#like... I really said all that??? sounds fake and I don’t remember it anyway so here’s the condensed version | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thepixelelf · 1 year

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Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up.

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least.

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink.

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back.

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

730 notes · View notes

dazed--xx · 1 year

Text

Breathless

Member: Hyunjin x reader

Word count: 21.3K

IDOL CAMEOS: Karina-Aespa, Yeji-Itzy, Lia-Itzy, Joshua-Seventeen, Chanyeol-Exo

Trigger warnings: SMUT, toxic relationships, ANGST, oral sex, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), fake texts, mentions of alcholism (By side character), mentions of cheating, mentions of medical issues, mentions of anxiety. anything else i could have forgotten.

A/N: I wanted to start writing for other groups for a while, and i watched the Case 143 comeback and just fell down a Stray Kids rabbit hole again so i decide to write this i hope you guys enjoy, let me know if you want a part two. also i do commissions, personally i dont like buy me a coffee but i do have cashapp, paypal and venmo if you ever want to get a commission i do still have a buy me a coffee as well anyway enjoy

“Can't you stay?”

Your voice is shaky as you look at him with hope filled eyes. You could tell even just from looking at his back, as an annoyed sigh is released from his lips, he had rolled his eyes. “Cant. Sorry” He states matter of factly. He wasn’t sorry... you knew he wasn’t; he never was. He always said it anytime you'd ask, never giving a reason beyond ‘cant’ yet you still find yourself asking “w-why not?” your tone is so soft you don’t even register the words had actually come out until he snaps “I mean it's not really your business is it?” quickly turning to face you as he forces his shirt on. “Does it matter?” your teeth capture your bottom lip as you hold the blanket over your bare chest. Your gaze avoiding his glare “I guess not...” the familiar prick behind your eyes has your vision blurring. You hear your bedroom door open “H-have fun I guess....” you call to him only to be met with the sound of the door closing.

Of course, not.... You hadn't expected as much anyway.

In the past 10 months of your relationship with him you have learned plenty of things about Hwang Hyunjin. He was a passionate dance major, spending more time in the dance studio than in his own dorm. He had a love for art, with dozens of classic paintings littering his dorm. Along with his own. He was independent, charming, and undeniably gorgeous. But he was also cold, distant, and lacked social etiquette. He was quick to tell you exactly what was on his mind whether it hurt or not. If he chose not to vocalize his disinterest; his expression was an open book for all to read anyway. He enjoyed the party lifestyle, if his social media was anything to go by, he’d often be spotted in the background of photos with his best friends; Seo Changbin and Han Jisung.

Everyone in your university wanted at least one of them. Most of the female population had a ‘night to remember’ story with either one of them. They were blunt and honest about their lack of commitment, only needing a warm body as a temporary place holder in their beds.

Relationships were off the table. Sure, they’d be down for a good time here or there but in Jisung’s own words “Relationships equal clingy annoying problems” which is why you were so surprised when Hyunjin asked for exclusivity oh so matter of factly last year. You had been sleeping together on and off after your dance instructors paired you up for your first joint project between both of your classes. It had been a late night in the studio running through one of your last rehearsals before evaluations. You weren't sure if it was the close sensual nature of the choreography, thanks to Hyunjin, or the ambiance in the dimly lit studio but as the song came to its conclusion; both of your chests heaving against each other, your eyes meet. Your bottom lip finds its way in between your teeth. His hand caressing your cheek as his thumb traces over your bottom lip “Fuck......Don't. Don’t do that” his voice full of something unfamiliar to you. “Do what?” you ask innocently your hands grip his shirt. His hold on you tightens around your waist, pulling you closer into his slim muscular figure. The tip of his tongue brushes over his plush lips. Your cheeks and ears burn a bright scarlet. Looking back, you weren't entirely sure who initiated it but soon, your lips meet. Shortly after you felt the cool glass mirror against your bare chest as Hyunjin attacked your core. His thrusts ruthless until you reached a mind-bendingng orgasm. Youd only realized your mistake afterward when he quickly fixed his clothes and ran out the door.

You took the loss in stride. Avoiding the topic during the last 2 weeks of rehearsal, acting as if it never happened. You never stayed alone with him longer than necessary, you'd pull away the moment the song came to an end even though sometimes he’d try to hold you in place for a while longer. Youd make sure the studio was properly lit at all times. Only texting him about rehearsals and quickly dismissing his selfies and flirty remarks. You would begin spending your lunch in the university library when Jisung set his sights on your best friend, Karina, and he and his best friends began impeding on your time with your best friends. Only truly having to come face to face with Hyunjin at your evaluation.

As the song came to a close you ripped yourself from Hyunjin’s grasp, thanked the judges for their time, collected your phone and made your way out of the studio and into the locker room. Reaching your locker, you force your dance bag out of its confinement. A sigh of relief is released from your throat. Your eyes focusing on the mirror you kept on the back wall; you steady your breathing. Closing the door, the need to shower now replacing your anxiety. Turning toward the private showers your face is met with a wall of muscle. The familiar cologne fills your nostrils, dread fills your stomach as you silently beg the ground to swallow you whole. “Sorry” you murmur as you attempt to make your way around him. A small ‘tsk’ is heard from above you as he places himself in front of you again. “Do you have a problem or something?” you snap. An amused smirk finds its way to his plush lips. Damn you Hwang, you think to yourself, as he shrugs and shakes his head. “Why are you avoiding me?” He pouts. You hate how your heart races “I'm not” you shrug “Just no reason for us to interact anymore” his eyebrows scrunch together his pout only growing at your words “You don’t want me anymore?” needless to say you ended that interaction pressed against the shower wall his lips attached to your neck as he guides you on his shaft. Only for the cycle to continue over and over until your presence in each other's lives was nonstop. Then one day he had asked you to be his girlfriend with a nonchalant shrug, murmuring back a shy ‘yes’ and 10 months later your cat and mouse game continued.

Apart from the occasional quickie or stolen kiss, you rarely see the man that claims to be your boyfriend. Your offers to accompany him to the studio remain declined, stolen moments with him moved from the library study rooms to either one of your dorms in the late hours of the night. You should have seen his rejection coming; it's all he’s ever done. His friends, the studio, parties all get more of Hyunjin’s time than you. With the summer coming to an end and the dance studio finally opening up again tonight, you knew immediately he’d go; especially with it being all the other dance majors can talk about due to the party being held there.

“UM....HELLOOO!!!” your dormmate Lia, exclaimed as she snapped in front of your eyes pulling you out of your trance. You glare at her petite frame. “Busy in wonderland there, Alice?” she giggles. “HA.HA. You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” you quip. “Anyway...what's up?” you question adjusting the blanket, Lia places a pout on her lips “I need a favor”

“If it's buying condoms for you again the answer is no” you growl.

“No, smartass. Not this time, but I'm really busy studying for the stupid exam I have tomorrow since my psychology professor is a psychopath and Yeji is sick do you think you can run and grab some medicine for her?” she pleads. You smirk at her “What if I was busy?”

“With what? Hwang left already. You’re going to spend the rest of the night in bed. Like you always do” she snarls before she turns and makes her way out the door.

“Love you. Goodnight.” she calls

______________________________________________________________

You couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty that is Jongno-gu, walking along the river toward Yeji’s off campus dorm. Your eyes drift to the beautiful lights that decorate the road indicating the little restaurants and shops. An envious feeling grows in the pit of your stomach as a young man chases his girlfriend around the gorgeous area; smiles plastered on their faces as he finds his arms encasing her from behind. Lucky....you think to yourself. If only you were more like Lia or Yeji or Karina. You take a single pause in your movements. A memory growing in your mind of you having to spend your last paycheck at your summer job your senior year on bail for Karina due to her ex cheating on her and her taking a bat to his car and him. Okay maybe not Karina......you thought. The whirring of an engine cutting your thoughts off as a single headlight blinds you. You force yourself right and collide with the hard concrete. Brushing your hair out of your face before you dust off your legs. Pulling yourself off the ground, you notice the motorcyclist shoving the bike off his leg. “Oh my god! Are-Are you okay?” Your eyes widen in panic as you rush toward the driver. He unbuckles his helmet and pulls it off.

Your heart races as honey blonde hair begins blowing subtly in the small wisps of wind. His brown eyes sitting in a scowl. You couldn’t help but stare at his heart shaped plush lips, noticing the freckles that litter his face.

Fuck...

He was absolutely mesmerizing. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the roar of multiple engines. His eyes widen as he stares in the direction he came, tossing his helmet into your arms he takes off in the direction you had just come from. Your eyes widen as you stare down at the glossy black and red headgear. “E-Excuse--” you tried to call after him as 4 motorbikes whip past you following after the mystery man. You contemplate just leaving the helmet on the bike and returning to your task. You groan to yourself as you notice the headlight still on and the idling of the engine. You stomp your foot in frustration.

Ughh this is so not worth my time....

You notice the bikes disappearing in the distance. Taking the helmet and placing it on the ground before you grab the handlebars of the motorcycle and after a long struggle you were finally able to lift it. Bringing the kickstand down you place the helmet on the seat. The tightness in your chest from the unexpected work out has you reconsidering if you care if the bike got stolen or not; the owner obviously didn’t. You stare in the direction of Yeji’s place noticing the beautiful welcoming lights. You growl to yourself as you slowly lift the kickstand taking hold of the handlebars once again you drag the vehicle in the direction its owner dashed to. Your eyes roam the area as you wearily drag the bike along in search of its owner. You notice a group of motorcycles in the parking lot to the docks. Hiding the bike behind the dumpster in front of said lot. Helmet in your arms, you quietly make your way toward the sound of shouting. You can hear them getting louder as you stand against a pilar attached to the side of the dock. You notice the honey blonde stranger dashing toward the end of the pier you were currently on. You thanked God no one saw you as they dashed past you. You throw your head back in relief and in an instant a sharp pain rings through the back of your skull.

You groan placing your hand over your mouth and rolling your eyes at your foolishness. Your heart sinks into your ass as red and blue lights begin to come from behind you and the loud wail of a siren rings through the air. Your eyes widen in bewilderment as you quickly try to find an off switch on the unexpectedly placed 112 help box. You can hear the sounds of the boys retreat as you continuously hit the box. The siren finally coming to a halt.

You let out a sigh of relief as you slowly back out from your hiding spot. Your back meeting a warm wall. where one previously was not; you jump at the contact, whipping around you come face to face with the angelic honey blonde stranger. A gasp escapes your throat at the sudden closeness, his lips were drawn in a straight line, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you a stalker or something?” he questions, you were shocked at the amount of bass in his voice. Your eyebrows scrunch together letting out an annoyed scoff as you turn to leave. A ‘tsk’ is released from his lips as his hand grabs your hood and pulls you back into his chest; his arm snakes around your waist. You turn your head to face him, your heart races as your noses brush. Your eyes widen as you pull back, your eyes roaming over his face. They land on his alluring heart shaped lips. You wondered what it would be like to kiss them, though you don’t believe they’d feel as good as Hyunjin’s, they do look quite soft. Butterflies danced in your stomach, as his lips turned up into an amused smirk “What are you looking at?” He quips. Your face is painted a bright scarlet as you force yourself from his arms “Bye!” you call as you dash toward the direction of Yeji’s place. You can hear his deep raspy voice calling toward you as you continue your escape; completely and utterly embarrassed. Your legs refusing to stop until you finally reach Yeji’s door. Knocking as you try to catch your breath.

“Finally,” Yeji declares as she swings open her door. Her cheeks a rosy, pink, lilac fluffy blanket enveloping her petite figure. “Where the hell did you get a helmet?”

______________________________________________________________

You hate Mondays.

And not in the Garfield way or the ‘79 school shooter way. You just hate them with a passion from today on. After yesterday's rounds with Hyunjin and the motorcycle debacle your body is absolutely sore and ready to give up on itself. Regretting even getting out of bed, you stare tiredly at the gates of the university. You scowl at the crowds of people with happy smiles on their faces, coffee in hand. A yawn escapes from your throat before you could stop it, you notice a small crowd standing under the cherry blossom tree. Your hair races as you recognize the familiar blonde tresses, a smile on his lips as he slightly shoves Jisung. You take a small step forward before your movements halt; a petite brunette and what you could assume to be her friends came into to view. Her hand lay on Hyunjin’s bicep before she slowly trails it along his arm. He smiles at her leaning in and whispering something in her ear. A gut-wrenching sting fills your stomach as your throat burns with jealousy when you see him remove a petal from her hair and stroke a stray hair behind her ear. Your breathing grows shaky as tears threaten to fall.

A manicured hand snapping in your face forces you to pull your attention away from the pair. You smile as a coffee is handed to you; a pair of arms are wrapped around your neck as you come face to face with your childhood best friend, Yoo Ji-Min (who’d kill you if you called her anything but Karina. Her new name she had claimed when she declared she wanted to be an idol 5 years ago). “What are we staring at?” she questions as she places her cheek against yours releasing you from her grasp as she notices the pair. “Seriously?” she scoffs. You shake your head at her tone “They're just talking....” you mumble. She crosses her arms over her chest “Thats why I found you alone instead of over there like last year?” she growls. You shrug in response “I don’t want to bother with it right now, I'm so tired”

“What are you doing for your intro solo today?” she asks, your whole-body tenses as your eyes widen in realization “crying?” you respond. “You?! The queen of having everything planned down to the second of a song doesn’t have a plan? Like no choreo at all?” Karina gasps as she drags you along the path to the dance building. “Don't remind me, okay? I went through too much last night! And no are you crazy of course I have some choreo it's just not........up to my standards I guess” you whine as you stomp your foot pressing your chest against her arm with your chin sitting on her shoulder. “So then, you're ready” she smirks wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “You over think these things Y/N you need to relax honestly, you're a great choreographer and you're only in your second semester! Your dance is fine” she reassures you.

You shrug in response “Not this time....” your eyes can't help but drift to the pair once again. The girl leaned against the cherry blossom tree, Hyunjin stood a little too close as she giggled at something he was saying. “No! THIS time I decided ‘oh let's be special lets at stunts’ and then completely forget I even had to do the damn dance and now I'm going to make a complete fool of myself. The instructor already emailed me personally to tell me she was looking forward to my solo specifically, I can’t go in there and fall on my---BIKE!!!!” Your whines were cut off by a loud shout and the familiar roar of an engine grew louder. Hearing it come closer and closer to you, you whip your head around only to see the familiar silhouette of a motorcycle barreling toward you; quickly wrapping both of your hands around Karina’s arms you shove her back with your back pressed against her chest. Your heart races as you notice the black and red bike. Your eyes flashing to the driver, “no. Way...." You whisper to yourself in disbelief as the driver cuts off the engine and pulls off the matte black helmet. The same angelic glowing stupid face...you think to yourself. You notice a group of guys greeting him with warm cheers and hugs. A glare sits on your face as anger courses through your veins like venom. Releasing your hold on Karina you stomp your way over to the honey blonde boy.

He smiles as your eyes meet; your hands quickly meet his chest as you shove him back. A loud ‘oh’ is heard from the small crowd of boys. “That is the second and last time you almost kill me with that thing” you exclaim as you shove him again. His hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you into his chest. Fighting against his hold you notice the smug smirk on his lips. Your knee jerks into his thigh. He jumps at the close call. “If you don’t want me to hit you there let me, go cause that was the warning shot.” you growl. “Are you calm?” he questions. “I won't hit you again if that’s what you're asking” at your words his grip is released on your waist.

As soon as you were free you punched his arm

“You said!”

“I lied! Do you have a thing for almost running me over or can you just not see for shit?” He places his finger in his chin as if he were thinking “I think it’s a you thing” You glare at him “I should have let your stupid bike get stolen” you grumble as you turn to return to Karina. Your movements are brought to a halt as you notice all eyes on you. Your eyes drift over the crowd as you feel a hand on your wrist. You turn your head to the owner “Wait.” he smiles. Your heart races as your eyes meet “w-what?”

“You still have my helmet, gorgeous” he whispers in your ear. Your eyes widen in realization as you pull away from him. “Fuck! I do!” You exclaim “I'm so sorry I'll bring it to you tomorrow” your eyes fall on Karina who looked on in amusement a mischievous glint in her eye. Looking past her, you notice Hyunjin’s attention fully on you; a scowl on his face his arm wrapped in Jisung’s grip. “She your girlfriend Lixie?” One of his friends teased as you stomp past them. You glare at him, Bang Chan, the school's number 1 in academics a senior. Deciding it's better to just let it go you shake your head and stomp away.

Karina rushes to your side, her hands quickly wrapping themselves around your arm as she drags you toward the dance building.

“Explain. Now.” she demands

______________________________________________________________

You can't help the smile that remains planted on your lips as you enter the dance studio. Dropping your bags in the corner and out of the way you drag Karina to the center of the room and dropping into your position for stretching. The studio always made you find a sense of relief and comfort. You loved the way you’d lose yourself in the choreography. You were quite flexible; taking advantage of the gymnastics and taekwondo skills you’ve acquired over the years now making you able to include high level stunts in your routines. While you wouldn’t say you were the best dancer in your major, you could argue you were in the top 15. Changing from your legs open to spreading into a straddle you grasp Karinas hands as she slowly lays back.

“Damn Y/N, if I knew you could do that, I definitely would have hit that before Hwang” Jisung whispered in your ear, a scoff is released from your throat as your head whips around to see Jisung only a couple of inches from your face. Your eyes widen as you pull your head farther away from his face. “What is wrong with you?” You question in disgust as a black boot comes in contact with Jisung’s ribcage kicking him over. Your eyes trail up the person's figure, only to be met with your boyfriend's bored expression focused on you his hands sitting in his pockets. You quickly look away as your cheeks heat up, butterflies fluttering all over your stomach. “It was a fucking joke....” Jisung mumbled, as he glides across the floor next to Karina “Kiss it better?” he pouts to her. You feel a warmth surrounding you, a pair of arms wrapping around your waist. You notice Jisung staring awestruck at Karina while she did her split stretching one up and leaning back. “Do that on me please” He begs her, her cheeks burn a bright scarlet. You feel Hyunjin’s fingers losing themselves in your hair as he places his face in your neck. You tangle your fingers in his hair, a shy smile growing on your face; your ears and cheeks burning a bright scarlet at the new action.

“Oh my god! Why are you here?” Karina snaps both of your eye's flash to her and Jisung who now had his head on her shoulder “Aren't you a music major?” He lifts his head from her and places his hand on his chest “You’re keeping tabs on me?!” A sly smirk grows on his face “You should just let me give you what you want baby”

“I'd rather fuck a double-edged sword” She growls.

“Can I watch?”

“Why are you such a fan? Huh Simp Boy?”

“You act like you don’t want me” Jisung counters, his eyebrow raised. You shake your head as you roll your eyes. “Ladies” you interrupt “You’re both pretty” you groan before you reluctantly pull yourself from Hyunjin’s grasp and stand up. You can feel his eyes on you as you make your way toward the water fountain. “Where are you going?” Karina calls. “Away from whatever the fuck is going on with you two” you retort.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the uncomfortable pressure that filled you once Hyunjin’s arms encased you. That’s odd... you thought Hes never done anything like that before.

You remember the scowl embedded on his face, Jisung’s hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. You know you'd have to explain the interaction......possibly, judging by the way he, himself, was flirting with another girl this morning he more than likely wouldn’t even care. You laugh at the irony; you don’t understand why you felt so guilty when he didn’t, yet you did. “Wow helmets leave some water for the fish” A familiar deep velvety voice rings from behind you. You hate how annoyingly sexy you find it----Helmet?!?! A glare forms on your eyes as you turn to face him. “Are you stalking me or something?” A bright smile is brought to his face, your heart flutters at the action, a warmth grows in your stomach.

“Why, Helmet you seem to think highly of yourself” He quips, his eyebrow raised “Why? you into that sort of thing?” he winks. Your mouth falls agape at his question. How could someone that looks so angelic be such a.........demon. “Stop calling me that! My name is Y/N”

“Well do I have my helmet?”

“Well, no but---But nothing until I have my very expensive helmet back, you'll be whatever I call you” He cut you off “You'll have it tomorrow until then-------OKAY PEOPLE! I don’t have all day so I’ll make this quick. Places! I'm explaining this one time and one time only. You will all be doing your intro solos if you aren't prepared that’s not my problem; everyone got the email. Everyone will be required to perform a routine that best represents your dance style; you will then be paired up with another person that’s style matches your own. They will be your partner for the rest of the semester. Any Questions?” The instructor declared as she barreled through the double doors, dropping her bag and placing herself at the head of the room. Everyone's eyes roamed around the room as the stragglers began to join the semi-circle that had formed due to the instructor's abrupt entrance. You notice a familiar pixie like brunette in your place beside Hyunjin.

Great......she's here too.... you thought to yourself.

“Okay! Yang Ye-na you're up” the instructor calls as the girl stands from her spot and makes her way to the center of the room. You grow envious at the winks her and Hyunjin exchange. You notice the darkness in his eyes as he stares her down. Embarrassment fills you as you beg the ground to swallow you whole. Tears burn your eyes at the realization, He doesn’t care......You were so fucking stupid to think you were different; that he wanted you and only you. Of course, he’d want her, she was absolutely flawless. Her beautiful wavy hair pulled up in a half up half down style; her bangs framed her face perfectly. Her body was curvy in all the right places while you were just average. Hyunjin was practically a god, why would he actually waste his time on you when he could be with women on his level. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sounds of applause. Quickly joining in with your peers, you clap unenthusiastically.

The rest of the performances flew by, you received high praises for your choreography to ‘Unholy’ by Sam Smith. Yet, you quickly placed yourself where you previously sat and tucked your face behind your hair. Continuing your train of (over) thought. Going through the motions as everyone performed but Karina. You couldn’t help yourself when your best friend performed. Your applause louder than the rest of the class as her song came to its conclusion. A proud smile on your face. “Okay! That was the final dancer, good job everyone.” the instructor calls as she tapes a paper to the mirror. “Here are your partners” she declares as she walks toward the back of the room. Everyone quickly rushed over to the list.

Choi Yeonjun-Han Eunji

Han Jisung-Yoo Ji-Min

Hwang Hyunjin-Yang Ye-na

Jung Wooyoung- Hwang Yeji

Kang Chanhee-Kwon Eunbin

Lee Juyeon-Kim Min-Jeong

Lee Minho-Lee Chae-yeon

Lee Yongbok-Park Y/N

Son Dongju-Lee Seoyeon

Your heart sank in your chest as Karina grasped your arm examining the list. A scowl grows on her flawless feature. Her mouth hanging open as she internally rages. “NO!” she finally exclaims. You hear a chuckle from behind you, turning around your met with Jisung standing with an arrogant smirk “It's like were meant to be or something” He laughs. Karina fakes a gag as she shoves her way out of the crowd. Jisung reaches out to her “But Baby!” you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. Shoving your own way out, you notice Hyunjin and Ye-na huddled in the corner by the speaker. A smile planted on his lips as he sat beside her. Your eyebrows scrunch together as they shift closer. You knew his reputation but at least last year he was fucking subtle. Why'd he even ask you out? You wonder to yourself. It's not like he actually acted like he was in a relationship. It was always late-night booty calls when no one could dare catch either of you leaving the others dorm. Your texts typically go unanswered and if he does take the time to respond it's always one or two words. You notice his hand now placed on her knee, as he stared at her. Wow you thought to yourself.

Your view of the pair is blocked by the one person you wished you'd never have to deal with again. “WOW!” you roll your eyes at his enthusiasm. You notice Hyunjin and Ye-na's attention leaving each other and turning it to the loud boom of the boys' voice in front of you. You finally plant your eyes on his face, his eyes are squinted adorably as his heart shaped lips formed an angelic smile. “Looks like were partners, Helmet” He states happily “It's like fate. Maybe you're like my soulmate or something?” you groan in response “or god just hates me....” you stomp your foot, grabbing your water bottle from the ground and shoving past him toward Karina.

“C’mon Helmet, don’t break my heart already” He whined as he followed you wrapping his arm around your shoulder and jostling your hair. “Yah! Do you want to die?!” you threaten as you shove him off you and fix your hair. You hold back a laugh as, Yongbok apparently, trips over his feet and comes colliding with the person walking past. Your hand smacks over your mouth as you snicker while he bows his head at the person mumbling a quick apology before springing up and reaching for you. You hold your arm out your finger pointed at him “No, whatever it is youre planning. Unplan it” you warn as you take a step back. He feigns innocence shaking his head and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Cute” he states matter of factly

“What?”

“Nothing just the fact that you thing you're scary is cute”

“Okay. No.” you hear from behind Yongbok before you feel a strong grip on your arm as you are whisked toward the door. Your eyes land on your captor, the familiar mop of blonde hair. Your eyes widen as you look at Karina pleading for her help. She sat comfortably in her position giving you a knowing smirk.

You stumbled on your feet as Hyunjin continued to drag you out of the studio. You struggle to stay up right as to you tried to keep up with his pace. Your nerves build as he pulls you into an empty studio locking the door before he shoved you against the wall. A loud ‘THUD’ rings through the room. Your eyes drift over his flawless features, an irritated glare planted on his eyes. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he growls wrapping his hand around your throat sending a shock to your core. Your eyebrows scrunch together as a confused pout forms on your lips “W-what?” He presses his body against yours “Dont act fucking stupid” he snaps his grip getting tigher on your throat making your panties grow wet. “Hyun, I really don’t know what youre tal---Why was he all over you?” he cuts you off. You’re completely awestruck at his question. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, the words not coming to you

His patience grew thinner as each second passed. You hate to admit it to yourself but he has you absolutely soaked. “I-its not like that” you finally mutter “I just met him”

“When?”

“When what?”

“when did you meet him?” he asks “you two seem.....comfortable” you almost laugh at the irony, he had some nerve that’s for sure. “I mean its not really your business is it?” you quip throwing his words from last night back at him “Does it matter?” you see a fire grow in his eyes “so what? Youre fucking him now?” He spits. An offended scoff is released from your throat “Sure, I mean its not like youre the only person I've fucked for the past few months.” You argue.

“Does he know that?”

“Does Ye-na?” you counter.

A smug smirk grows on his lips, as his eyes drift to your lips. “Does he know how hard I fuck you?” Hyunjin asks as he turns you around pressing your chest against the cool wall. You whine at his rough action. “I just met him!” you declare “Yet he has a little name for you” His nip at your ear, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair gripping it roughly and forcing your head back. You groan internally at the mention of the new nickname. You hate how easily Hyunjin turns you into a whimpering pleasing mess for him. His arousal evident as he presses his member against you. His lips brush over your ear, his free hand trailing over your jaw before gripping your chin and forcing you to face him. Your bottom lip finds its way in-between your teeth. Your eyes connecting once more, his grasp on your hair tightens. Suppressing a moan, you squeeze your thighs together pressing your ass firmly against his hard member.

Your breaths fill the air as your body trembles in arousal and hints of fear. You’ve never seen Hyunjin this mad or angry in general. His eyes burned holes into you, your eyes flashing behind him. Your body jumps when you feel his soft plush lips on your throat; fingers wrapping in his hair pulling him closer to you. It was no secret to anybody, including Hyunjin, that you were weak for him. Even if you typically would not stand for half of the things, he put you through you still find yourself making excuses for it time and time again. Yet, in moments like this, where you can see that glint in his eye you can trick yourself into thinking you were more than a temporary fascination. You hate how badly you want him despite his previous actions in the day. You’ve never been the bratty type, but the look on Hyunjin’s face unlocks a new part of you. You’ve never thought to actually test Hyunjin’s limits and see how far you could take things like he’s done oh so many times before. Still, you can't find yourself stopping the words before they come out.

“Hes cute isn't he?” A mischievous smirk plays on your lips. “And he’s my dance partner. You never know what could happen when you have to be so......close” you whisper in his ear seductively. You could practically feel yourself dripping in anticipation when you feel Hyunjin’s body tense against yours; Pulling back you can't help the warmth that grows in your chest when you notice the panicked expression painting Hyunjin’s face. His jaw clenches as his strong grip returns to your hair pulling you forward so your faces were only centimeters apart. “You wanna repeat that? I don’t think I heard you correctly” He challenges, you knew this was your one and only chance to take back what you said but you felt a little rebellious considering he was all but sucking face with Ye-na; so instead you chuckle “Don’t worry babe, you’ll always be my favorite” using another one of his infamous lines. You can see why he always antagonizes you when you berate him for never knowing when to draw the line; because the panicked look on his face and possessive grip he holds on to you has you ready to risk it all.

“I better be your only” He growls as he shoves your faces closer together finally closing the space between your lips. You moan at the contact; his hand releases your chin wrapping itself around your waist pulling you deeper into his form. His teeth nibbling at your bottom lip “only me, baby” he whines against your lips “Hyun, you know I only want you” you reassure between kisses. You whine as he pulls himself away and releases his grip on your hair. A look of confusion falls on your face as you turn to look at him. A squeak is released from your throat as his arms encase your waist. His lips attack your neck leaving a wet trail along his path to your sweet spot. You whimper against him as your hands find their way under his shirt, roaming along his muscular torso. You feel a shock run down your spine and into your core as he sucked roughly on the sensitive skin leaving a large purplish red mark, as his fingers dance along the waistband of your leggings. “All mine...” he groans in your ear, the roughness in his voice making you almost cum in your panties. You nod in excitement at his words as his hand plunges into your waistband. Not wasting anytime, he quickly enters your panties his fingers teasing your slit.

You jump at the feeling, a whimper forcing its way out. “Can he make your pretty pussy this wet?” He questions as he rubs circles into the bud. You shake your head in response; He brings his fingers to a halt. You practically cry “D-daddy, please...” you beg grasping at the waistband of his joggers. “Use your words, baby” He teases “Can your little dance partner make your pussy as wet as daddy does?” You bite your lip as he begins his motions again “N-No” you moan. Hyunjin brings his lips centimeters from yours; your lips brushing ever so slightly as he continued his toying with your sensitive clit.

“No what?”

“He doesn’t even get me wet at all daddy”

Hyunjin gives you a faux pout “Aww baby, that’s cause even this tight little pussy knows who owns it” you nod in response, your eyes roll to the back of your head as he plunges two digits into your hole. His lips connect with yours as he roughly begins pumping his fingers into your core hitting the familiar bundle of nerves deliciously. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip before groaning and forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moan against his lips as his tongue dominates your mouth. Your hand palming him over his joggers, “Yeah you're doing so good, you only want to be good for me, huh baby?” His voice is rough, lips swollen as he presses his forehead against yours; his hips buck into your hand. “Y-yes daddy” you whimper “no one but you” His lips press against yours hungrily, his fingers thrusting mercilessly; you nibble on his bottom lip as your hands roam over his body. Your mouth hangs open as a familiar knot builds in your stomach. “I-I'm gonna---” your words are cut off as Hyunjin’s pace speeds up bringing you over the edge. “Fuck cum for me” He groans as his lips attack your throat. “Only daddy could make you feel this good baby, fuck... you got my cock so fucking hard” You can only respond with a moan, your fingers run through his hair pulling him deeper into you. Your legs are shaking as you come down from your high. He pulls his hand out of your pants lifting his fingers to your mouth. You connect your eyes as you bring his fingers into your mouth, his mouth hangs open at the action; pupils blown out.

“You look so pretty when you act like a little slut for me, baby” He coos

Your cheeks heat up at the praises, unable to hide your smile you bury your face in his neck. You hear a chuckle rumble through his chest, his arms tighten around your waist pressing you against him. Your cheeks burn a bright scarlet under his gaze, you pull back from him. His eyes are hooded, lust clouding over them. His tongue traces over his bottom lip, before connecting them with yours once more. A gasp is released from your throat as your back is pressed against the wall, his hand running down your thigh lifting your leg at the knee pressing you even deeper against him. Your hips buck at the contact of his clothed member “Are you gonna be a good girl and let daddy fuck you?” he groans against your lips. You nod enthusiastically, “pl-please daddy, I'll be so good for you” your hands run over his chest and along his abdomen as you pressed small kisses against his neck earning a moan from Hyunjin. The sound has you enthusiastically sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. Your heart swelled with pride as you observed the mark you had left on his neck, your eyes trailing over him only to be greeted with a fucked-out expression on his face. Letting his forehead fall against yours, your noses brushing ever so slightly “Fuck baby....” He whispers against your lips “as much I'd love to fuck your mouth right now I need to be inside you” His hand quickly forces your leggings down around your ankles taking your panties with them before freeing his own member from its confines.

Your mouth waters at the sight, his hand wrapped around his shaft as his painfully red tip leaked precum. Before you knew it your chest was once again pressed against the cool wall. Hyunjin’s large hand cups your ass before giving it a loud, painful smack.

“Fuck...” you groan. Throwing your head back in pleasure as Hyunjin’s cock glided up and down on your folds teasing your clit.

“Please...” you whine

“Please what baby?”

“Please fuck me Daddy”

You feel Hyunjin’s hips thrust forward at your words, before pulling away slightly. “Fuck” He growls your head whipping around to see him searching his bag and wallet a frustrated scowl on his face. “What is it?” you question removing your pants as he throws his bag to the ground “I don’t have a condom” Oh. A disappointed pout forms on your lips, you bite your lip before nervously suggesting “I mean.... I am on birth control” your eyes roam over the room before landing on him. His expression turning from frustrated, to confused before his mouth hangs open in realization. “Are you sure?” He can't even begin to try to hide his enthusiasm. “I-I mean unless you don’t want to” your voice is small, your eyes not meeting his “s-sorry I shouldn’t have suggested it” you apologize. “Come here” he calls as he sits against the sofa in the corner. You hesitantly make your way over standing in front of him shyly. His hand takes a hold of yours pulling you into his lap, so you straddle his hips. His hand caresses your cheek, “Do you want me to fuck you raw baby?” You try to hide your face in his neck as his hands trail over your thighs. He brushes his nose with yours “No, look at me” Your eyes connect as you nod biting your bottom lip grinding your bare pussy against his shaft. Weak whimpers leave your throat as he connects your lips.

“Fuck I can't get enough of you baby” He moans pressing your hips tighter against him increasing the friction on your clit. His tip continuously teases at your hole. Your hand sliding between your bodies holding his member in place before gliding him inside you slowly. Your eyes fall on Hyunjin, his mouth hung open as his head fell back against the sofa. “F-fuck...” his hands hold you in place “Don't. Don’t move yet” he struggled to get out. His heart raced as he stared at you behind hooded eyes, your cheeks a bright red. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as his cock twitched inside you. He fights the need to cum embarrassingly fast. He had just gotten inside you and he felt like he would explode already. He struggles not to thrust mercilessly into you as you press your chest against his. His lips following yours until they meet his hands guiding you up and down on his member. Hyunjin could have sworn he’d seen stars. For the many times he’s had sex, he’s never even thought to go raw but during the course of your relationship he couldn’t help but imagine the scenario every single time he was inside you. He wondered what it would be like to paint your walls with his cum. You’d always taken him so well; he gets lost in the sight of his cock disappearing inside your tight little pussy. “Look at you baby” He moans “I bet your dance partner would love to be me right now” your pussy clenches at his words.

He hated how jealous he had gotten, but how fucking dare that guy? You were his. He fought the urge to fuck up into you harshly to remind you of who you belonged to; him. “Fuck daddy you stretch my pussy out so well” you moan. He holds back a smile at the almost pornographic noises coming out of your mouth. He could never get over this feeling, he loved every moment he had a chance to spend ruining the innocence your beautiful face portrays. He loved the look on your face as you came around him. And him only. He craved your body every time he was away from you wanting to bury himself deep inside your womb and remain there. He lost his will to hold back as your lips attacked his neck once again; an action he used to detest but now he found himself praying for you to leave your mark on him. Claim him for the rest of the world to see. “You’re doing so well” He praises as his hips find a steady rhythm into your g spot. “You make daddy feel so good, baby” a feral growl is released from his chest as you come undone with a moan of his name. His resolve completely breaks as he feels the familiar knot forming in his stomach. “It's like you were fucking made for me” he laments “All mine baby fuck I'm gonna cum deep inside your little pussy” his arms hold you against him tightly his eyes rolling to the back of his head “P-Please daddy cum deep inside my pussy” you whine in his ear “own my pussy with your cum” His vision blurs as his hips stutter against yours “FUCK! I'm gonna fucking breed you baby. The whole fucking world will know who you belong to then” You connect your lips as the contents of his orgasm fill you.

He held you in place, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. His hands guide your arms around his neck before returning to your hips. He was in deep, he knew it. Though he would NEVER let you know, he absolutely loved the way you held him as you kissed him. He hated the butterflies that filled his stomach when he’d pull away and see the reddening of your cheeks. Seeing your dance partner blatantly flirting with you all morning and you unknowingly flirting back drove him mad. His friends noticing his jealousy when they saw that guy way to close to you this morning, Hyunjin quickly became ready to risk it all the moment he saw the guy whispering something in your ear; only stopped by Jisung’s grip on his wrist holding him in place. The straw that broke the camel's back was the blush on your cheeks when he called you cute. It was bad enough for you to be partnered with the guy, but he was the only person you were allowed to look like that for. And for it to happen in front of him, he felt his blood boil and his heart clench. The possibility of you walking away from him and never looking at him like that again had his body acting before his mind could catch up to what was happening. He needed to know you still belonged to him. That the introduction of this new guy and his past mistakes wouldn’t have you looking elsewhere. He hated that he knew he didn’t deserve you, but he was selfish and couldn’t let you go. Not when this was starting to mean absolutely everything, and he would die before he lost it. “Tell me you love me” He pleads against your lips.

“I love you” ______________________________________________________________

“Can’t I just drop the class?” Karina suggests.

You give her a knowing look “I don’t know. Are you a dance major?” you question. She places her head in her hands “Out of anyone in the class, I get paired with the one guy I didn’t want to be paired with. Who did I piss off in my past life?” Yeji shrugs as she scrolls through her phone “I think you guys make a cute couple” you snicker at her words as you check your phone.

‘NO NEW MESSAGES’

You sigh in disappointment as Karina picks up a piece of bread off her tray and tosses at Yeji hitting her forehead. “Not even close to funny” Karina growls. You cross your legs a slight hiss releases from your throat at the soreness between your legs. Your chin rests on your palm “Why do you act like you hate him so much?” you question “you still in love with him or something?” Karina’s eyes widen as she quickly looks around quickly “Yah! Do you wanna die?” a faux offended scoff is released from your throat as you launch yourself from your seat dashing around the table and straddling Karina’s lap. “You’d never do that baby” you state as you wrap your arms around her neck “You love me too much” you pucker your lips leaning in pretending to kiss her; her hands coming between your bodies as she groans “Stooooooppp” A pout forming on her lips. You smile at her as and pepper kisses all over her face, smacking your hand over her mouth and kissing the back of your hand. “You’re so annoying” She whines. “I’d be less annoying if you’d just accept my love” you argue.

“Fuck” you hear from behind you “Kiss her again” Whipping your head around seeing Jisung and Changbin standing there eyes wide in amusement. Quickly shuffling off of Karina’s lap you make your way back to your seat. “Did you put a tracker on me or something?” Karina growled at the innocently deceiving boy. “Nope! Just your lucky day I guess babe” He smirks. You and Yeji share knowing glances and snicker to yourselves. “Aren't you guys one short?” Changbin asks disappointedly. “Lia had some sociology lecture or something” You reply placing your hand on his forearm as you notice his sadness. He nods dejectedly.

You felt for Changbin, despite his two friend's actions, he was the tamest of the three. Sure, he slept around as well but he was more for friends with benefits rather than one-night stands. You had noticed his lingering stares at Lia earlier last year; yet you never once mentioned it as to not embarrass the shy boy. But Changbin knew you knew his feelings for your friend. It remained an unspoken secret between the both of you. “Aren't you guys missing someone too?” Yeji questioned as she looked at you, your eyes flashing to her in contempt. She shrugs in response. The last thing you wanted was to acknowledge Hyunjin’s absence; mainly because you felt exceptionally awkward due to his request earlier due to him leaving abruptly leaving a few minutes after but also because you were afraid of the answer. “I guess he had to.... talk about something with his dance partner. He said he’d meet us here though” Changbin states as he sits a little further down the bench from you. Your heart sinks into your stomach at his words. You hate how your heartbreaks at the slight suggestion of Hyunjin and Ye-na being alone. You wanted to trust him; he’s never actually cheated on you....as far as you knew. But how could you know anything? You rarely spent any real time with him and if you did it always turned into sex within minutes.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a warm hand resting on your shoulder. Almost jumping out of your seat, your head turns to scold the culprit. Instead, you let out an annoyed sigh groaning before you rest your head on your arms on the table at the sight of your dance partner and his annoyingly stupidly perfect smile. “Do you need something, Yongbok?” He places his leg over the bench straddling it, his gaze locked on you. “I prefer Felix” He corrects. “I prefer being left alone yet here we are” you shrug your eyes focusing on your shoes. “Anyway” He shrugs off “Kinda hard to do considering were dance partners” you shrug in response. “But after you...ehm...left. We got a project basic hip-hop, so I'll be needing your number” Your head lifts at that not expecting him to be so close, your noses brush and you pull your head back.

“Why?” You question; your eyebrows scrunch together. “So, we can figure out a good schedule for rehersals. I hope you arent one those dancers” He states matter of factly. “One of what dancers?” you egg on. A smug smirk sits on his face “Oh, you know one of those that gives the bare minimum and relys on others to get by” you roll your eyes at his accusation, your hand quickly jostles his hair. “Yongbokie~” You coo “Just tell me you want my number” you tease. “Stop calling me that” He whines an adorable pout form on his lips. “Yongbokie~, Yongbokie~, Yongbokie~” your teasing pauses as you feel eyes on you. Looking around the table you notice Jisung and Changbin sharing worried looks; only to act obviously suspicious as they look around.

“Im not kidding!” He groans. You ruffle his hair once more before grabbing his phone from his hand; holding the screen to his face to unlock it you text yourself from his phone. He nods slightly as he lifts himself from the seat you grabbed his sleeve pulling him back down. “Dont text me first I'd rather not deal with you anymore than I have to” He places his hand over his chest “You’re a heartbreaker, Helmet” shaking your head in response as he gets up and walks away. You feel all eyes burning holes into your face, your cheeks heat up as a confused expression grows on your face “What?” they shake their heads, Karina’s eyebrow raises as her arms cross over her chest “nothing....” you nod at her.

“So whens the wedding?”

______________________________________________________________

You were greatful the rest of your classes went by without a hitch. Unfortunately for you, you were alone in the rest of them. Your stomach filled with dread everytime you’d pass Hyunjin in the hall with Ye-na stuck to his side. Smiles plastered on their lips; standing way to close for comfort. As you allowed your legs to trudge the way toward your moms convience store you find your mind wandering farther than it should have. You felt stupid honestly; why did you allow your relationship to be what it was? Why had you entered it in the first place? Apart from sex, as far as you knew, you were no different from Ye-na, Minji, Yerim, Garam and all of the other girls Hyunjin decided to pass the time with. His flirty comments and lingering touches happened to all of you. You grew tired of things not being 100% clear, because despite the odd way he had acted today; you still couldn’t tell if he genuinely cared for you or if you were something to pass the time with when he was bored. You hoped he could notice you were pulling away, since typically, you’d be trying to cling yourself to Hyunjin as you walked to work. Instead, the idea of being around him made you feel exceptionally nauseous. So, you abandoned your plan to walk to work with your 3 best friends and began your journey solo.

The day felt overwhelming in every sense of the word. You felt your throat constrict against itself as tears welled up in your eyes. Your breath shaky as a ding rings through the air. Pulling your phone out of your hoodie pocket, staring at the notification on the screen.

You shake your head not wanting to deal with this at this very moment

Your eyebrows scrunch together as you stare at his message. You can't help but feel confused; he’s never blatantly told you he wanted to see you and honestly it makes you nervous. You decide to just ignore his messages not wanting to get even more overwhelmed by him. You sigh as you push the door open to your mother's store. “Welcome to- Oh Y/N!” your mom exclaims her eyebrows scrunched together as her eyes flash to the clock. “Early for once I see” You give her a sad smile with a soft nod of your head as you walk into the back room. Dropping your bag on the empty chair behind the desk and grabbing one of the red and blue mesh vests and cash drawer. Making your way to the register, gently placing your hand on your mother's arm. “Eomma, why are you here? Wasn’t Chanyeol supposed to open?” a scowl grows on her face at the mention of your brother's name. “Aish, that boy. He didn’t even come home last night” opening the register and taking the cash drawer out. “I had to open late because I didn’t know he didn’t come home until I came down to get some things and we were closed still” she growls as she places your cash drawer in and assigning it to you.

“You should have called me. Or Karina. One of us would have come in you know” you scold “You know youre not supposed to manage the store alone” you look at her worriedly. “Im the mother here” she soothes you, her hand running over your hair. “Besides I’m not having you miss your classes, you can worry about my health when youre actually a doctor” You froze at her words, guilt crashing into your intestines like a tsunami. It wasn’t like you wanted to lie to your mother about your choice to pursue dance like your older brother but, the last time you brought up the idea of majoring in dance she—it didn’t go well. Apparently, there are no stable jobs in dance. It's not a good career path in her eyes due to your brother's failure and subsequent alcoholism. Even so, you still majored in dance and told your mother you were pursuing medicine as she had asked. How were you eventually going to break the news to her? You werent sure but you knew this was your life and you were going to live it how you deemed fit. You do love your mother, of course you loved your mother, which is why you continuously picked up the slack for your older brother; picking up shifts if you learned she would be working alone, walking her home and staying with her until morning so she didn’t have to walk home late by herself.

Ever since your older brother had returned from his failed endeavor to be an idol, you found yourself taking on a lot of the burdens for both of them. Your brother struggled with the fact that he could not make it as an idol as your mother's health deteriorates. You could only sit by and do your best to help them during their own struggles so much to the point they don’t notice yours. You were greatful to Karina for being the one other person to understand the massive change in your family as she had been there since long before your father died when you were 14. She had witnessed your struggle to cope with the loss of your father, then your subsequent depression pulling you out before you got too deep. You had been together through boyfriends and fights, rumors and friendships. She engrained herself in your family practically as a member in her own right. So much so, that at 16 when your mother had gotten her diagnosis of Susac’s Syndrome, she began working at the store with you. Karina was the only reason you could cope with everything. Which is why you were so greatful when your mother informed you that she had called her to work with you since your mother now will be going home instead of closing with you.

“The truck is coming by the way” your mother informs “Make sure you guys get most of it put away please” she pleads as she walks into the back room. You roll your eyes at her quick escape.

“Of course,”

______________________________________________________________

“Have a nice day” you call as the stranger smiles waving on their way out. Walking to one of the coolers you grab a soda before going back behind the register, pulling your phone out you scroll through instagram. The sound of the door’s beep has you shoving your phone in your pocket. Your eyes flash to the door only to see Karina making her way over to you. A smile on her lips, your eyes look at the time. “Sure. Be all smiley and shit it's not like youre 30 minutes late or anything” you scold her as Yeji enters through the door fully engaged in a conversation with Changbin. Jisung and Hyunjin followed them shortly after. Your eyes widen as you grab Karina’s forearm pulling her infront of the storage room.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You ask behind gritted teeth. An innocent pout sits on Karina’s face as she shrugs “They’re with Yeji” You roll your eyes at her “fucking Yeji...” you mumble. “I don’t get the problem” she states confused, grabbing a vest. “I didn’t really want to deal with all of this today...” you groan as you follow her back to the front. You notice Yeji scanning through the aisles engaged in conversation with Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin just talking in the corner eyes flashing to Yeji and Changbin every once and a while. “Did you already assign yourself a drawer?” Karina asks. You nod in response “Honestly, you don’t have to stay the full time.” You suggest as Yeji and Changbin place their items on the counter. “I only really need help putting the truck away then you should be good to leave if you want” You mention as you begin scanning the items, noticing Jisung and Hyunjin making their way over to you. “And what? Leave you to close by yourself?” Karina quips crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, youre absolutely crazy to think you should be here by yourself so late” Yeji interjects. “Why would you be closing alone anyway?” A worried look grows on her features as she reaches over the counter grasping your forearm “what happened to your mom?”

“What do you think could have happened?”You quip. “Fucking Chanyeol...” you growl more to yourself than to anyone else. Your brother's name was all it took for Yeji’s worries to subside. You notice Changbin standing with a confused expression “Chanyeol...???” Yeji releases a sigh as you input a discount for her. “Her brother....” she answers, leaving the words to hang in the air. “Dont put that burden on me!” you groan “We just so happen to have crawled out of the same hole”

“And grew up together, pursued the same major, lived in the same house, have the same parents. Ecetera ecetera” Karina teases. You glare at her before turning back to Yeji. “Anyway, can you just run by my mom's place and make sure shes okay. I don’t know if Chanyeol has finally come back or not, and I really don’t need her to be alone right now” You beg. She gives you a small smile in return “Of course, I havent seen mom in a while. It'd be nice to check on her, maybe your brother will be there” she winks. You and Karina gag to yourselves and shudder. “Ew” Karina groans in disgust. “We need to find you someone suitable for you cause holy crap gross its Chanyeol” Karina argues as you tell Yeji the price. Your eyes flash to the street noticing a truck driving down the alley to the store. “Can you bitch and take money please; the truck is here” you sneer. You groan before walking infront of the counter and making your way toward the storage room and heading out the back door.

You smile at your delivery driver and cousin, Hong Jisoo, “Y/N?!” He smiles wrapping his arms around you. You let out a squeak as you’re lifted into his lean frame. “Oppa! Let me down!” you whine as you playfully shove at him. His lips upturning into a bright smile. “I havent seen you in like forever. Feels like youre avoiding me” He jokes as your feet touch the ground once more. You roll your eyes at him “Cause youre my most annoying cousin” you playfully shove him snatching the clipboard out of his hands. “Yah! I come out of my way to bring you things and this is how I get treated” He jests. “Oh, boo hoo how dare you have to do your job” you prod. “Im making an after-hours delivery, Y/N” he retorts. You scoff at his nerve “A late one at that” signing for the delivery before handing it back to him.“BUT, since you love me youre going to help me unload the truck?” You bring your hands together in a pleasing motion, your eyes big.

“Why can't you guys do it?”

“Karina is the only other person working”

“Your mom still lets her work the register after what happened last time?” He questions in shock. “You can fuck all the way off, Joshua” you hear Karina snap from behind you. A smug smirk grows on your cousins' lips. “You know? I havent spent any time with my favorite cousin in a while I think I'll stick around for a bit” He suggests, his eyes falling on Karina. Her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Play nice you two...” You warn giving them a threatening look before opening the door to the truck. Lifting yourself inside you grab a large crate of sodas, placing it down on the ground near the door you take a step down. Placing your hands on each side of the crate, you lift it and carry it inside only to see Yeji and the boys still standing there. “Damn, took you long enough” Yeji quips. Placing the crate infront of the freezer, you let out a whine “Joshua and Karina are going to drive me crazy” You pout. Placing your head on her shoulder “Never mind what I said stay and make sure they don’t make me commit an actual murder” you plead. She shakes her head at you.

“Would it be wrong for me to leave them alone?” You question.

“Yes.”

“But Karina—would burn down the store if she was left with Joshua” she cut you off. You roll your eyes in response. You nod in agreement. “Sorry hun, I can run to your moms and stuff, but I have to meet with Wooyoung at the studio at 5.” She apologizes petting your hair softly. A pout forms on your lips as you turn at the boys pleadingly, bringing your hands together “you guys wanna become my favorite people in the entire world” Changbin looks away from you at your request scratching his neck before pretending to look at a newspaper. Jisung sits with his hands in his pockets looking at the ceiling rocking back and forth on his heels. Your eyes finally turn to your boyfriend. A look of shock fills his expression “I should already be one of your favorite people!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You’re slowly losing that title....” you grumble as you walk back toward the crate you had put down. You feel a hand wrap around your waist pulling you back into Hyunjin’s frame. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you, babe” He whispers in your ear, his voice borderline seductive.

“Go be gross somewhere else!” Karina exclaims, as she comes into the store a large box in her hands. You roll your eyes at her as you go to pull yourself from Hyunjin’s arms only to have his arms tighten around your waist. “Hyun...” you trail, his lips cutting your words off as he connects them with yours. Your eyes widen at his sudden PDA, you couldn’t help but melt into him as his tongue runs over your bottom lip. Your cheeks heat up as he pulls away, before releasing his hold on you and turning to Karina “Gross enough for you? I can make it worse if youd like” he states with a wink before turning back toward you, his hand caresses your cheek before brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I have practice as well tonight babe......” he states apologetically. You nod in response “It's fine” You smile at his use of the pet name, He gives you a worried look “Honestly I usually do it by myself, I have Karina and—OW!!” Your words are cut off by a loud bang and a scream from Joshua in the back. You and Karina dash out the door toward the backroom, a trail of footsteps follow behind you. Karina reaching outside first you notice her immediately almost fall in a fit of laughter. “Whats goin—oh crap what the hell happened?!” you bellow.

Youre greeted with Joshua sat on the ground, a milk crate all over the backroom and himself. Gallons of milk litered the ground, milk all over the ground, boxes and Joshua. “i may have made a little bit of a mess” Joshua states guiltily. “This is unreal!” Jisung laughed hysterically. Your fingers sat on the bridge of your nose. “So, I don’t have Joshua, Jisung I will literally pay you” you beg, you see him placing his chin between his finger and his thumb, thinking “How do you know I don’t have rehersal?” You stare daggers at him “Because your partner will be here dumbass! putting this truck away......forget it” You roll your eyes, turning back to Joshua “Get up, clean this, and just....” you clench your fists “put milk on a delivery for tomorrow.” You feel large hands on your shoulders, Hyunjin’s colonge fills your nostrils. His hands run down your arms, “Come here” he gestures to the front. You take a deep breath as you follow him through the door and outside. “I'll come back” he states, your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. You shake your head at his offer “It's fine, you really don’t have to I’ll be fine as long as Joshua just stays behind the register.” His eyebrows scrunch together “He’s staying?” you nod casually “Yeah, he’s helping me put the truck away I havent seen him in a while”

“I-I can cancel” Hyunjin blurts, you shake your head in response. “Hyun, it’s fine I literally can just put the truck away with Karina and make Joshua work the register I should have known better than to have his scrawny ass help me unload it” His hands wrap around your arms as he locks eyes with yours “I want to help babe I can cancel” his voice is soft. “Dont. Hyunnie its fine really you don’t have to.” You brush your hair out of your face. “I usually do it alone anyway im just never here to unload it my brother usually does it” The sound of Hyunjin’s ringtone sounds through the air, he pulls it out of his pocket. Your heartbreaks at the contact's name, Ye-na's name sat with the red faced emoji. He quickly locks the screen, shoving his phone back in his pocket. You stare at the ground “I should get back” you state hastily pulling yourself away from him opening the door. You feel a hand around your wrist

“Babe--Have a good practice” you cut him off forcing your wrist from your hand and make your way back inside.

______________________________________________________________

You were greatful for Karina, even though you now owed Jisung $100, you had finally finished getting the truck put away. Jisung having left as soon as it was unloaded as per his agreement with Karina. Your mother had sent you a text about Yeji visiting her, which you had appreciated tremendously. You had sent Karina and Joshua home at close, which was over an hour ago. Opting to do the closing procedures and cleaning projects. Purposely ignoring your phone for the majority of your shift, not wanting to confront what you had seen on Hyunjin’s phone. You knew you had a plethora of unread messages; you didn’t understand where his now oddly attentive behavior came from and as much as you enjoyed it; you didn’t understand why now? Why when you’ve finally begun to open your eyes to how messed up your relationship did, he want to put effort? You didn’t know. You’ve finally opened your eyes to everything and youre not sure where you stand at this point. Why was her contact saved like that in his phone? Well, you know why it was saved like that, but has he used it?

You groan to yourself as you struggle to empty the mop bucket, the water splashin all over your pants as you dump it down the floor drain. “Fucking great” You grumble to yourself. Your foot slides slightly as you make your way out of the back room with a sigh. Giving the store one more passover before grabbing your things and making your way out the front door. The soft wisps of wind kiss your cheeks as you lock the door behind you. You jump as two hands circle around your waist a squeak makes its way out of your throat. Quickly whipping yourself around and pulling yourself from the person's arms. Your nervousness calms as you see Hyunjin standing there a confused expression grows on your face.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Is your phone not working?” He questioned. A dejected look plastered on his features; his eyebrows scrunched together as his plush lips drew into a pout. Hyunjin felt confused, why hadnt you answered his messages? You always answer him; you’ve never gone longer than 30 minutes without responding. were you actually mad about Ye-na calling him? Did that Joshua guy keep you occupied to the point you forgot about him? Who was that Joshua guy? Hyunjin couldn’t help the tightness in his chest, he had to explain he couldn’t just let things linger he knew that. He tried to explain that he just forgot he had her number let alone had her saved like THAT. But you had left so quickly, as you pulled away from him Hyunjin felt like his heart was going with you. He needed you to know there was nothing with Ye-na. It’s the whole reason he came here, but as he stared at you his mind was drawing a blank. He didn’t know how to approach the topic, let alone how to explain but he knew he needed to. He’s hoping you’ll just forget about it. He’s hoping him showing up and trying to fix this fucking mess that hes turned your relationship into would fix this.

He’s worried you're going to wake up one day and realize you didn’t deserve this. That you were so much better than to deal with his bullshit and leave him. His heart clenched at the thought, he couldn’t let that happen. Fuck he wouldn’t be able to handle that, he loves you. He only began considering the notion recently but today reinforced the insecurities Jisung had drunkenly planted in his head a couple weeks ago at some party. He had been talking to some music production major who he hadnt bothered to learn the name of before Jisung drunkenly stumbled against his shoulder casually whispering Karina and Yeji were also in attendance and had seen him. It was the first time since you guys had gotten together that he felt an overwhelming sense of panic. He had only been in a conversation, honestly pretty casual but the girl was making her interest pretty known and had been a little closer to Hyunjin than he would have liked but he was used to those types of things. Ever since he had hit puberty women had flocked to him and made suggestive gestures. He enjoyed the attention and the lack of effort it took to get them into bed without having to commit to something, it felt amazing. He was happy with casual sex with no feelings on his part. Of course, there were the select few that wanted more than he wanted to give them, and he’d successfully curb the whole drama aspect before it started.

Being with you was different, for some reason you were the only girl that didn’t get her hopes up the first time. You had avoided him, ignored his flirty remarks, and never gave him the time of day for a while afterward. Hyunjin had to convince Jisung and Changbin to ‘casually’ stumble upon your group of friends at break so he could see you. Only completely lucking out when Jisung had taken an interest in your best friend Karina and he could use Jisungs interest as a way to see you, but after the first couple of times you had disappeared, and he had to start all over again in his pursuit to get close to you. He’d never wanted someones attention so bad, sure he had still flirted here or there but after being with you he wanted to only be with you time and time again. So, when he had found his opportunity to get you alone, he immediately took it. He needed to be with you in some way, he couldn’t get over how perfectly your body had fit into his, how your nonchalant attitude about everything and your acting like it never even happened only made him want to scream in the middle of the quad that it did. That you had given yourself to him and in turn took a part of him with you. That you were different, and he wanted no one but you so why werent you giving him the time of day? Why didn’t you want him? Everyone wanted him, why not you? Why not the one person he wants? So, when you finally had given in to his advances, he knew he had to do whatever he could to keep you around. It started off (in his mind) as casual sex to him, a quick way to get off and have a good time but then almost immediately after he found himself getting annoyed with both Jisung’s and your former dance partner, Lee Minho’s, flirty comments to you. He quickly realized for the first time he wanted more. He was over the moon when you agreed to be his girlfriend, but for some reason he found himself keeping things at a distance. Like if held on too tight things would break, he didn’t realize he hadnt held on tight enough until that night at the party. When, Jisung started slurring about how your friends were definitely going to tell you that theyd seen him with some girl and that him and her looked like they’d probably hook up tonight; Jisung practically cheered that Hyunjin would probably be single again and they could have all the fun they wanted. Hyunjin felt bile rise to his throat as tears burned his eyes at the idea. You wouldn’t leave him.............right? Jisung looked worriedly at him, “Wait, are you okay?” Hyunjin took a harsh gulp of his drink his eyes drifting back to the cup. “She-she wouldn’t break up with me...” he mumbles sadly. Hyunjin had ended the night on Jisungs couch with tears streaming down his face at the idea of you leaving him and he couldn’t understand why.

He couldn’t understand the tightness in his chest and the need to call and beg you not to break up with him. He’s never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but for some reason he can't help but feel like he had to this time. He needed you to know nothing happened that your friends misunderstood. That you were the only person he cared about that he loved you. He wanted to tell you so badly that he realized it that night, deciding only to say it if you were to mention the party but you didn’t. You never broke up with him and he never had to reveal himself to you like that.

Having Ye-na call him and to have you pull away like you did, brought him back to that night. He didn’t even want to leave when you had gone inside, he wanted to call Ye-na and cancel. You needed his help and he wanted to help you so why werent you taking it? Why did he never even know about this place? He’d walk past it so often with Jisung and Changbin on his way to and from his dorm. How had he not known that not only do you work here but it's your mother's store? Of course, he knew little tidbits about your mother's condition and your brother's situation. But why did he not know about this? He didn’t even know you had a job, honestly, he’d never even thought about it in the grand scheme of things. How long has your mother had this store? Had you always worked after you left him when you guys walked together? Did you always close this late and have to walk by yourself? The idea made anxiety raise in his chest. You wouldn’t have walked alone......right? Youd have at least called him, he tells himself. “Were you going to walk home by yourself?” he questioned worriedly. You nod a confused look grows on your features “why wouldn’t I?”

“it's late, you could get hurt what do you mean why wouldn’t you?” His voice is full of worry. “Hyun, I do it all the time nothings ever happened im literally 10 minutes from my dorm” You state matter of factly, starting your journey home. “Why wouldn’t you call me? Why would you think it's okay for you to do something so dangerous?” He found himself growing more and more angry as the words came out. “Would you have even answered? It's not like you have before” you scoff as you begin speed walking as you roll your eyes at him. He has some fucking nerve.... you think to yourself. Hyunjin stood frozen in place at your words. A conflicted expression sitting on his face as his heart clenched. He didn’t realize how tired you actually were, not until now at least. Had you called him to walk you home before? Had he not been there for you when you needed him? “Babe....” he called dejectedly, noticing your retreating figure. “Wait! Talk to me” he exclaimed as he rushed to catch up with you. His hand encasing your wrist turning you to look at him. “Im sorry I didn’t mean---I don’t want----fuck im sorry okay” he apologized behind teary eyes and a shaky breath. “I-I—please just call me next time okay” you look at him worriedly, your heart broke at the sight. “Hyun are you okay?” your hand grasps his bicep. Your eyebrows scrunch together.

Fuck......he was in way deeper than he thought.

______________________________________________________________

Lee Felix is the absolute worst.

You completely regret agreeing to let him make the rehearsal schedule. He was an annoying thorn in your side everywhere else, but a complete drill sergeant in the studio. Early morning rehearsals, during break, after classes before you go to work, after work. The days you don’t even have classes you have rehearsals, due to the overly nitpicky boy. You thought you were over-prepared, until you met Felix. You did appreciate the fact you both would not be happy until the whole dance was perfect in both of your eyes. BUT the guy seemed to forget you had a social life and other priorities even though he himself has now not had a choice and worked a shift at your mothers' store with you. You hated that the longer you guys continued your crazy rehearsal schedule the less and less time you had to see Hyunjin and your friends. You had finally convinced Felix to allow at least Karina and Jisung to watch the rehearsals and give critques. He was oddly warmly welcoming to the two, yet only asked for Karina’s opinion on the dance.

“Honestly, when it gets to the bridge Felix I can see you a little off with the timing can I see you run it again like just you this time?” She states professionally completely emerged in her dancer mindset. You gave a sigh of relief before laying completely on the ground, chest heaving as you reveled in the break you had finally gotten. You noticed Jisungs eyes on you “can I help you with something, Hanji?” he sat quietly his arms crossed over his chest “Do you like this guy or something?” He asks accusingly. You sit yourself up rapidly “What the hell did you just say to me Han Jisung?” your tone is no longer friendly. A scowl sitting on your face. His expression follows yours “Do you. Like. This. Guy. Or. Something?” He repeats behind gritted teeth “Did you forget I have a boyfriend?” You growl your arms crossing over your chest.

“No. It sure seems like you did though”

“You’re fucking joking, right?!”

“So why isnt Hyunjin allowed to be here? Why is it only you two all day every day? Are you cheating on Hyunjin?” He snaps before standing up and clenches his fists. Your resolve breaks at his questions, you jump to your feet your hand quickly connecting with his cheek “ASK, FELIX! IVE BEEN ASKING FOR THE PAST TWO WEEKS FOR HYUNJIN AND ALL OF YOU TO FUCKING BE HERE! AND IM NOT YOU OR HYUNJIN OR CHANGBIN THAT CAN JUST FUCK RANDOM PEOPLE AND BE OKAY WITH IT! AND YOU WANT TO SIT HERE AND DEFEND YOUR FRIEND THAT DOESNT EVEN GIVE A SINGLE FUCK ABOUT ME ENOUGH TO LITERALLY DO ANYTHING BUT FUCK ME AND LEAVE! GET OUT JISUNG! NOW!” Karina and Felix step inbetween you and the boy, Karina’s arms wrapping around your waist holding you in place so you couldn’t get another hit on Jisung. “YOU OBVIOUSLY DONT KNOW YOUR FRIEND WELL ENOUGH JISUNG! IF HE HAD A PROBLEM THEN WHY IS HE FUCKING YE-NA?! WHY ISNT HE THE ONE HERE SAYING ANYTHING? BECAUSE HE AND YOU DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT MY RELATIONSHIP! FELIX KNOWS ABOUT HYUNJIN! HE KNOWS I WANTED MY BOYFRIEND HERE AND TO BE WITH ME FOR MONTHS! HYUNJIN IS THE REASON WHY HYUNJIN ISNT HERE CAUSE EVEN IF I ASKED HIM TO COME, HE WOULD HAVE SAID NO LIKE HE ALWAYS FUCKING HAS! SO WHY BOTHER ASKING ANYMORE?! YOURE LOOKING FOR A REASON FOR HYUNJIN TO BE SINGLE! YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU GOT IT! YOU AND YOUR FRIEND CAN LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE” you growl ripping yourself from Karina’s arms grabbing your bag and storm out the dance studio.

You notice Hyunjin and Ye-na, in conversation as they casually walk in the direction you came. Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours, a concerned look growing on his face. As you got closer to the pair, he extended his arm to try to stop you “Baby you okay whats wron--” his words are cut off by you quickly shoving his hands away and continuing on your path facing him. “Ask your best friend. And just leave me alone” you scoff as you turn away from him. “Wait, what?” he called after you “BABE!” you kept walking, ignoring his calls. Shoving your way out of the Dance building, you keep your legs moving, your eyes plastered to the ground as you walk toward the exit.

“Helmet!” You hear call from behind you, you shake your head and keep going. “Y/N! Come on you know I don’t run that fast” Felix whines. You halt your movements, tears welling in your eyes as Felix encases you in his arms. “I’m sorry......” you cry into his shirt. His hand pets your hair “what happened? Me and Karina are so confused” you shake your head not wanting to get into it “It’s nothing” He scoffs in amusement ��Nothing. If it was nothing, then why did you hit Jisung like that? And why did Hyunjin come into the studio absolutely fuming and lose his shit on Jisung? what happened?” You took a deep breath, taking a seat on the stone wall behind you, before explaining the parts you understood. Why Hyunjin went into the studio and yelled at Jisung wasn’t your business nor did you have a real explanation for it. But you were greatful for Felix, though your friendship began as more of a rivalry thing you both had learned to appreciate the others insights and each other as a dancer. And after you had finally returned his helmet (after 4 days of him asking about it) you began to notice how nice and funny he actually was. You now found the nickname Helmet almost tolerable and gotten to know him over the past month. “well, Jisung is pretty rude to think you were my type, Helmet” Felix jokes nudging your shoe with his, You playfully smack his arm “Youre an ass.....but I just got so pissed because like Jisung KNOWS everything about my feelings for Hyunjin And for him to act like he has a right to ask me questions like that—tch.” you explain “and with YOU?!” you fake a gag before guilt sets in “but I didn’t have to hit him”

“You acted in the moment, and you’ll apologize later” He smiled “Can we go back and run through it one more time though? Karina telling me I was off is really getting to me?” He begs

______________________________________________________________

You felt absolutely drained. One more run through turned into 2 more hours of rehearsals. Your body ached as you wiped the sweat from your brow. “One more time," he said. I'll be on beat if we do it one more time” you sneer toward Felix, who stood in the center of the room hands on his knees as he gasped for air. “Shut. Up.” He groans between breaths. “yeah, sure Lix you think you got it cause im not sure if I'll be able to do another run through” you groan “At least im not doing no damn flips that’s for sure” you state hands on your hips. He shakes his head as he makes his way over to his bag grabbing his water bottle out. You finally checked your phone, only to see a flurry of messages from Karina and Hyunjin. Sighing to yourself you click on Hyunjin’s notifications.

Opting to ignore Hyunjin’s messages, you decide to see why Karina had blown up your phone.

You roll your eyes at her last question, of course that’s what she’d be worried about.

You respond before putting your phone back into your bag and saying your goodbyes to Felix. You were happy your dorm was a short 15-minute walk from the campus, spending majority of the day in the studio was not ideal. You couldn’t wait to take a shower and lay in bed forgetting about this whole day. You had no clue why Jisung had acted the way he did, but you still felt terrible about hitting him. You werent sure as to why he immediately assumed you were intimately involved with Felix, while he was an attractive guy, he 100% was not your type and you were definitely not his.

You felt utterly stupid, for even begging for him to even be accepted by Felix in the dance studio, you can see why Felix was so reluctant he wasn’t a dance major, so he’d focus on things that werent important. You had argued that he’d probably sit quietly on his phone, you wished you would have just accepted Felix’s offer to let Hyunjin sit in, due to his also being another top dancer in our class. You were so tired of thinking about it and just opted to not let anyone but Karina into the studio from now on. You were happy that the walk went by in no time, but you were halted as you saw Hyunjin sitting on the ground next to your door. His eyebrows scrunched together eyes not leaving his phone. You sigh as you slowly make your way over, Hyunjin noticing you as you stand in front of your door unlocking it. “So what? youre not talking to me anymore or something?” He scoffs, you can hear hurt in his voice. “I don’t have time to deal with this right now Hyunjin” you stoicly explain. Hyunjin couldn’t help the crack in heart at the use of his name. What did he do? Why were you treating him like this? Jisung couldn’t say much behind his panicked stammering so Hyunjin couldn’t understand what happened. All he could get was Jisung was sorry, and you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. When Hyunjin heard that he couldn’t hold himself back quickly grabbing a hold of Jisungs collar, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” He had lost himself; he knows that, but you had never not talked to him. You’ve never pushed him away let alone told him to leave you alone. He didn’t know what happened with Jisung and You, but he knew he needed to figure out why his whole relationship had gotten put on the line.

“Just tell me what happened!” he begs his hand grasps your arm, his free hand caressing your cheek “Babe, talk to me” you feel tears well in your eyes. Hyunjin’s arms encased around your figure his hand caressing the back of your head as you struggled to hold back tears. “Can I bring you inside?” He asks softly, you nod against him tightening your grip on his waist. He let out a sigh of relief, he stood there for a moment enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. You fit so perfectly in his arms, just knowing youre accepting him again has his heart racing so wildly he knows you can hear it. And for once he doesn’t care. He just wants you to talk to him again, look at him so brightly like you always did. Just the simple act of you using his full name made him almost burst into tears. He didn’t know why you were angry with him, but he knew he wouldn’t let it last long if that was the result. Hyunjin never wanted to feel that sense of panic again. He reluctantly let you go as he entered the code to your door. You slowly trudge your way in until you finally enter your room, dropping your bag, you lay yourself down on your bed. Hyunjin slowly follows behind you before placing himself over you. His hand strokes your hair “Whats going on baby?” his voice was soft as your eyes connected. You noticed the concern sitting deep within them. You shake your head “Nothing its nothing” you sigh. He gives you a frustrated pout “Babe. It's not nothing” he eggs on “Please tell me what happened please” your arms wrap around his neck as you press your lips against his pulling him closer to you.

He responds quickly taking control pressing you deeper against the bed, you moan against his lips as his hand runs up your side. Your tongue traces over his bottom lip, he allows you entry. Your tongues battle before he gains dominance. Your fingers playing with his hair, pulling yourself closer so he can have more access to your mouth. He moans at your taste, “Fuck baby we need to stop” he pulls away slightly placing his forehead against yours. Both of your breaths are heavy “why?” you whine before placing soft kisses against his throat. “Because I need to—fuck—know what happened” he stated behind gritted teeth. You knew his resolve was breaking, you just needed a little push. With faux disappointment you sigh “Fine” before signalling for him to let you up. You stand outside the door to your private shower pulling your shirt off. “What are you doing?” He asks behind a suspicious glint in his eye as he lays himself on your bed, his hand behind his head as he kept his eyes on you. You shrug as you pull your leggings off “Felix made me spend literally all day in the studio I need to shower youre more than welcome to my bed apparently” you state sarcastically a sly smirk on your face as you enter the bathroom leaving the door cracked slightly.

Hyunjin could hear the shower running, his eyes stayed stuck to the door. He knew what you were doing, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. How could he when you were literally offering yourself up on a silver platter? He already had to force himself to stop when you kissed him, he took a moment to revel in your taste. Fuck, he was addicted to your lips. His cock twitched at the sight of you stripping for your shower. His hands were shaking as he continued to stare at the partially open door. He could just come in at any time if he wanted, yet he couldn’t tell if it was intentional. You’ve never been a tease, not with him at least. You always gave into him and his advances, but you’ve also never left the bathroom door open if you were showering. He wanted to come in so bad and feel your naked body shiver under his touch. He could feel his determination growing thinner and thinner the longer he imagined your petite figure, completely naked and from how badly you made it seem like you wanted him he knows more than just your body is wet. He knows he has to maintain his composure so he can get real answers from you, so you know this wasn’t just sex to him. That you could tell him what happened and he’ll do whatever he could in his power to fix it; but the more he thought about it, you seemed to not even care about your words to Jisung and allowed Hyunjin inside, you held onto him with tears in your eyes in the hallway, you had kissed him and not the other way around. Maybe you didn’t want to talk about what happened with Jisung, and if it doesn’t seem to be ruining your relationship anymore, maybe he shouldn’t bring it up again.

His resolve absolutely crumbles like the lost city of Troy, you exit the bathroom drying your hair, towel in your hands and not wrapped around your body. Hyunjin could no longer control the need to be inside you, to feel you submit to him and let him give you immense pleasure. He rapidly jumped from your bed and behind your naked figure. His hand immediately ripped the towel from your hands and tossed it across the room, taking the opportunity to grip your hair forcing your head back almost sitting on his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he growls behind hooded eyes. You look up at him innocently, “nothing daddy” you state sweetly, his hand smacks down harshly on your ass causing you to squeak and jump at his action.

“Dont lie to me, baby” He warns in your ear. You can feel yourself practically dripping in excitement, you had to contain your smile as Hyunjin fell perfectly in your trap. You knew you’d at least be able to do some form of seduction at some point in the time he chose to be here, you just didn’t know it would just ta cke a simple shower with the door open to completely break him. You figured you were going to have to do more, but you were happy you didn’t have to work so hard for it. “I-I’m not I just took a shower daddy” you reaffirm. “It seems like you just want to be punished, I know what you’re doing” He loosens his hold on you “On the bed. All fours. Now" he demands as he forces his shirt over his head, and you quickly rush over to the bed and position yourself. You feel his hand caressing your ass before sliding down toward your entrance.

You feel his fingertips on your core, your legs shake in anticipation. “You’re fucking soaked but you weren’t doing anything?” He quips “Acting like a bitch in heat is nothing?” You stay silent, whimpering as he growls at you. You can feel his fingers teasing your slit, you push yourself back against his hand to add some pressure to your bud. “Fuck---you want daddy to fuck you huh?” He groans as he feels your juices all over his fingers. You nod excitedly, only to be met with another harsh smack of your ass. His hands grip your hair forcing your head back “Use your words babygirl” Your eyes burn with tears “D-daddy f-fuck me please” you beg.

“I'll be so good for you I promise, I need you inside me please daddy” He could feel his pants growing exceptionally tight, quickly forcing them down. “I would prep you baby but fuck it's been way too long since ive fucked you” Rubbing his tip against your slit, before gliding himself inside of you. Your head is thrown back, your mouth hangs open; a loud gasp is released from your throat. Hyunjin’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling, fuck he didn’t realize how long it had been until he was finally back inside you.

“S-so fucking tight baby” He groans as he gently glides himself out before thrusting harshly back inside you immediately hitting your sweet spot. “Fuck daddy” you moan “It's so big, feel so—ngh—feel so full” your need to adjust to his size completely gone from his mind at your words as he begins rapidly attacking your core; his hand with a death grip on your hair as he forces you back on his cock. His free hand taking a hold of your waist to keep you right where he wanted you. His eyes traveling to where your bodies are connected, He throws his head back as his mouth hangs open. He almost, heavy on almost, grabbed his phone and had this moment saved in a hidden folder he kept of similar images and videos you had sent him. His pace is unrelenting as he revels in the practically pornographic noises coming from your throat. “Fuck youre doing so good baby come here” he moans as he pulls himself out of you and lays on your bed. “Come ride me baby” He looks at you, a pleading look on his face as he stroked himself.

You quickly straddled his lap; he presses his lips against yours as you ease yourself onto his length. His arms immediately wrapping themselves around your waist pressing your chest against his. He whines against your lips at the snail pace you’ve chosen to go. His eyes watering with tears at the need to fuck you into oblivion. Your moans and taste only doing more to drive him deeper into insanity. He was so fucking happy you didn’t even think about a condom, the warm velvety feeling of your walls on his bare cock being the only thing he could focus on. His mouth follows after yours as you sit yourself up on his chest, your hands placing themselves on his pecks before speeding up your movements. Hyunjin could tell by how tight your pussy had gotten around him, the way your eyes rolled, and your head hung back that you were close. His hands place themselves under your thighs lifting you slightly as he pounded rapidly into your core. “FUCK--its—it's too much. D-daddy im gon-gonna---Cum for me baby. Fuck please cum around my cock baby.” His voice strained. His vision blurred as you came undone around him.

Quickly, flipping you both over; pressing you against your bed legs wrapped firmly around his waist as he chased his high “Fuck!” he exclaims “Who owns this tight little pussy?” he groans against you. “Y-you do daddy” you moan weakly. He can see you struggling to keep your eyes open at the harshness of his attack on your core. His hand wrapping around your throat “Fuck can—can I cum inside you baby?” He bites his lip, his tone is soft almost inaudible, yet you still heard him and eagerly nodded and begged for him to finish inside you. He buried his face in your neck leaving wet hungry kisses against it as he felt the familiar tightness in his stomach.

“Fuck baby im gonna fucking breed you so well” He groans against your throat. “You want that, babygirl? You want daddy to fuck a baby into you?” he can feel you tighten around him at his words. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach, your arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed your bodies closer together. You felt his fingers on your clit bringing you closer over the edge. “You take daddy’s cock so well—nghhh—fuck I-I--” His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he climaxes deep inside you. Reattaching his lips to yours his hand caressing your face as he pulled himself out of you. Your legs were shaky as you stared at his figure disappearing in the bathroom only to return with a washcloth.

Hyunjin’s mind was all over as he helped clean you up. He almost told you he loved you, he mentally face palmed. That was the last way he wanted to tell you how he felt. His worries quickly fading as he sees your fucked out form, struggling to stay awake as he cleaned you both off. He watched you turn to your side back to him before laying himself back into your bed for the first time since you two had gotten together. His heartbreaks at the confused look you give him as he wraps his arms around you. You open your mouth to say something as he quickly cuts you off before you can say anything “Im staying” he states softly kissing the back of your head

“Get some sleep baby”

______________________________________________________________

To say you were anxious would be an understatement.

When you had received the email from your professor after you and Felix were able to present your routine stating you and Felix would also be in the schools showcase and representing the dance program with your outstanding choreography, you had completely rejected the idea. Not only would that put a hindrance on your mothers not knowing about you majoring in dance, but you would have to dance kinda of sexy with Felix, infront of the whole University and whoever else decided to come to the well-known showcase. BUT Felix seemed really excited about the whole thing and was happy to have been the chosen pair over Hyunjin and Ye-na. Who were also contenders for the top pair in your program, it had been months ago but apparently your first effort as partners really impressed the instructor and she had informed a friend of hers at JYPE who will now be watching the showcase.

Your heart sunk into your ass as you stared out the curtain at the large crowd. You noticed the smiles on the crowds' face as Jisung, Changbin, and surprisingly Bang Chan (who apparently is also a music production major) finish up their set. Your eyes scan the crowd, you notice Yeji, Karina, and Lia all placed in the front row eyes wide with pride and excitement. Your hands are shaky as you nip at your bottom lip, a habit only done in your nervousness, you rub your palms against your dress. You can feel Felix’s eyes on you “Do I look as nervous I feel?” You question looking at him pleadingly. He scratches the back of his neck as he looks everywhere but you. “Yongbokie~” you whine extending the pronunciation of his name with a stomp of your foot. He places his hands on your arms looking directly into your eyes “Dont worry remember im right there and weve done this so often you can do it in your sleep”

“PLEASE HELP US WELCOME LEE YONGBOK AND PARK Y/N FROM OUR DANCE PROGRAM” Your eyes widen at the introduction. “Showtime” Felix’s sings as he walks toward the other end of the stage as the music begins. You stand frozen taking deep breaths as you and Felix stare at each other from across the stage, he gives you a reassuring smile and thumbs up as you both make your way out into the public eye.

(Song- Breathless- Luke James and Jude Demorset)

Yeah Oh yeah Oh, honey Why you looking like that

Didn't I tell you I'd have you hooked By the morning you'll be coming back, oh

You both take slow fluid steps as you walk toward each other, eyes on the other until you reach him, you make a flirty smile as you place your hand across his chest on his shoulder his hand around your waist as you circle each other eyes locked. Oh, baby Why you making that face Like you didn't accept that my body would have you so out of place Oh, baby

You remove your arm from him, turning your head away as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind. As you step toward the front of the stage, with a soft lift of your leg behind you between Felix’s legs as his hands grab yours while you dip and sensually lift yourself. Honey, don't worry You are on your way to heaven Just relax (Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)

You both pull away and begin making your way to opposite sides of the stage as the music comes to its climax. Your heart no longer shaking, as confidence fills you. Before launching yourself across the stage, toward Felix’s waiting figure. You aerial once you were near him landing perfectly infront of him, your dress flowing beautifully with the choreography.

I don't wanna hurt you I just wanna blow your mind Tonight Imma leave you breathless Breathless (Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)

Felix’s arms wrap around you as you gracefully turn in his arms, your head bent back whilst your arms are in 5th position. You backbend landing into a split.

Girl I know I'm a rebel Really hope that you don't mind I just wanna leave you breathless Breathless (Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)

Felix’s hands help guiding you up as he guides you back up to your feet over your head turning you both around slowly as you extend your arms a smile plastered on your face as you flip yourself over his head and back onto your feet

Baby, I don't bite

Felix’s steps are smooth and fluid as he steps toward the front of the stage his hand coming up to cover his chin and mouth as he faced you his other arm wrapping around his torso

Maybe I'm lying But I promise I'm gonna do it right, oh

on beat his head goes faces each side his arms moving gracefully as he extends his arm to the crowd before spinning and giving the audience a flirty smile and wink as he extends his hand toward you.

Honey, don't worry You are on your way to heaven Just relax (Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)

You point your toe as you walk toward him, your arms moving with the beat before Felix grasps your hand and lifts you over his head. Slowly turning you around as your dress adds another beautiful element to the choreography. You smile at each other at the use of the dirty dancing lift. You both struggle not to laugh as he guides you back down. I don't wanna hurt you I just wanna blow your mind Tonight Imma leave you breathless Breathless (Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh) Baby I know I'm a rebel Really hope that you don't mind I just wanna leave you breathless Breathless (Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)

You spin your arms guiding your spin before you jete. Standing on one foot as you lift your leg behind you extending your arm up into an Arabesque. You drop to one knee both of your arms crossing into an X over your chest as you tuck your head. You bring your head up elegantly, as your arms extend over your head and back flip into a standing position your arms straight up. You turn into Felix’s arms, his hand wrapping itself around your waist as you place your hand on his chest, your faces inches from each other as the song comes to a close.

Your chest is heaving as you hear the roar of applause from behind you, turning to the crowd you take a hold of Felix’s hand taking a bow before pulling him off stage. A large smile playing on your lips, Felix is giddy as you guys made it off stage. You wrap your arms around his neck “That was fucking awesome!” you declare as Felix laughs in disbelief. You smack his arm as you pull away “How were you so calm? you werent nervous at all?” You question, he scoffs at your words “I WAS TERRIFIED! Theres a scout from JYP out there I was fucking terrified, you couldn’t tell?” he exclaims. Your eyes widen in disbelief “NO! FELIX!” He shrugs as he lifts his hand to point behind you. You turn your head in the direction he was pointing in only to see Karina, Yeji, Lia and your mother and brother running up to you. Your heart sinks at the sight of your mother, you look at the ground in embarrassment. Karina is the first to reach you wrapping her arms around your neck “You were fucking amazing! Is this why Felix is such a dick about people coming to your practices” She exclaims giving a small playful glare to Felix. He rolls his eyes at her words “What the hell are you talking about I’ve invited you” he argues as she removes herself from you. “Guys---” your words are cut off by Yeji and Lia wrapping themselves around you.

“You did so good!” they exclaimed; you laugh at their insync jinx. Your eyes drift to your mother and brother standing behind them, wide proud smiles on their faces. You pull yourself away from the two. Trudging your way over to them, you look at the ground. You feel your brothers' arms wrap around you, “I-I’ve never seen you dance before” his voice is filled with tears you notice the lack of liquor smell on him, only a strong colonge. You feel tears welling in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You can hear the heartbreak in your mother's voice. “Eomma!” you cried as you wrap your arms around her “I'm sorry...I wanted to tell you! I did but you were so disappointed at the idea I didn’t want to hurt you” you cried. She shook her head as she wrapped her arms around you “you could never disappoint me, I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t tell me" She wiped your tears “You’re an amazing dancer, you remind me of your father”

“Hi Im Felix” Felix exclaims excitedly extending his hand toward your brother a large bright smile on his face.

______________________________________________________________

You were greatful for the showers in the female dressing room.

After your overwhelmingly emotional moment with your family, you quickly rushed into the dressing room, undressing and quickly making your way into the warm water waiting for you. You can hear the dressing room open, the murmur of voices making their way into the vanity room. Choosing to enjoy your shower you grab your shampoo and lather it onto your hair. You hear a crash from the strangers in the next room.

“Ye-na what is going on?!” her friend exclaimed as you heard more crashes from the room. You hear a pause before you hear the familiar screech of Ye-na's voice “I just don’t get Hyunjin, I thought we were like going somewhere but apparently not” she snapped. Your ears perk up at the sound of your boyfriends name. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “what do you mean?” her friend inquires. “I mean he had no problem sleeping with me at the party the night before we started classes and now all of a sudden I don’t fucking exist!!” your heart breaks at her words. He slept with her.....tears well up in your eyes. He slept with her the same night he slept with you. You scoff in disbelief.

“Wait doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” her friend questions. You press yourself against the shower wall, waiting in anticipation. Your heart pounded against your chest, your hands shaky. Your shower long over but you were frozen in place under the rapid cascade of the water. “He said they werent anything serious” You could hear the smirk on her lips. Nothing serious? You heard the door close. Turning the water off, you slowly make your way out of the shower. Grabbing onto the towel you allow the tears to fall. You feel your body trembling as you hold the towel against your chest, leaning against the doorframe. Nothing serious..... that’s what you were to Hyunjin. Nothing serious. Pulling your phone out you see new messages from Felix, your tears cascading down your face. Quickly responding to him you pull your long sleeve skin tight shirt and black sweats on.

You hear a soft knock on the door. Wiping your cheeks you crack the door slightly, only to be met with a set of soft concerned eyes staring back at you. Once his eyes landed on your sobbing form, he wraps his arms around you pulling you into his chest. You sobbed against him as he cooed in your ear. “what happened? You were just so happy what changed?” He questions. Sniffling as you pull back you explain what you had overheard. You notice a change in his demeanor, his fists balled up at his side. “Youre kidding right?” He growls behind a clenched jaw. You shake your head as you grab your bag “Can you please just bring me home?” you plead. He runs his hand through his hair. “Arent you going to talk to him?” He inquires. Shaking your head rapidly “Not....Not now” You state dejectedly “Not today”

“Honey, theres no day but today.”

“Ill do it another day Lix forreal I cant handle anymore right now”

He shakes his head “No. Youre doing it today. Theres literally no day you should even do it but today. You don’t think hes going to figure out youre avoiding him?”

*PING*

Your phone sounds. Seeing his contact name pop up you open his message.

Quickly, locking your phone without responding you turn your attention back to Felix. “Can you bring me home? Yes or No? Cause if not I have to leave now while I still havent seen him”

*PING*

Rolling your eyes at his nerve to be annoyed. “Felix~!” you beg as your phone goes off once more. Irritation filling you at his words. “Fine, BUT you owe me” Felix groans pulling your attention away from your phone for a second. “nice to know your profiting off of my misery some friend you are....” You groan as you finally respond to Hyunjin.

You smile to yourself at your petty use of the nickname you called Felix that Hyunjin absolutely hated. Feeling quite proud of yourself as your phone goes off with countless messages now being ignored. Walking with Felix out of the auditorium and into the parking lot you see his familiar black and red motorcycle. You hesitate at the thought of actually getting on it. Felix grabs his spare helmet and holds it out to you. Grabbing a hold of the item you feel a hand wrap around your wrist and turn you around. Your eyebrows scrunch together as you force your hand out of the persons grip. Your heart cracks once more as you come face to face with Hyunjin, an irritated scowl on his features. “Is there something you want?” You growl.

“Yeah why the fuck are you going home with Felix?” He snaps back. “Woah, okay dude relax she just asked me for a ride home” Felix quips from behind you. You can see the fire in Hyunjin’s eyes “Are you my fucking girlfriend?!” he spits. Felix chuckles to himself “She wont be your girlfriend for long....” he mutters under his breath as he rolls his eyes. “Y/Nie~, ill wait over there for you just let me know when your ready to go” Felix states calmly as he wraps one arm around your shoulder giving you a small side hug before ruffling your hair and walking over to the bench by the entrance.

You nod softly before looking at the ground. “What the hell is your problem?!” you snap, you notice the confusion on Hyunjin’s face. You’ve never really truly yelled at him before so to say he was shocked would be an understatement; but his shock was soon replaced with anger as he growls “MY PROBLEM?!” you nod before shoving him back slightly “Yeah! Your problem. Why are you such a dick to Felix? Hes been nothing but a good friend to me, and you always act like such an ass to him for literally no reason”

“Why cant you see he wants to be with you?!”

“WHY DOES IT MATTER?!” You snarl “Its not like we’re anything serious right?”

You cant help but feel guilty as you see hurt flash across Hyunjins face “We’re- we arent anything serious?” His voice is laced with pain. “Why would—why would you say something like that?” you notice tears in his eyes his voice growing shaky. “Its what you told Ye-na right?” You stare at him, tears filling your eyes as you remember why you wanted Felix to bring you home. “what?......” His voice is so small its almost inaudible “w-where did you hear that?”

“So its true? Nice to know” you state matter of factly crossing your arms over your chest as a stray tear makes its way down your cheek.

“N-no! I didn’t--I wouldn’t---I never told that to anyone. I am serious about us” He declares in a panic as he reaches for you, you take a step back. “Babe....” He pleads. “i swear I-I never said that to Ye-na" you shake your head at him lifting your hand “And shes just so delusional that she thinks you two slept together as well right?” Sarcasm drips off your tone like venom. His face drops his mouth hanging open to say something before closing it again unable to find the words. You scoff at his hesitance “So you did. You slept with her?” He steps close to you once again you step back.

“not recently......”

“Please just—just delete my number” Your hurt obvious in the way your voice cracks, Hyunjin’s tears begin to fall “What?” His voice is shaky “N-no. Why?” you shake your head in disbelief “Because you cheated on me Hyunjin are you stupid or something?”

“No I didn’t I swear! Baby I never cheated on you, me and ye-na was a long time ago before us please belie-believe me” His hand finally is able to wrap around your wrist pulling you into him burying his face in your neck. You shake your head as you attempt force your way out of his arms “Let. Me. Go.” You growl. Hyunjin shakes his head as his arms wrap around you tighter “No! No I cant” he cries “I cant youre going to leave” you continue your fight as you feel your shirt growing wet, Hyunjin’s form now trembling. “please! I cant lose you please.....I would never---I could never cheat on you please don’t go please just listen to me” He sobbed. You look over to Felix signalling him to come back and start his motorcycle. You shake your head “I cant. I cant do this anymore Hyunjin”

“NO! Stop please im Hyunnie, your Hyunnie. Please, please I don’t know what else to do babe I didn’t cheat on you. Im serious about us im so fucking serious about us please believe that! I cant lose you, not like this, not because of her I swear nothing happened with her in so fucking long. I’ve only been with you. I only want you please at least let me prove that” He pleads as you hear the roar of Felix’s engine. Finally pulling yourself away from his arms, you take one final look at Hyunjin’s face. He still looked absolutely perfect, even as he cried. Your heart raced as you felt his lips press against yours. Your resolve almost crumbles as his lips moved against yours, the taste of his tears mixing with your own. Pulling away he presses his forehead against yours his hands on either side of your face. “Im sorry, I just cant trust you.” you cry, he shakes his head “please don’t do this, I love you please” he pleads, youre heart breaks at his confession. Taking a step back. “let’s........break up” you declare softly as you hop on the back of Felix’s bike and tap him signalling for him to drive away.

Ignoring the flurry of calls and text messages now flooding your phone you allow the tears to fall completely and whole heartedly, you sob into Felix’s back.

#hyunjin angst #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz hyunjin #skz felix

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shaunamilfman · 6 months

Text

Witch!Lottie Drabble

Summary: "Witch!Lottie keeps stopping by your bookstore to buy shitty occult books as an excuse to talk to you."

Lottie Matthews was, hands down, your favorite customer. Not just because she was liable to spend a couple hundred any time she set foot in there, but you felt a strange connection to her that you'd never felt before.

Your employee Jeff hated her with a passion, however. He claimed she was "Fucking weird." and that she often walked in, saw he was working, and left. It didn't sound much like the Lottie you knew, so you didn't pay much attention to him. You didn't care much for Jeff anyway, but he unfortunately was a model employee.

Sure, Lottie was a little strange. A little unusual. You think she might be a part of a cult, but that's not a crime. Hopefully. You had checked to make sure there weren't any unexplained missing persons in the area, just in case. So definitely not a crime.

If that wasn't enough, all she buys are books on the occult. Honestly, you only order them for her. You heard her murmur about "Getting rid of revisionist history," more than once when she bought books on the Salem witch trials.

You honestly didn't care what she did with them once she left the shop. You wondered if she realized she was creating her own problem by buying up the books she disliked so much. You wouldn't have stocked them otherwise; They really didn’t sell that well.

Still, the highlight of her visits came when she'd stand by the register afterwards and talk with you for hours and hours about everything and nothing. She'd always seemed disappointed in herself when you'd gently remind her that the store was closing soon, like there was something she wanted to say but didn't. You had hopes that she'd ask you out, but you were admittedly too nervous to ask her instead. Lottie Matthews had always made an intimidating figure, even in school.

She brings you gifts sometimes, little trinkets. She brought you a flower from her garden a few weeks ago. You look at it in awe every time you see it. Not necessarily because it's the most beautiful flower you've ever seen, which it is, but because it still hasn't started to wilt in the slightest. It's like magic.

…

She came in on Halloween one day and actually stops in her tracks to look at your witch's hat. She gives you an immeasurably fond look as she shakes her head slightly in amusement. "That's cultural appropriation," She said. You laugh quietly at her as you lean across the counter to look at her.

"To who, witches?" You ask teasingly. She hums in acknowledgement with a smile just smug enough that you wonder if she knows something you don’t. “Well,” You say slowly, “If a witch would like to come and complain she could file it in the complaint box.” Her face lights up as she looks around and says excitedly, “There’s a complaint box?”

You grin softly as her and glance towards the trash can. “Oh,” She says, deflating noticeably. You fake an offended gasp as you give her an affronted look.

“You were going to file a complaint about me?” You ask. Her eyes widen and she looks slightly panicked, like she just realized she put her foot in it.

“No, no.” She insists. “I was going to file a complaint about Jeff.” You can’t help the way you snort with laughter, head falling down on your arms as you muffle your laughter into the counter. You look up to see Lottie looking a mixture of surprised and pleased as she looks down at you.

“Sorry,” You say, “It’s just that Jeff doesn’t like you either.” She smirks.

“Good.” She says. You shake your head fondly.

…

You remember the day you found out extremely well. You were standing on a ladder stocking books on the top overflow shelf when she stormed in the shop, obviously trying to get out of the heavy rain outside. You understandably were not expecting customers when it was raining that hard and startled so hard you fell back off the ladder.

You had your eyes closed waiting for the inevitable landing when you realized it had been an oddly long fall. You peaked one eye open to realize that you were floating in mid air. You looked around to find Lottie staring wide eyed at you with one hand out, soaked with rain and so cold she was shaking.

You remember it so well mostly because she forgot to put you back on the ground as she confesses. You look fearfully at her before she suddenly realizes she hasn't set you down. "Oh!" She says, failing to hide her blush as she helped you down.

You weren't all that surprised honestly once you got over your initial shock. It seemed ironically on brand for what you knew about her. Once she sets you on the ground you give her a concerned look. You walk behind the counter as you search for the blanket you keep for when it gets cold. She’s watching you curiously as you walk back over to her and wrap the blanket around her, holding tightly around her shoulders.

“You’re going to get sick being so wet and cold.” You chide. She smiles so wide it practically splits her face in two. “You need to go home and change into dry clothes.” You say.

“I will,” She promises. “If…”

“If what?” You ask.

“If you say you’ll go on a date with me.” She says, touched with a tinge of anxiety.

You sigh dramatically, as if it was a really hard ask. “If I must,” You say, but can’t help the way you smile widely back at her.

As she left the store you shouted at her to ask “Should I be looking for your car or your broom?” She turns back so that you can see the way she rolls her eyes. She says something about “Reductionist stereotypes,” but you were laughing too hard at your own joke to be sure.

…

She never seems to be very showy with her magic. It's the small things really: you notice that her plants never die, her dishes are always clean, and her food never burns. You teased her for weeks after you realized that her popcorn always perfectly popped as well.

She uses her magic most often as a sign of affection. Just a way to make your day easier and to remind you how much she loves you. She'll pick up lunch or bring you coffee sometimes and it makes you think of her fondly all day as it stays perfectly at the right temperature. As if you could ever forget about Lottie, witch or not.

Eventually you happily fired Jeff as Lottie spent so much time hanging out in the bookstore now that you just put her to work instead. She was overjoyed for weeks about it. She'd never worked a day in her life, you could tell, but she cheated so much with magic that it didn't matter all that much. You couldn't help but watch fondly as the books she 'unpacked' flew across the room into their proper spots. She grins ear to ear as she walks over and asks if she did a good job. You know she’s just fishing for a reward, but you give it to her anyway.

As you watch her fret over recipes as she brewed potions you couldn't help but to think that she really wasn't all that different from anyone else: She just had magic. Your life together was surprisingly more domestic than you had thought it would be, but you wouldn't change it for the world.

#lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

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evilgaygothgf · 1 year

Text

I Know What I Said Pt. 2

(a/n: I lost the request for this but here you go anon!)

Quackity x reader (reader is referred to as “girlfriend”)

“Hey, I miss you.”

“Alex, how can you already miss me? I JUST saw you,” you couldn’t help but laugh into the phone. He had just dropped you off at your front door and barely let you make your way inside your house before he was calling you already.

“You don’t miss me?” You could envision his fake hurt facial expression just by the amount of dramatics he was putting into his voice on the other line. “My car still smells like you. It’s almost,” he started fake sniffling on the other line, “it’s almost like you’re still here with me.”

You rolled your eyes and made a loud sigh, hoping he could hear it through the phone. “You are so dramatic”

“And you love it.”

“You know me oh so well.” You couldn’t deny it. His playful side is what drew you in to him in the first place. “Oh, also, I meant to ask you earlier, but do you have plans tomorrow?” You started making your way to your room to get ready for bed while he responded.

“Umm, I know I’m supposed to talk to a few people about doing a stream together this week, but other than that I should be free. What about you?”

You put your phone on speaker and threw it onto your bed while you changed into some sweats and a tshirt. “Hmm, well I was thinking about hanging out with my boyfriend and maybe going on a real first date with him. Do you think he’d want to do that?”

“You know, it’s funny because I was actually thinking about how much I’d want to take my girlfriend on a date tomorrow. Maybe we can go on a double date?”

You laughed to yourself as you flopped onto your bed. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll text you the details and you can meet me there?”

“Wherever you go, I go.”

“Okie dokie. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodniiigghhht Alexxx,”you said in a singsong voice.

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, you were blushing and kicking your blankets like a madman. A date? Him calling you gorgeous? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? You woke up pining for your best friend and ended the night with a confession, a kiss, and a date for tomorrow with your best friend turned boyfriend. The days events kept playing over and over in your mind as your stared up at the ceiling.

———————————————————————

You walked into the the front entrance of the art museum and looked around for your boyfriend. You spot him standing near the main entrance to the exhibit and he locks eyes with you, immediately grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but to start smiling right back at him as you walk across the room to where he was standing.

“So your date didn’t show either?” You were confused at first what he was talking about until your remembered your playful convo from the night before.

“Nope. Looks like we both got stood up,” you joked back. “I guess our double date is cancelled. What should we do now?”

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “You know what? The two of us will just go on this date without them. They don’t deserve us anyway.” He leaned over closer to your ear. “Besides, as soon as I saw how cute you look today, I wouldn’t want to be on this date with anyone else.”

You felt the heat rushing up to your cheeks at his comment and hated how easy he could make you blush. It really wasn’t fair. The two of you started heading into the art exhibit and slowly made your way through each room.

You eventually stopped in front of a Maxfield Parrish painting that caught your attention.

As Alex stood next to you looking at the painting, you began telling him all that you remembered about the piece. “This is one of my favorites by Parrish. No matter how many times I see it, I’m still amazed by how a two dimensional painting can look like it’s actually glowing. Oh, and my teacher was explaining to us how this artist used blue so much that-“ you cut your sentence short at the feeling of warmth in your hand. You looked down to your hand to see he had grabbed a hold of it with his own hand and began intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Oh, is this- is this not okay with you cause I can-“ he began spouting out, but you cut him short.

“No, no I promise it’s okay,” you grinned, “I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting it.” You both turned your gaze back to the painting and stood in the silence of the moment. Even with the exhibit being filled with other people circling from sculpture, to painting, to installation, it felt like it was just the two of you in this moment.

Alex broke the silence with a soft voice, “I like the way your hand fits in mine. My little puzzle piece.”

“I swear that is the gushiest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Keep saying that stuff and you’ve got yourself a second date,” you said without averting your gaze from the painting.

“Oh there’s definitely more where that came from.”

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mangoguy · 2 months

Text

Displacement (2/2)

John "Soap" MacTavish('09) x Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish('22)

Warnings: Mentions of character death (Ghost and Roach), no y/n used, no pronouns other than they/them used a few of times.

You can't help but find it difficult to get used to your new surroundings.

It's finally here!!! I meant for this to be out a week after the first part, but school got busy lmao

Read the first part here

There are a few things you have noticed after being thrown in here.

One, the year is 2023.

Two, You are married to John (or Johnny as he likes being called) in this timeline.

And three, you don’t work in the military, you are no longer with Task Force 141.

That third one hit particularly hard. Your task force was a huge part of your life along with John.

You faked memory loss, thinking it was a smart move for now. You doubted they would even believe you if you started spouting that you were not from here. Even to you, that sounded crazy.

‘Because it is…’ you thought bitterly.

This universe wasn't in World War III, you weren't complaining though, that was the mission after all. You still had a hard time adjusting, especially with him around, Johnny. The man who wears your husband's face. Well, you guessed you're even… since technically you were wearing his wife's face? That's how you saw it anyway.

He was worried about you, often asking if you were okay. You could never really answer him, just stare and nod. You felt so foreign here, out of place, and you missed John so much it made you ill. You wondered what happened to him? Was he okay? Something told you he wasn’t. With where your mind was going this was going to be a long hospital stay…

It's been two months since you've woken up. Your mind convinced you it was some weird coma dream.

‘People have those, don't they?’ You thought, staring out the living room window. You felt silly mourning the loss of some older version of yourself and Johnny. It was morbid of your brain to think of how Ghost would die, or mourn the loss of two others you ‘barely knew.’ You found it funny how Price looked in your dream, older, a little unhinged. Gaz was what scared you the most in terms of dream Gaz, you didn't want to think about it.

You met them briefly, Task Force 141, Johnny's teammates, and friends. They all seemed very concerned about you, maybe even a little guilty like they caused the accident. You assured them you were fine and mentioned that the doctors said you were healing quite nicely.

“Aye, but they… have memory loss, can't remember a damn thing… the doctor said it looks severe,” Johnny spoke in a hushed whisper when you went off to fetch something.

“They can't remember anything?” Kyle spoke.

“Yeah, and I'm talkin’ like their whole life, it's like they're a new person… Can't even remember our weddin’ day, our first meetin’, or… anythin’” Johnny could feel his heartbreak just speaking it out loud. A painful reminder of what happened, he thought maybe someone was punishing him. Probably was, for the things he's done. He gave a deep sigh, as Kyle gave him a reassuring pat on the back. Price and Simon both frowned, giving the Scot a sympathetic look, that's when you decided to enter the room again.

“Bonnie yer… are ye okay? Ye've been starin’ out the window for a while…” you heard Johnny speak softly. You turned to look at him, nodding your head softly.

“Yeah sorry, just… I guess I'm reminiscing on some weird dream I had while in that coma,” you admitted.

“Hm? Dream ye say? Do ye want tae talk about it?” John sat near you on the couch and pulled you into his arms. It was comforting being in his embrace.

“Hm, not much to say other than… I guess I just dreamt of a whole other life for us? You were there, though you were a bit older… definitely more handsome in my dream,” you gave him a cheeky grin.

“Looks like I've got some competition,” he paused to chuckle softly. “But older you say? Were ye dreaming of tae future or somethin’?” Johnny asked.

“Hm, you could say that… though there are differences in dream John and you in real life.”

“Aye… and what's that?”

“Well for one he was a bit taller than you,” you snickered.

“Aye!”

“And well he didn't have an arm tattoo, like you do he had one on his neck, a revolver,” you paused to think, your mind was getting a little muddy on details.

“Oh! And your scars are different, that's all I seem to remember at the moment...” you finished. Johnny was silent for a moment, absorbing this new information. It was nice hearing you talk again, even if it was about this mysterious other version of himself.

“Damn, sounds like one handsome bastard…”

“Johnny…”

“What I'm bein’ serious,” he muses.

Something weird was going on, you couldn't place your finger on it. It all started with a pair of jeans. What scared you was that you vaguely recalled wearing them somewhere. You placed them down on the floor and stared at them.

‘Of course, I wore them somewhere they're pants…’ You thought, thinking it was silly you were worried about jeans. You shook your head, grabbing them off the floor but that's when something slipped out from the pocket. One fell with a hard thunk and the other fluttered to the ground. You pick them both up. One was a simple wedding band on it was an engraving, two sets of dates

xx-xx-‘07

xx-xx-‘09

The other item made your heart drop in your stomach. Time seemed to stop as familiar sets of eyes were on you. John Price, Ghost, John “Soap” MacTavish, you. In the corner of the photo were the words ‘OP Kingfish.’

This was it.

The evidence that your ‘coma dream’ wasn't a dream after all. How could you think it was a dream? How dare this world make you think your John was a dream, your world. You assumed it was the universe trying to make you ‘fit in,’ but that begs the question, how did your stuff get here? You shoved the ring and photo in your pocket as you heard Johnny walking over to where you were.

“Hey Bonnie, are you almost done gettin’ ready? Simon texted saying he was at the bar already,” Johnny watched you as you put the jeans back in the closet.

“Yeah I'm ready, can't keep the man waiting,” you smiled though it didn't reach your eyes.

While watching Ghost and Johnny converse you felt the ring and photo through your pocket for the tenth time. You worried they would disappear and yet they never did. You stood up from your seat, getting the attention of the two men at the table.

“Just heading to the bathroom,” you spoke, walking towards the small hallway that housed the restrooms. You entered, taking a quick breather, your emotions were everywhere tonight. It was starting to annoy you, if you were being honest all you wanted was to just relax and enjoy the evening…

Even it felt fake.

Doing your business and leaving the bathroom, you noticed Johnny had a conflicting look. But when you approached he smiled at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you sat down.

“Everything okay?” You asked and he nodded, though you noticed it was stiff.

You ended up drinking, not a lot but enough to get a bit tipsy. You barely remember the car ride home, though here you are, in bed and snuggled into the blankets. You were reaching out towards Johnny’s spot but found he was not on his side of the bed. It’s cold, meaning he was gone for a while. You slowly sat up, groaning from a slight headache. You called out for him but didn’t hear an answer. You got out of bed and walked towards the living room, spotting him sitting on the couch with the table lamp on. He was staring at something, upon closer look it was the photo, your photo with your team. Your John.

You blinked once, then twice.

When did he get that?

Shit.

“What are you doing with that?” You asked, slightly on the defence.

“What am I doin’ with it? What are ye doing with this? What am I even lookin’ at?” He asked, looking over at you his expression inconceivable.

“It's… complicated Johnny, you probably wouldn't understand.”

He went quiet after that, rubbing his face in frustration, he then stared at the photo again. You needed to figure out where to go from here. You bit the inside of your cheek in thought.

“So, are ye from the future or somethin? Because that's what it looks like… we all look older in this photo… Plus why the hell are you in this photo anyway?” Johnny spoke up finally after a long silence.

“No… it's complicated…”

“Then enlighten me!” You could hear him getting frustrated.

“Fine… I'm… not from here, I don't know how to explain it! One moment I was someplace else then the next thing I know I'm here, in Scotland… In a hospital with someone who looks like my husband but isn't!” you didn't mean to sound so harsh, but all your feelings were bursting out.

“But I am yer husband, didn't you tell me ye were dreamin’ while in that coma?” Johnny tried reasoning.

“I lied, at first I thought maybe it was all a dream but how do you explain the photo and this? I know for a fact I wasn't dreaming I had a completely different life,” You pulled out the ring, showing him the engraved dates.

He stared at the ring, at the dates that were engraved then at the photo. He seemed a bit distant, thinking, processing.

“Is that why whenever I look at ye… It feels like I've lost someone… lost my Bonnie,” Johnny lamented. You were caught off guard by that. But you couldn't deny that you also felt a huge loss whenever you thought of John. The two of you stayed silent, grieving but didn't want to think about why. You refused to think your John didn't survive that explosion.

“I… guess you could say I'm from an alternate universe, god… that's even more confusing but makes the most sense” you decided to change the subject. Johnny finally looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Aye… that sounds crazy… maybe-” he didn't finish his sentence but you knew he was probably still trying to find a reasonable answer. You couldn't blame him and this is exactly the reason you didn't bring it up. You decided to take a different approach.

“That photo was taken on a joint mission with Task Force 141 and Delta force, we were going after this guy named Vladimir Makarov, Intel claimed he was in this facility in Ukraine but he wasn't and it ended up being a trap… That's when John or my Soap, I guess I should say, got injured and Price was captured,” you explained. You were starting to sweat a bit, speaking that mission out loud sounded insane. It sure did catch Johnny's attention though. A dark look crossed his face at the mention of Vladimir Makarov but it quickly faded.

“Huh…” was all Johnny managed to get out, it was a hell of a story. You could tell he needed more convincing.

“Well, one person in that photograph isn't alive… Ghost, along with another member Roach were shot by a man named Shepherd…” Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned deeply.

“Betrayed by him and his shadow company…” you seethed. That seemed to make Johnny perk up. From the looks of it, that story of yours seemed to hit a little too close to home. He gave you a thoughtful look albeit a concerned look.

“Well, shite… that just all but confirms your theory… But the question remains why are ye here? And how come yer body in yer time stayed there?”

“I don't know… it's not like I have the answers. I was literally on a mission to assassinate Makarov but then an explosion went off behind us and I ended up in that hospital.” You explained.

“Ye know… that sounds similar to what happened to my spouse, well they didn't work in the military but there was an accident that involved both me and them, they ended up taking most of the damage which is why they put you in a coma… but you already knew that,” he mumbled that last part.

“I wonder if that's related… but that still doesn't explain why I'm here…” You crossed your arms, sitting opposite from him on the couch. You stared at your reflection on the TV for a moment, observing your new skin, you often didn't look at yourself for too long. You found it troublesome and dare you say uncanny.

This whole situation was confusing, but you found some comfort now that Johnny knew and seemed to believe you. You did grow fond of him over the couple of months you've been here. It was slow, sure, unfairly comparing him to your John but you quickly came to realize that although they might share the same name and hair- they were different. That also made you realize something else though, something unpleasant.

"Johnny… I understand if you want me to leave, I am technically wearing your spouse's face..." you suddenly spoke. Johnny turned to look at you with a bewildered look on his face, silently asking if you were for real.

“That's a way to put it…” he mumbled with a long pause before speaking again, "...But I don't want you to leave."

"...Why?" It was your turn to be bewildered now.

"Well, is it bad I still want to be with ye? I know you aren't the version of my Bonnie I married but... you're still you whether you're fighting in the big fight or here making the house a home... I loved you in both timelines,” he suddenly proclaimed, bringing a hand over to caress your cheek. There was hope that maybe this could work.

That couldn't be a bad idea.

The universe brought the two of you together for a reason.

Words: 2,337

#call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #john soap mctavish x reader #johnsoapmactavish #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #cod x you #cod x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap x reader #Guy.Writes #x reader

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sin-petal · 1 year

Text

HEAVY SNOW (a christmas special)

male y/n x Le Sserafim’s Kazuha (2100+ words)

TAGS: christmas!!! kinda sweet mc, strangers to potential lovers, unsafe sex, riding, multiple orgasms, and ugly sweaters

the snow is heavy tonight, you thought, stirring the powdered milk in your cup to melt it with hot water. you thank god that you fixed the heater last week so now you won’t need to worry about being a popsicle overnight. it left a dent on your wallet, but it’s better to pay now than pay for hospital bills later.

with a sigh, you turned around and grabbed the bag of marshmallows, putting it in the chocolate drink. but before you take a sip, you heard a knock. now, you rarely have people you can call friends so visits are very rare, so you froze on the spot as you thought of answering it or not. all the windows are covered with curtains anyway, it’s not like they can look in to check if you’re inside.

more slamming on the door. “hello, is anyone there?” a lovely voice of a woman, which is literally rare, shocked you. you set down your mug and opened the door carefully.

someone you haven’t met before was on the other side, but god was she beautiful. she was wearing clothes that are definitely not for winter, and you could tell by the way she was hugging herself and her body shaking plus the red on her cheeks and nose, she’s cold as fuck. but she’s definitely working that white top and the large denim jacket that’s falling off her shoulder with the matching denim pants.

“c-can i come in?” she said, and it reminded you that there’s a (beautiful) girl shivering in the cold in front of you and you’re staring like an idiot.

“of course, right, sorry.” you step out of the way and invite her in. she shook her head to remove the snow on the top of her hair, before stepping inside and removed her shoes. you could hear the relieved sigh when she felt warm again after you closed the door.

“what are you doing here? and who are you? and why are you dressed like that?”

she laughed, a beautiful sound, before sitting down on the couch and covered herself with blankets. you remembered your hot chocolate and checked on it, and sighed happily when it was still warm. you decided to give it to the girl instead.

“calm down. i’m kazuha. and i… was in a party earlier, but then caught my boyfriend cheating on me so i, um.” she sniffled a bit, and you couldn’t see from where you’re standing if it was from the cold or not. “i lost my ride so i tried to walk from home but the snow got really heavy as you could see and i need somewhere to sleep in the night.”

kazuha smiled and took the hot chocolate, where she closed her eyes and let the warmth from the mug fill her hands. “your boyfriend sounds shitty.” you whisper, sitting next to her. “i mean anyone who dates you would be so lucky and i would never do that,” you stammered out, shrugging. “and i’m um, y/n.”

“you don’t know who i am. what made you think he’s so lucky?”

“well… you’re really insanely beautiful.”

kazuha laughed before taking a sip. “typical man. seeing someone pretty and you go crazy.” she kept drinking for a while before standing up to put it on the table. you watch her, staring at her figure. “that’s not true. i’m sure your good looks match your personality.”

she scoffed, turning around and leaned on the countertop. “didn’t stop him from cheating, right?”

“listen, he’s a piece of shit.” you shake your head and got up as well. “you should change clothes. i have a sweater.” you went to the closet and chose a random sweater, which ends up being a christmas sweater.

“he is a piece of shit.” kazuha confirmed. “also i cant believe you have an ugly christmas sweater and you’re going to ask me to wear it.”

scoffing in fake annoyance, you clutched the sweater close to your chest. “i’m offended that you’ll say it’s ugly. my grandma made that.” kazuha’s eyes widened and you could see the guilt in her eyes, but it disappeared as soon as she saw you were joking. “asshole! i was about to apologize.”

“you can still grovel and beg.” you comment, tossing her the sweater before turning around so you can give her some privacy. you could hear her removing her clothes as she muttered, “you would love that.”

and she’s right, you would. but you keep it to yourself. you bit your lip and kept quiet until you heard some of your things falling on the floor. out of concern, you turn around and gasped when you saw kazuha still in her underwear.

“sorry, i pushed your charger off the table. i don’t think it’s broken so–” she stopped when she saw you staring, her eyes giving a mischievous glint. “do you like what you see?”

at this point there’s no point in hiding it. she’s fit, her skin looks smooth and all you want to do is touch her all over. her breasts look cuppable in your hands, and her thighs would be good around your head. there’s really no point in denying it now, considering you’re growing hard just by the thought.

about to apologize in order not to creep her out, you stopped when you realized that kazuha walked closer to you instead. there was a smirk on her lips before she repeated her question. “do you like what you see?”

“um yeah, i, um. yes.”

with a laugh, she pushed you easily on the couch, landing with a small grunt on your lips. you looked up at her as kazuha sat on your lap, her crotch right on top of your clothed dick. “oh, wow.” was all you could say.

“i should say that. you feel big.” kazuha then slowly unhooked her bra, which caused you to look away. “kazuha, what are you doing?” you ask, your heart beating fast. “this feels wrong.” it doesn’t. but you barely know each other and suddenly you’re fucking?

“listen, y/n. you’re horny, and i want a distraction from my ex. and… consider it payment for the night.” kazuha held your chin, tilting your head. “you’ve never had hookups before? one night stands?”

you haven’t. mostly because you didn’t have a lot of women come in your life to hookup with, but you aren’t saying that to kazuha right now. “um. maybe we can have a date after this. i know a killer place that sells good lasagna, its perfect for cold winter days—”

kazuha simply shushed you with a soft kiss. that kiss was all the consent it took for you to kiss her deeply, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulled her closer. she kissed back immediately with her arms around your neck and her hands messing your hair. her lips feel so good on yours, soft and sweet. her mouth automatically parted to let your tongue in, and both of you let out a small moan when she started moving her hips, and you could feel the wetness of her pussy seeping down on your shorts.

you pull her away only to remove your shorts and her underwear. you sucked in a deep breath when you realized how wet she was. “oh—you’re just ah,” kazuha cut you off by rubbing your tip, her finger spreading your precum. “less talk more sex.” she kissed you again, your hand reaching down to play with her pussylips. rubbing it softly while ocassionally touching her clit got her moaning a bit louder, so you decided to plant hickeys on her neck instead.

“fuck, y/n put your fingers in—god!” you thrusted in two of your fingers at once, knuckle-deep. you look at kazuha’s reaction, her head tilted back, her panting and her hips matching your thrusts. you could see her abs tense, and it’s incredibly so hot you could feel your cock growing bigger.

you took your time spreading your fingers in her pussy and exploring her walls, before pressing on her spot. it made her moan loudly and slightly pull away from you that it made you tighten your arm around her waist. “keep still.” you whisper near her ear before kissing her again and continue to rub her over the spot.

kazuha was shaking in your arms, and it didn’t even take a minute before she came all over your fingers. concerned with how intense she reacted, you asked her if she’s okay.

without any answer, she just quickly positioned herself on top of your cock. “i’m going to ride you and you’ll love it.” kazuha smirked and leaned down to kiss you just as you pushed your tip inside her slowly. her pussy was loose and wet enough to go inside with little resistance.

it felt heavenly. kazuha was warm and soft inside, and there was just no words to describe it. “you’re big,” she laughed softly, a contrast to what they’re doing. you reach up and smoothen the crease going on between her furrowed eyebrows, your other hand helping her go down on your cock. “bigger than your ex, i hope?”

“oh, much bigger. and much better.” kazuha assured you before sighing once she was fully seated, and soon she was moving. soft moans and grunts filled the rv, and you felt brave enough to go a bit rougher. you matched her pace with your hips, thrusting up when she goes down.

few minutes pass by and kazuha’s moans got louder and louder. her pussy was also squeezing and clenching more than usual which is a sign that she’s close. you are too, but you wanted her to be the one who cums first.

“you’re so hot.” you blurted out, and it seemed to be just the trick to make kazuha spill over the edge, her hips shaking and her loud moans near your ear was enough as well to pull out and cum on her toned abs.

kazuha looked down and smiled, before grabbing your chin again so she could kiss you. you kissed back desperately before flipping you both over so kazuha’s the one pinned down on the couch. you pushed inside her again, moving your hips steadily and focusing on hitting kazuha’s spot.

her loud moans were motivations to keep going, and her nails dug on your forearms as she tried to match the pace. “fuck, you’re doing so good, y/n—!”

a burst of pride filled your heart and it made you move faster and harder. it’s rough and you were about to ask her if she’s okay but with how she’s rolling her eyes back and keep blabbering at how it feels so good, then it must be the right thing to do.

it was a surprise that you managed to last for more than five minutes with how good kazuha’s pussy was clenching around you, every time you pull out it seems like it’s asking you not to.

you were focused, one of your hands playing with kazuha’s nipple, rolling your thumb and squeezing it. she squealed occasionally and would always moan your name loudly. she sounded so beautiful. your name sounded so good on her lips.

“kazuha,” you groaned out. “i’m fucking going to cum.” kazuha nodded and reached down to rub her clit, which caused her hips to shake intensely. “do it fuck, cum!”

you pulled out again, cumming all over her abs once again as she did the same. you then sat down beside her, trying to catch your breath and looked at kazuha who’s doing the same.

“that’s one of my best hookups ever.” she laughed, leaning her head on your shoulder. “that’s the first of my hookups ever.” you responded as you leaned your head on top of hers.

“you’re a virgin?!”

“no, dumbass, i’m not. i just don’t do hookups.” you laughed at her reaction and flicked her forehead.

“well,” kazuha shrugged as she sat up straight so she can look at you properly. “it doesn’t have to be a hookup.” you raised your eyebrow at that, making sure you’re hearing it properly. she saw the look on your face and rolled her eyes. “come on. i don’t want to treat you like a rebound but you’re cool and i want to give you a chance. i also want to know you better.”

you smiled and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. one, two, five seconds, before you pulled away. “good thing there’s a coffee shop nearby. just a five minute walk. we should go there tomorrow morning.”

“it’s a date.” kazuha smiled and wrapped her arms around you, kissing you deeply. “good, then you should wear my ‘ugly christmas sweater’.” you reply while doing air quotes. kazuha snorted, nodding. “fine. make sure you pay for everything.”

you pull away from her and grabbed your thick blanket, covering the both of you to keep you both warm. and with a small smile on your face, you both cuddle tightly on the sofa.

#le sserafim #kazuha #kpop girls #kpop smut #kpop #fanfic #male y/n #male reader #top reader #kazuha is hot

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princessamericachavez · 1 year

Text

911 6x11 Coda

Read in AO3 too

“So this dreamland of yours,” Eddie says after a comfortable silence filled only by the background noise of the sports commentators, “what was it really like?”

“Super freaky,” Buck huffs a laugh. “I told you already.”

“No,” Eddie drawls the word with playful annoyance. “You told us the saccharine version because Christopher was there. Or because you didn’t want someone else to know the details. I don’t know,” he shrugs. “All I know is you aren’t telling the whole story.”

“I am,” Buck tries, but can hear the uncertainty in his own voice.

Eddie finally peels his eyes off the tv screen to pin him with a knowing look.

“Buck, I know you. You were holding back. Which… fine, you don't owe the entire world details about whatever was going on in your brain during a coma. I get it. But, c’mon, it’s me. Spill.”

Buck bites the inside of his cheek. There are details he really doesn't want to reach the others. He doesn’t want to upset anyone with the fucked up things his subconscious came up with. But… yeah, this is Eddie. Somehow, it feels wrong not to tell him.

“Bobby was dead.”

Even now, in the real world, having seen him just a few hours ago for lunch, the words get stuck in his throat. Buck hates the way his voice shakes with the ghost of heartbreak, still remembers the sensation of the world crashing down around him when Chimney (fake Chimney) told him. He tightens the grip of his beer, letting the sting of his wounded hands ground him in this reality.

Eddie arches his eyebrows. “What happened?”

“He… fell off the wagon. No one noticed, until it was too late.”

“Because you weren’t there?” Eddie’s expression turns critical. “Buck, you do know Bobby’s sobriety isn’t your responsibility, right?”

“I know. I know. The world doesn’t revolve around me,” he rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer to wash down the bitterness. “But you… you didn’t know Cap before. Before you joined, for a while, he was… different. Too reserved. Like- like he thought if he didn’t get to know us, we’d be better off or something.”

He can see the confusion in Eddie’s eyes while the information sets in. He can’t blame him. This Cap, this Bobby, is so different it’s almost impossible to reconcile him with the one he first met.

“Anyway,” he tries to lighten the air, “I guess I was annoying enough to break him out of his shell a little, or make him laugh. Or maybe I’m just giving myself too much credit.”

Eddie lets out a noncommittal hum. “Guess I can see that.”

It feels good to have said it, to let it out, to have someone else know. He trusts Eddie’s discretion and knows that, if Bobby’s death comes to haunt him in his nightmares, he’ll at least have someone to tell. He’s ready to return his attention back to the game when Eddie pops a sudden question:

“And me? What was I like?”

“I told you.”

“Angry, yeah,” Eddie frowns. “So that’s it? Without you I’m just… angry guy?”

Buck laughs, shaking his head, and is about to change de subject when he notices that Eddie looks bothered by the statement. As if whatever Buck’s subconscious said about him was a big offense.

“It wasn’t about me,” he offers.

Eddie pins him with another look meant to strip him bare of his secrets. Buck looks down at his hands, unable to meet his eyes:

“You- you lost Chris. To your parents. Big messy legal battle. Hen- Hen said they declared you unfit to be a single dad and a firefighter.”

Eddie takes a big gulp of beer with his eyes on the screen.

“Oh, yeah… that’d piss me off.”

To Buck’s relief, he sounds lighthearted about it. He guesses it’s easier when it’s just a made up crazy reality in someone else’s dying brain, when it didn’t feel so real and definitive as it did to him.

“Guess no one else there introduced you to Carla.”

“And you weren’t there,” Eddie points, “to fight for him.”

“No, I wasn’t…”

Eddie nods, still staring at some point in the distance, clearly not watching the game. Buck waits him out, let’s the idea settle, because he knows his silences enough to guess this one prefaces a statement.

“And you didn’t meet me there?” He finally asks and, again, he seems offended with Buck’s subconscious.

Buck feels the need to defend himself:

“To be fair, you would’ve just called me crazy and called the cops on me or something. I mean, Chim and Hen were ready to roll with it, but you don’t even believe in jinxes. What do you think you would’ve said if a guy you’ve never met before showed up claiming to be your best friend from another life?”

Eddie laughs, really laughs, and Buck finds himself smiling too. On retrospect, he kinda wishes he had searched him out, just to have another ridiculous scenario to tell him about now.

“No, that’s- that’s true,” Eddie shakes his head, still smiling. “Probably would’ve dragged you to the nearest psych ward. Still…” he trails off.

“Still what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I feel bad for that Eddie. Sounds like he could’ve used a Buck in his life.”

Buck is past feeling guilty for leaving those subconscious versions of his family behind (except for Chris, he’s never getting over that one), but he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been running through scenarios in his head, wondering what could’ve happened if he’d stayed. (Aside from, obviously, being dead and all that).

“Yeah, I guess so,” he sighs sipping his beer. “Still, I don’t know how much I could’ve helped. I mean, of course, I would’ve tried to help you- him get Chris back. But I’m not sure how that’d work without the whole legal guardian thing, you know? I mean, m- maybe I could’ve found Ca-“

The cushion hits him square in the face and nearly makes him spill his beer.

“Hey! What’s that about?! I’m convalescent here!”

“That’s not what I meant."

“No?”

“No!” Eddie rolls his eyes, exasperated for some reason Buck doesn’t understand. “I mean… yeah, if I was in that position, of course, I’d want help getting my son back. But that’s not it…”

Buck scratches the back of his head, squinting at Eddie like it’ll somehow help him read between the lines of whatever he’s trying to say.

“Then what is it?”

“I just-“ Eddie stumbles with his words and sighs. “I just meant... it sounds like he could use a friend.”

What good would that do?

Buck doesn’t say it, but his face must betray the thought by the way Eddie’s mouth twists with annoyance.

“Buck, all your help with Chris, introducing us to Carla, you being part of his life, helping me raise him… of course, it means a lot. I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.”

“But?” He prompts.

“But,” Eddie says slowly, looking him in the eye, “that’s not all that matters. I mean, you’re my best friend, man. Even without all that, I’d want to be friends with you, hang out, laugh, do shit all on a Sunday night. That matters too.”

Just being Buck.

“Oh.”

Eddie looks away, takes two big gulps of beer, like they can wash down the emotional weight of what he’s trying to explain.

“I’m just saying,” he says, eyes still on the game they are both ignoring. “If I was going through that, it sounds like hell… I’d want a friend like you by my side. You’re a very good friend.”

Buck ducks his head to hide the heat of blood rushing through his entire face. “Uh, well, thanks… I- uh, I appreciate it. You’re a great friend too.”

He tries to picture Eddie without him. Tries to picture himself without Eddie. Both options seem impossible.

“Well, good thing we met," he decides with a grin, raising his beer lightly against Eddie's.

"Good thing you didn't die," Eddie says, and though he tries to hide it behind a sip of his beer and a distant look at the tv, Buck can feel the heaviness hidden behind that sentence. It only hits him at that moment... Eddie was maybe a little too close to finding out exactly what his life without Buck would be like. "I mean," he goes on with a shrug, "sucks for that other Eddie, but I'm not much of the sharing type. So I'm glad you came back."

"Of course," Buck smiles, trying to match the false lightness in his tone. "You're stuck with me."

"Good," Eddie nods a single time like the matter's settled. "But I'd rather not be stuck with this couch."

"It's so uncomfortable!" Buck chuckles, glad that someone finally brought it up.

"So uncomfortable!" Eddie agrees, finally meeting his eyes.

"My mom's always had the worst taste in furniture."

"Oh, so it runs in the family."

"Hey!" Buck pretends to be offended and throws the cushion back at his smug grinning face.

He misses by quite a bit (something to worry about later). Instead, the cushion knocks the beer bottle clean out of Eddie's hand and spills the dark liquid all over the couch's white fabric.

Buck and Eddie look at the growing stain. They stare at each other, silent, frozen with the sudden panic of two little kids about to be reprimanded by a grown-up. Except, there are no parents here...

...just two grown men who burst out laughing at the exact same time, bent over in a fit of giggles so loud that it drowns out the game's final touchdown. Not that anybody was watching, anyway.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911 fox #911 spoilers #i just want them to be happy and laugh together ok?#911 fic

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roboneco · 6 days

Text

Who sent the email to Sam?

It was "from Jon" as Sam said, or at the very least it seemed like that. It is only a name. Could be "him". Could be fake. But why the name Jon, specifically?

First, all we know about the email is that it was sent with a name, an address, and from an internal email. The name and address being of Gerry specifically, and not of Gertrude because she's not who Sam asked for. That's it.

Here's where I got confused. Why exactly did Sam ask Gerry about the magnus institute?? From this alone, this shouldn't occur to him. Maybe he researched the name and ,as he claimed then, found a list of the kids who were there.

But...well... while Sam is competent & of course he was always obsessed with the institute after what happened to him....if he had a way to find the list himself, do you think he would have waited until someone sent him an email to go look for answers??

Of course not! He'd have already checked every single name on the list! Or at least looked for better leads than just begging people to trauma dump on him. I think someone else gave him the list. Or really the idea to ask about the list.

(I for some reason can't upload pictures so I'll settle for copy pasting the parts I want).

SAM: Right. Of course. I was wondering if you knew anything about the Magnus Institute?

SAM: I was on one of their gifted kids programs and – um – I got hold of a list of a few of the other kids, and thought it might be nice if we could get in contact, swap stories and that…

GERTRUDE: I see. Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think Gerry can help you –

GERRY: (casually) Yeah, I barely remember any of it.

SAM: Oh, so you were a candidate?

To me it sounds like Sam was winging it. He hesitated before mentioning the list as if he wasn't sure it existed. he then seems almost surprised when Gerry confirms he was in the institute.

My guess is he never saw the list! My guess is whoever sent Sam the email had heard about his connection to the institute, and sent him a lead vague enough not to cause suspicion to who may have sent it & THEN personally planted in his head the idea that the lead & institute were connected.

Now, who do we know that: knows of the name Jon, interested in the magnus institute, and Sam trusts enough to listen to their advice about something he already wanted to do?

Bingo. It is Celia. Celia is the one who sent the Jon email & I have more proof.

1- this exchange right after leaving Gerry's house:

SAM: …Thanks for coming with me, Celia. I know we’ve only been working together a few weeks.

CELIA: Hey, it was my idea, remember?

hm? Your idea you say. good to know, bestie!

2- it makes sense for her to use any name really. I don't think it matters. But we should remember that when she listened to her first case (by Chester) right after that Sam got his email. Literally in the same episode.

3- she was in a podcast with Georgie in this world (as far as Sam & google know at least) so it makes sense for her to be able to search & find the list!!

4- this is weak but well.... She works in the OIAR... She has an internal email and could make another one (or hack her way through or something).

I am sure there are other things that I just can't remember right now but anyway that leaves some questions

Why did she take the painting?

Why Gerry? I understand how she could find the list but why choose him? I doubt either Melanie or Georgie mentioned him before. Was it random? Plot reasons? Or maybe her target wasn't Gerry, but Gertrude.

She could know about Gertrude. She was the last archivist after all. But she wants a reason to go without someone suspecting her personally. So after some research (stalking) figures out she has a roommate. And hey would you look at that. The guy's name is in the list of kids experimented on by the magnus institute. And oh? Who is also on the list? Her new coworker. Now isn't that a funny coincidence! It would be a shame if someone were to.... Maybe.... Use this opportunity for totally, definitely ethical reasons.....such as sending Sam a little email & connecting him with an old friend!

I think of this because Celia is the one who asked Gerry if he lives alone. She directed the conversation to ask about Gigi.

Anyways I had maaaannny more thoughts about this. Alas, I am tired & going to bed.

Have I mentioned that Celia lives I'm my head rent free. Sorry, wanted to say it, in case it wasn't obvious.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp theory #celia ripley #samama khalid #sam khalid #This should have been posted along time ago #But I needed to articulate my thoughts #Into something semi comprehendable #The Magnus protocol theory

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h4rring1on · 2 years

Note

HEY!! I love ur blog! I wanted to ask if u maybe wanna wrote a lil Stevie image? Like Eddie and fem!reader are besties but he CONSTANTLY chooses ppl over her (goes out w Chrissy etc just SUPER angsty) and reader likes eddie. She lost her confidence due to being 2nd choice (maybe also always being parents second choice) and then Steve and u start to hand out. He brings back ur confidence is super gentle and sweet, u go on trips with him and the teens and stuff and in the end it’s Steve x reader and bittersweet ig for reader and Eddie <33

pairing: eddie munson x reader

a/n: sure ! istg bro I HOPE THIS IS GOOD I SWEAR IM TRYING 😭

warnings: reader is a second choice, eddie is kind of an asshole in this, stevie is better than eddie deal with it 😇😇, swearing

you and eddie have been best friends for the longest time, you’d always hang out together, and do everything together. nobody would ever say your name without eddie being after it

you two were just—soulmates! he just got you, and that’s what made you guys so close

he would cheer you up when you’re sad, buy you your favorite things, share secrets with you, choose you over everyone, he made you feel special

that was before.

now…now you had to deal with this new eddie. this eddie never made you feel that way. he suddenly changed, he stopped hanging around as much, didn’t think of you as much, didn’t even care about you, all he cared about was basically anything but you.

he cared about chrissy, his friends, dnd, absolutely anything that doesn’t involve you. he stopped telling you things, conversations are dry, he acts like he doesn’t even wanna be with you

but…what happened? weren’t you two best friends?

you’d tell him to hang out with you, he’d say he’s busy, you’d invite him over, he’s with chrissy, come talk to you at lunch, he’s with his friends, even just talk to you, he’d avoid it with some fake excuse

your friendship was thrown away like it was nothing

the only time he’d talk to you, is when he had nothing else to do, when chrissy was busy.

chrissy. oh chrissy.

chrissy was nice, but because of her, eddie doesn’t care anymore.

you had a secret, you had liked eddie during your friendship. how couldn’t you? he was such a sweetheart but now…

now you were the second choice. as always. you were the second choice at home, and eddie was your comfort, the one that made you feel like you weren’t the second choice

look where that all went now.

you were once a happy, confident, positive girl. now, now you feel like crap all the time, and nobody cared

eddie didn’t care.

look at you now, sitting alone at the coffee shop, tears in your eyes as you read your book

“mind if i sit here?” someone asked

you looked up to see it was none other than steve harrington, the infamous ladies man

“holy shit—“ he said, “y/n?” he smiled

“that’s me” you fake laughed, blinking your tears away

“i cant believe it—i haven’t seen you in so long. i remember you and eddie used to come to family video all the time” he said as he sat down

“yeah” you mumbled, a sad look in your eyes as you remembered that memory, things were better back then

“i haven’t seen you in a while, i have seen eddie though, he’s always with that girl chrissy” steve said

“trust me, i know” you responded, not realizing how snarky that sounded

“whatever happened to you two…” he trailed off, noticing your upset look

you hummed in response

“in my opinion, chrissy’s kind of annoying—don’t get me wrong shes nice but—you won’t catch me hanging out with her, so boring anyway” he said

you turned to him, a smile creeping its way upon your lips, “really?”

“yeah—disappoints me every-time she comes in, all happy and super boring. when you used to come in, you’d actually have a personality” he said, making you spit your water, he burst out in laughter at your red face after it came out of your nose too

“shut up” you said as you grabbed a couple of tissues

“what—that was funny” he said, and you smiled in response, “i was being serious though, you’re like way better”

“that’s really sweet of you to say, steve” you blushed

and that’s where it all started, he started coming over, you started visiting him at the store, he’d invite you to movie nights and hangouts with his group, you’d babysit with him, you’d spend nights laughing at the dumbest things

whenever you weren’t really feeling the day, and were in need of some comfort, steve would drop everything and come take care of you

he treated you the way you deserved

steve would never ever leave your side, he was always there for you. he would stop whatever he’s doing just to come be with you

he truly loved you

he made you feel way better than eddie did. and trust me, he made it very clear to eddie that he is never to see you again after the way he treated you

eddie would secretly call you or try to get you to talk to him, and try to manipulate you into thinking he’s better than steve.

whats funny is that eddie suddenly started caring, the second you let go of him and stopped believing his lies, he was now concerned

“oh come on—him? i’m your best friend, i treat you better than everyone else. you should leave him, and hang out with me” he’d say

you always refused, and sometimes steve would also tell him to back off

when eddie and chrissy would come in, theyd see you and steve together, laughing, or kissing, or just anything that made you feel happy. and he’d have to watch you be happy without him

so what? he deserved it anyway.

even the kids like you! robin also liked you, which was rare, mike too! mike hated everyone and everything, but you’re his favorite! robin tells you about her crush, and you’d accept her and support her, they all loved you alot

and they’d never treat you the way eddie did.

#stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcannons #steve harrington fanfic #steve #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x gender neutral reader

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thepixelelf · 1 year

Text

Bluff and Nonsense - he/him ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: male reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the he/him version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the she/her version here

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like him,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up.

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with him if you’re into Sehee?”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say his?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like him— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask him out?”

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the guy you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to him at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask him on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, his boyfriend or something?”

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with him around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new boyfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

“No.”

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about him?"

"I like his laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever he laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see him laugh again'."

He needs a drink.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt him."

"So you're just going to date him based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And him in the process."

"We'll see about that."

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if he’s here.”

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Nasty business, it is.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Conniving?”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, he’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

He nods.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and hanging loose at your sides, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back.

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with him a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“It’s not your fault—”

Everything?

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

Where does the time go?

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

“If you never loved — never liked him, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used him because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss him you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

Go get ‘em, tiger!

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“He told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to him.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x male reader #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #hoshi x male reader #kwon soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung imagines #kwon soonyoung x male reader #hoshi angst #seventeen angst #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x male reader #svt angst #kwon soonyoung angst #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

270 notes · View notes

lutiaslayton · 11 months

Photo

Um. Okay um. How do I put this.

I think we may have finally found some major hint coin lore.

Remember that infamous weird coin from Miracle Mask? Well, I had completely forgotten that there actually is some dialogue when it is found. And the Japanese version… is absolutely fascinating.

オウムさんがコインを落としていきました！これは、ひらめきコイン…に、似ているが違うようだね。ぜんぜん、ひらめきそうにありませんね。なんなんでしょうこれ…。ふむ、名づけるとすれば、『ひらめかずコイン』といったところかな。ひらめかずコイン、ですか…。

Luke: Mr. Parrot dropped a coin! Layton: This looks like an inspiration coin… but it’s different. Luke: I don’t think it’s going to give any flash of inspiration at all. I wonder what this is… Layton: Hmm, if I had to name it, I would call it something like the “un-inspiration coin.” Luke: A coin that doesn’t inspire…

Not to forget the item’s description once it is in the collection box:

ひらめかずコイン　ほとばしるひらめきのチカラを感じない。どうやらこれは、まがいもののようだな…。

Un-inspiration coin: The surge of inspiration’s power (力) cannot be sensed. Apparently, this seems like a fake…

Okay so. To break all of this down bit by bit.

ひらめき: “Inspiration” Coins

Inspiration would be the simplest way of translating the “ひらめき” part of 「ひらめきコイン」, the Japanese name given to hint coins starting from Diabolical Box onwards (in Curious Village and the original version of London Holiday, they are referred to as 「ヒントメダル」, aka “Hint Medals”). A full translation would be “flash of inspiration,” or insight.

So as this dialogue seems to say quite clearly, hint coins, in-universe, are coins that somehow give you a spark of genius when you use them.

ほとばしる　ひらめき　の　チカラ: The surge of inspiration’s “Power”

As ridiculous as this sounds, this really can’t get much more esoteric yet straightforward than this. Hint coins seem to radiate some sort of power, since this specific coin’s description says that contrary to a normal hint coin, this one’s “power” cannot be sensed.

Speaking of “power,” the word is written in katakana, which is an interesting choice. I honestly am not quite sure what to make of it, but I thought I would at least make a note of it. Specifically, the word チカラ / 力 has a lot of potential meanings to it, most related to strength, energy, power, you name it.

Anyway, what do we make of this?

The first and most important thing to be taken from here is what hint coins actually do when they are used. They give the user some sort of sudden Eureka moment, then disappear, perhaps by being dissolved into thin air as they lose their power.

This does not exactly say what needs to be done in order to “trigger” a hint coin into giving you some help, but this at least seems to say that the hint coin has some mystical power of some sort, and that the way it works is through literal… telepathy, or whatever you want to call it.

This, in itself, brings quite the interesting hypothesis:

Is this how puzzles could, for example, transcend language?

Just think about it. Anyone in the world can solve puzzles. Animals can solve puzzles. It does not seem like puzzles can actually talk. And how can puzzles even tell whether or not you solved them?

If puzzles and hint coins are made of the same stuff, or at least are connected in the way they function and coexist, then it seems logical that if one bases its powers on the mind, then so does the other one.

Additionally, what is that one Azran thing I have been talking about quite a lot every now and then that is also known to manipulate puzzles and read people’s minds? Yes, the Illusory Forest. The Azran Mechanical Trees have simply been replicating what natural puzzles and hint coins have been doing since the dawn of the universe.

The Azran have harnessed the power of one of the most intriguing constants of the world, and have been bending it to its will. When Aurora said that there was no puzzle [they] could not solve, perhaps this had to be taken far more literally than it seemed at first glance.

So let’s recap.

Puzzles are physical, tangible somethings that can move around on their own, like to hide, and according to the currently undocumented dialogue in LMJ in which Ernest feels like he is being watched by one, they may or may not stalk people passing by. The London Holiday tutorial has this interesting line in particular:

部屋の中をタッチすると、隠されたナゾが出題されます。

When you touch inside the room, hidden puzzles will question you.

In short, puzzles literally lurk in the shadows, then jump at you for an unprompted pop quiz. They do not speak, but they don’t need to; as both their questions and the flashes of inspiration provided by hint coins are merely the result of the mind’s active thinking—of the sparks of electricity that course through nerve and neuron, which seem to be in tune with whatever puzzles and hint coins are made of and/or like to interact with.

As a recap of previous observations already, puzzles are also capable of moving around, disappearing in a puff of smoke (according to Katrielle), being summoned from even distant places as if they could teleport if Granny Riddleton has anything to say about it (who, by the way, is said to be capable of “popping up” as well in the weirdest of places, like her cat and… well, I’ll just name-drop Pavel for fun even though he (probably?) has nothing to do with this).

(Screenshots graciously provided by @magicwhiskers29)

So in the end, what’s the deal with this coin anyway? Is it like the Fashion Farthings from LMJ, a coin that looks like a hint coin but has little to no puzzle-related power, either because it has lost its power but somehow did not vanish, or because it was simply created this way, the same way you can have diamonds of multiple colours depending on the nature of the impurities in their composition? Was it man-made?

Given the fact that the gang instantly compares it to hint coins rather to, say, regular human-made currency (since it is canon that they have pounds, shillings etc thanks to various puzzles that show them in action), I would lean towards the former. After all, this coin is different from both hint coins and Fashion Farthings in colour, pattern, lack of “inspiration power” (though fashion farthings probably don’t have that either), and the fact that it has moss attached to it (if this part even means anything).

Regarding the pattern, it is of note that since LMJ’s hint coins look different from hint coins from the other games (and that the hint coins from CV also look different for no apparent reason), it is a wonder whether the pattern on the coin even matters, if it exists at all in-universe. I at least am in favour of the hypothesis that if hint coins display a pattern despite seemingly not being made by anybody, then patterns are far more varied than what we are shown by the UI.

So if this Enigma Coin reminds them of a hint coin faster than it reminds them of regular currency… Perhaps what remains is the one thing we, players, cannot feel: the texture. The material composing it.

Sadly, if we want to get any more specific than that, this question shall remain an enigma; but that enigma sure helped solve a much bigger puzzle than itself.

Now, if only we could have some kind of terminology to use in order to finally stop talking about “somethings” or “stuff” all the time, at least so we could put a word on what they’re even made of… It seems like whatever puzzles and hint coins are made of, what they have in common, would be some kind of material that is capable of interacting with the brain in some sort of capacity, like reading people’s thoughts or even memories; something that is also capable of moving around through long distances, as if it were capable of teleportation. Something that, surely, scientists in-universe should have been head over heels about, not just the Azran!

Sigh… It truly is sad that despite this, we will likely never get to have canon terminology for discussing this topic in more depth…

youtube

Oh, wait. We do :)

#professor layton #pl theory board #pl puzzle theory

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

Red Earth & Pouring Rain

Remember what we found? No one can ever take that away. Something forever.

Summary: When Feyre's father tries to set her up with one of his high society friends' sons, Feyre does the only thing that makes sense in the moment: she fakes a Scottish fiánce. Writing him letters detailing her escapades, Feyre never expects anyone to read them. But when a mysterious uncle leaves her and her sisters three scattered castles, Feyre's forgotten fiánce appears on her doorstep, determined to make an honest woman of her yet.

Or- that time Rhys fell in love with a stranger writing him letters.

Big thanks to Unhinged Bookclub for help with the moodboard and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant (which consisted mostly of me asking about swear words)

Part 1/2: I've Got Something Burning, Coursing Through These Cold Veins | Read on AO3

Dear Rhysand Campbell-

Today is my sixteenth birthday, which ought to be cause for celebration. I want to be happy about it, but I’m not and I can’t tell anyone. My sisters already think I’m terribly spoiled and my father probably would, too, if he ever cared enough to notice me. Ugh, that sounded spoiled, too. Maybe they’re right. I don’t suppose you understand.

Of course you don’t. You aren’t real. And I guess there’s no danger in telling you about this miserable birthday party (if you could even call it that) or worrying you’ll think I’m spoiled and a miserable brat (like my older sister accused me of) (don’t worry, I pulled out one of her extensions in front of Tomas Mandray which…in retrospect…maybe proved her right on the miserable brat front. It was pretty funny, though. Even Elain cracked a smile.).

It all started with my father. He woke up one morning a month ago, looked me straight in the face, and asked me how old I was. I didn’t know what to say (I might have forgotten), so Elain told him I would be sixteen in a month. And he said we should celebrate, which made me so happy. I rattled off a list of things I wanted to do, and I thought he was listening.

I should have known he wasn’t when he put Elain in charge of planning. It’s not that Elain is malicious, she’s just…prim. Perfect, really. The sort of daughter he actually wants, I think because she doesn’t make a lot of fuss and maintains his calendar for him like mother used to (she died when I was nine).

And I definitely should have known we were NOT going camping when Elain had me measured for a dress. She looked so apologetic and I couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings when I know she’s trying really hard to fill the gap mom left when it comes to me, even if it makes her spineless when it comes to dad. And I could have asked Nesta to ruin it, but I guess I’m a little spineless, too.

So by the time the day arrived, it’s this huge party for all of dads friends, one of whom is running for parliament and needs money. And I look so very stupid in a floor length ball gown and—I am not joking—a jeweled tiara while all these old men in their fifties whore themselves out for cash. There was a cake (five tiers and chocolate, which is my favorite flavor, at least), there was singing, and of course the aforementioned incident in which several of Nesta’s extensions were pulled from her head unceremoniously.

Some leering prick told me I was a woman now. Well, he said it to my breasts, not really me. What is it about men that makes them think that’s a normal thing to do? Am I supposed to be flattered? Elain whisked me away, a smile plastered on her face and when I asked her how she stands it, she only laughed and said, “Oh Feyre.” Like I was the silliest person in the world.

She looked like a princess, and I don’t envy her for it. Every man our father is friends with is trying to trick or trap her into marriage. I think she could be a princess like Kate Middleton if she had the interest.

Anyway.

Father made some grand speech right before the cake cutting, where he talked about peace and, for some unknown reason, Brexit. He also thanked God for our monarchs, which, I didn’t realize he was that religious but I guess for this crowd, he is.

You know what he didn’t do? Say thank you for his daughters? Imagine, blessing Charles but not the daughters who enrich his life. Nesta was gripping a steak knife so tightly I thought she might actually stab him and Elain’s eyes were glassy and sad, even with that plastered smile.

And despite how Nesta thinks I’m a miserable brat, she DID stand up and demand everyone sing me happy birthday. And Elain led everyone in an off-key rendition of the song, which was nice. Serving staff cut the cake, and there were, of course, no candles.

Happy sixteenth birthday to me.

And at the very end of the night, some lord (I think—honestly, I wasn’t even listening at that point, I was just thinking about getting those miserable shoes off my feet) told father that his son was single, and also sixteen. I could see father's interest peak and I can’t be like Elain. She’s always letting those awful boys take her on dates, and they always make her cry. So I blurted out,

“Actually, I have a boyfriend.”

Father asked who, but already he didn’t care. So I said the most made-up, Scottish name I could think of—Rhysand Campbell. Maybe you do exist, somewhere. Actually, there are probably hundreds of you, though who's counting? What’s important is that YOU, Rhysand Campbell, are not real and this address is to a post office in the middle of nowhere Scotland. I expect it’ll be shredded. Perhaps the mail worker will read it and have a laugh at my expense.

Still.

Thank you for saving me tonight.

All the best,

Feyre Archeron

Dearest Rhysand–

I didn’t think I’d write to you again, but I think I have to confess my lies, and you are the only person I know who won’t judge me.

Of course, you’re fake, but in my mind you’ve become a little real. Everyone wants to know how we met, and if you’re curious why they would ever want to know that, well, you are very convenient. You see, most girls my age want to date. And in some ways, so do I. There are some very handsome boys, nice boys, even.

But none of my family approves of. If they found out I slept with Isaac Hale, I think they might actually kill me. He’s a fishmonger, which is a very real job thank you very much. It only sounds fake and like something from an eighteenth century book because of the word monger. Which made me laugh the first time I heard it. Anyway, I thought maybe it was better to just get things over with, and he really was so nice that I just…kept going back.

He has a girlfriend now, and I’m trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt my feelings a little. Even though I know I could never bring him home. Nesta would sneer and call him smelly and Elain…well, Elain would probably be nice but her eyes would be pitying. So maybe it’s for the best.

I’m sidetracked again.

So Isaac has his girlfriend from Milton Keynes, which I am absolutely NOT jealous of, even if her eyebrows made her look insane. I admit, I was brooding which Elain says is going to give me frown lines around my mouth. And of course father took that moment to stroll in and say he knew just the thing that would cheer me up.

That thing??? A MAN. In what world has a man’s presence ever made a woman feel better? Even Elain turned her head to roll her eyes, thinking no one saw. Nesta was in a mood, though I didn’t ask why—I don’t care, so long as she keeps yelling at father on my behalf. She told him seventeen was too young to worry about marriage, which made him remember that Elain is nineteen and Nesta is twenty-one, so I suppose we’ll all be dealing with that fall out later.

But the Lord of Rose-something-or-other has a son. Tamlin? Timothy? I was not paying attention. What I did say, was, “You know I’m dating someone already. I’ve told you all about him.”

I probably could have gotten away with that if Nesta and Elain weren’t in the room. We talk more frequently and they’ve never once heard me say your name. Of course Elain was fascinated, and Nesta was suspicious. Father is far easier to gaslight.

“Ah, yes,” he said, that liar. “Remind me, who’s son is he?”

And I said, of course, that you were no one’s son, but just a regular Scottish man.

Nesta, that traitor, narrowed her eyes. He can always tell when I’m lying. “Oh? How did you meet this London-living Scotsman?”

Murdering your sisters is a crime. I’m saying that as a reminder to myself, because if she invented a fake suitor to get father to leave her alone, I would have gone along with it. So I said we met in a tea shop. I made you charming. I said you saw me from across the room and couldn’t help yourself. In this fictional meet-cute, you were enamored at first sight, and I, of course, believed you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen (I did not mention that because I was talking to my father).

That was important, because NO ONE thinks that about me. They think it about Elain, who is so beautiful it makes my teeth ache, and they might think it about Nesta if her eyes didn’t promise violence all the time. But not me. And I have mostly made my peace with it, but it would be nice if there was one man who didn’t prefer my sisters to me.

Even if I have to make him up in order for that to happen.

He told me to invite you to dinner. Please, oh please, Rhysand Campbell, will you do me the honor of dining with my dysfunctional family? Father will want to know all about your father, and if your family could be of use to him and his shipping business. And Nesta will hate you on principle alone, while Elain won’t be able to help but like you.

Of course I like you, if only because you are not real.

It’s a shame you can’t make it because you’re heading back to Edinburgh to take care of a sick relative. You’re so compassionate, so selfless. This is why I like you.

Thank you (again) for rescuing me. Too bad you’re just me, rescuing myself,

Your beloved,

Ferye Archeron

Darling Rhysand,

Last names are formality by now, don’t you think? I’ve officially taken things too far. The nice thing about being overlooked is everyone kind of forgets what you’re doing (or that you exist), which means you and I have been happily dating for the last two and a half years. If I go out with someone else, no one questions it because they assume I’m seeing you.

And no one cares that they haven’t met you, because you’re some nobody they assume I’ll eventually tire of. Which would be all well and good if I hadn’t blurted out, in front of god and EVERYONE, that you asked me to marry you. Let me set the scene:

I panicked.

Okay, I guess I didn’t need to set much at all. It was another party and as you can guess, I was in another stupid dress. Have you ever seen Gone With the Wind? You know those kinds of dresses? That’s how I feel, no matter how sleek and lovely the dress actually is. And I know I look perfectly fine in them, but I feel out of sorts. Like a doll, like someone who LIKES when men stare down my dress despite their wife right beside them, and tell me I’m beautiful.

They never say that when they’re looking at my face.

Anyway, do you remember Tamlin? Well, he’s a baron and his father and an MP, despite having so much money he doesn’t need to work (I suspect he just misses when the nobility could boss around the english populace), and he is quite taken with me. Rhys (can I call you Rhys? I feel like since you proposed I could probably call you that), he’s actually really handsome, too. The first time I saw him, I almost considered breaking things off with you. No hard feelings, of course, it’s just…you’re not real.

But he’s duller than dry paint. BEIGE dry paint. We have nothing to talk about, and believe me, I’ve tried. I thought if I could get him to talk to me for even thirty minutes, we could get naked.

But it’s like pulling my own teeth, dragging answers out of this man.

And, between you and me, he once told me “your hair looks clean” as a compliment. He couldn’t even lie and say I was pretty? So you and I continue our romance, implausible as it is. Tamlin’s father was saying how handsome we’d be, and Tamlin jumped in to ask me on a very public date and I am a coward, I think.

Because I said, “Rhysand proposed.”

And Nesta burst out laughing, the bint. It was Elain, eyes brimming with hope and pleasure—she so badly wants to see one of us do whatever we like, father be damned—who asked to see the ring.

Of which there isn’t one. So I’ve made you poor, I’m so sorry. I lied and said you didn’t have one, because you were working toward affording something nice and of course I don’t care about it (because I don’t). Father demanded to meet you and Tamlin was humiliated (a silver lining to this whole affair, truly).

Any reasonable person would have just confessed the whole plot right then and there. But I am not reasonable, my darling fiance. I am, I think, a little crazy because I slipped out the next morning and purchased a ring myself from Boodles, and since I bought it, it was perfect. Nothing terribly fussy—a sapphire cut in the shape of a diamond, with little diamonds haloed overtop, like falling stars. Set on a delicate silver band, it really is quite lovely.

I showed father, who was rather impressed with it. I lied and said it had belonged to your mother, who was so overjoyed at the thought of getting a daughter that she solved your ring dilemma on the spot.

It doesn’t fix the problem of everyone wanting to meet you, of course.

Our engagement is going to be short lived, I think—just as soon as I can figure out what to do next. If I’m not careful, I’ll be saying I eloped and then what?

What then, indeed.

Yours, faithfully,

Ferye

Rhys,

Well.

It’s officially over. Why am I so sad? You were never anything more than a figment of my imagination, and yet telling my family you had ended things drew real tears from me. Elain comforted me, and Nesta called you a self-serving asshole, which is her way of assuring me she loves me. Father, of course, just barely remembered you existed despite the ring I’ve been wearing for a full year. I tucked it in a box as a token of how far I’m willing to commit to a lie (and because it was pretty expensive, and I don’t think I can return it).

Even though you’re fake, I didn’t have the heart to make you an asshole. I said your mother had become gravely ill and you had to care for her. That it was with your deepest regrets you ended things—that you thought I deserved someone who could be in London fully, and you would always regret me.

Nesta called it “typical male bullshit,” so I suppose she believes me now. Or she’s willing to pretend, given how sad I am. I’m mostly sad that I think I should probably stop writing to you. I’m twenty, now, and I think it’s time to stop indulging in my fantasies and be real. I’m nearly finished with school, and I should devote more time to paintings.

And besides, Elain is practically engaged, which has taken the pressure of marriage off Nesta and I, for now. Lord Graysen Nolan. How I wish you were real, because you would think he was a total twat, too. Nesta begrudgingly tolerates him because Elain is so head over heels, but he is awful. A scourge, a plague upon mankind and CERTAINLY upon my beautiful sister. He’s going to dump her in some ancient country estate, fill her with babies, and crush her into dirt and she can’t even see it.

He is handsome and charming, though, and he has my sister wrapped around his finger. I think it’s because he doesn’t think she’s beautiful—though, I think he says so in his effort to break her down. She is so used to everyone finding her impossibly lovely that the first man who insults her is worthy of her heart.

I’m rambling again. Anyway, this is my official break-up, fake boyfriend slash fiance. I have loved you, though you never existed. You were the perfect man (because you were fake), and I’m not sure how any others will compare. Maybe I’ll try boring Tamlin again.

What’s funny is that we could have been together, if you’d been actually real. Some dead uncle gifted my sisters and I three castles—one apiece—and mine is in the Scottish highlands. Isn’t that wild? He was my mothers uncle, so technically an uncle twice removed? I’m not sure how that works, honestly. But in his will, he left us each a castle in need of repair to do with as we like. Elain has dreams of turning hers (of course it’s located in the English countryside) into a charming bed and breakfast while Nesta wants to live in it as, and this is a direct quote, “the local bog witch all the children are afraid of.”

As for me, well…I’m not entirely sure what to do with it. I intend to go visit at the end of the month with my paints to see if inspiration might strike. I admit, I’m curious about a real life castle—maybe I will start a farm and remove myself from society instead. Everyone will ask (no one would, because that would require remembering I exist, but lets pretend they would), “What ever happened to Feyre Archeron?”

And my father would be forced to tell them I own a multitude of cows. All of which are named—and perhaps even treated like my children. Who can say? I am not sure if I’m cut out for livestock, or farming or even castle living. Maybe I’ll make it a museum or something else that requires little effort on my part.

The caveat seems to be fixing it up. I can do that, I suppose.

This whole letter is rambling. It is supposed to be me telling you goodbye, and putting this whole messy affair behind me. Thank you for being my only friend, which I recognize is pathetic. I hope the postal worker who has been reading these takes pity on my plight, however pathetic it was.

I will think of you fondly.

Yours, forever,

Feyre

Feyre wiped her nose on the back of her hand, breathing rather hard for someone who was in decently good shape. Six months since she’d moved to the highlands, thinking replacing the inner workings of a centuries old castle would be easy. Replace the plumbing and the floors, rework the electric, and fix the broken glass and she’d be done.

If only. Every day there was some new, horrible discovery. Bats in the attic and rodents in the cellar. A crumbling foundation that had to be nearly rebuilt. A leaking roof that flooded water into the great hall, which then ruined all the flooring Feyre had installed, causing it to be ripped up and replaced again.

It cost a small fortune before the sprawling structure was decent enough to sleep in, let alone live in. And though she had her uncles inheritance to go along with fixing the god forsaken castle. Of course, that money was only for castle repair, and was just barely enough. She’d used her fathers money, too, a paltry sum given just how much of it he had to give away when it was for one of his friends or some do-nothing politician looking to cut taxes in a way that personally benefited her father.

Feyre also considered she was far luckier than Elain, who’s castle came with a rather surly occupant that swore he also owned the castle—and after a little digging through legal records, was found to be correct. Feyre would have lost it if she had to compromise at all.

Except, now she had a nearly finished castle she had no idea what to do with. As it turned out, Feyre did not have the aptitude for farming like she’d hoped, and rather missed living in the city—though, she didn’t miss London. She missed people, and things to do, but not London itself.

There were enough rooms to turn it into a hotel, like Elain was considering. Feyre also thought it made a rather nice venue for people looking to host events or get married. The view of the Scottish highlands was breathtaking, and the castle itself was really nice. Stone on the outside, mostly modern on the inside. Full, working plumbing so long as no one shoved too much toilet paper into the drains, claw baths, and big, four poster beds in circular rooms overlooking the hillside. There was a full, working kitchen Ferye had never used, a ballroom, a grand hall, dungeons—anything a person might want, if she could only figure out how to market it.

It was just a passing idea. For now, Feyre was living in it with a small, paid staff to keep herself fed and the bats from sneaking back in.

It was pure privilege to spend her days painting, and yet Feyre felt like she’d earned it. Without her father and his obnoxious social circle breathing down her neck, she could run wild like she’d always wanted to. She had a little hammock in the courtyard she frequently fell asleep in, a barbeque she’d spent an exorbitant amount on only to use twice, and was even considering digging out a pool. Why not? Who could stop her?

No one.

She’d have to go back eventually—home, that was. Her father’s calls were becoming more frequent and becoming more annoyed. All three of his daughters had just vanished, leaving him to manage his own life for once. Who was he going to build life-long alliances with if he couldn’t move Feyre and Nesta around like pawns.

Elain was all but sold to the Nolans, if the ugly engagement ring Graysen had given Elain was any indication. Feyre supposed she’d have to come home for that tragedy. Sometimes Feyre wondered if Elain wasn’t dragging out the business with her castle in an attempt to avoid wedding planning.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Feyre woke that warm, summer morning like she did every day. Breakfast was waiting in the small dining room on the main floor—a simple fare of sausage, beans, and toast. She dressed, braided her hair in a long, french tail, and gathered her art supplies, intending to make her way to the furthest point on the grounds.

Outside the heavy, rounded doors lay a neat stone path meant to feel old, though it was very modern. She’d watched the workers lay it herself. And standing at the very end of it, dressed in a black shirt and a blue and green plaid kilt, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His dark, blue black hair ruffled in the wind, while eyes so blue they seemed nearly violet, stared openly at her.

She saw plenty of Scotsmen, given she was in Scotland. And yet there was something about this man, with his toned shins clad in high, black socks and his tall, powerful body, that gave her pause. She could see the hint of ink just above his knees and the curve of his neck, and when Feyre looked back to his face, his mouth was curved into a sensual smile.

“Feyre Archeron?” he asked with a rich, dark accent.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s she—I ah—I mean, that’s me.”

His smile widened. “Aye, ye are, aren’t ye?”

She blinked. “Can I help you with something, Mr…?”

He chuckled, placing a broad hand against his muscular chest. “Ma apologies. I’m Rhysand Campbell.”

A soft scream escaped Feyre’s lips. “Liar.”

He took a step toward her, reaching into the leather sporran hanging from his waist. Feyre couldn’t breathe, watching in horror as he pulled a stack of letters out and offered them to her.

She didn’t take them, shaking her head back and forth. “Prove it.”

He was still grinning, reaching for his wallet. Feyre’s hands shook when he pulled out a license, proving he was exactly who he said he was.

“How…?”

“Did ye think there was no one in all of Dornoch with the name Campbell? It’s quite common a last name.”

Feyre’s heart was mere seconds from jumping out of her chest.

“It was luck I happened to be named Rhysand.”

“Luck,” she repeated, looking skyward. “All those years and you never thought to write back/”

He merely shrugged, taking back his license from her shaking fingers. “At first? It was charming. I figured ye’d stop eventually. Ye wrote a lot of things.”

“Oh, I get it,” Ferye said stiffly. Prick.

“I’m sure ye don’t,” he replied with that insufferable smile.

“No, I do. You got my letters, figured out who my father was, and now you’re here for money. Is that it, Mr. Campbell?”

“Not quite,” he replied, coming closer still.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Where’s tae ring, darling?” he all but purred. Ice slithered through Feyre’s veins, her eyes landing back on those letters. She’d spent three years writing to him, pouring out her secrets, venting about her family…and telling him all about their nonexistent romance. At best, Ferye had imagined an elderly postal woman reading those letters with a mixture of pity and amusement before tossing them. Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine that an actual man was reading what she wrote.

“It’s here, isn’t it?” he pressed, those eyes flashing with delight. “Sentimental, lass.”

Feyre shook her head again. “No. Absolutely not. Send father those letters—”

“And Nesta? Or Elain?” he pressed, preventing Feyre from turning on her heel and leaving him standing in the garden looking foolish. “What about them, hm? What do ye think they’d think of yer scathing assessment of them?”

Feyre exhaled. “What is it that you want? A sham engagement?”

“Oh, a wee bit more than that. I’ve come to claim my wife.”

“You don’t even know me,” Feyre protested, wondering if she ought to just call the police. He was blackmailing her—into marriage, for a purpose she couldn’t ascertain.

“We’re in love,” he said, some of his smile fading just a little.

“So I’m supposed to, what, exactly? Call up my father and tell him—”

“The engagement is back on,” he interrupted, closer still. She could smell him, then—like citrus and the sea, washing over her with the warm morning breeze. Rhysand blotted out the sun with his large body, peering down at her with enough intensity to make her uncomfortable. “And we’re in love.”

“Lies.”

“Ye should be verra familiar with that, darling,” he replied, an edge to his voice.

Feyre ran a hand down her face. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “Who could say?”

Prick prick prick!

“A marriage built upon the foundation of blackmail. You are too charming, Mr. Campbell.”

“Just as ye always imagined,” he replied with a wicked grin. “Now. Are ye going to invite me in? Or do I have to beg?”

“Why not?” Feyre grumbled, eyeing those letters. Rhysand caught her, offering them up again.

“Take them. It’s not like I didnae make copies.”

Still, Feyre snatched them from him all the same, holding them close to her chest. She’d hoped she might undo this mess simply by throwing them away and thus, removing his leverage. In truth, were Rhysand ever to show her father her letters, it would merely force him to pay attention to her. Elain and Nesta would forgive her, with time.

But the idea of her father knowing just how much she loathed him, all while craving his validation and approval, was too much for her pride to handle. It was enough to make her think that, perhaps, this wasn’t such an awful idea. If she could set some hard rules, having a ne’er-do-well for a husband kept her from ever having to get married to someone awful.

Like Tamlin, who still sent the occasional too-formal text inquiring after her help.

And this man was hot. Surely he knew it, too, if that wide smile and the way he kept running his hand down his chest was any indication. How long could he tolerate her? How long before he realized his new wife had no intention of sleeping with him, of showing him any affection?

He couldn’t blackmail her into sex—even Feyre had her limits and had to assume he did too.

Or hope, anyway. The bar was in hell, even for a man who’d shown up on her doorstep and declared his intention to marry her.

She forced a smile on her face. “Right this way, Lord Campbell.”

His smile vanished. “I preferred when ye were calling me Rhys. All my friends do. My wife should, too.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Feyre reminded him. “My sisters are going to be so thrilled. Elain will want to throw an engagement party, and father—”

“Elope,” he said, stepping through the threshold with big, wide eyes. “I’m not going to London for a wedding.”

“Your wife is from London,” Feyre reminded him through gritted teeth. “You’ll have to visit them eventually.”

“Why? Invite them here. Surely there’s space.”

Feyre whirled on her heel, smacking straight into the hard plain of his chest. Rhysand reached for her arms, steadying her with a soft chuckle. “Careful, lass.”

“Let me get this straight. You will make no concessions in this sham marriage? Because, despite what you’ve imagined, blackmailing is a crime and my father has a lot of money.”

“Do ye want to go back to London?” he asked patiently, one perfectly groomed brow arched. As if he already knew the answer to that. As if he knew Feyre would have done anything to stay exactly where she was—far from London, far from her father and his circle of friends. Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, hating how smug he looked.

“It will be an actual wedding. And you will invite yer family—”

“I have none,” he interrupted, a shadow crossing his handsome expression. Feyre faltered.

“Friends?”

A soft smile. “Aye. Friends I do have.”

“Okay. Then friends. And you will keep your hands to yourself the entire time. Separate beds. Separate lives.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment before nodding. “Aye. I can do that. Any other demands ye have?”

“Once we’re married, I want you to burn those letters,” Feyre said, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable. “I’ll—marriages are not so easily undone.”

“And how do I know ye won’t back out tae moment they’re gone?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

She considered pleading with him. Was it not enough, she wanted to ask, to make her go through with this? That he knew things about her she’d never wanted anyone to know? He couldn’t let her forget it? Feyre took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. Not in front of him.

“Very well,” she said, trying her hardest to channel Nesta’s icy disdain. “Let me just—”

She turned, and he caught her by the arm, spinning her around. “Give me a reason to trust ye, lass, and I’ll destroy them.”

“And will you be giving me a reason to trust you?” she asked, wrenching her arm from his grasp.

“I could have gone straight to ye father. Shown him what ye did, demanded he pay me to keep quiet. I came to ye, instead. I don’t want yer money, Feyre. Just…”

“My home,” she finished with a sigh.

“Aye,” he agreed solemnly. “A castle that belongs to Scottish blood, not the English.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” she snapped.

“Tae only way,” he murmured, and despite the softness of his tone, it was clear he didn’t care for disagreement. Feyre dug the heel of her hand into her eyes and sighed loudly.

“Call him,” Rhys said, nodding toward her shorts and the phone outline in the tight fabric. “Tell him the good news.”

“He will never accept you as a son.”

Rhys only shrugged. “As long as his daughter loves me.”

“She doesn’t,” Feyre snapped, but it didn’t matter. She pulled out her phone and dialed.

Took a breath. And then.

“Dad? It’s me, Feyre.”

-*-

Living with Rhysand was a mixture of insufferable and tolerable in equal measure. The castle was sprawling, big enough that for the first day, she didn’t see him at all. She’d instructed the staff to serve him and slipped that ring back on her finger in order to keep up appearances. Absurd, given any truly happy couple reuniting might have spent that first night locked in bed together, and Feyre had very much shut her bedroom door with the letters Rhysand had given and begun to pour through them.

They were worse than she imagined. Not only had she complained about her family, she’d divulged personal secrets, told him about her hopes, her dreams. She’d sent him sketches, she’d told him about the people in her fathers social circle, along with all the most embarrassing and hilarious gossip. Things that Rhysand could have sent to a trash magazine and humiliated half of London with.

She’d treated those letters like a diary, never thinking there was a real man on the other end. Feyre couldn’t sleep that first night.

Or the second.

She did sleep the third, but only because Elain had promised to come down that weekend, delighted to meet the man she’d heard so much about. Nesta had sent back only three words.

Are you sure?

If Nesta came, she’d see straight through Feyre, so Feyre supposed she ought to be grateful Nesta was embroiled in some kind of property dispute with her castle and a local reenactor who took to staging battles of Scottish victory over the English on her front lawn with loud enthusiasm. Feyre suspected Elain was rather happy to escape for a bit, and might soften Rhysand ever so slightly.

And maybe if he realized there were more interesting Archerons, he might take to courting Elain instead of insisting with the sham wedding. Not that Elain would ever agree to it, but…men had always gravitated toward her. Feyre thought Rhysand simply wouldn’t be able to help himself.

On the fourth day, Feyre slipped back through the castle, lugging her art supplies in a canvas bag with her. She expected the grounds to be empty, that Rhysand would be inside lording about her staff like some kind of king.

She heard the sound of wood splitting in the courtyard before she saw him.

Shirtless, in that kilt and the same black socks, rolled halfway down his shins from sweat and exertion. He’d found an ax and with a mighty swing of his powerful biceps, brought it screaming onto a block of wood.

Feyre couldn’t take her eyes off the slick, taut muscles of his stomach, his back, tattooed in dark whorls of ink. Rhysand seemed far too pretty to do any sort of manual labor, which brought Feyre back to the present.

Though, he’d absolutely caught her ogling him. He halted, pushing one booted foot up onto the heavy stump he was using to split wood while using the hem of his kilt to wipe at his forehead. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Didn’t he know she paid someone to bring in firewood? Besides, there was heating the castle—she’d also paid for that.

“Chopping wood,” he replied, his eyes sliding to the neat stack at his feet. His tone was polite, though perhaps annoyed. As if he really wanted to say, what does it look like I’m doing?

“I pay someone to do that.”

“Of course ye do, lass,” he said with relish. “I don’t see why—I am more than capable of helping.”

Feyre hesitated. “You want to help?”

“Aye.” He frowned. “What did ye think I was gonna do? Sit around waving my hands like some kind of fancy lord?”

“Yes, actually—that’s exactly what I thought.”

“I already told ye. I don’t want yer money.”

Yes, he had said this, hadn’t he? Feyre sniffed. “Fine. You want chores? There are bats in the attic again.”

He offered her a handsome smile. Coupled with the bright sunshine and his warm, brown skin, Feyre’s knees wobbled a little. Why couldn’t he look disgusting? Her traitor body had not gotten the message that they hated him.

“I can do that,” he said. “And anything else ye have for me.”

“I’ll make a list,” she said tartly.

But later, when Feyre was alone with nothing but her thoughts and her canvas, all she could think about was Rhysand, midswing over that block of wood. She thought of the tight expression on his face and the controlled movements of his body.

And even though she hated herself for it, she reached for a piece of charcoal.

And began to sketch.

-*-

Elain arrived at the end of the first week of Rhysand’s arrival. True to word, Rhysand had done every chore Feyre had left for him without complaint. He’d cleared out the bats and fixed several burnt light bulbs, digging out a ladder from god only knew where. And when he ran out of things to do, he turned his attention to the dilapidated stables Feyre had never bothered with. In truth, she’d always meant to tear them down.

It seemed Rhysand meant to fix them up.

He was out there when Elain swanned in, tan from a summer outdoors in the English countryside. She grinned the moment she saw Feyre, throwing her arms around her sister's neck.

“It’s so good to see you,” Elain said, squeezing tight enough to make Feyre’s ribs ache. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? How are you holding up?” Feyre asked, pulling away to search her sister's expression. A faint blush bloomed over Elain’s cheeks.

“Well—I’m, well, I’m perfectly lovely, if we’re being honest.”

“Oh?” Feyre asked.

Elain held up her hand, wiggling bare fingers while Feyre just stared. “You got your nails done?”

“You’re so terribly observant. I’ve called off my engagement—just in time for you to be married. I’ve come to see if you want any of the things we put deposits on, so they don’t go to waste.”

“You—what?” Feyre gaped, realizing only then Elain was trying to show her a hand without an engagement ring. “What happened?”

Elain only shrugged, though more pink crept up her neck. “It wasn’t right. I was…I was deluding myself, I think. It doesn’t matter, because I know you hated him, so you don’t have to pretend. I’ve brought pictures so you can see everything, and it would be no trouble to have it all brought here for you. I know how much you hate planning,” Elain added brightly. “I only wish I could be more helpful.”

“This is already too helpful,” Feyre said, pulling her sister through the open hall toward the spiraling stairs that led both to the left and the right. Elain drank it all in as the skirt of her buttery yellow sundress swished around her legs. She looked every inch a princess, and it took no effort at all to imagine her walking these halls four hundred years before while poets and bards sang songs about her beauty.

“Are you going to introduce me to your husband?” she asked, looping her arm through Feyre’s. “I’ve always wanted to meet him. Nesta used to swear you made him up and I told her you’d never do such a thing. It’s nice to prove her wrong sometimes.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed. “He’s working on the stables. I’ll take you to him.”

This would be the moment of truth. Rhysand would see her and realize his mistake, just as all men did. He wouldn’t be able to look away—and Elain seemed radiant that morning, glowing like the midafternoon sun beating overhead. Her golden blonde hair was perfectly curled, a cascade over her slim shoulders while a set of pearls graced her ears. She’d put on make-up, which Feyre never did, and had the air of someone both effortless and yet unattainable.

The same air Rhysand had, if Feyre was being honest. They’d make a smart couple. Why did that thought annoy her so much?

Feyre led Elain over the grounds slowly, giving her a tour and pointing out all the work she’d done while Elain explained how her bed and breakfast was going. She’d created a tentative peace with the other occupant and owner of her castle—a man with a distinctly French sounding last name and decidedly French first one. Lucien Vanserra. He sounded snooty, and given the difficulty he’d created for Elain, likely some seventy year old man looking to exert his control one last time before his time on earth ended.

“Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Elain said, which was a very Elain sort of thing to say. She could charm a wild bear holding a sword. If the man had eyes, it likely hadn’t been hard to talk him into a small compromise.

Rhysand was coming out of the stables as Feyre and Elain began to walk in. He didn’t see them approaching as he mopped up the sweat on his brow with the hem of his shirt. Feyre’s breathe caught at the sight of peeking abs, vanished the second he saw Elain. His eyes slid from her sister back to Feyre, some answered question flickering in his gaze.

“Elain, this is Rhysand,” Feyre told Elain just in time for her sister to plant her foot in a wet container of wood stain.

Elain screeched, yanking herself backward. Her lovely white flat was ruined, which was a shame, truly—though Rhysand? wasn’t looking at Elain at all, but Feyre. His expression very much betrayed his annoyance, some shared secret she didn’t quite understand, as if to say oh. I understand now.

“I’m so sorry,” Elain said, looking at the mess pooling around them.

“No need,” Rhysand replied, though there was some disappointment in his tone. “I was going to do tae floor as well.”

“Of course. Probably not like this, though,” Elain replied with a small laugh.

Rhysand only nodded, looking back to Feyre for some guidance. But it was Elain who was the conversationalist, and when she realized he didn’t know what to say, pressed forward. “How is your mother?”

Oh, christ. Feyre had forgotten that lie, amid the others. Rhysand became rigid for a moment, haunted by Elain’s ask. “She passed, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Elain whispered. Rhysand only nodded, his jaw tight with emotion. So that had been true, in some way. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not yer fault,” Rhysand murmured. “But I miss her.”

Elain nodded. “Well,” she said, wiping her hands on her dress nervously. “We should ah, probably let you get back to…”

“I’ll see ye both at dinner,” he replied, offering up his most charming smile. And that was that. Elain, holding her shoe by the crook of one finger, waited until they were out of earshot before she said, “You really undersold how handsome he was.”

And when Feyre turned to look over her shoulder, she found Rhysand leaning against the wooden door frame, eyes wholly on her.

It was that night that both Feyre and Rhysand seemed to realize they could not sleep apart in opposite wings of the castle. Elain had made some little quip about how nice it must be to have all this alone time and Rhysand’s fork had clattered to his plate while Feyre’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He’d come to her, at least. Feyre sat up against a sea of pillows when she heard him knock, sucking in a deep breath.

“Come in.”

A moment later, the handle turned and there he was. He’d put on plain black sleep pants and a white t-shirt, and his still damp hair told her she’d just freshly showered. If she’d been smart, Feyre would have dragged a divan up from another room so he could sleep on it. As it stood, there were two little chairs facing a small breakfast table and then her rather large, four-poster bed.

And Rhys was a tall man. He looked around, drinking in the cream colored rug and the sand and stone walls, illuminated by an overhanging chandelier. A little potted plant sat half dead in the circular window at the far end of the room, while books were stacked on beneath the television stand haphazardly.

“I’m not sleeping on tae floor,” he told her when he realized their predicament.

“I assumed,” she replied, scooting to the far side of the bed. “No touching.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a theatrical eye roll. As he padded toward her, he asked, “How long will she be here?”

“The weekend,” Feyre replied, trying—and failing—not to notice how good he smelled. “Why?”

“She’s not what I imagined,” he finally said, dragging a hand through his hair with contemplation.

Feyre immediately felt defensive. “She has that effect on people.”

He frowned. “Oh? And what effect do ye imagine she’s having on me?”

“She’s just very…”

“Verra…” he prompted, waiting for Feyre to spit it out. “Dull?”

“What?” Ferye gaped. “She’s not dull.”

“Proper, then. A real English princess,” he amended.

It was asking for pain, and still Feyre couldn’t help herself. “Then what does that make me?”

He smiled again, his face blooming with warm affection. “Wild. Free,” he added, thinking to himself for a moment, as if he needed to choose his words carefully lest he insult her. “Ye are far more lovely than her—”

“Don’t,” Feyre snapped, unable to stand the lie. “No one thinks that.”

She turned to her side, angrily fluffing a pillow before turning off the bedside table.

“I think that,” Rhysand murmured defensively. “I saw a picture of tae three of ye, once.”

She half twisted to look at him. “How?”

“We do have the internet here too, lass. It was simple enough to google ye. I wasn’t sure which of ye was which—but I hoped ye were…well…Feyre. I thought ye must be Elain, given how much you talked of her beauty.”

Feyre’s heart pounded. “You’re such a liar, Mr. Campbell.”

“Not when it comes to ye, darling.”

There was a pause of silence between them, hanging thickly as Feyre digested that information. Hoped. She didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It was one of the things I liked about getting tae letters,” he murmured, settling into the bed. After turning off the lights, it felt easier to peel back some of her defensiveness, to listen to him talk. “My sister died when she was wee, and my mother, well. She never quite recovered from it. When ye wrote that first letter, she was ill again and my father was in one of his rages. And there ye were, in a similar predicament. I thought maybe it was fate.”

“Why didn’t you write back?” she asked, turning fully to her side, her head resting on her elbow.

“Cowardice, I suppose. Ye were a bit younger than me, too. Sixteen, but I was nineteen. It dinae seem right, and truthfully, I didnae want spook ye.”

“Is this your attempt at not spooking me, then? Demanding I marry you for reasons you’ve yet to divulge?” she asked, this time without her usual anger.

“Aye,” he murmured, twisting so he was facing her, too. “I never said I was a good man, Feyre. Only that yer letters were never funny to me.”

“Will you tell me why all this was necessary? I might be able to help, you know—”

“One day,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “When all this is done and ye aren’t so angry, I will. I want to. Not tonight. Hate me all ye like, but I know ye—you’ll be trying to get out of this marriage if ye think you can solve my problems with money. I don’t want yer money.”

“Yes, so you keep saying and yet once we’re married, you’ll have it, regardless. Surely you’ve considered that.”

Rhysand’s pause betrayed him. So he hadn’t realized he’d become unspeakably wealthy the moment Feyre said I do.

It settled some wild, ugly thing in her. “That’s yers,” he finally said.

And with nothing left to say, Rhysand turned over and left Feyre to fall asleep.

-*-

Feyre agreed to take the least offensive things from Elain’s wedding, which, to be fair, were few and far between. The cake was nice, along with the flowers of which Elain would always be the expert. Tables and chairs, and of course, the caterer. Elain had been delighted, in no small part, Feyre suspected, because it meant Graysen wouldn’t be getting his money back. What had he done to her? It wasn’t like Elain to be so petty, but with each thing Feyre said yes to, Elain’s smile grew wider and wider until Feyre wasn’t sure how her sister's smile didn’t split.

And then, with an exasperated sigh, Elain was gone to check on Mr. Vanserra, who was likely wrecking everything in her absence. Feyre thought she’d be sad to see Elain go, but the minute her sister's car pulled out of the drive, Feyre felt the smallest hint of relief.

Rhysand, too. She caught him peeking around a corner, muddy boots on a rather nice ivory floor runner she’d need to wash later.

“Is she gone?” he asked, as if Elain were some terrible creature and not just chatty and maybe a little nosy.

“For now,” Feyre agreed. “She’s putting together your dream wedding, you know.”

“Ours,” he amended.

“No matter how many times you say that, it will never be true.”

He stared her down, straightening to his full height. Feyre’s heart leapt into her throat. “Will ye tell me tae truth about one thing?”

“I doubt it, but you can ask,” she replied primly, wedging her way past his obnoxious body.

“In yer letters, ye said I was tae most beautiful man ye’d ever seen. Is that true?”

Feyre froze. If she turned, he’d see her answer written all over her face. “Everything I imagined about you in my letters was a fiction, Mr. Campbell—”

“For fucks sake, Feyre, call me Rhys,” he snapped. “I cannae stand hearing ye call me Mr. Campbell.”

Feyre forgot she wasn’t supposed to look at him, turning to argue only to find him so close she could smell him. Eyes wide, she backed up only for him to slam his palm against the stone wall behind her, trapping her with his body.

“Tae truth, lass.”

“Why does it matter?” she whispered, hating herself for wanting him and hating herself for not being able to send him away.

His fingers brushed her cheek. “It matters.”

“You can’t have it all, Rhys,” she hissed. He winced as she spat his name, saying it as though it were a curse. “You can’t have your secrets, this marriage and my affection.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t!” she shouted, shoving him away from her. Rhys let her, though she knew if he’d wanted to keep her where she was, there was little she could have done to stop him. “I’m guessing you’re the kind of man who just snaps his fingers and gets exactly what he wants. You could have asked me on a date! You could have been honest and told me who you were, that you got my letters! I would have said yes, you know. If you’d just asked. And if you told me the truth, I would have helped you. You want your secrets, fine. Here I am, playing along. Whatever else you want from me, though? Forget it. For the rest of your life, just forget it.”

“Feyre!” he called as she stormed off. “Feyre, come back!”

She didn’t turn, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she was certain she was going to explode. Feyre didn’t pay attention to the direction she went, running through the halls as fast as she could, just in case he was following her.

He wasn’t. She heard a door slam somewhere in the distance, and if she had to bet, Feyre would have guessed he was headed to the stables. It slowed her just enough to make a decision. He wanted secrets? Well, Feyre didn’t. She’d been too wrapped up in her own misery that past week to bother thinking rationally, but she’d seen him drag in all his things.

Surely there was some answer to the Rhysand question up in his room.

Feyre didn’t feel even a little badly flinging open that door. Where she was messy, Rhysand was immaculate. His bed was made for the morning, draped in silken black that was just like him.

He’d tucked his suitcase beneath the bed, and when she opened his drawers to the dresser, everything was neatly folded and in its place. Feyre rifled a bit, feeling like a creep as she shoved aside his underwear and socks.

The curtains to the windows were pulled open, allowing gloomy gray light to filter through. Outside, she was certain a storm was brewing. If it rained, Rhysand would retreat indoors and she’d have to try again another day.

She didn’t know what she was looking for when she dropped to her knees, sitting on the plush, circular sand rug she’d put in all the rooms. Feyre pulled out his suitcase, unzipping thinking she’d find a passport with his real name, or maybe a criminal record that would explain this whole thing. And then she could call the police and be free of him.

Her stomach clenched when all she found was a large manilla envelope, unsealed.

Feyre.

With trembling fingers, Feyre pulled out a stack of letters. They were stapled individually before he’d folded them into quarters. She reached for the one on top, surprised to see it was the very first letter she’d ever sent him, highlighted and starred with a blue pen.

And beneath, was the letter she’d said he should have sent her.

Dear Feyre Archeron,

Don’t be embarrassed, but I have received your letter. I am curious—do you possess the gift of sight? It seems too much a coincidence that you would mail a letter addressed to Mr. Rhysand Campbell to my home in Dornoch. I’ve decided it’s fate, or at least luck. Tell me, though, this one thing: is your birthday on Christmas? I received this at the new year, and I have been trying to figure out when, exactly, you were born.

I guess it doesn’t matter, though it would be nice to send you a birthday gift next year. If you’re wondering, my birthday is in August. Not that you have to send me a gift. It just seemed fair, since I was asking, to tell you my birthday, too.

And, if it makes you feel better (I’m guessing it won’t, but it did make me feel better), my father also forgot my birthday this year. He was working, and I think he expects my mother to handle those things. I shouldn’t care because I’m an adult, and adults don’t need birthdays (or, that’s what I tell myself at least), but it stings every time he looks me in the eye and asks how old I am.

I think he thinks I’m disappointing. Maybe I am.

Anyway. I am happy to be your pretend boyfriend if it keeps you from having to date wankers. If you decide you’d like to write me back, send it to my address in Edinburgh. My mother lives in Dornoch, and I visit when she’s ill (which, to be fair, is pretty often), but I don’t want to miss one.

That is, assuming you don’t find this horribly creepy.

Yours in pretend,

Rhysand Campbell

P.S. I think Nesta deserved to have her hair pulled, just between you and I.

My silly Feyre,

You keep sending letters (that I devour), but I can’t make myself send one back. I’m starting to suspect I’m a coward, which is a terrible quality in a boyfriend. Maybe you should end things with me and date the beige paint (don’t do that). You’re so honest, and I’m so jealous because without my secrets, who am I? The thought of stripping myself bare makes me feel sick, and so I fold these letters up and pretend you read them and they didn’t disgust you.

In truth, I think you’d stop writing if you knew the truth about me. I’m back in Dornoch and mother is ill and father is working and I am just here. Barely existing, both in Edinburgh where I’m trying to be diligent and finish my education, and in Dornoch, where everyone thinks I’m a good son.

Am I? Can I tell you something?

My sister died when she was nine. It was no one’s fault—except, I suppose, the man driving the car who hit her. We were out together and Ainsley darted out of reach. Father was closest. He lunged, but he wasn’t fast enough, and by the time mother and I could react, it was all over.

I was eleven.

I think we tried to rally together for a while, but the days following Ainsley’s death all blur together. Mother cried all the time and father began yelling. Everyone blamed themselves because we couldn’t blame each other, until we were just festering. Father stayed in Edinburgh, and mother went home and I was in-between.

It’s like she’s lost in a fog, and I’m so angry sometimes because I needed her, too. I needed them both, and it was like, if they couldn’t have Ainsley they didn’t want me. Or anyone—I think mother wishes she’d died, too. And I think father is too busy punishing himself—and by extension, me—to take care of mother.

I wonder what will happen to him when she dies. He loved her better than he ever loved either of us. And deep down, I think he’s ashamed he failed her by letting Ainsley die, and it’s better to yell at her, to stay away, to pretend none of it matters to him.

I can’t send this to you, but I like to pretend you’re reading it anyway. That you’d understand, because you feel forgotten, too. That’s how I feel.

Anyway. Tell Tamlin to stay away. I’m fond of you, pretend girlfriend or not.

Your mess,

Rhysand

Feyre, my darling,

Engaged? I admit, I laughed out loud when I saw what you’d done. I knew the English were awful, but surely there must be one tolerable man among the lot of them. I’m tempted to drive all the way up there and rescue you, if only to spare you the embarrassment from when this falls apart. I’m also curious to see the ring I got you.

I’d like to have it, if only so I can get on one knee and ask you to marry me myself. It’s strange how much affection I feel for you. How often I think about you, how I miss you without knowing you. I feel as if I do (maybe I’m crazy, too).

I graduated last week. Father wasn’t there, though he did call in the after to ask me what my plans were. I nearly told him I planned to marry an English lass–but I have no plans for that yet, and no idea how to announce myself to you. It’s been almost three years, and I think I should have been less of a coward back then and just said hello.

I think, sometimes, you would have liked me. More than that other bloke (Ian? I remember his name, but it makes me feel better to pretend I don’t.), at any rate. And maybe my plans wouldn’t seem so far-fetched, and you wouldn’t have to keep lying to your family because I would be asking you to marry me.

For now, things seem possible. I feel like my own man for once, even if I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Only that whatever it is will bring me closer to you. Of that, I’m certain. I am looking forward to hearing of our fake marriage, though—I hope you tell me exactly how you imagine it, so when we do meet, I can impress you.

Is that charming, or does it make me creepy? It’s a question I keep asking, and I think I’m walking a very fine line when it comes to you. Perhaps this will all be charming to you—or maybe you’ll have me locked up. I look forward to finding out. I’m certain I will never live it down, regardless.

For now, just know that I find you endearing.

Yours,

Rhys

Feyre,

Your ability to tell the future is unnerving. Our relationship is over because my mother is ill—and though you don’t know it, you were right. I don’t think it would give you solace to hear she finally passed, but in a way, it gave me peace thinking you’d written me to say goodbye. That you understood, even if you didn’t know it, why you and I were just a foolish dream.

Father and I stood in the rain to bury her. I didn’t think he’d come and it would be just me, watching them set her beside my sister. Reunited, at last, just like she’d always wanted. And for one moment, he and I stood there, shoulder to shoulder, silently weeping for all we’d lost and all the things we’d never have again. Ainsley should be here and so should mother.

Her heart failed. I didn’t think you could die of a broken heart, and today I think I could, too. I thought I’d prepared myself better for this moment. As I so often am, I was wrong. Father left, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. Or if I even want to. Maybe that moment was enough. Maybe enough passed between us to call it even, to start over.

I think I’ve been trying so hard to forget when I should have been trying to remember. And I think you were just another way to pretend I was someone else, at least for a little while. You don’t know me—you don’t know Rhysand Campbell and neither do I. Not your once betrothed, anyway. That man was a fantasy, someone I wanted so badly to be.

I would have disappointed you. I’m not a good man, Feyre. I don’t think you would have liked the real Rhysand Campbell, and I would have loved you. That’s the tragedy of us, at least to me. You are witty and funny and charming and I am…I am this. I am not the sort of man you fall in love with, but you.

Oh, you, Feyre. I don’t know how everyone isn’t in love with you. How you don’t walk onto the street and have everyone at your feet, wishing they knew your name. Begging for a second of your time. And even though I know you’ll never see this, and so it doesn’t matter what I think or what I say, I feel as though I’ve been drowning in endless night, and you were the first bright thing that came along.

It would be wrong to go looking for you, no matter how strong the impulse is. You’ve said goodbye, and I am saying it, too. I need to figure myself out and maybe that will take forever. I know one thing, though. I will always be thinking about you. Always be wondering about you.

It’s your birthday (I think), today. That’s what started this whole thing.

Happy birthday Feyre.

Yours, eternally,

Rhys

A crack of thunder sent the letters flying from Feyre’s hands. Was she crying? For one wild moment she twisted to look up at the ceiling, certain there must be a leak. Only, no, it was just her, dripping salt onto the elegant penmanship of Rhys’s unsent letters.

“So,” a dark, masculine voice from the doorway intoned. Feyre’s head snapped to the side, drinking him in. His expression was carefully blank, fingertips holding the frame as he leaned forward. Ferye had been caught, had been so engrossed in the parallel lives they’d been living that she hadn’t realized the rain had started or that he’d retreated indoors.

His wet shirt clung to the contours of his chest, slicking that dark ebony hair to his forehead.

“So,” she agreed, her voice trembling.

Feyre held his gaze. Waiting for his ire.

“Now you know.”

#feysand #feyre archeron x rhysand #feysand fic #yeah i did this #it started off as a joke #now it has spin-offs #and 13k words #smut tomorrow!

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