getting to you, and the perspective of living hell with Fernando as your teammate was a broken heart all over again.

When an opportunity arose to drive for Red Bull Racing, with a two year contract, you didn’t think twice before accepting. It would be your chance to turn the tide in your career.

It sent the motorsport world into a frenzy when your new team announced you and a week later Ferrari announced Fernando as their future driver. The same narrative of you running away from him was passed ahead. And of course, it got to the paddock. Most drivers that were close to you actually congratulated you, but of course, nothing was ever good for Fernando. And despite not fully talking to him, he was always willing to throw a mean comment at you any given day.

“And people said you’re washed” Fernando said right after the news broke, the second to last race of that season, his voice dripping with venom. You knew it was a backhanded compliment, he always did that when he wanted to get a rise out of you. He smirked, waiting for your feral clapback, as you always had one on the tip of your tongue.

But when he looked back at you, your face was stony, and you were looking ahead with your chin raised. You didn’t even look at Fernando, nor answered his taunting. You pretended he wasn’t there but he noticed your eyes were misty.

That had been a low blow, even for him. He didn’t know shit about your feelings regarding your career, but he knew exactly how the world had been treating it, and it made you burn with shame that he could add insult to injury this easily. You wondered why he would say something like that if, just like you, it had been years since the last time he was champion of the world. Two years pushing yourself to the maximum so you could achieve your second championship.

Fernando had been your best friend for so long, he knew exactly what buttons to push when he wanted to hurt you.

When someone else arrived, greeting you, you cleared your throat briefly before answering and plastering a smile that never reached your eyes.

“Are you running away from me?” Fernando cornered you later that same day.

“What?” You paused.

“I went back to Renault and you left, now I’m going to Ferrari and you’re leaving,” he shrugged. You scoffed.

“I’m not sure if you know, but my life doesn’t revolve around you, Fernando.”

“Well, that’s a weird coincidence, don’t you think?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

Fernando paused for a second, his eyes searching yours, he looked vulnerable, open like he hadn’t been in so long. He looked every bit your best friend from years before.

“I miss you, I-” He started, then cleared his throat.

“I miss the old you,” You swallowed a whole bunch of your pride just to be able to say those words.

“Things are different now…” Fernando started, his eyes full of hoping, of longing, “We could- maybe we could-”

“Fernando, we’re too far gone, what we said- what we did…” You muttered, feeling a lump in your throat, “how do one come back from that?”

“We could restart. Try again-”

“You lost me forever that day, Fernando.” You muttered, the tears holding on to your eyelashes. You didn’t need to specify the day, he knew, he had seen in your eyes the moment he lost you, “I spent so long hearing your voice in my head, telling me I wasn’t good enough, I shouldn’t be here, and I- I hated you that day. And I had to hold onto this hate, because the alternative was overwhelming sadness.”

There was a numbing silence for a couple of minutes, as you stared down at your own feet, trying to stop all the feelings you spent years carefully locking away from breaking free. So much had happened, you believed you and Fernando were too far to recover now.

“I’m a woman here, the first and only woman in so long, and the whole world was against me. You have no idea how it felt that my best friend, the person I trusted the most, was also against me,” You shook your head, feeling the tears drop.

“I’m sorry, Nena… I’ve never- I’ve never meant any of that.” He muttered, and you didn’t look at him to see if he was being genuine. You had formed walls around your heart to protect yourself from heartbreak, and you now had a hard time believing him.

“There are some things… that are not meant to be.” You didn’t look back at Fernando after you said that, choosing to walk away with this broken heart feeling ever present.

It was hard to keep going everyday. You had always faced backlash for being a woman in Formula 1, and you were used to it. But the media took a turn over the next few years. When you didn’t win more championships, when years passed and you were still there, along with other champions and future champions. They started to call you old, washed, telling you to retire and placing bets on when you’d lose your seat. It was baffling because it had been six years since your championship, but it had been seven years since Fernando’s, but still, you were the only one whose spot was questioned all the time. It was unfair, and whenever they came up to you talking about it, you’d ask them if they’d ask the same to older drivers or other champions. They would leave you alone for a week and then come back stronger, ready to throw your whole career under the bus.

Finally, you got another chance at the championship in 2013, after an unbelievable start of the season with five consecutive wins. That had put you first in the standings for the championship, and from there on, your team molded the season around you. Smooth sailing through the season, you became world champion in Suzuka, way too far ahead in the championship to anyone be able to catch up to you.

When you stood on the podium that night, you cried happy tears. You had once again proved wrong years of demerit from the world. As you looked down to search for your family, your eyes found Fernando right beside them, a proud, emotional look on his face as he kept a hand over his heart, listening to your national anthem.

He nodded at you with a small smile, and a part of you healed a little bit.

You enjoyed a couple of days of pure bliss after becoming world champion. Parties, celebrations and trips, they were all you did for the next few weeks.

When the FIA Prize Giving ceremony came, you had another bombshell to drop at the world. You were the most stunning you ever felt that year when you arrived at the ceremony, in a beautiful dark blue dress with little crystals all over the bodice, a beautiful hairstyle and even more beautiful makeup. Never in your entire career in Formula 1, you had felt so fulfilled, so happy.

Hearing your name being called as the winner, the number one, was different this time, and had much more weight, and it made your heart burst with happiness. As you walked up the stairs to the stage, receiving your trophy, you stopped by the mic.

“Thank you so much. I’d like to thank my family for supporting me from the beginning, my team for making the perfect season, and the perfect car for me to be able to achieve this. I’d like to thank all my teammates that, in one way or another, taught me some valuable lessons as a racer. Thanks to Flavio for taking a chance on my career when probably no one else would.” You said, with a smile. You took a good look around, all the people in this sport who made Formula 1 the most important category of motorsport, all your peers, all the teams. “I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1, as of right now.”

There was a wave of shock and loud gasps in the whole room, flashes and flashes bulbing harder than before, journalists scrambling to take notes… But you kept smiling, hand firm around your trophy as you let the news settle down before speaking again.

“In 2007 I wanted to pay Flavio back for giving me the opportunity to be here today. That debt was paid that same year. After that year I wanted to win for myself, to write my name in the history books, and my dream is now realized. I feel like I should move on and make space for new upcoming talents.” Your eyes were wet with unshed tears, but you smiled, the first genuine smile in a few years.

Fernando felt his heart drop at your words. Things weren’t supposed to go like this, you two should be best friends, drive together, retire together. Go down in history together.

“I’m grateful for everything this sport provided me, the adventures, traveling around the world, the people I met and the people I lost,” there was a calm pause, and Fernando wondered if you were talking about him too, “Now it’s time to go and achieve new dreams. Thank you very much.”

You turned around and walked away under the applause.

Later, after the ceremony was done, you were getting ready to leave when Fernando came to find you. He was dressed in a beautiful suit, looking like a million dollar man.

“Nena…”

It made you pause. It had been a while since he called you like that with that specific tone. 

“What? Came here to gloat?” You couldn’t help but be defensive, worried.

“What?”

“I knew you’d be one of the happiest when I retired.”

“No, I would not-”

“You would, Fernando. You did. Many times you said I was done, that my prime was over, that I should retire…” 

“I never thought you’d easily give up!” He shouted at you, “Like you did in 2006, not competing against me.”

“That’s because they didn’t let me compete! Do you think I couldn’t have competed with you back in ‘06? I could, but every time, they would tell me to back off, to let you pass, to not fight you, to not overtake you-” You threw at his face, because you wouldn’t stand there and let him look down on you like that. You refused to back down now that you were finally free. “Pat threatened my seat if disobeyed team orders.”

“What?! Why did you never tell me that?” Fernando looked shocked. His fighting stance was completely gone now.

“You were going to be World Champion again. I would never take that from you,” You whispered, voice failing.

“Nena…” He said, like he wanted to drop everything. “Please, don’t leave. If Red Bull don’t want you, you can find another spot with another team, we can think of something.”

“Fernando, I’m not leaving because the team doesn't want me. In fact, they offered me a 3 year extension.”

“That’s not how it was supposed to go, remember? We planned that-” His voice was kinder than it had been to you in many years, “We would go down in history together. Win together, retire together.”

“When push comes to shove, only one wins… We learned that the hard way.” I say, with a sad smile, “Life doesn’t always go as planned. And I got everything I could ever want from Formula 1. Now it’s time for new stuff.”

“What new stuff?”

“I want to have a family, Fernando. People don’t stick around long for this lifestyle, you know that-” You shook your head.

With one last look at Fernando, your eyes watered, and you walked away.

Sitting on the porch, you looked up at the sky, thinking of what’s next for you. It had been months since you announced your retirement from Formula 1. The new season had already begun. It was your birthday, a refreshing new one.

You heard steps coming closer and your heartbeat sped up as you saw Fernando walking up to you. He sat down by your side, holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. He handed one to you and in silence, you started eating ice cream.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“Was it hard to find me?” You asked, with a tentative smile.

“It only took me my whole life to find you again…” He said, wistfully, his eyes shining under moonlight and you didn’t know if those were unshed tears or not, “my best friend, my nena, my girl…”

“I’ve always been here. Right here.” You said, eyes watering. You weren’t sure you could explain what that here meant, but somehow you knew he would understand.

Fernando took your hand, gently placing it on his chest, right above his heart.

“Right here,” he whispered, pressing his hand above yours, over his beating heart, “you were always here.”

Then, he kissed you. For the first time in more than a decade, for what felt like the first time for both of you. As his other hand pulled you closer, the kiss deepened, like a prayer and a promise. Both of you knew there was a lot of resentment to navigate through, and a lot of feelings you’d both have to unravel and understand. But there was one thing that was always there, through hate, anger and hurt… And it was love, unshaken, steadfast love.

As you broke apart, Fernando pulled you into him, hugging you tight for a few minutes, before pulling away to hold your face with both hands, his eyes looking into yours with so much devotion it melted everything away.

“We will be alright.”

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[azuremist]

Mainseries Pokemon characters who can be argued to be bisexual-coded (due to their implied crush on the player)

1. Shauna (Pokemon X and Y)

Kalos takes place in France, and Paris is the city of love. So, in the words of Junichi Masuda, "I wanted to implement some elements of romance with Shauna when playing as a boy and express a deep friendship when playing as a girl."

However, due to the VERY few dialogue changes between female vs male protags (as well as actions Shauna takes that are intended to imply romantic interest being the same across all player types, such as her staying behind with the player in the early-game forest), this can be argued to be unintentional bisexual-coding.

2. Lillie (Pokemon Sun and Moon)

Lillie is implied to have a crush on the player. When the player character is female, on Exeggutor Island, she says, "I want to become a Trainer, and learn all the things you know, Selene..." When the player character is male, she says, "I think... I'd like to become a Trainer, too. And travel together with you, Elio..."

Obviously, the difference between these two dialogues makes it pretty clear that they want her dialogue with Elio to be interpreted as more romantically-inclined. However, much like Shauna, Lillie's actions and dialogue varying VERY little otherwise between female vs male protags can be read as unintentional bisexual-coding.

3. Kieran

Kieran is the first character here to receive absolutely zero dialogue changes across player gender. Additionally, I'd say he's the character that we get the strongest hints regarding romantic feelings towards the player with.

Kieran has multiple moments where he's implied to feel romantically towards the player. These include, but are not limited to:

His sister saying that he's "been all googly-eyed over you" since you met, and that he "wouldn't stop talking about you - even at home. I seriously couldn't get him to shut up." Kieran reacts with embarrassment when she says this to the MC.

Him saying, "You're...you're special," before pausing, then getting embarrassed and rushing to change the subject.

When the MC calls him a friend, he responds, "What?! R-really?! We're friends? F-friends... I feel all tingly and funny hearing that... Ehehe..."

After the MC changes into their festival outfit, Kieran says, "Whoa...", when seeing them for the first time.

The player can even seemingly flirt with Kieran; when Kieran describes letting Ogerpon move into his home, the player can teasingly ask when they, themself, can move in with Kieran.

These are all very common romantic tropes. I think Kieran is the closest thing that we have to a canonically bisexual mainline character at this moment.

4. Carmine

Carmine has a fewer number of specific moments compared to her brother, but she can still be easily read as having feelings for the player.

Her extreme reaction to Drayton asking the player on a date is the best example, with her bringing her hands up to her face, and saying, "A wha-?!" Once Drayton leaves, Carmine continues fuming. (This can also be chalked up to her general dislike towards Drayton and how he can be manipulative, but the fact that it's that request that sets her off specifically makes this also easily read as jealousy.)

And speaking of...

5. Drayton

While, like Kieran and Carmine, Drayton doesn't have any dialogue changes between if the player is male and female, it's not really clear how he actually feels about them.

He tells the player, male or female, that they can go on a cafeteria date to talk, which the game fully acknowledges as a romantic phrase via Carmine's extreme reaction. He also tells the player, "From one charming catch to another..."

This is very obviously him flirting with the player, but, due to his laid-back and just-a-liiittle-bit-sleazy nature, this more so comes across as him trying to tease the player character, rather than anything earnest.

If nothing else, he's at least confirmed to be comfortable with romantically teasing male classmates, which I would consider a win.

[lady-buggerinton]

My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)

My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?

5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal

Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.

This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)

He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!

I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)

Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.

And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.

I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.

Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.

Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.

Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.

Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.

I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.

It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.

We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)

4. Market Scene

ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.

SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.

If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!

There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.

I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.

"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.

Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.

She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.

Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.

When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!

3. Candy Tent

Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!

Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.

Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"

The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!

I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.

Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.

He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.

Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.

His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.

I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.

Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.

Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!

2. First kiss/Dream Sequence

Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.

This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?

The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.

This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!

then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!

What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.

Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.

THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.

This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!

Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.

1. Carriage Scene

Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.

And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.

How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.

Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)

He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.

The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.

on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.

Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....

Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3

[magerightsmagefights]

I know people tend to forget Wyll a lot in this fandom (I wonder why. What Could Possibly Be Different. Can you spot the difference?/s) but I'm genuinely surprised at the lack of Durge x Wyll content. Especially if you're going Redeemed, there's that inherent flavor of "My lover cannot know the truth, I am horrible and they would hate me, they would be correct to hate me." And with Wyll it's just... so juicy, he's so pure and shining, and Durge is so filled with filth and misery that there's barely a person left underneath.

Idk, as a femme romance reader I've spent so many years reading the "love redeems" arc where a FMC plays beauty to an MMC beast, in every genre, medium, budget, etc. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but beauty and the beast as a story structure has never done it for me.

until it's reversed, apparently, because Wyll as the beauty to Durge's beast needs to be injected directly into my veins like yesterday. All the other companions are good and sweet, don't get me wrong, but their reactions are coded like 'i accept you,' where Wyll to me comes off much more as 'we will heal you.' He doesn't have any funny little quips about you trying to bite him, no innuendos, no "I Will Put You Down" a la Laezel, he's just... so good, and he believes in your inherent goodness, he so easily sees "you" and "your urges" as wholly seperate entities he would step between if he could.

Speaking of which!! The coronation scene, when everyone finds out you're Bhaalspawn? I never see anyone talking about Wyll's reaction compared to other companions getting angry (even Dark Shadowheart will yell at you) because Wyll seems to be the ONLY PERSON who immediately separates you(the person he knows) from you(the person you used to be). Astarion isn't angry, he even appreciates your scheme freeing him from Cazador, but he also kinda falls into the whole "I will talk to you as if you are the exact same person who did these things, this is Your True Nature and I feel positive about it."

Wyll's reaction feels like the only one saying "You WERE that," instead of "You ARE that." It also feels like the only one that kinda-sorta acknowledges Durge's actual amnesia, because he doesn't treat this revelation like a betrayal the way the other "good" companions do. They be saying "The real evil was hiding within our ranks all along" like wym hiding? Durge didn't know either, how tf they supposed to tell you?

Wyll doesn't even blink. Once he knows what you are, his No.1 priority is reassuring YOU about it. The fact you're Bhaalspawn isn't a betrayal; it's a Horrible Burden and he's sorry you have to bear it, but there have been others like you who were good, who overcame, and your blood isn't who you are. His first instinct is to offer hope, to reassure you that there's a way out, he believes so hard that your urges are a defeatable enemy and he's ready to fight them with you.

(I also fall into the Durge And Gortash Fucked camp, and I cannot overstate the tastiness of Durge waltzing into the coronation of their ex, the Worst Man Alive, while bringing along their new boyfriend, the Best Man Alive)

Idk, I've just never engaged in a romance where I played the part of the Beast. As much as people rag on pure, princely archetypes, I don't actually see them that often. I genuinely don't remember the last time I read/saw a male lead behave like Wyll, but I've seen plenty of Astarions, Fenrises, Rhysands, etc. Romance loves a fixable MMC, but so rarely an MMC who wants to do the fixing.

Anyway. Justice for Wyll or whatever. I can only cross my fingers that future DLC will include more romance content, because we all deserve to have a Beauty for our Beast sometimes.

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, alcohol consumption, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries. WORD COUNT. 9k (out of 40k).

NOTE. hehe...it’s here. this first part is a little short and slow, but things are gonna start picking up from here! please let me know what you think so far 😭😭 half my soul was injected into writing the entirety of this i will never be the same again 💔 also, i recommend listening to beomgyu’s covers while reading this and the upcoming chapters HAHA anyhow, please enjoy!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom of the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. He turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air because you’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still. It’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer.

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

#1: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. It’s eight in the morning. Monday. You’re standing in front of Choi Beomgyu’s door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s the start of your summer semester so you thought you ought to make something healthy just to kick things off on a good note, but as you were scavenging ingredients for fried rice, you realized you were out of salt so that’s why you’re here. You knock on his door again, three times, and you manage to finish watching five more Instagram reel clips before Beomgyu finally answers the door.

Creak.

“Took you long eno—”

You’re caught off guard by the mop of shaggy hair greeting you, clearly having just woken up. His eyebrows are knitted together while he lets out a yawn. He’s in a tank top. It rides up a little when he stretches his arm to reach for an itch on his back.

“What?” he rasps with a grunt, squinting at you after he’s finally settled himself into reality. “Why the hell are you up so early?”

You clear your throat. “Got any salt?”

Beomgyu blinks at you, processing your words. Then he steps back, points a thumb towards his kitchen, and nudges his head in the same direction. “Go crazy.”

With that, Beomgyu lets you monopolize his kitchen cupboards while he flops onto the sofa. You laugh seeing him practically melt into the cushions. He’s never been a morning person. You’re pretty sure he fell asleep like three hours ago.

“I’m gonna steal some of your chives too,” you inform. Beomgyu makes a muffled noise that you assume is a yes, so you go ahead and take the liberty. When you pop out of his kitchen area, you see him in a not very spine-healthy posture on the same sofa while scrolling through his phone. “I’ll drop off some bokkeumbap later.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flit up from his phone and he wiggles into a more normal position. “Do you have plans today?”

“Class,” you answer on your way back out.

“It’s summer?” he says. “Did your dumb ass get your calendars mixed up?”

You roll your eyes, stopping right before the door with your hand on the knob and turn your head to face him. “I thought I could use the early credits so I won’t have to take too many classes in my fourth year. So I could focus on my internship and all.”

There’s a pause. You can see the three dots slowly appearing in succession above Beomgyu’s bedhead. “Oh,” he says. There’s a drop in his voice. Only for a second. “Well, have fun, nerd.”

You stick your tongue out and leave his apartment with your borrowed goods, returning once more after you’ve finished cooking to give him a portion. Honestly, without the food your moms send over, you’re pretty sure he’d be living exclusively off of takeout.

Anyhow, you head to campus for your first summer lecture, and— for the first time god knows how long— your entire day is spent with a lingering, and almost unusual echo of quiet.

“That’s it for our syllabus. We’ll be starting our full swing of classes next week. See you.”

When you exit the lecture hall, the hallway is near empty. The courtyard too, with only a few students littered about underneath the midday sun. It’s so quiet, it’s weird. Around this time, you’d usually be having lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong, sometimes Beomgyu, sometimes Heeseung, but that brat’s not around right now either because he’s on vacation. 

Not having anything to do, you decide to stop by the campus cafe— Horangnabi. You don’t go here often, committed to the shop near your apartment because, well, it’s more convenient for your morning coffees, but you weren’t able to grab one earlier since you cooked breakfast. Might as well get a latte before you leave campus.

“Hi, welcome!”

You’re greeted by the barista, and like most of campus, it’s pretty empty inside as well. "A spanish latte, please. Iced.” While making your order, a sign on the counter catches your eye.

Part-timers, now hiring. You blink, letting it settle for a moment. Maybe for too long of a moment, because the whir of the milk frother snaps back your attention. 

“Are you interested?” 

The barista slides you your drink over the counter with a smile. You take it and press your lips together in a moment of thought. 

You only have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it’s too inconvenient, not to mention expensive to go home, back and forth from Seoul to Daegu and vice versa, on the days in between. Most of your friends are on vacation or went back to their hometowns over the break so you have no one to hang out with over the summer. And you could use the extra money.

“I don’t have any experience, though,” you tell her.

“That’s fine. You’ll get a few days of training,” she answers.

Tempting. You’re almost convinced. “What if I just want to work for the summer? Can I quit when the next semester starts?”

“A lot of students do that,” she hums. You see her take a square of tissue paper from the display, jotting down a series of numbers before sliding it over to you as well. “Julie. Call me if you wanna take the bait.”

You spare one more second to ponder. Then you take the number from under her fingers and carefully stuff it into your pocket. “Thanks.”

The heat has finally settled the moment you exit the cafe, a little bell jingle trailing you from behind, and you take a mental note to bring an umbrella with you from this day forward. Their coffee is good, you have to admit. If you work there for a good month or two, maybe you’d even end up saving cash by making your own drinks instead of having to buy them.

You decide to take the path through the parking lot to make your exit. There’s more trees around, meaning more shade because it’s really freaking hot. It’s very bare in the lot. You pass by a few cars, of which you assume belong to faculty and staff, until one of them honks at you, and you flinch to a halt.

Another honk. Your brows furrow. Looking around, you try to find the culprit, but you end up moving your head in just the right direction for the sun to beam its light directly into your eyes, blinding you temporarily, and you wince. God damn it. You hear another honk again, and you feel yourself start to get irritated. It’s coming from behind you. You spin your heels, vision still muddy from the direct sun attack, but nevertheless you start walking.

“Seriously, who the hell keeps fucking— oh!”

You bump into someone. You feel them balance you by your shoulders.

“You should’ve seen how dumb you looked.” You hear a snicker. Of fucking course, it’s Choi Beomgyu. Who else would it be? “But hey, you make a pretty good pigeon jerking your head around like that.”

“Fuck you,” you jab his arms off. “What are you even doing here?”

Beomgyu notices your coffee and takes a shameless sip from it before answering, “Get in the car. It’s so freaking hot out, jesus.” 

You don’t really have a choice because he practically shoves you into the passenger’s seat. So gentle. You nearly spill your drink all over when your ass lands on the leather cushion. 

“I was just about to sleep again after you dropped off the food earlier,” he explains while starting the car, and you watch him intently. Whenever your schedules matched, you’d sometimes go to and from uni together. But you can’t seem to get used to the image of your friend acting like a responsible adult. It’s fucking with you a bit. “But then I got a message from Prof Kim, asking if I could come by the office today.”

He pulls out of the parking lot, and the cool air finally settles into your skin. “For what?” Beomgyu lets out a groan. Must’ve been for a not great reason.

“The EMC department is hosting a conference of some sorts this year and he asked if I could be a volunteer facilitator, ask a few others from the department to help and join along too.”

“Oh? You gonna do it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” You pass through security out the main gate and start heading back to your apartment. “I wanted to come home over the break but the working days for this thing will apparently last throughout the summer. Prof Kim did say this will be minused from my volunteer hours, but I don’t know.” Beomgyu then gives you a side eye all of a sudden. “Speaking of. You undutiful daughter.”

“What?” you leer.

“Your mom hoped that you’d be home for the summer, too. Why didn’t you ask her first before enrolling for summer classes?”

“Why the hell do you two keep talking about me behind my back?” You’re shriveling up. Seriously, why does your mom contact him before you? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m doing all this so I can graduate early and find a job early, by the way. I don’t even have a full week of classes so I can still come home the first week of July.”

Apparently, you two argued for long enough to finally reach your building. 

“Tell me when you plan on going home,” he says, leaning against the wall beside your door watching as you key in your passcode to your unit. 

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, smiling. The door unlocks. You push it open. “You’re my free ride after all.” 

Now, your expected response from that is another retort from him, how you’ve been exploiting his kindness and whatnot and you’d have to snark back as well. But for some reason Beomgyu just stays quiet. He says nothing, an unreadable look on his face as he looks at yours. You raise a brow.

“What is it this time?”

Choi Beomgyu says nothing. He lifts up an arm, points his index finger near your face, and jabs his finger straight into your forehead.

“I’ll send you a review of your bokkeumbap later.” He laughs at your appalled expression.

“You’d be shocked to find out it’s better than my mom’s,” you say back, a hand tending to the spot he just attacked unprompted.

“You wish.”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” 

You send him a kick, which he dodges before fleeing into the safety of his apartment. Slippery bastard. Anyhow, you call it a day and settle into your own place. Few hours later, Beomgyu indeed sends you a review of your cooking with a photo of an empty dish attached. Three out of five, he says. Slippery bastard turned ungrateful bastard.

The next day, you’re at Horangnabi again. The night prior, you called Julie’s number and gave her the news that you’re in, and she told you to come an hour before opening so they can get you settled.

You come in with a greeting, and you see Julie look up from behind the counter to wave you in with a smile. “You’re here! Hanbin, come meet our new part-timer.”

At the mention of Hanbin’s name, you immediately double take, and emerging from the door to what you assume is the storage area is indeed the Hanbin you know from the coding club. 

“You!” you immediately shriek, almost feeling a hint of betrayal because this is the first time you’ve seen him in daylight, because their clubroom is always so fucking dark. And in something other than the god damned flannels everyone in their club is always so fond of wearing like it’s an unspoken uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so it is you!” Hanbin happily exclaims. “I thought it was just someone with the same name.”

Julie was delighted to find out you two already knew each other. You skip all the necessary introductions and jump in head first into getting acquainted with the equipment instead.

“We’ll go through all of the drinks first. I also have the recipes printed out over here in case you need reference.”

Having a familiar face in an unfamiliar workplace is indeed a pleasant surprise, but there’s also a familiar sense of dread to have one of Beomgyu’s coding club buddies in here. Granted, he doesn’t annoy or tease you as much as the others, but those guys have already given themselves a label in your head, and Sung Hanbin is no exception to your collective bad impression.

“And then you twist the handle— just like that.”

You’re in the middle of your first latte, the espresso machine up and running. After which, Hanbin teaches you how to use the milk steamer without any difficulty, and you pour the milk into the same cup as the espresso you made earlier. “Wow,” Hanbin remarks. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the caffeine I’ve ingested,” you say. “Skill buff. Or whatever you guys say.”

Hanbin laughs and compliments your latte once more. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for your discomfort to completely disappear because at this point in time, Beomgyu’s friends would already start asking you about him— where he is, why isn’t he with you, etcetera etcetera. But his name has not left Hanbin’s mouth even once, and it’s already the end of your first day.

“It’s always slow here, except on rare occasions, so you’ll be able to handle it with no problems,” Julie says before sending you off. “Anyway, Hanbin and I will be around during your shifts, so you can run to us in case a particularly grumpy student comes to order.”

Hanbin gives you a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And that’s how you established your new routine for the rest of the summer. It’s just like Julie said. Things are pretty slow. The only notable thing that happened on your second day at work is Beomgyu sending you a very unflattering, low-angle selfie under the blinding lights of the faculty office glaring behind his head with the text message that he said yes to volunteering for the conference. Sad face emoji included. 

On Thursday, Julie taught you how to make a damn good waffle. On Monday next week, you got your first shitty customer. Finally on Friday, you decided to open your skeleton closet to Hanbin, because not once since your a little over a week of working here has he asked you about the whereabouts of Choi Beomgyu.

“You and Beomgyu are friends right?”

There aren’t any customers except for the regulars from Bio that are almost always found in the corner of the cafe until closing. Hanbin is wiping the already squeaky clean counter because there is nothing to do. “Yes?” he answers, a smile on his face, but with a tone that’s evidently confused. “So are you?”

Christ. Now you’re the one bringing that bastard up. “Right. It’s just a little odd.” There, you bring up what you’ve observed so far since working here, and the fact that you and him have shared actual conversations not involving your old friend, and how it’s pretty surprising to you. “One time, I thought someone was going to confess to me. Turns out he just wanted me to convince Beomgyu to help him rank up in League.”

“Well, I don’t really need any help in that area.” Hanbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sounds like you and him have been friends for a long time.”

Neither of you have told anyone about your history. No reason in particular. Beomgyu just never found the need to tell his friends that you’ve known each other from birth, and neither have you. But Hanbin’s presence, when separated from the rest of his friends, just feels like a blanket of comfort, and you find yourself spilling your guts to him— including the previous three to four month cold war you caused and the reasons.

Hanbin is patient. He listens the entire time with an attentiveness you can only compare to a saint. “I guess being a social butterfly has its unintentional consequences. I’m just happy to hear you two made up.”

“I probably would never regularly step foot in your dungeon hole otherwise.”

He laughs. “The guys in the club also tease you a lot, don’t they? Doesn’t it bother you?”

You press your lips together. “Yeah, but at this point it’s just white noise to me now.”

Hanbin looks at you. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy it either.”

Well. He’s not wrong. 

Your conversation gets cut short with the cafe bell signaling the entrance of customers. You look at the door. It’s a whole stampede of people. It’s Choi Beomgyu and his friends and you can’t even go on a day of talking about them without them showing up.

“Whoa, I’ve never been here before.”

“Dude, you’re in your third year. Where the hell have you been?”

“Doesn’t Hanbin hyung work here—”

“Yeah, let’s ask him to give us free cookies.”

“Hyunjin, buy me a drink.”

“Buy your own drink, nerd.”

“Hi, I’ll have an iced americano, and a— o-oh, my god.”

You’re face to face with Yang Jeongin who nearly pisses himself upon the recognition that it’s you behind the corner. It dominoes to the rest of the group. You don’t know why they’re being so dramatic. You let out a huff and a sigh. “An iced americano and…?” 

Jeongin doesn’t get to answer. Beomgyu unwedges himself from the group and squeezes his way to the counter. “You work here now?” 

You cock a brow. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Since when?” he immediately follows up. You’re a little taken aback.

“Since last Tuesday,” you answer after recounting. Beomgyu makes a face that burrows a pit in your stomach.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Okay. Now you’re very taken aback. There’s a cough from the crowd. And then a very intuitive, not-so-hushed remark from one of the boys. “Holy shit. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”

It hits a nerve. Hanbin quickly dissuades anything before you could open your mouth. “So, what are you guys ordering?”

The amount of drinks to make and pastries to bring out gets you busy for a while, but you still keep an eye on Beomgyu, watching as he settles back to normal joking mode with his friends while you try to find an opening to talk to him. You and Hanbin finish making all their orders, so you ask him if you can be excused for a moment. He tells you to go ahead and you make your way to Beomgyu, who’s sitting on one of the ends of the three conjoined tables in the more spacious corner of the store.

He’s talking to Yeonjun. When Yeonjun notices you approaching, he immediately quiets down, so you take this as permission to interrupt. You tap on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turns around and looks up. “You good?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, about to say something— “Ahem,” — but then Yeonjun clears his throat, accidentally catching the attention of the rest of the boys, and they’re suddenly popping out their heads like meerkats in your direction. “Should I give you two some space?”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re having a moment.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you guys sell popcorn?”

You’re used to their teasing. You’re used to their bullshit, really. You’re fine if they pull on your hair strands inside their clubroom, but for fuck’s sake this is a public space. Heeseung isn’t even around, but it seems like all his clubmates caught his disease. Your bio regulars are sneaking a few glances at the commotion. There are other customers too. You’re visibly annoyed and embarrassed— which doesn’t go over Beomgyu’s head, because he notices. And he also looked like he’s getting irritated. 

“Hey, you two should just apologize and make up!”

Beomgyu gets up. You see his jaw clench. Oh no. You quickly grab his arm with a tug before he can do anything— only for Hanbin to show up with a tray, setting it down on their table in a less than gentle manner. They flinch. They shut up. Hanbin sets down a few plates with a chilling smile.

“We don’t have popcorn, but here are your fries,” he says. Wow. “Do you guys want to add anything else?”

There’s a single squeak from the group. “No, we’re good.”

Hanbin hums in acknowledgement and retrieves the tray from the table— not without sending you a thumbs up, to which you mouth a thank you in return. He smiles and nods before going back to the counter, and there you feel Beomgyu removing your hold on his arm from a while ago, and you quickly flit your attention back to him, fearing that you might’ve upset him. Again. Like last time.

“Wait—”

“Are you trying to slack off?” he jeers. You look at him, a little surprised. Beomgyu nudges his head to the counter and you see a few customers filtering in. He did remove your hand from his arm, but he’s still holding it. “I’m not upset because you didn’t tell me you started working here. Well. I was. A bit. But not anymore.”

You feel his thumb run through your knuckles, going over the bumps of each joint, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“It must’ve been heaven for you to get some peace and quiet for once. But then I had to bring these losers around,” he wrinkles his nose. You feel a load get off of your chest. Beomgyu lets go of your hand. “If you told me beforehand, I would’ve steered them away from here.”

“Well it’s fine as long as they don’t cause a scene.” You say the last part a little bit louder than conversational-volume. From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin cough on his fry. “Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“No shit. Go do what you’re paid for, slacker.”

He lands a smack on your back and you’re pushed off to do your job. Gosh. Hanbin welcomes you back to the station and the both of you are kept busy for the time being, up until late afternoon strikes, and Beomgyu says he can’t drive you home today since they’re still needed back at the faculty office.

“Your girlfriend can get home just fine! Prof Kim’s looking for us, hurry—”

And just like that, he gets lugged out of the cafe. Jeongin laments about returning to “printing hell,” whatever he means by that, and the walls of Horangnabi are once again returned to their original state— peace and quiet.

The bell jingles. You hear nothing but the metronomic melody from the speakers. “Your friends are so draining,” you tell Hanbin.

He just laughs. “They’re quite energetic.”

You should’ve appreciated the serenity and calmness of your first couple of days working here because for the next few weeks, the coding club has decided that the campus cafe is going to be their regular hangout spot from now on. Or until their summer volunteer work finally ends.

“You know, you’re so pretty.”

It’s the end of June now. You’re wiping off some spilled milk from the counter when Julie suddenly decides to dote on you. She’s on the other side of the counter, face between her palms, and your wiping stops, face flushed.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“You’re like the prettiest flower in a garden and I’d fend off all the other bees and butterflies just to have you for myself,” she doubles down. You release a laugh, mildly forced because holy shit, this is a new kind of attention. “No wonder you have all these guys buzzing around you all the time.”

Julie thumb-points at the corner the coding club guys usually occupy. You hear Hyunjin losing his shit over something—

“I think he’s the one they keep buzzing around, seonbae.”

—something Choi Beomgyu very likely said considering the grin he has on his face, and how Yeonjun is also collapsing on his shoulders. You watch as his grin disappears into a cup, taking a sip from the lime soda he ordered. Then he notices you staring. He settles down the drink and gets up. 

“Oh no, he’s coming over.”

“What?” he says after reaching the counter, taking the spot next to Julie. “Are you talking shit about me again?”

“Hey, not everything is about you, insect,” answers Julie. Those two have gotten pretty close too. “I was talking about how pretty our new barista is. She’s a breath of fresh air. A rose among the truckload of weeds sullying the pretty interiors of our dear cafe.”

Beomgyu snorts at the comparison. You give him the stink eye.

“I get what she means,” Hanbin slides into conversation. He hums and passes you the milkshake Jeongin ordered. It’s still missing the whipped cream on top. You fetch a container from the fridge and walk back to your station, only to be met by a sudden debate on what kind of flower you are now.

“No, no. She’s not a rose,” you hear Yeonjun interject. “Appearance wise, she’s like a daffodil. Personality wise, she’s a venus flytrap.” A few of them chortle and laugh. You roll your eyes and start shaking the container.

“You’re wrong, she’s a hydrangea!”

“Aren’t they poisonous?”

“Exactly.”

A few more give their pitches. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed by the amount of knowledge these gamer gremlin boys have. You finish Jeongin’s milkshake and give it back to Hanbin for delivery. Beomgyu is quiet throughout the whole debacle, until Hyunjin eggs him on to give his pitch. They need to hear the expert’s verdict, he says. Beomgyu just brushes them off until he notices you looking at him expectantly. He pauses. He’s actually thinking about it. You’re pleasantly surprised at his sudden thoughtfulness— that is, of course, until he actually opens his freaking mouth.

“You’re a milkweed.”

It’s like a ball gets punted into your head. It bounces off and lands on the ground. You hear a wheeze from the boys. You give Beomgyu the middle finger.

“A weed! Not even a flower!”

“Hey, they are flowers! Go look it up!”

Beomgyu can’t redeem himself anymore. You’re already looking at him with bitter disgust and Julie proceeds to call him a piece of shit.

“It really is a flower!” 

He still defends, pleading his case to you even after the topic has shifted. Julie has left to clean up some tables. Beomgyu remains in his spot on the other side of the counter until you decide to believe him and his alleged substantial botanical knowledge. 

“Sure, whatever,” you deride. Beomgyu is still pouty. “Anyway, your conference thingy is this weekend, right? We’re going home right after?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding a little bitter and you bite down a laugh. His eyes flutter down, noticing something on your chin, and offhandedly wipes off what you assume is some stray whipped cream from earlier with his thumb. “Do you wanna leave in the morning or afternoon?”

“Oooooh.”

Lee Heeseung suddenly rears his head near the counter to return their empty plates. He’s back from vacation and now he’s here to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one annoyance. “Get a room,” he says with a shit eating grin that you want to wipe the floor with.

“Why’d you even come back early?” you leer at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be island hopping until the end of July?”

He sticks his tongue out. Beomgyu just laughs. “I can’t miss Sungchan’s party. You’re going, right?”

Right. The alleged wildest, most epic summer rager Jung Sungchan mentioned before parting ways with you and Minjeong over vacation. He texted you about it again last night. You couldn’t leave him on read because he called you immediately after.

“Unfortunately,” you lament. “Sungchan’s gonna throw a tantrum if I don’t show up.”

“You know Sungchan?” Beomgyu suddenly asks. 

You give him a pointed look. “Duh, obviously. We’re in the same major.”

It’s like a lightbulb materializes on the top of his head. “Ah,” he says. “I forgot you had other friends.”

You quickly retaliate by attacking him with the nearest thing you can get your hands on: a dish towel. He lets out a very fake, very dramatic yelp of pain and tells on you to Julie noona for abusing your customers and that you should be fired. 

“You’re no customer, you termite.”

“Ack! Noona! She’s hitting me again!”

“Is this how the youngins flirt nowadays?”

Both of you freeze in frame— him trying to yank your weapon from your hands and you with an arm up ready to throw a punch— and turn your heads towards Heeseung, who has a very smug smile playing on his face. You shoot Beomgyu a glare before roughly tugging the dish towel from his grasp. “Shut your mouth, Hee. How’s it going with your compsci girlie, anyway. You’ve stopped bragging since last month.”

Heeseung’s smile stiffens. He breathes out a ‘haha,’ before starting to turn away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Serves him right. After a while you routinely bid them good riddance since they have to leave for volunteer work again. The weekend comes rolling, they finish the conference, and, with summer vacation coming to a close, you also bid your part-time job here at Horangnabi farewell as well after two-months of service. 

“It’s not like she’s never coming back here,” Beomgyu huffs. You two decided to stop by before leaving off to your hometown, Monday after their conference. Julie refuses to stop squeezing you. Beomgyu tugs on your shirt sleeve, but you don’t budge. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Coming from the guy who’s spending the entire week with her,” Julie spits back. “You better bring her back here in one piece, you bug.”

Choi Beomgyu succeeds in retrieving you this time. The container carrying two cups of coffee swings in your hand as an arm hooks around your neck, tipping you back, and the top of your skull hits Beomgyu’s chin.

“Hanbin, we’re heading out.”

“Drive safe!”

You’re only spending a little over a week in Daegu. You two still need to come back to Seoul in time for Jung Sungchan’s, cough, epic summer rager. He hasn’t missed a day in reminding you about it. You’re out for a joint-family dinner with Choi Beomgyu and his family and your phone buzzes only to see Sungchan’s text saying [three days. i better see you there 🫵🫵🫵]. 

“Your classes don’t even start until September.”

It’s the third week of August. Your mom decides to walk you to Beomgy’s car. “I still need to enroll and register for my classes,” you tell her. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” You pause. “And if you want to know what I’m up to, just ask me directly for god’s sake. Quit asking that guy.”

That guy wrinkles his nose at you. “Auntie, don’t listen to her. She’s just being jealous.”

“Wait until I tell your mom about how you nearly set fire to your kitchen.”

“Say a single word and I’m never letting you in my car anymore.”

Jung Sungchan’s party is at their vacation home in Eunpyeong District because his parents aren’t in the country. There’s a pool (gross). He promised you and Minjeong exclusive room access to escape to in case of emergencies (nice). It’s late afternoon. Beomgyu is already there because, well, he’s Choi Beomgyu and everyone’s obsessed with him. You’re still at Minjeong’s apartment, getting ready and borrowing some of her accessories.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you guys here?” he asks over the phone. You can barely hear him with the noise in the background. “Taxi fare’s expensive.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Minjeong makes a face from the foot of the bed while she irons her hair. “I’ve saved up a lot of pocket money thanks to you being my personal chauffeur anyway. And Minjeong doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a douchebag.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Bye.” You hang up. Minjeong still has a look on her face. “What?”

“I think he’s stringing you along,” she says bitingly.

You let out a huff. “How can he string me along when I don’t even like him?” Minjeong simply says that Choi Beomgyu gives her bad vibes, whatever the fuck she means because the only vibe Beomgyu exudes is the vibe of extreme annoyance. You hop off Minjeong’s bed and change into the outfit you brought, opting to put on this very big, droopy sunhat you once bought at a flea market as extra protection. It’s stupid hot out. You steal some of Minjeong’s sunscreen as well before finally heading out.

“Did Sungchan invite everyone at uni or something?”

A foot into his gate, it’s already so crowded. Like really fucking crowded. There’s music blasting somewhere. You can’t find Sungchan anywhere in the yard so you and Minjeong squeeze your way into the house, and there you find him with Heeseung. Minjeong yells for his attention, and he spins around with a big smile. “Hey, you made it!” Sungchan hurls himself at you with a bone crushing hug. “It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you.”

“Quit being so dramat— ack! Tap out, tap out! I give!”

He finally releases you, and you grunt. “Here you go.” He tosses the keys to the room he promised. 

“Have fun partying.” Minjeong snatches it into her hands immediately. You scan the area for a bit. You see Hyunjin and Jeongin in the corner of the living room.

“Boo, you’re so lame,” jeers Sungchan, to which Minjeong just ignores and tugs your arm.

“How about you?” she asks.

You shift your gaze back to her. “I’ll go look for Choi Beomgyu’s round head first then hermit up there with you.” Minjeong makes a gagging noise before going off for the staircase. You’re ready to take out your phone to shoot Beomgyu a text, but you feel a sudden weight on the top of your head, so you look up, brows knitted.

“Your boyfie’s out in the back, sunshine,” Sungchan says while attempting to snatch your hat. 

“Not my fucking boyfriend.” You swat his hand away and readjust the hat on your head. “But thanks. Later.”

The thing about your longtime friend is that no matter how crowded the place, no matter how flooded an area is with people and people and people— he’s generally very easy to find. Just look for a crowd, look for bodies circling around each other and whoever is at the epicenter, at the eye of the storm, is more often than not Choi Beomgyu.

Your trick is proven to be effective this time around as well. When you leave the living room through the glass doors to the backyard, you spot him instantaneously sitting on the ledge of the other side of the pool, feet dipping into the water as he laughs along with the large group surrounding him. It’s bright out— the sun’s rays bouncing off from the water’s surface to glitter the underside of his face. Even the sun has his attention. It’s so comically ridiculous that you almost roll your eyes into a scoff. That is until you see him see you, and within a moment’s notice, he’s up on his feet and is departing from the crowd to walk up to you.

“You’re here.”

The first thing he does is swipe the sunhat from your head, adding it to his obnoxiously colored outfit: a bright pink buttoned top with neon orange flowers, the color matching the necklace he’s uncharacteristically wearing. He’s also got a pair of square framed sunglasses perched on his nose. “Is this your highlighter cosplay?” you ask, snickering. 

He shoots you a glare. “Fuck off. What took you so long, anyway? Thought you got lost or something.”

“I wish I did,” you grunt. There’s a holler and a splash from somewhere. You feel a few droplets hitting the skin of your feet. Beomgyu tugs you by the arm a little farther away from the pool. “This is way too noisy for my liking. And I thought I’ve been desensitized by you and your friends.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Beomgyu!”

A third voice suddenly barges in from behind you. Beomgyu’s eyes leave your face for a second when you feel someone brush past your shoulders. “Hey!” Beomgyu greets back, giving who you assume is one of his friends a high five before the guy runs off again, then his gaze flits back to you. “Anyway—”

“Hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!”

A more familiar face shows up and greets Beomgyu with a slap on the back, once more fishing away his attention. You’ve seen him at Horangnabi before, you think. “Hyung, I’ll get to you in a sec!” he says. When Beomgyu looks at you again, his smile quickly drops into a pursed huff. “Ugh.”

You laugh. “You were saying?”

Beomgyu smacks his tongue in distaste, tugging you even further into a corner in the backyard, right next to a bush-lined fence under the shade. “I was trying to say— it’s good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while, you know. Your mother would cry tears of joy to hear that her hermit of a daughter is at a party.”

“Why do you always bring up my mother when you want to make a point?”

“Extra leverage,” he grins. “There’s drinks in the cooler. Want me to get you one?”

“Nah,” you say. “I’m gonna hole up in Sungchan’s room in about—” you check the time on your phone. “Ten minutes. Minjeong’s already in our sanctuary.”

You receive a pinch on the nose from Beomgyu for that. You try to elbow him off, and just as he’s about to say something again, you two hear his name being yelled out from somewhere in the area. “Choi Beomgyu! Pool volleyball, stat!” Beomgyu pauses, arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slump in defeat. A single breath of wind, he’s gonna fall over.

“God fucking damn it.”

It’s very funny seeing him like this. “Off you go,” you push his limp body out of the shade, the sun hitting you both once more. Beomgyu makes a grunt of protest. “Go, butterfly, go. Your people are waiting for you.”

Beomgyu gives you a look of awful judgment, but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway in preparation to take a dive. “You’re not gonna swim?” he asks.

“In that water?” you grimace. “Want me to catch a disease or some shit? You’re on your own, pal.”

“Drama queen,” he huffs, fully removing his shirt now and you’re like whoa there— eyes away, eyes away. A screeching voice calls from his attention. He looks behind to yell back, “Shut the fuck up, I’ll there in a minute!”

“Hand me your phone,” you tell him, holding out your hand. Beomgyu turns around, looking at you with his atrociously bright shirt hanging on his forearm. You clear your throat. “And clothes. Ask Sungchan for directions to his room to find me later.”

“You sure?” he asks, digging into his short pockets.

“Yeah. Go have your fun, loser.”

Beomgyu hums and takes your offer, handing you his phone, tossing his shirt to your face, putting your sun hat back on top of your head and making sure to ruin your hair in the process. He’s so fucking annoying. “I’ll be back after I kick their asses.”

The shirt drops from your face and falls, only to hang on your arm. “Hey. I don’t really care,” you say. Beomgyu doesn’t find that response satisfactory. He makes a face before running off, slow at first before breaking into a sprint once he’s near enough the pool, before jumping straight into the water with a loud splash!

His head emerges from the water, largely grinning with his hair sticking to his skull. It doesn’t take long for him to be swallowed by a group of people. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I know you hate it when people assume you’re dating. But seeing all that, I really can’t blame them.”

“Holy shit— Minjeong,” you jump, meeting face-to-face with your friend the moment you spin your heels. She’s got her arms crossed, looking at you like she’s massively unimpressed. “When did you get here?”

“I thought you died or something,” she shrugs. There’s a splash from the pool, you two getting hit as collateral damages and Minjeong makes a gagging noise. “I can’t believe I left home early for this mess.”

You make a noise of agreement. It’s around four right now, the number of people isn’t getting any smaller, and the music is yet to get louder. Choi Beomgyu’s shirt and phone are still on your person. Said phone buzzing incessantly in your hold. “I’ve been out here for a good ten minutes,” you say. “I think that’s enough.”

“Good call. Let’s go upstairs.”

On the way to the room, you bump into Heeseung, who ropes you in to taking two jello shots before setting you free. You also greet a few people that you know for uni here and there, but you can barely hear them over, well, everything. It’s so chaotic, you’re beginning to wonder how the hell Jung Sungchan is going to clean up the aftermath of this. Or maybe that’s why he was so desperate to have you and Minjeong over. So that you’d help him clean up. 

Minjeong seems to agree with your theory. You two key in the door to the room he gave you while cussing him out. “That bastard. Of course, he’d have ulterior motives.” The door opens. Minjeong lets herself in and immediately throws herself face-first onto the bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“You dressed up all cutely just to sleep at a party,” you say, scanning around the room for a place to put away Beomgyu’s things. 

“Hey, my ten minutes of screentime needs to be worth it,” she replies, voice muffled by the mattress. “Night, night.”

With how pretty the interiors look, you’re pretty sure this isn’t a room Sungchan frequents. A guest bed, maybe. There’s a large window on the opposite wall revealing a vivid backyard view, sheer white curtains filtering the sun. It’s very bohemian. Tasseled rugs, rattan decor hung all around. You notice the round, wicker seat next to the bed with a patterned cushion. You toss Beomgyu’s belongings there and walk up to the window.

Peeling back the curtain, you look down to see a flood of people scattered all about the yard, muffled music and noises leaking into the cracks of the room. Choi Beomgyu is still splashing around the pool. You watch as he throws a beach ball overhead, eyes following it fly across the water, until it ultimately bounces off the pool ledge and hits someone from behind. He looks pretty happy with the stunt. You let out a huff, a tug on the corners of your mouth, and let yourself sink into the soft rug in between the bed and the windowsill, laying down.

You hear Minjeong squirming from above. Damn, she’s actually sleeping. You’d get up there and join her too, but the floor is already comfortable, and you’re already yawning, so you feel yourself starting to doze off, lulled by the distant sounds of people from the outside.

When you open your eyes again, it’s orange.

You open your phone. Almost six in the evening. The sunset leaks into the room through the sheer curtain, painting shadows on the floor as you blink and regain your consciousness.

Then you hear three sharp knocks from the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming.” It takes a while for you to reconnect the wires in your brain. You let out a yawn as you make your groggy steps towards the door, seeing Minjeong wedged into the upper corner of the bed in a way that’s definitely going to wrinkle her outfit. There’s a few more knocks on the door. You twist the knob open and lo and behold—

It’s Choi Beomgyu.

“Oh, thank god, I found the right room this time.”

Half-clothed. With a very evident, painful red mark on his left cheekbone.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

You’re wide awake now. Beomgyu answers with a sheepish grin. “Well. You see. A little accident occurred.” 

He flinches back and looks away guiltily with tightly pressed lips the moment you nudge your face closer. It’s swollen. You take a step back with a sigh. “Explain,” you say, grabbing him into the room. You tip the door close with your foot and bring him to the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Minjeong up in the process.

“Some of the guys got a little too tipsy,” he starts as you sit him down onto the mattress. You kneel onto the bed stool, sinking into the loose blanket draped on the cushion just next to his outstretched legs while he continues yapping. “There was a surfboard involved. Don’t ask. But with alcohol-induced lack of coordination, and then there’s me who was by the pool ledge at the wrong place at the wrong time— I think you can get an idea of what happened.

He leans back, sinking his hands into the cushion. You dip forward. “That’s nothing to brag about.” Yeah, he’s gonna need some ice. 

“I think I bumped my head a little too.”

You feel a breath escape. He’s smiling. How many beer cans has he downed already? “Beomgyu. Seriously. What the fuck?” His face is irritating you, so you grab it and yank it down to get a good look of his big, round head. “Where?”

“Ack! Gently! Do it gently!” he complains, and you feel his right hand coil around your left wrist. “It’s father in the back, I think—”

“Quit grabbing—”

“Ow!”

You do manage to find the bump, but you accidentally press on it a little too hard, causing Choi Beomgyu to yank your wrist in surprise, jerking you forward out of balance. Now, that’s fine and all, but at the same moment, you hear two unfamiliar voices speaking in hushes approaching the door. Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure this room is empty?”

“Yeah, it’s empty, just—”

Swing! 

You try to get up. But your knees slip on the blanket on the stool and you stumble forward upon hearing the door slam open.

It’s a domino effect. Your palms are pressing against the soft mattress. Choi Beomgyu’s bruised face is looking straight at you in alarm. From underneath. You’re on top of him. On the bed. You snap your head towards the door and it’s wide, wide open with two people, half inside, and a few more heads poking in and zeroing in on you as the realization that you forgot to fucking lock it dawns upon you and soaks into your bones.

This. This isn’t a favorable position.

God damn it all.

“Sorry!”

And the door is slammed shut once more. That doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. You feel your face starting to burn and your strength attempting to escape from your body.

“Uh.”

The voice from below you reels your attention back in. You blink. Shit. You’re practically pinning Choi Beomgyu against the bed right now and his face is just a few inches away from yours. The heat is rising to your head. You want to move, but your arms won’t budge— seemingly temporarily locked into place by the shock of the sight underneath you.

His eyes are wide open, reflecting the orange tinted light from the ceiling, flushing his skin with a light shade of auburn, the tint deeper on his cheeks and nose. You see his throat bob, muscles contracting. 

The thing is, you’ve known him for a good twenty years or so, give or take. But you’ve never seen his face this close before, and you have to admit—

“C—can you move?”

Choi Beomgyu is kind of pretty.

Even with an ugly bruise forming underneath his eye.

“Hey. I don’t think this is gonna help kill any of the rumors.”

You look up to see Minjeong further up on the bed, very, very awake. You forgot she’s here. You toss yourself to the side with a squeak, practically hurling yourself off from the bed. “It—it was an accident!” you start. Minjeong simply shakes her head with sigh.

“I know. I saw everything. I was already awake the moment you sat this fucker’s ass on the bed.”

Hot. Your face is very hot. But Minjeong is also very right because god— you’re not sure how far things are gonna escalate. How many people saw that? Five? Maybe Six? Gosh, you don’t fucking know. The only thing you’re sure about is the fact that Lee Heeseung is gonna have a field day once he hears about this. You are royally screwed.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[1427]

would you? (pt. 2)

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your mom died when you were 15, your Aunt Lucille was given custody even though she was battling cancer. When the world gets upended and Lucille dies, Negan is all you have, but he isn’t cut out to be a parent. When he becomes the leader of the Saviors and takes residence in the Sanctuary he’s almost a stranger. No one wants anything to do with you because you’re Negan’s “daughter”. So when you confront Negan about needing company, he obliges. You don’t realize that the feelings you’re developing are inappropriate, but Negan does.

Setting: Height of the Saviors era Sanctuary, Negan’s bedroom. 

Warnings: SMUT, age-gap (reader is 18, Negan is early/mid 40’s), virgin!reader, manipulation, guardian!negan (technically it’s Uncle!Negan and it IS mentioned explicitly), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, stocking!kink, innocence/corruption!kink, reader is described several times as a doll/toy, read at your own risk ok

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: uhm, my heart was racing the entire time I was writing this please read at your own risk fr

// Part 1 //

masterlist

18+ mdni

I was just bending over to grab my pencil, coach. 

For a while, you don’t bring up what happened that night. Going to lunch like everything’s normal. Negan is even more disturbed by this than he was by your innocent flirting. You don’t bring it up, but you’re different. Reminding him of some of his former students. The girls with obvious crushes - ones they were trying to hide but actively weren’t. They’d do things that could easily be explained away. 

Sorry, I only packed these shorts today. I didn’t realize they were against dress code. 

It was easy to not look then, to hardly be affected by silly teenage girls who had no idea what they were doing. He could go to the teachers lounge and flirt with the TA’s if he was really looking for someone younger. But younger isn’t necessarily what Negan liked. ‘Innocent’ wasn’t something he thought he could get into. But with you? He had all control, every single aspect of your life was in his hands - and he knows he fucked up. He knows he fucked you up… but he’d gone and fucked himself up too. Finding himself wanting to teach you everything. So caught up in the knowledge of how bad you want him makes him feel like a king - moreso than any amount of wives. You only wanted him. You only knew him.

Oblivious to Negan’s dirty secret and because he’d threatened to stop seeing you if you continued this flirting behavior you stick with subtle stuff. Wearing even lower cut shirts, mini-skirts and stockings. And sure, the stockings had holes in them. But Negan liked that even more than if they hadn’t. It let him imagine you weren’t this pristine untouched thing. He wasn’t sure which was worse; fantasizing about you as this perfect little doll that’s never been held by anyone, that doesn’t know anything about a man’s body or as this thing he’d corrupted. Giving you romance novels? What an amateur mistake on a colossal scale. 

When you started wearing skirts he could smell you. Your wet cunt, sweet and unmistakable, every single time you walked into his bedroom for lunch. He tries to ignore it, tells the kitchen to make more pungent food, wears cologne, but it doesn’t matter - he could pick your scent out of a line-up of the undead, having had weeks to memorize it. 

Negan’s cologne only makes you more wet for him. You can barely make it through lunch anymore. Trying your best to keep up with the conversation that you’re almost positive he’s phoning in as well, but it’s not easy when all you can think about is him stuffing you full on the bed that sits a dozen feet away. You’re desperate to make a move and terrified that any move you make will disrupt everything. 

You scour your books for some kind of clue on what to do next, how to make it impossible for him to say no - but there’s no obvious answer. With no experience to tell you that Negan was losing his goddamn mind waiting for you to make a move or proposition so that he could oblige it. 

He gets sick of waiting. Sick of drinking down his disgust with himself. It only makes the fantasies more vivid. Almost tangible and right there. All he really had to do? Touch you. And he knows it. 

He’d stopped getting you gifts and novels after that night, but today? Today he had something real fuckin’ special. 

You’re sitting across from him eating… only desserts? Weird choice, but still delicious. “What’s the occasion?” You ask, taking a bite of the strawberry shortcake set out in front of you. 

“Do I need a special occasion to treat my favorite girl?” He says it so casually, but he’s never said anything like that to you before. 

“Okay,” you breathe out a chuckle, “who are you and what have you done with my uncle?” 

“Woah now, ‘Uncle’?” The title made him visibly uncomfortable, but not because he didn’t like it. He was too far gone with you, and now anything that made it more taboo just spurred his hunger further. 

You breathe in deeply, as if you’d just confessed to something. Simply put, you had. He knows how bad you want it. He can smell it on you, and you didn’t care he was your family. Not even just your almost supposed ‘guardian’, no. You saw him as your uncle and you still wanted it. Bad. “Yeah, you are my uncle, aren’t you?” 

“That makes you my niece.” He says it like it’s news. Not understanding that he’s trying to gauge your reaction. 

For some reason, it makes your heart pound. Your ears get hot, and that same smile you’d tried to will away that night he’d forced a confession out of you (in the form of a moan at his touch) blossoms on your face. Pink cheeked and starry eyed, “It does,” you nod, you really don’t know any better, “Anyway, what’s all this about?” 

Negan scrambles for an answer that isn’t the one he can’t say out loud, “Missed your birthday, wanted to… make it up to you.” His voice is low, droning, and it makes you shift in your seat, crossing your legs. Negan notices and smirks at your body giving you away. You’re so easy. 

“Oh… thanks.” You take another bite of the shortcake before moving your fork to his plate to take a bite of chocolate cake. He lets you, he’s been letting you get away with so much more disrespect than he’d ever allow from anyone else. Telling himself that no teenager shouldn’t be getting away with little stuff like that, but really it’s because he likes it. He wishes you would take more control, and just ask him already. He’d wished for weeks that you would press yourself up against him like you had before he’d made you aware of your own feelings for him. And he hates that he told you that you weren’t allowed. That it was wrong. Because it is, but he doesn’t care anymore. 

He’s sick of waiting for you to understand how to make a move, “I got you a little something too.”

It’s almost unbelievable that he’d gotten this for you. One of the saviors had tried to smuggle it to keep for himself, and once Negan saw it… he couldn’t think of something better for you. “Now close your eyes,” he purrs. 

You slam your eyes shut and put out your hands eager to receive another gift. Feeling a hard plastic case being slipped into your fingers, “Now open them.” 

It was a… you had no idea. Looking up at him in confusion you’re met with a look of complete and total satisfaction from Negan. Smiling wide at your reaction. “What is it?” You whisper, smiling back. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you.” And he winks. He fucking winks. You’re a mess. You’re putty. You have no idea what this little pink egg shaped thing is, enclosed in the plastic balanced in your hands, but you know it’s something… different. He can tell you still have no clue what it is, what it’s for, but he sits and waits for your thanks. 

You can feel it, your legs tremble as you’re about to stand up but you stop yourself. You’re not supposed to flirt with him. And he told you that that’s what hugging him is. At least when you do it. You look to him, chewing on your lip, you want to feel him pressed against you so bad it’s making your knee bounce in anxious anticipation. You think about the fact that if you were hugging him you’d be able to smell his cologne even stronger, maybe you could even get away with kissing him on the cheek. After all, you could just blame it on the gift again. 

He’s just sitting there, leaned back in his chair, staring toward the window. It would be so easy to just… you get up and crash down into his lap. Draping your arms around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck like you always do. This time is different, like everything else has been different since that night. You can’t will yourself to move. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze travels upward. All you can see is his neck, his chin still pointed away like he’s trying to hold himself together. You feel a guilt creeping into your periphery but it’s drowned out by the heat between your legs. Without even realizing you’re doing it, you plant your lips on his neck. 

He’s quick to react, his hand coming to grip your thigh just as instinctually as you had kissed him. Negan is sick of waiting, he was not built for this. “Do you want me to show you how to use your gift?” 

You’re melting, all your senses dizzy with his hand so firmly on your leg. Feeling his calloused palm through the tears in your stockings, your skin prickles. He puts his one arm underneath your legs and the other under your arms and picks you up, placing you gently back down in his chair. The suspense courses through you, tightening and moving to your limbs. The personification and embodiment of an exclamation point, you’re trembling as he stalks around the room. Taking the still unopened gift off of the table, you hear the click of the knife from behind you as he paces. He’s cutting into it as he leans down and breathes in your ear, “If you want me to stop, you tell me to stop, okay?” 

You nod in response, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.  He keeps talking, walking around to face you again as he gets the small mysterious device free from its packaging. “I fucked up with you,” you can tell he’s going to start monologuing like he always does, building up the anticipation you already can’t take. Your hands pulling at the hem of your skirt because you don’t know what else to do with them. “I want you to know that I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve really really fucked up your pretty little head.” As he speaks he moves back around behind you. Cheeks flushing at the compliment. He’d called you pretty. 

“But don’t worry, kid,” his voice in your ear feels like his stubble beneath your lips that you’ve imagined so many times, “I’m gonna fix you right up.”

His hand glides down your chest from above you and your body dramatically arches into his touch. Shivering as he moves his way down to one leg, pulling on your stocking to maneuver the limb onto the arm-rest. He does the same with the other, as if you’re some doll he’s positioning. You’re putty, not a single ounce of resistance inside of you. He moves his hand to lift up your skirt, letting it fall to your stomach. Unable to look at yourself in such a provocative position you close your eyes. 

“Holy shit, girl.” Negan’s smile devours him as he takes it all in. You’re not wearing underwear underneath your stockings, something he was absolutely not expecting. Your pretty pussy all smashed up against the mesh, your juices seeping through. In the light it almost sparkles. He’s never seen a damn thing like it. He hadn’t even done anything yet, and you were a shaking mess in his chair. Waiting so patiently for him to fix you. 

He had planned on putting the little vibrator against the fabric of your panties and stockings, and while he still could… he can’t stop himself from putting his warm hand between your legs instead. He doesn’t want to stop himself, he wasn’t built for that. Fuck the piece of shit vibrator and fuck all of his stupid fucking plans to take this slow. No, he knows what you really need. Him. 

His big hand comes to rest on top of your mound, pressing his fingers flat against the wet fabric of your stockings hard. The pressure.. the warmth.. your hands immediately shoot up from your sides grabbing his forearm as you gasp at the feeling. Pulling yourself even more flush against him, any piece of him you can get. 

You’re shaking, Negan can’t think straight. All plans out the window, that smell, he needs to taste you. He rubs his whole hand, all four warm fingers, against the sopping fabric in circles for only a few seconds before bringing his hand up to his nose and taking a deep breath in of your scent. (He won’t lick you from his fingers, that’s somehow beneath him.)

You whimper under his touch and whine when he pulls away, but you don’t move other than to put your arms flat against the armrests of the chair. He was going to fix you, right? So you submit, not really even understanding how to react to any of this. 

His dick is so hard against the fabric of his pants that it hurts. He tries to readjust, but it only makes him groan. Your neck cranes at the noise, but before you can get a look he’s in front of you, pulling up on the mesh directly above your heat, taking the knife he’d still been holding and cutting into it. The sound of the stockings tearing only makes Negan’s dick harder, revealing your glistening cunt like unwrapping a fucking present. Just for him, all for him. He did this… all of it. 

He rips the fabric more before pulling your hips closer to the edge of the chair and kneeling down on one knee. His face buries against you with a haste you weren’t expecting, your body shooting up at the feeling. So sharp and too much, you squirm against his tongue but he keeps you still. Growling into your cunt, “I said I’m going to take care of you, doll, so you have to let me.  Stop. Moving. Just…” his tone softens, and he kisses you sweetly on your hood, “relax.” 

Negan dives back in more gently this time, taking in the taste of you slowly. Drinking from you, he’s never tasted anything so sweet. So pristine. His tongue swathing in large laps against your lips, you’re trying your best to relax but your orgasm builds faster than you can tolerate. It felt like fucking magic, filling you with stars that buzzed all the colors of the rainbow. He flicks his tongue between your folds, directly onto that spot and your orgasm shoots through you like a bullet. From your core to the top of your head, no orgasm you’d ever had had felt like that. It left you wanting, it wasn’t enough. Your walls pulsate, gushing thick white perfect ecstasy into Negan’s mouth. He snickers against you, his nose resting gently on your still quivering clit. 

He doesn’t want to wait - picking you up like you weigh absolutely nothing, bringing you and your dizzy head to lay gently on his satin sheets. Bliss; and yet, you yearned. 

Inside. 

Your whole body shouting, the personification and embodiment of a fucking exclamation point. His belt clacks against your sensitive folds as he races to get himself inside.

And then, all of a sudden and just like that - you’re whole. His lips smashing into yours in a desperate need to claim every part of you. 

When he’d imagined it in his head you were naked, all skin and blush and like sweet honey coating his senses. It was all different, but he didn’t mind you like this. Clothing soaked with sweat and your own sweet nectar; he felt like he was in high school and he’s taking your virginity underneath the bleachers. All limbs and throbbing need and no time, no breath to waste.

 He kisses you deep and rough until you can’t breathe and you pull away, still adjusting to his size which you imagine is large from the discomfort inside of you, snaring itself into your vision like white flashes of electricity.

His first few labored thrusts hurt like you imagined it would, though it’s not like anything you’ve felt before. The burn of your walls stretching over him makes your breath hitch sharply in your throat, “That’s a good girl,” he purrs in your ear as he pulls out and slams into you harder. Tears sting your eyes as you nod into his shoulder, silently willing him to keep going. Don’t stop. He couldn’t stop even if you’d asked him too, your pussy is too wet, too hungry and swallowing him whole. He knows what you need, he can tell, even if you couldn’t. You need this. 

Negan is seeing fucking stars, your hole stretching so perfectly around him like it never needed anything more, “Fu-uck,” he’s not going to last 5 minutes. He leans back, taking your hips and pulling them off of the bed to stay attached to his while he fucks you like that. Your shoulders still down against the bed, you’d never read about a position like this and it hurts but you like it. Your eyes traveling down his body as he buries himself slowly into you. All the way to the hilt, and that’s when you see it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, causing him to look down and see what was going on but he had already pulled back. 

“Hm?” His tone is amused. 

“Do it again,” you whine. He smirks a brilliant flash of white teeth, before his face completely falters at the sight when he presses himself all the way into you again. Both of your eyes wide as the outline of his cock protrudes from your belly. 

“Jesus,” his voice is loud, it seems to vibrate your brain against your skull. He draws himself out of you and shoves back in - more unceremoniously than previous. He’d been trying his best to not hurt you, to take it as slow as he could manage; but seeing his hard length poke out of your body was too divine, way too fucking hot for him to not lose any semblance of control he’d had. 

Negan drowns you out, your loud screams, your hands clawing at his forearms, as he rails into you. Eyes fixed on your stomach as he watches; he doesn’t even realize you’re cumming until your hips shake violently in his grip. Your walls clench so tight his cock is pushed out. Negan clicks his tongue, as if you’d done something wrong. Moving himself in position back on top of you, his elbows coming to rest above your shoulders, his whole being swallowing you up. Your arms and legs wrap around him to try and still your shaking body as he ruts up and into you like a wild animal, his breathing jagged, his movements much less languid. Rough and desperate and all consuming. 

Using your body like a toy to get himself off, he’s hardly paying attention anymore. Grunting curses that you’re trying to memorize through a hazy veil of satisfaction.

He’s. Falling. Apart.  

And it’s wet and hot and so deep inside you that you can feel it in your fucking throat. You scream, loud, as he empties himself inside you.

Quickly, too quickly, he pulls himself out. He wants to watch his seed spill out and onto the gray sheets. You’d said you fucking sucked at painting, but Negan thinks this is the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever fucking seen. His cum dripping out of your freshly and newly used pussy in soft glistening strings to pool underneath of you, the white in stark contrast to the dark fabric is something real fuckin’ special. 

He’s smiling, kneeling above you with his hands on your stockinged knees as he watches between your legs. You’re in another world, on another planet and lost in your senses. It was everything you’d dreamed it’d be. Heaven. 

Negan had every intention on this being a one time thing. After all, hysteria was curable - but as he lays back on the bed to catch his breath he’s already caught dreaming about you in every position, any way he can place you. His perfect little toy, all just for him. Only his. 

[holylulusworld]

Sewer rat (2)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup

Sewer Rat (1)

Sewer rat masterlist

Prey. That’s what you are to James Buchanan Barnes. Well, at least you’re not a sewer rat to him. As long as your information is useful to him, you’re safe.

For how long, you don’t know. He’s, just like Tony, a cold-hearted man unable to feel compassion or love. Sadly, you realized too late that Tony Stark could never love you.

“Let me get this straight. Tony threw you out with nothing but a towel. Still, you got this.” Bucky holds up the little black book. “How did you manage to steal his black book in only a towel?”

“My bathrobe,” your voice cracks, and you drop your gaze. “Did you not wonder why I fought tooth and nail to get my bathrobe, not a pretty dress or at least shoes?” You lift your head to look Bucky straight in the eyes. “The moment Tony Stark stepped into my life, I knew it was too good to be true. Whirlwind romances and men fulfilling your every wish always come with a catch.”

“You hid the black book in the bathrobe, didn’t you?” Steve smirks. He’s impressed you thought about hiding something so valuable for hard times.

“In the first months, I was on cloud number nine, but the façade crumbled. I slowly realized that Tony is not the man he loves to pretend he is. I didn’t think he’d treat me like he did last night.”

“How did you get your hands on his black book?” Bucky is still not convinced you are telling the truth.

“He’s sleepy after—” You bite your tongue and look away. “You know, sex. I couldn’t sleep and got up to get some water. I saw his little black book and phone lying abandoned on the kitchen counter. He was so eager to fuck me in the kitchen, he forgot about it.”

Bucky clears his throat. He shudders; imagining Tony and you going at it is the last thing he wants to think about. “Go ahead, tell us everything.”

“I knew Tony had lots of these black books. He uses them for notes. I sneaked into his office and stole a new one,” you lick your lips as Bucky opens the black book to check on the first names. “That night, I copied the book, writing every contact and code word down. When I came back to the bedroom, Tony was awake. I didn’t get the chance to hide the book somewhere else but in the pocket of my bathrobe.”

“Smart girl,” Steve praises. “This probably saved your life. We are not the kind of people protecting others for free.”

“I know,” you wrinkle your nose. “If you’re not useful, you can rot in hell.” You chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not delusional nor blinded by my undying love for Tony. He showed his true colors, and all I got left is the little book in your hands and all the things I memorized to help you bring his business down.”

“I will check on the information. If you tried to trick me, the things Tony said and did to you will be a pleasant memory.” Bucky’s features darken for a moment. “Steve, ensure she gets food and show her the way to the guestroom.”

“Please come with me.” Steve holds his hand for you. You look at his large hand but refuse to take it. So far, they haven’t proven to be better than Tony. “Alright.” Steve shows his palms. “You don’t trust me. That’s fair. We don’t trust you either.”

Slowly getting up, take a deep breath. Bucky is still reading the names in the little black book. You only hope he won’t betray you too after you hand the only leverage you hold over Tony.

“The information is gold,” Jake grins while explaining every little detail he found out about the people on Tony Stark’s payroll. “He pays cops, politicians, civil servants, and prostitutes,” he laughs. “Man, even taxi driver. That man seems to be obsessed with staying informed.”

“We will start with the less powerful people. The taxi driver he pays,” Bucky points at a name in the black book. “We will talk to him first. Make sure he knows if he fucks with me, he’ll die.”

“Got it, boss,” Rumlow hums. “Do you want him in one piece, or can I rough him up a little?” He smirks at Bucky.

“We don’t want him to shit his pants yet. Bucky wants to talk to him, not scare the shit out of him. Maybe it’s enough to offer more money than Stark to him,” Steve huffs when Rumlow gets a knife out, grinning. “No violence before we tell you so.”

You’re starving. Until now, you didn’t know you were hungry. It’s been hours since Tony kicked you out of his house and life. It feels odd to give in to a primal need while your heart still lies in shambles, shattered on the ground.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bucky sits down on a chair at the kitchen counter next to you. He looks at the sandwich his cook made for you. “I hope they made something you’ll like for you.”

“I’m not picky,” you murmur before taking another bite. Bucky’s presence in the kitchen can mean two things. Your information is valuable to him, or he wants to kick you out too.

“You know,” he leans closer to steal a pickle from your plate. “I saw you at one of his parties a few months back. You helped a waitress pick up glasses after another guest bumped into her. I knew that you were different at that moment.”

“People are rude; the world too. This doesn’t mean I have to be rude too,” you sniff. “Maybe when it comes to Stark. He deserves to catch hell.”

“That guy,” Bucky steals another pickle from your plate. “Your friend. Do you think he was involved in this shitshow? I mean, he comes back to town to marry and wants to meet up with you out of a sudden.”

“If you already know all the answers, why ask questions?” You muse. “I guess he was paid to get me in trouble. I just don’t know who is behind this conspiracy and why anyone wanted Tony and me apart.”

“We will find out,” he says, eyeing the second half of your sandwich. “Your information was correct. So far. We will see if you are as valuable as you believe you are.”

“I’m not, but this,” you tip your forehead. “I memorized every shady deal and name. Whatever you want to know about his organization.”

“Jake, my smart little tech nerd, is working on finding out more about your friend and his involvement in all of this. If you are helping me, I’m helping you.”

“Quit pro quo, Mr. Barnes,” you reply, and hold out your hand.

“Quit pro quo, doll,” he says, and grabs your hand, making you squeak. "But,” he leans closer to whisper in your ear, “if you try to trick me or fuck me over, you’ll end up six feet under.”

Tags in reblog.

[fullsunstrawberry]

Dirty little secret

Synopsis: Childhood best friends' relationship is strained when you drunkenly sleep with his new best friend. Chenle’s panic about y/n regretting their one night stand turns into a secret relationship. Just as you think everything is fine, you're faced with the ultimatum: “It’s either him or me.” or in other words: A small silly little pinky promise will destroy a friendship

Genre: friends to lovers, hidden romance, forbidden (not really) lovers??

Content Warnings: swearing, dreamies getting drunk, mention of getting blackout drunk, one-night stand (not described), turned more, ANGST with fluffy end, Jisung is a little shit in this, very vanilia and sweet smut.

Word count: 7k

a/n: sorry this was a bit later than i expected for it come out! a lot of stuff popped up this weekend :( ALSO I HAVE TO TAG @lowkeychenle IN EVERYTHING CHENLE RELATED SOOOO LOVE YAH <3

Teaser Taglist: @haechansbbg @bunnychui @theandypark @bigjugz03 @babbymochiiii @xrminarlert34

"Come on! You never miss a hangout," Jisung whined into the phone.

“They always end up with me getting drunk and sleeping on the dorm couch, no thanks,” you replied.

“This time it’s at Chenle’s house. You can even sleep call dibs on his spare bedroom!” Jisung reasoned.

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” You already knew the answer.

“Nope, see you later!”

Once Jisung ended the call, you had a moment to think. Great, you got yourself into another hangout. It’s not that you hate hanging out with the guys, but you've started to develop a little crush on Chenle.

He’s been extra flirty with you lately. It’s not because he likes you. He's been playful with everyone! Well, that's what you try to tell yourself.

But you can't like him! Jisung would go nuts. He was the one to introduce you to all the guys, promising you wouldn't like any of them when you were twelve. But it seems like Jisung has held you up to that silly pinky promise.

One time you told Jisung that Renjun's new haircut looked really good on him and he freaked out, claiming you were falling for him and it was against the “Bro code.” This made you confused because you’re pretty sure that's not what bro code is, but he looked very upset, so you didn't question it.

Now there is no way you will ever admit to liking Chenle. If he got upset with Renjun, you know he would be furious if you even flirted back with Chenle. That’s his best friend! He’s not the type to be happy about his boy and girl best friend dating. You're sure he’s told Chenle so you never took his flirting too seriously. But that didn't stop your heart from beating after every time he looked at you.

A group of guys yelled as soon as Chenle opened the door. “They’re already this rowdy,” you sighed, already coming up with excuses as to why you had to leave.

Chenle laughed at your disapproval written all over your face. “Stick by me, I swear I'm not as bad as them.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that he was literally the loudest one. You let out a “mmh” before walking around him to be greeted with a bunch of “Y/NNNNs.” You could definitely tell they started drinking without you by the way Donghyuck reached out to you with grabby hands.

“Already starting without me!” you grabbed an already-opened beer on the table and took a swig out of it.

“It's not our fault you're always late,” Jaemin teased.

“Sorry, I have a life.”

“Reading fanfiction?” Renjun giggled.

“Can’t believe I'm already getting attacked, I just arrived!”

“I told you to stick by me,” Chenle laughed.

“You're right. It’s me and you now… Let’s get drunk!” You smiled, grabbing another beer to give to Chenle.

You're glad you didn't have to wake up on a couch hungover. Waking up in a bed surrounded by the comfiest blanket wrapped around you felt like heaven. Not ever wanting to wake up.

You stretched to feel the coldness of the other side of the bed. But your leg hit another leg that wasn't your own. You don’t remember anything after Donghyuck’s karaoke challenge. Did someone sleep over too? Mark was supposed to pick up the guys and bring them back to the dorm… Maybe he forgot?

Moving your head to see who ended up passed out with you, you froze.

“WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY CLOTHES ON?!?”

Should you look? Should you not look? You slowly turn your head to check who you fell asleep with. Maybe you didn't hook up with one of your friends… Maybe you were just overheated and took off your clothes.

Turning over, you yelp in shock. Chenle is still sleeping next to you. Even worse, he’s shirtless, and you don’t really want to check under the sheets to confirm your suspicions.

But before you could panic any further, you noticed that Chenle was still sound asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. You took a moment to calm yourself down and gather your thoughts. Maybe there was a logical explanation for this situation.

You carefully wiggled out of the bed, making sure not to disturb Chenle. As you grabbed your clothes scattered across the room, memories of last night started to flood back. The drunken laughter, the friendly banter, and the way all of the guys left. All you could remember was cleaning up the kitchen because you felt bad leaving it such a mess. Then Chenle's hands grabbed yours in protest and said he would clean it up in the morning. But instead of agreeing you tried to pull his hands away which caused him to press into you.

Shaking your head to bring yourself back to reality you quickly threw your clothes back on and made your way downstairs. Needing some water because of how dry your throat felt. You didn't want to even think about why your throat hurt...

Once downstairs you can finally think about what the hell just happened. But no, life hates you. Instead, you were met with Mark washing dishes.

"Finally you woke up" Mark laughed before turning around and being met with a face he did not expect to see.

"Why did you come down from Chenle’s room?" 

You blinked at Mark's question, trying to come up with a plausible response. "Oh, I just woke up and wanted some water," you stammered, attempting to act casual.

Mark raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Water? Really? Because it looked like you were in quite a rush to get out of there."

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks as you fumbled for words. "I just... didn't want to disturb Chenle. He's still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake him up."

Mark's eyes narrowed, studying your face. "Uh-huh. Sure." He seemed unconvinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he went back to washing the dishes.

You took the opportunity to escape the awkward situation and headed towards the kitchen table “What do I do Mark, I fucked up.” 

Mark sighed, turned off the water, and dried his hands on a kitchen towel before looking at you with a serious expression. "Well, it depends on what you want. Did something happen between you and Chenle last night?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest with Mark. "I don't remember much, but I woke up in his bed, and I think we hooked up. I have no idea what went down, and I'm panicking."

Mark sighed again, his expression softening. "Look, Y/N, shit happens. People get drunk, things get blurry. Maybe nothing happened, or maybe something did. The important thing is to communicate with Chenle. Figure out what both of you remember and how you both feel about it."

"But what if he thinks it’s gross or something?" you worriedly questioned.

Mark shook his head. "Chenle is a good guy, and he knows how things can happen when everyone's been drinking. Just talk to him. Honesty is the key here."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. 

• ──────── •

Before you could process the situation, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs. Chenle, struggling to pull on his hoodie and hastily reaching for his keys, descended in a rush of movement.

"Easy there, you going to hurt yourself" Mark teased, chuckling as Chenle glanced up with an expression of sheer panic.

"Mark, fuck! I messed up big time. Y/N's going to hate me, and she'll never want to see me again. I genuinely like her, and I've messed everything up," Chenle exclaimed, the urgency in his voice evident.

Mark raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with you. "Well, you might want to talk to her about that instead of assuming the worst," he suggested.

Chenle's eyes widened as he finally noticed your presence. "Y/N, I... I'm so sorry if I did something wrong. I don't really remember what happened, but I know we something did happen, and now I'm just freaking out," he rambled, looking genuinely distressed.

You took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in the room. "Chenle, let's just talk about it, okay? I don't remember much either, but panicking won't help. We need to figure out what actually happened and how we both feel about it."

Chenle nodded, relief washing over his face. "Yeah, you're right. We should talk." He looked at Mark, who gave him an encouraging nod. 

“This is something you two have to figure out.” Mark grabbed his jacket and left. 

As Mark left, you and Chenle sat down at the kitchen table, exchanging nervous glances. The awkwardness in the air was noticeable, but both of you knew that avoiding the conversation wouldn't solve anything.

"Okay, so, let's try to piece together what happened last night," you suggested, breaking the silence.

Chenle nodded, his eyes focused on the table. "I remember the guys leaving, and you were helping me with the dishes. Then... things got a bit blurry."

You sighed, realizing that your memories matched his. "Yeah, I remember that too. But after that, it's all a blur. I woke up in your bed, and we're both... well, you know."

Chenle ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. "I don't want things to be weird between us. I genuinely like you, Y/N. I just hope I didn't mess everything up."

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his. "Chenle, I really like you too. Maybe we can start over?"

Chenle's eyes brightened at your words, a genuine smile forming on his face. "Yeah, let's start over. How about I take you to a restaurant and we can finish this conversation.” 

“Are you asking me on a date!” You smiled.

Chenle grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, I am. I think we could both use a fresh start. We can go right now!”

You laughed and shook your head ‘no’ “We can go later, I have to get ready for it.”

“Oh…yeah ops” Chenle laughed standing back up “How about tonight?” 

“Can’t wait a little longer?” You teased.

“Hell no! Not when it comes to you.”

You couldn't help but blush at Chenle's enthusiastic response. "Alright then, tonight it is. I'll make sure to be ready for our date."

Chenle grinned, his excitement contagious. "Perfect! I'll pick you up later. 

• ──────── •

As you got ready for the date, you took extra care with your appearance. You wanted to make a good impression, to show Chenle that you were genuinely interested in exploring this connection further. You could already feel the butterflies in your stomach

The hours crept by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity as anticipation filled the air.

 Finally, the moment arrived. Chenle looked exceptionally handsome in his casual attire, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He smiled warmly as he handed them to you, his eyes filled with genuine affection.

"You look…beautiful," he said softly, causing your cheeks to flush with a rosy hue.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling yourself becoming more at ease in his presence. "You look pretty amazing yourself."

Chenle chuckled and offered you his arm. "Shall we?” 

You linked your arm with his, nodding with a smile. "Let's go."

The date with Chenle was everything you’d hoped for and more. The restaurant was a familiar place, a small little shop that you once mentioned wanting to visit before. The atmosphere was cozy and inviting, with wooden tables, soft cushions, and flickering candles that cast gentle shadows on the walls. Soft music played in the background, a soothing blend of piano and strings that set the perfect mood for the evening.

Chenle was charming from the moment he sat down, his eyes sparkling with excitement and if you didn’t know him well you could have missed the nervousness he expressed through his body language. He pulled your chair out for you, a sweet gesture that made your heart flutter. 

“You remembered?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Of course I did,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips. “I’ve been looking forward to taking you here.” You tried to keep your blush in check, but his smile made it impossible. 

His earlier jitters seemed to fade as the night went on, replaced by genuine enthusiasm. He asked about your day, listened intently, and shared stories that made you laugh, his laughter infectious. It was clear he had put thought into every aspect of the evening, from the restaurant choice to the easy flow of conversation.

Throughout the evening, Chenle’s attentiveness and charm were evident. He complimented you effortlessly. “I know I already told you but you look absolutely beautiful,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “You’re not looking too shabby yourself.” You joked, earning a small laugh from him.

As the waiter brought your dishes, Chenle made a toast. “To a fantastic evening and getting to know each other even better.”

You clinked glasses. “To new beginnings.”

You both laughed together, “Was that too cheesy?” Chenle asked. 

You shook your head no, “This is just crazy, I didn’t expect all of this from you. You know? Being so romantic!”

Chenle chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "I wanted to make sure our first real date was special. I know things got off to a confusing start, but I really like you, Y/N. I want to see where this can go."

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling a warmth spread on your cheeks. "I really like you too, Chenle. And I appreciate all the effort you've put into tonight."

The conversation flowed easily. You shared stories, jokes, and dreams, discovering things you never knew about each other. Chenle's eyes never left yours, his gaze soft.

“You know,” Chenle said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve been really looking forward to this. It’s been a while since I’ve had a date where I felt this comfortable.”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” you said, your heart fluttering at his words. “I am too.”

During a brief pause in the conversation, Chenle reached across the table and took your hand. “I’ve been thinking,” he said softly, “I really enjoy being with you. I’d love for us to spend more time together, if you’re up for it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I’d like that a lot.”

Chenle smiled, a mix of relief and happiness on his face. “Great. I was hoping you would.”

As the night drew to a close, Chenle walked you to your door. The night air was cool against your skin, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead. 

“Do you think we can make this a regular thing?” Chenle asked, his voice hopeful.

You smiled warmly. “I’d like that a lot.”

Chenle’s face lit up with a bright, genuine grin. “Me too. I’m really glad we talked things through.”

He leaned in, and for a brief, breathless moment, you thought he might kiss you. But instead, he pulled you into a warm hug, holding you close.

When you finally pulled away and said goodnight, you closed the door with a smile on your face, feeling like you were floating on air. Chenle had gone beyond all your expectations, and as you leaned against the door, you couldn’t help but replay the night in your mind, already missing him. 

Reaching into your bag you grabbed your phone and called Chenle. The phone rang a couple of times before he picked up. 

“Hey, you miss me already?” Chenle’s voice came through the phone. 

You chuckled at his playful tone. “Maybe… only just a little bit.” 

“What’s on your mind?” Chenle's voice held a teasing lilt as he waited for your response.

You hesitated for a moment, mumbling “Just wishing you would have kissed me” 

Chenle went silent for a moment, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. "Well, I can fix that."

Before you could even process his words, you heard a light knock on your door. Confusion filled you as you made your way back, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you. As you opened the door, there stood Chenle, breath heavy.

"Surprise," he said softly.

Your heart leaped in your chest as Chenle closed the gap between you, cupping your face gently with his free hand. Leaning in, Chenle pressed his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

As Chenle pulled back slightly, his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. But all he found was a dazed smile on your face. With a chuckle, he leaned in again, deepening the kiss.

His hands found your waist and he pressed you further into your house. With one foot, he closed the door behind him, never breaking the kiss between you two.

Chenle pulled away, a small whine leaving your lips in the absence of his touch. He chuckled before making sure your door was locked and turning back towards you. 

Without a word, Chenle lifted you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you towards the living room and towards your bedroom. He set you down gently on your bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he caressed your cheek with a tender touch.

The tension filled the room. Chenle's gaze was intense, you could feel your heart racing.

"I've been thinking of you," he confessed, his voice husky with emotion. "I can't hold back anymore."

You reached up to cup his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "Then don't," you whispered, barely able to believe this was really happening

Chenle’s lips met yours again in an instant, this kiss deeper and more urgent. His hands roamed your sides, pulling you closer, each touch sending shivers down your spine and making you dizzy with desire.

He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft, breathless, but filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Yes, I’m sure,” you whispered.

Chenle smiled, his expression softening. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He trailed kisses down your jawline, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. You tugged him closer, and he responded eagerly, deepening the kiss once more.

Chenle’s movements grew more confident, more assured, as he felt your response. He gently guided you back against the couch, his body hovering over yours. His kisses grew more passionate and demanding as his hands continued to explore. You could feel the tension building between you, the air thick with anticipation of what was going to happen.

In one swift motion, he pulled away just long enough to remove his shirt, tossing it aside before his hands returned to you, now with a new urgency. You mirrored his actions, discarding your dress and pulling him back down, feeling the sensation of his skin against yours. The closeness amplified every touch.

Chenle’s lips trailed down your body, leaving a path of kisses along your collarbone and down to your chest. His hands were everywhere, exploring, teasing, learning every curve and contour of your body. A soft moan escaped your lips as his kisses became more insistent, his mouth and hands working together to drive you wild.

You pulled him closer, needing to feel him, to have every inch of him pressed against you. Your hands roamed his back, your nails lightly scratching as you both lost yourselves in the heat of the moment.

“God, I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Chenle murmured against your skin as he pushed into you. His words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, and you responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, drawing him even closer. The sensation of him against you, the weight of his body, the heat between you—it was almost too much.

Your breaths mingled, rapid and uneven, as the rhythm between you quickened. Chenle’s hands moved with purpose, guiding your hips as you moved together, a perfect and desperate synchrony that had you both gasping. You could feel every beat of his heart, every shiver of anticipation as you inched closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, i’m so close” Chenle groaned, picking up his pace. You couldn’t even respond, only broken moans leaving your lips.

As both of you hit your climax together, moans and gasps filled the room, giving way to an intense wave of pleasure that washed over you both.

Chenle pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he met your gaze. He wanted to say something but he didn’t instead his body collapsed against the sheets next to you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back as you both lay in a comfortable silence. “I don’t want this to end,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As you drifted off to sleep in Chenle’s arms, the events of the night replayed in your mind, leaving you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time. You didn’t know what was going to happen next.

• ──────── •

Over the next few weeks, your bond with Chenle grew stronger, despite your attempts to keep things under wraps—especially from Jisung. But it was becoming harder to hide. Chenle’s growing affection was obvious, and your friends were starting to pick up on the subtle changes in your behavior.

Chenle conviced the guys to start doing movie night at the guy’s dorms instead of his house. Telling everyone that his house was a mess and he didn’t want to clean it. Hiding the real reason. That they started catching on to you staying later than everyone else. He wanted to be able to hang out after, just the two of you. 

“What are we watching tonight?” Mark asked, plopping down in the middle of the couch.

“Avatar,” Renjun suggested.

Donghyuck groaned. “Not Avatar again!”

“We watched *Top Gun* last time, so let’s watch the sequel,” you offered, taking your usual spot at the end of the couch.

Mark nodded and started searching for the movie.

Chenle slid in beside you, so casually that you didn’t think much of it. But in hindsight, you should have known it would cause some tension.

When Jisung finally joined with the popcorn, he automatically moved to sit next to you, just as he always did. But when he saw Chenle already there, he hesitated before sitting down beside him, hiding his confusion. If you hadn’t been so focused on Chenle, you might have noticed the brief furrow in Jisung’s brow. Instead, you were caught up in the excitement of being close to Chenle, hoping to sneak a few quiet moments together.

As the movie began and Jeno turned off the lights, you tried to relax, but Chenle’s presence beside you made your heart race. When his arm brushed against yours and his fingeres brushing against your thigh. Each small touch sent a shiver down your spine.

Jisung, sitting just inches away, stared at the screen, his face unreadable. He usually laughed along with everyone, throwing in his own jokes, but tonight he was unusually quiet. Occasionally, his eyes would drift toward you and Chenle, only to snap back to the movie when you glanced his way. If any of your friends noticed his unease, they didn’t mention it.

Jaemin, oblivious to the tension, tossed a piece of popcorn at Donghyuck after another snide remark about the movie. The usual banter continued, but you could feel a strange tension in the air, something you couldn’t quite understand.

A few scenes into the movie, Chenle’s hand found yours, his fingers lightly brushing yours before intertwining them. The simple gesture felt both comforting and thrilling. You knew you should be more careful, especially with Jisung so close, but it was hard to resist Chenle’s attention.

Jisung shifted uncomfortably. Though you were focused on Chenle, the small movement caught your attention. You turned to look at him just as he glanced away, his expression closed off and distant. It was so unlike him, and it tugged at your conscience.

Suddenly, Jeno, who had been relatively quiet, cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “So... anyone notice how cozy these two are getting?” He nodded toward you and Chenle, a smirk on his face.

The room fell silent for a moment. Your cheeks burned as you pulled your hand from Chenle’s, hoping the dim lighting hid your embarrassment. Chenle chuckled softly, trying to play it off, but you could feel the tension building.

Jaemin snickered. “Took you long enough to notice, Jeno.”

You tried to laugh along, but the awkwardness was overwhelming. Jisung’s face remained unreadable, though you noticed his jaw tighten slightly. You wanted to say something to ease the tension, but the words wouldn’t come.

Mark, always the peacemaker, tried to steer the focus back to the movie. “Alright, let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

But the mood had shifted. The lighthearted atmosphere was gone, and the weight of unspoken words hung in the air. Jisung’s silence was the most noticeable, and you had a sinking feeling that this wouldn’t end well.

As the movie played on, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Instead, your thoughts swirled, questions nagging at you. What did Jisung think? Is he mad at you and Chenle? And more importantly, why did it matter so much?

When the film ended, everyone scattered—some headed to the kitchen for snacks, while others stayed on the couch, chatting. You felt a strange mix of relief and anxiety, glad that the movie was over but nervous about what might happen next.

As you stood up to stretch, you noticed Jisung was still on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen as if deep in thought. You hesitated, feeling an urge to talk to him, to address the tension. But before you could do anything, Chenle leaned in close, his voice soft.

“I’m sorry,” Chenle whispered in your ear.

You couldn’t help but smile a little. Turning to face him, you whispered back, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Squeezing his hand lightly, trying to comfort him.

But you quickly pulled your hand away when you heard Jisung yell, “What is going on?!”

The room fell into a tense silence as Jisung’s voice echoed, his sudden outburst freezing everyone in place. All eyes turned to him, but his gaze was fixed on you and Chenle, a mix of confusion and hurt etched across his face.

You felt your heart drop, panic rising in your chest. Jisung rarely lost his cool, and seeing him like this made the situation all the more real. Chenle, who had been so calm and collected moments before, shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly taken aback by Jisung's reaction.

Mark was the first to break the silence, his voice tentative. "Jisung, hey, it's just a movie night. Let's all just—"

But Jisung wasn’t having it. "No, it’s not just a movie night, Mark," he snapped, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Chenle. "Something's been going on, and no one's saying anything!"

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to calm him down, but the words caught in your throat.

Chenle, sensing your distress, took a small step forward, placing himself slightly between you and Jisung. "Jisung, listen, it’s not what you think—"

"Then what is it?" Jisung demanded, his voice laced with frustration. "Because it sure looks like you two have been hiding something from all of us. From me."

The hurt in his voice cut through you, and guilt twisted in your stomach. Jisung wasn’t just angry; he was hurt. And you knew why. He’d always been open with his feelings, always the one to bring everyone together, and now, he felt left out—betrayed, even.

Donghyuck, usually the one to defuse any tension with a joke, stood awkwardly to the side. Renjun and Jaemin exchanged worried glances, while Jeno just stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

You took a deep breath, finally finding the courage to speak. "Jisung, I'm sorry. We didn’t mean to keep anything from you."

"Then why did you?" Jisung’s voice was softer now, but the hurt was still there, raw and real.

"Because we didn’t even know what was happening," you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. "We didn’t want to make things weird or hurt anyone’s feelings. Especially not yours."

Chenle nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "We weren’t trying to keep secrets, Jisung. It just…happened. And we’re sorry for how it’s affected you."

Jisung looked between the two of you, the anger slowly draining from his face, replaced by something sadder, more vulnerable. "I just don’t get why you didn’t talk to me. You always talk to me."

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Jisung had always been there for you, always ready to listen, to help, and now you realized how much your secrecy had hurt him. "I’m sorry," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I should have talked to you. I just…I just I didn’t want to mess up our friendship.”

For a long, tense moment, Jisung said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his thoughts clearly in turmoil. The room was thick with tension, everyone holding their breath, waiting for his response.

When he finally looked up, his expression was calmer, but there was a guardedness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "You promised me," he said softly, the words tinged with quiet betrayal. "We promised never to keep secrets from each other."

Suddenly, his calm facade cracked, and anger surged through him. He pointed sharply at Chenle, his voice rising with emotion. "YOU PROMISED ME!"

Chenle looked down, guilt written across his face as Jisung continued, his voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration. "You promised me that you would never go after her. She was supposed to be off-limits."

The room seemed to shrink, the weight of Jisung's words hanging heavy in the air. Everyone else was too shocked to speak.

Chenle flinched at Jisung’s accusation, his expression one of regret and confusion. "Jisung," he began, voice barely above a whisper, "I didn’t plan any of this. I didn’t think I’d—"

"That’s the problem!" Jisung cut him off, his voice shaking. "You didn’t think! You just… acted. Everything is a joke to you."

You could feel the tears welling up, your heart aching at the sight of Jisung so broken, so unlike his usual self. This was the Jisung who’d been your rock, the one who always made you laugh when you were down, and now, you were the one who’d hurt him.

"Jisung, please," you pleaded, your voice cracking. "I didn’t know how to handle this. I never wanted to hurt you."

The room remained silent, everyone acutely aware that they were intruding on something intensely personal. Jeno shifted uncomfortably, Renjun bit his lip, and Donghyuck looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You finally broke the tense silence, your voice trembling. 'What can I do...?'

“Stop,” Jisung interrupted, his tone firm and unyielding. You frowned, confused by the sudden command.

“Stop this right now,” he said, frustration clear in his voice.

Before you could reply, Chenle spoke up, concern in his tone. “Jisung, what are you trying to say—”

“It’s either me or him,” Jisung interrupted, his eyes fixed on you with intensity.

Chenle glanced at you, waiting for your answer, but you found yourself unable to speak.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Chenle stepped back from you. “She chooses you.”

As he left, he murmured, “I’m not going to force you to choose.”

When the door closed behind him, an uneasy silence fell over the room. You looked around, noticing the apologetic expressions on the other guys’ faces.

You got all your stuff before looking at Jisung one more time and let out a small “I’m really sorry.” before leaving. 

• ──────── •

Days turned into weeks before you were able to hang out with the boys again. When you finally did, it was clear that Chenle wasn’t himself. The atmosphere felt strained and uneasy.

Chenle's usually cheerful demeanor was not there, and he seemed distant, lost in his own thoughts. The conversations among the group felt forced, and laughter that used to come easily now seemed rare.

As the day wore on, you found yourself increasingly concerned. When you finally got a moment alone with Chenle, you decided to address the issue. “Hey, it’s nice seeing you again.”

Chenle smiled a little bit, “It’s nice seeing you too.” A moment off awkward silence settled between you two. 

“Y/n, lets start over…For everyones sake.”

You nodded, a smile on your face. You’ll finally get to see Chenle again. Hopefully the group hangouts would go back to normal. 

As you were clouded with hope, Chenle’s emotions were different. He didn’t want to pretend to be fine. But he would do anything for you.  As the guys returned Chenle put a small on his face and started being like his old self. The guys all started to brighten up. You couldn’t help but smile. Everything was going back to normal…Finally. 

• ──────── •

You were worried to have another movie night. Every movie night seems to be the cause of something bad.

But you didnt want to let it affect you. Chenle has been working very hard on restoring the peace. It had been weeks since the fight between you, Jisung, and Chenle. However things started to improve, you couldn’t shake off the worry that it might all go wrong again. But Chenle had been putting in a lot of effort to smooth things over, and you hoped the peace would last.

When the night finally arrived, the atmosphere was lighter than it had been in weeks. Chenle was trying his best to act like his old self, and it seemed like he was succeeding— at least on the surface. The guys were chatting and laughing, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Mark, Renjun, and Jaemin were debating which movie to watch, and you joined in with a smile, trying to enjoy the moment. Donghyuck was making jokes, and the room was filled with a sense of normalcy that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Chenle, sitting next to you, seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. He threw a playful glance your way and nudged you with his shoulder, trying to break through the lingering awkwardness. You appreciated the effort and responded with a smile, though a part of you was still on edge.

Jisung sat down on the floor, across from you. “Oh Y/n, I met a guy who I think you would get along with.” 

You glanced sideways and noticed Chenle stiffen next to you. His casual demeanor from earlier seemed to waver, and a flicker of discomfort crossed his face. You tried to keep your expression neutral, though you were tense.

“oh um…” You didn’t know how to react. How could Jisung even ask that? Let alone around everyone else. 

Jisung not understanding or not caring about your discomfort continued. “He’s really into music and literature, and he’s got this great sense of humor. I think you two would get along really well.”

Chenle shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest on his knee. You could feel the subtle change in his body language, his usual act replaced by a subtle unease.

Jaemin, noticing the tension, lightly shoved Jisung on the shoulder “Come on, stop that.”

Jisung shrugged, “I’ll send you his number.” 

This was the final straw for Chenle. His demeanor shifted suddenly, his earlier attempts at playing civil were gone.. He stood up, unable to mask his frustration any longer.

“You’re cruel,” Chenle interjected, his voice tighter than usual, “Don’t act like im not right here.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. The casual banter ceased, replaced by an awkward tension that hung heavily in the air. Chenle’s outburst had caught everyone off guard, and even Jisung looked taken aback.

You quickly turned to Chenle, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but it was clear that the situation was beyond the point of acting like everything was fine. You felt a pang of guilt for not dealing with the situation better. 

“I’m sorry, Chenle,” you said softly, reaching out for his hand. 

Chenle took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “It’s not your fault, It was never your fault.”

“You know,” Chenle turned to Jisung, “I don’t care about your feelings! I love Y/N and im not going to let you hurt her anymore.” 

Jisung’s expression morphed from surprise to defensiveness, his features hardening as he stood up to face Chenle. The room was silent, tension crackling in the air as the two boys locked eyes in a silent battle.

“Hey, calm down,” Mark interjected, attempting to diffuse the escalating fight. But Chenle was not going to back down again, his gaze unwavering as he continued to address Jisung.

“You think you can just come in here and act like everything’s fine after what happened?” Chenle’s voice rose with each word, his frustration and hurt pouring out. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt Y/n again.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “Im not hurting Y/n, you are hurting her!” he shot back, his own anger bubbling to the surface.

Renjun stepped forward, speaking calmly but firmly. “Guys, let's all take a step back and calm down,” he suggested, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. “This isn't helping anyone.”

Chenle and Jisung both paused, their eyes locked in a silent battle. 

“We need to talk this out calmly,” Renjun continued, his gaze shifting between the two of them. “We're all friends here, and we can work through this together.”

“Shut up Renjun! I’m tired of everyone acting like nothing happened!” Chenle’s frustration boiled over. “Y/n deserves better than this.” 

Chenle stormed off again. Reminding you off what happened at the last movie night. 

Everyone’s eyes were on you now. “Did he say he loves me…” you whispered to yourself, still stuck on Chenle’s words.

You stood there, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. The room was filled with a tense silence as everyone processed what had just unfolded. Jisung's expression softened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he glanced at you.

But before anyone could even say anything you got up from your seat and ran out the door in search for Chenle. 

But the door to the elevator was already shutting before you could say anything.

You sprinted towards the stairs, heart pounding in your chest. The thought of Chenle, hurt and upset, fueled your speed. As you reached the stairwell, you hesitated for a moment before taking the steps two at a time.

When you finally got to the ground floor, you scanned the area frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of Chenle. His words kept echoing in your mind. You couldn't let him walk away like this, not again.

But he wasnt in the lobby.

You pushed open the glass doors of the building, stepping out into the cool night air. The street was quiet, with only a few scattered passersby making their way along the sidewalk. You glanced left and right, unsure of which way Chenle might have gone.

Your heart raced as you spotted a figure sitting on a bench in the park across the street. You knew it was Chenle. Without a second thought, you hurried across the road towards him.

"Chenle!" you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night. He turned to look at you, surprise flickering in his eyes before he quickly averted his gaze.

You reached his side, breathless from your sprint down the stairs. "Chenle," you whispered between deep breaths reaching out to touch his arm.

Before you could go on a rampage of apologies, Chenle couldn’t help but laughed. 

"I can't believe you ran all the way down here just to chase after me," Chenle said, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes met yours, the tension that had filled the air was gone.

You couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh, relieved to see a glimpse of the Chenle you knew and cared for. "You’re worth it." 

Chenle's smile widened as he shifted on the bench, making room for you to sit beside him. You settled down, the cool night air wrapping around you both as you sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry for running off like that," Chenle began, his tone softer now. "I just... I couldn't stand seeing you upset, especially because of me."

“Can you stop blaming yourself!”

Chenle looked at you, his eyes softening. He reached out and gently took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I just want you to be happy, Y/n," Chenle said sincerely, his gaze searching yours. "I don't ever want to be the cause of your pain."

Taking a deep breath, you started, "Chenle, you have never been the cause of my pain," you said, turning so your body was facing him. "You've always been there for me, always caring and understanding. I appreciate you more than words can express."

Chenle's eyes widened slightly, before a soft smile spread on his face. “So what now?”

Chenle's smile was always contagious, and you found yourself mirroring it as you gazed into his eyes.

 

"Now," you began, your voice steady as you spoke, "you kiss me."

Chenle's lips curved into a smile. “You’re such a romantic.” Chenle joked, causing you to roll your eyes as he leaned in closer. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss. It was soft and sweet. All of your worries melted away. As long has you have eachother, everything is going to be okay.

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