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smutmind · 2 days ago

Note

A Hot face i haven´t seen arround here is Heejin

Her being from a small company makes her fit perfectly in "how she pays" so it would be great, Thanks!

The Clickbait ft. Heejin

I hope you're okay with using your ask for me to post this story. It's kinda related to your theme I just added some flare.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of your monitor and the lazy whir of the ceiling fan.

It started like any other late night—just scrolling, not really looking for anything, just curious. Click after click, preview after preview. Same bodies. Same moans. Same bored expressions. And then you saw it.

Thumbnail: a girl on her knees, ponytail high, licking her lips.

You paused.

Your breath hitched. You clicked.

And there she was. Heejin.

Same dimple in her cheek. Same pouty lips. That tiny mole under her left eye.

You leaned in, pulse drumming in your ears. The video buffer was irrelevant; the shock hit instantly.

Heejin. Your Heejin. The girl you sat next to in third grade. The one you shared gummy bears with during breaks. The one you defended during that awful winter field trip when she fell and skinned her knee. The one who wore the sky-blue scrunchie you gave her for a year straight.

You remembered the curve of her laugh, the way her eyes disappeared when she grinned. You remembered borrowing her pencil in science class, your fingers brushing too long. The aching innocence of being fifteen and not knowing how to say: I like you. I want to hold your hand. I want to be the boy who gets to kiss you first.

She moved away before your final year of high school. You never confessed. Just watched her go.

And now, years later, she was on your screen. Grown. Gorgeous. Completely, stunningly naked.

The scene began. She wore white thigh highs and a baby-pink crop top, kneeling on a hotel bed. Her voice was still soft, slightly breathy, just like it used to be.

"Hi," she said to the camera, smiling sweetly. "I’m Heejin. Be nice to me. It’s my first time."

The camera man chuckled behind the lens. "You're a pretty one. Can you show us a little more?"

Heejin giggled nervously, a shy glance at the floor. "Like this?" She tugged the crop top slowly over her head, revealing a pair of soft, perky breasts. She kept her arms wrapped under them, almost modestly. Her cheeks flushed.

"Good girl," the voice said. "Let’s see all of you."

A second figure stepped into frame. Older. Taller. Broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper stubble. He smiled, hand resting gently on her back.

"Don’t worry, sweetheart," he murmured. "Just follow my lead."

She looked up at him, uncertain but trusting. “You’ll be gentle, right?”

He leaned in, whispered something that made her giggle, then kissed her bare shoulder.

The camera caught it all—the way she trembled slightly, the way her fingers toyed with the waistband of her panties. Her innocence wasn't fake. She really was new.

He guided her hands down. She peeled her panties slowly, uncertainly, revealing herself with a hesitance that wasn’t performative—it was real. Her breath came shallow. Her knees pressed together even as she exposed herself.

"You’re beautiful," the man said softly. "Just relax. Let me help."

He touched her thigh, trailing up gently. She flinched, then steadied, nodding slowly. The camera didn’t rush. It lingered, capturing every inch of her growing trust, the way her lips parted, the way her body shifted in response.

Then his fingers found her.

Soft, slow circles that made her shiver. Her eyes fluttered. She gasped—quiet, surprised. Her hips shifted without her meaning to.

He murmured something too low for the mic to catch, and she nodded, legs parting just a little more. Her hands gripped the sheets. Her chest rose and fell fast.

She looked straight at the camera once. Not shy—open. Real.

And then she moaned.

You leaned back, dazed, haunted by the face you used to know. And now couldn’t forget.

Your chest was tight. Fingers hovered above the keyboard for a full minute before you exhaled, leaned back, and opened a new window. Social media. You typed her name.

There she was.

Same face. Same dimple. Same soft smile. But no trace of the girl from the video.

Her Instagram was curated—sunlit beaches, passport stamps, matcha lattes in Kyoto, wide-eyed selfies from Paris. No stage names, no hints of adult work. Just Heejin, looking like the kind of woman who’d figured her life out.

You scrolled, heart thudding. A post from last week: her on a cliffside hike, grinning into the wind. Caption: Climbing feels like remembering who I am.

You weren’t sure what you were hoping to find. An alias? A confession? A link in bio? There was nothing.

And then your thumb paused on a photo of her in a café. Her hair tied up, a book in one hand, a crooked smile aimed at someone across the table. You remembered that smile. You remembered wishing she’d aim it at you.

You hit Message.

Typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Hey. It’s been a long time. Don’t know if you remember me…

Backspaced the whole thing.

You stared at the blinking cursor. Then your fingers moved on their own.

Heejin. It’s me. From school. I saw you... — you hesitated — I saw something that reminded me of you. Just wanted to say hi.

Sent.

You stared at your screen, heart pounding. You didn’t expect a reply.

But you left the tab open anyway.

Three weeks passed.

Nothing.

You told yourself you didn’t care. Closed the tab. Reopened it. Checked again.

And then one night—just as you were about to shut down for bed—your phone buzzed.

A message.

Hey... I’ve been meaning to write back. Things got kind of crazy. I’m back in town for a few days. Would love to see you.

Heejin.

Just reading her name made your stomach tighten. You read the message again. And again.

Would love to see you.

You stared at the blinking cursor. All over again.

She met you at the arcade wearing a cream-colored crop hoodie and black jeans that looked painted on—just tight enough to press the memory of her hips into your brain. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and the first thing she did was hug you, tight, warm, lingering.

"God, I missed this," she said, pulling back just enough for her chest to brush yours.

You swallowed. "The arcade?"

She winked. "Being around someone who doesn’t expect me to put on a show."

You laughed, caught off guard. She wasn’t performing. She was still Heejin, the same mischievous, too-honest-for-her-own-good girl you’d crushed on in school.

She grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the air hockey table. "Let’s go. You owe me a rematch from, like, tenth grade."

You took your place across from her, hands awkward on the paddle. She bent slightly to set the puck, her crop hoodie lifting just a breath. You looked away.

The game began. You both played harder than necessary. She was good—fast, focused. Laughing too loudly at every point scored.

Between rounds, she stretched her arms overhead, groaning like she'd run a marathon. "Ugh. My back is killing me. I need someone with strong hands. You volunteerin', or what?"

The words hit wrong. Too familiar. Your body remembered where it had heard them before. From your screen. From her debut.

But her face stayed playful. Naïve, even.

You couldn’t ask. You wouldn’t. So you just played the next round and lost again.

After a few more games and too many cheap sodas, you ended up on the same ratty bench by the change machine. She stretched out beside you, one leg tucked under the other.

"So," she said, tapping her cup, "how’s your life? Still into tech stuff? You always had that nerdy genius vibe."

You smiled. "Freelancing, mostly. Flexible hours."

"Mmm," she said, biting her straw. "That sounds nice."

You nodded, but your thoughts were screaming. You wanted to ask. You wanted to say: I saw it. I saw you. But you didn’t.

Instead, you cleared your throat and said, “Why don’t I cook you dinner tomorrow?”

She blinked, surprised. Then her lips curled into a grin. “Are you trying to seduce me with pasta?”

You shrugged. “Depends how good your palate is. I’m a bit of a kitchen snob now.”

She leaned back, mock-suspicious. “I remember your cafeteria tray in ninth grade. This better be a glow-up.”

The next evening, she came over just after seven. She wore a casual green dress, cinched at the waist, with sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It was soft, unassuming—until she sat down and the neckline shifted just slightly lower than necessary. You pretended not to notice. She pretended not to notice you noticing.

You made aglio e olio from scratch, roasted vegetables with sea salt and thyme. She stole cherry tomatoes from the cutting board while you stirred.

“Okay,” she said, chewing. “You’re forgiven for every cold pizza slice you ever inhaled in homeroom.”

You both ate at the kitchen counter, plates between you, wine glasses sweating under dim light. She laughed more here. Softer. Her guard seemed to slip with every bite.

After dinner, you stood at the sink rinsing plates. She leaned in beside you, closer than she needed to be.

"Should I dry?" she asked, brushing her arm against yours. "Or should I just stand here and look hot?"

You froze, the plate half-tilted in your hand.

She smirked. "Kidding. Unless you like a little help with your... chores."

It was too much.

You set the plate down and turned, voice low. “Heejin, I saw it.”

She blinked. “Saw what?”

You met her eyes. “The video. Your first scene. I didn’t mean to—I was just... it came up.”

She stepped back slowly, all the teasing gone. “Oh.”

“Heejin, I didn’t want to bring it up like this, but I couldn’t sit here pretending.”

Her arms folded across her stomach. “So this dinner was what? A farewell tour? See me once in person and then disappear like it didn’t happen?”

“No. No, that’s not what this is.”

Her voice wavered, sharp with hurt. “You think I’m disgusting.”

You stepped toward her. “No. I think you were hurting, and you never told me.”

She hesitated. Her lips parted like she might deny it—but then, she dropped into the nearest chair, hands on her lap.

“I never thought you’d find out,” she whispered. “Most people never make the connection.”

You stayed quiet, letting her talk.

“I was in a K-pop group. Briefly. Small company. Training since high school. Thought it was my shot. We did two singles, then they ran out of money. Shelved us. Stopped paying. Still held our contracts.”

She stared at her hands.

“We weren’t allowed to leave. Couldn’t work elsewhere. Couldn’t sue. I had no savings. And when I begged them to release me, they offered... an alternative.”

Your heart dropped. “They sold you.”

Her laugh was dry. “Not in chains. But close enough. They owned the footage. Changed the name. Sent me to a ‘modeling’ agency that just so happened to be tied to a porn label.”

She looked up. Her face was pale, but her voice was steady.

“I let them touch me on camera. Told myself it was just acting. But it wasn’t. It was real hands. Real bodies. Real bruises. And every time I broke a little more inside. But I smiled. Because I owed them. Because I signed my name.”

You moved slowly, kneeling in front of her. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t owe anyone your body.”

Her eyes were glassy, but she didn’t cry.

“I didn’t want you to see that version of me,” she said. “The one who faked orgasms and swallowed shame for a paycheck.”

You nodded. “I get it. But that’s not all you are.”

She didn’t answer at first. Her hand lingered in yours, fingers gently tightening like she wasn’t sure she was allowed.

Then she spoke. "I used to like you. Back then. High school. I thought maybe you'd ask me out after midterms. You didn’t."

You blinked. "You liked me?"

She smiled faintly. "You were sweet. Not like the others. You used to bring extra pencils for everyone, but you always made sure I got the ones without bite marks. I noticed."

You let out a soft laugh. “I had no idea.”

“That’s the thing,” she said, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. “You were part of my innocence. A time before... all this. When things were soft and slow and didn’t hurt yet.”

She exhaled, eyes distant. "I came to see you because I missed that. I wanted to remember who I was before I turned into someone I barely recognize. And being around you... it's the only thing that makes me feel like I’m still her. Even a little."

You looked at her, really looked. And you saw it—the girl behind the camera lights, behind the soft moans and glossy lips. The one who used to pass notes in class. The one who was scared but smiling anyway.

You squeezed her hand. “Then let’s hold on to her. Just for tonight.”

She gave you a small, grateful nod. “Just for tonight.”

It started with a kiss—gentle, slow, mouths barely moving. A tentative search for warmth.

Her lips brushed yours once, then again, and you felt the weight she carried begin to fall away with each exhale. You kissed like the moment was fragile, like it could shatter under pressure.

She climbed into your lap, straddling you with her knees tucked beside your hips, her dress still flowing down around your legs. Face to face. Her arms wrapped around your neck. You held her waist.

“I missed this,” she whispered against your mouth.

“What?”

“Feeling safe.”

You kissed again, deeper this time. Her body pressed into yours. The room grew warmer.

Then she took your hand and slid it under her shirt, guiding it to the softness beneath her bra. Skin to skin. Her breath caught, but she didn’t stop you.

You paused, looking up. “Do you want to...?”

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t tease. Her voice was barely a whisper, raw and trembling. “Remind me what it felt like to be touched without expectation.”

And with that, you kissed her once more—soft, deliberate, as your hand gently explored the shape of her, anchoring yourself to this real, present version of Heejin.

The silence between you pulsed with need, taut and intimate. Her breath fanned your jaw as she straddled you, still dressed, her fingers exploring your shoulders with slow, curious pressure. You traced the line of her spine under her shirt until she shifted in your lap, kissing you like the space between you had always been hers to close.

Her lips parted as she deepened the kiss, drawing you in with soft, savoring motions. The pace was unhurried, almost reverent. Her hands threaded into your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel wanted, hers. You cupped her face in both palms, stroking her cheek with your thumb as her mouth moved against yours.

She broke the kiss only to whisper, "Can I feel more of you?"

You answered by sliding your hands under the hem of her dress, tracing up the backs of her thighs, the curve of her hips. Her skin was warm, electric. You leaned in to kiss along her jaw, then down to the soft place beneath her ear. She shivered in your arms.

Her fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt. You raised your arms to help her peel it off. She tossed it aside and ran her hands across your chest, fingers splaying like she wanted to map your whole torso. Then she pressed a slow kiss to your collarbone.

You pulled her closer, until her chest was flush with yours. Through the fabric, you could feel the quickening of her heartbeat. Your lips found her neck again, then lower, until you kissed the swell above her bra. She gasped softly and arched into you.

She reached behind herself and slid the zipper of her dress down, peeling it away inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. You helped her out of it gently, reverently. She sat before you in her bra and panties, glowing in the low light.

You ran your fingertips along her bare waist, then bent to kiss her shoulder. Her breathing grew shallow as your lips traveled to the inside of her arm, then back to her chest. She held your face in her hands, kissed you long and deep.

“I want this to feel good,” she whispered. “All of it.”

You looked her in the eye. “Then let’s take our time.”

Heejin smiled—slow, sure, like she already knew the next hour by heart. She pushed you back against the pillows, her dark hair brushing your thighs as she moved down. Her lips trailed a final kiss over your navel before she dipped lower, her breath hot, deliberate.

Her hand curled around you, a featherlight grip that tightened with a steady rhythm. Then her mouth—warm, wet, impossibly soft—took you in. Inch by inch, she drew you deep, letting you feel every slick glide of her tongue, every flutter of her throat.

You exhaled sharp, hips flexing on instinct. “Fuck—Heejin.”

She moaned low around you, the vibration sending a pulse through your spine. Her fingers dug lightly into your hips, holding you in place. She set a slow pace, lips stretched tight, tongue circling the crown before sliding down again. Each stroke deeper. Each pause longer.

She looked up once, eyes glassy and wide. You caught the challenge in them—don’t come yet—and bit the inside of your cheek to hold the line. Her mouth was heaven, but it was her control that wrecked you. She knew exactly when to let her spit dribble, when to swallow you whole, when to pull back and tease you with the tip of her tongue.

Your fingers found her hair. Not to push—just to feel the movement, the weight of her. She let you touch, let you watch her work, but she never gave up the rhythm.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” you managed.

She pulled back with a wet pop, lips flushed and shining. “Then don’t waste it.”

And she took you again, deeper this time, hands now stroking your thighs, coaxing them open like she owned every nerve under your skin.

Then she stopped.

Pulled off slowly, breath catching at the edge of her lips. She crawled up your body, kissing her way up your ribs, your chest, until her face hovered above yours. Her thighs straddled you, slick heat brushing your length, but she didn’t lower herself yet.

“I used to fake every sound,” she murmured. “Moans, gasps, even the way I arched my back. All of it—designed for someone else's camera.”

You brushed her hair back. “This isn’t for anyone else.”

Her breath hitched. “I know.” She leaned down and kissed you—messy, needy, with her whole mouth. “You made me forget that part of my life even existed.”

She rose just enough to line herself up, then sank down—slow, controlled, inch by inch until you were all the way inside her. Her lips parted on a gasp, raw and unpracticed. “God,” she whispered, forehead pressing against yours, “this… this feels like it matters.”

You ran your hands over her back, fingers tracing the arch of her spine. “Because it does.”

She started to move—gentle rolls of her hips, no rhythm for the camera, no forced angles. Just motion built on feel. Skin on skin. Her breath warm in your ear.

“This is how I’ve always wanted to fuck,” she said, voice cracking just enough to show the truth in it. “No stage lights. No fake orgasm countdowns. Just… skin and heat and being seen.”

You held her waist, thumbs brushing the sweat gathering beneath her ribs. “Then let me see all of you.”

She rocked slower, deeper, eyes locked on yours. Her breasts pressed to your chest, her thighs trembling slightly with effort. Each glide filled with a quiet need.

“I never came like this,” she whispered. “Not once in front of the camera. But I feel close with you… just from how you look at me.”

You kissed her throat, tasting the salt there. “You’re not a fantasy. You’re fucking real.”

She laughed—soft, shaky, full of feeling. “That’s the most pornographic thing you could say.”

You laughed too, breathless. She tightened her thighs and moved again, this time with purpose. “And you…” she murmured, biting your lower lip gently, “you don’t fuck like a man trying to prove something. You just… want me.”

“I do.” Your hands slid over her ass, guiding her motion. “All of you.”

Her rhythm slowed again, becoming more of a grind, her clit pressed flush against you. She kissed you between every sentence now, like she was making up for all the times she hadn’t been allowed to.

And between kisses, she whispered, “Don’t stop seeing me like this. I don’t ever want to go back.”

Her rhythm grew erratic—more grind than thrust now, her body moving on instinct, driven by sensation. Your grip tightened at her hips, not to control her, just to anchor yourself as the heat in your spine surged toward breaking.

You groaned into her neck. “I’m close.”

She pulled back to look you in the eye. Sweat clung to her upper lip, her mascara half-smudged. “Finish inside me.”

You hesitated—barely a heartbeat.

“I’m safe,” she whispered, voice urgent and raw. “I want to feel it. I want it real.”

Her eyes brimmed with something beyond lust. A desperate kind of need.

“Purify my cunt,” she said, biting down on the word, like it tasted both shameful and holy. “Fill me. I want your cum inside me. Not on me. Not for show. In me.”

That was the last thread of control gone. You thrust up into her, hands holding her there, deep, as the climax ripped through you. You stayed buried in her, hips twitching, breath fractured. She pressed down to take every pulse, every drop.

She moaned with the weight of it—eyes fluttering closed, mouth parted.

Then she leaned down and kissed you hard. No build-up. No pretense. Just lips crushed to yours, teeth, tongue, hunger.

And when she pulled away, she was crying.

Silent at first. Then full sobs, shoulders trembling against your chest.

You held her, still inside her, not moving. Her tears soaked the side of your neck.

“I’m going back,” she said, choking the words out. “Next week. I signed the shoot already.”

Your hands stilled on her back.

She pressed her forehead to your collarbone. “I needed tonight to be mine. Just mine. Not theirs.”

You didn’t say anything. Just pulled the blanket up around her, wrapped her tighter.

She whispered, “Promise you won’t remember me for the videos.”

You kissed the top of her head. “I’ll remember you for this.”

She exhaled hard, like she was trying to hold her body together.

The two of you stayed there, tangled and still, your cum slowly seeping from her, warmth fading against the sheets.

The sheets beside you were cold when you woke.

You sat up slowly, the morning light already spilling in through the blinds. Her scent still lingered—faint coconut shampoo, sweat, sex—but the space she filled was gone. No bag near the door. No coffee brewing in the kitchen. Just silence, and a folded note on the pillow.

Thank you for letting me feel human again. Don’t look for me. Please.

No signature. Just the curve of her handwriting, sharp and sure.

You read it twice. Then again. The ache set in slow, like blood returning to a limb after too long asleep.

You tried her number. Straight to voicemail.

Instagram? Gone.

Twitter? Deleted.

No trace. Like she never existed outside last night.

You sat on the edge of the bed, phone still in your hand, heart beating too loud in your ears. The silence stretched around you until even the hum of the fridge felt too loud.

It wasn’t until a few days later that you saw it.

Her name—well, her stage name—popped up in your feed. A trending title on the front page of the site she’d begged you not to remember her for.

"My Childhood Sweetheart"

There she was, in perfect light. Hair curled. Skin glossy. Eyes dead behind the smile.

Your stomach turned. Not at the act—porn never did that to you—but at the performance. The words you’d whispered in the dark echoed back in warped parody. A line she’d stolen from the night before now scripted on her lips.

You watched ten seconds. Maybe less.

She moaned too early. Arched too perfectly. Called someone baby with the exact same tone she’d used when she’d cried in your arms.

You closed the window.

And sat there, blinking hard, the silence louder than ever.

Your heart didn’t break all at once. It sank—like a weight had been tied to it in the night and dropped somewhere deep.

She was gone.

And this time, it was permanent.

#asks #heejin #heejin smut #kpop smut #kpop x reader #female idol smut #girl group smut #smut #male reader smut #kpop idol smut #male reader #idol x bbc

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oopsiedaisydeer · 7 days ago

Text

how to lose a guy in 10 days

slow burn, mutual pining, dual pov, fake dating, angst, comedy, miscommunication, fluff, enemies to lovers (kinda)

day zero one two three four

disclaimer: @whor3ing has an au also inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days which you can check out here!

word count - 800ish

day four

The morning light is gentler than it has any right to be.

She wakes up in a bed she definitely doesn’t remember falling asleep in—especially not his bed. The sheets are red, for one thing. There’s a pillow tucked behind her head and the blanket’s been draped haphazardly over her legs. It smells like laundry detergent and something vaguely woodsy. Like his shampoo, maybe.

Matt’s not there.

She shifts upright and blinks again, taking in the stillness of what must be his bedroom. There’s a TV on the wall. Her handbag is on the floor, next to a bedside table. A note is scrawled across a torn bit of paper, propped against a popcorn jellycat.

didn’t want to wake you.

breakfast in 30.

-m

She squints. Underneath the dash is a tiny, barely visible smiley face. She pretends she doesn’t notice it.

In the kitchen, Matt is burning pancakes.

Not because he’s bad at cooking—he’s actually halfway decent—but because he keeps glancing down the hall, wondering if she’s still asleep, and then back at his phone, texting his brothers, hoping they’ll cave.

matt: can u guys leave the house for like. an hour chris: why nick: sus matt: i’m making breakfast for her matt: for the bet matt: BE NORMAL nick: you’re making breakfast?? nick: you like her matt: pls. just go. or stay in ur rooms. no noise. i’m begging nick: u owe me big chris: use protection 🫡🔥🔥🔥

Matt groans and opens the fridge. No eggs. Of course.

Matt mutters under his breath and tosses a half-ruined pancake into the bin. Then, he wipes his hands on a tea towel, grabs his keys from the counter, and pokes his head into the bedroom.

She’s upright now, still swaddled in the blanket, hair messy, eyes half-lidded. The sight knocks the wind out of him a little, but he pretends it doesn’t.

“Hey,” he says. “No eggs. I’m running to the store real quick.”

She nods blearily.

He hesitates at the door. Then—like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t been thinking about it the whole time—he steps forward and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Be good,” he says, grin crooked, ignoring the heat in his face. “Twenty minutes max.”

She watches him leave. Then waits exactly thirty seconds.

His room is… honestly, kind of nice.

Neutral tones. Linen sheets. A bookshelf that’s mostly stuffed animals and some novels. A photo strip tucked into the mirror frame. Nothing too loud. Nothing too him, either—not that she’d admit to knowing what him looks like yet.

She eyes the earth-tone palette—browns, greys and deep greens and reds, like a log cabin met a Pinterest board and had a quiet, brooding child.

She cracks her knuckles.

“Let’s make you break up with me,” she says to the room.

Then she gets to work.

Almost an hour later, Matt is speed-walking back from the grocery store, balancing a carton of eggs, a bag of frozen berries, and a very unnecessary bouquet of tulips he picked up because… well. They looked like her.

He spent too long at the store, and as he opens the front door, he can’t help but worry that maybe she’s left, gone home. He has no idea what he’s walking into.

His room smells like vanilla perfume and betrayal.

There are pink throw pillows on the bed. His comforter is flipped inside out. There’s a polka dot scrunchie hanging off his lamp and glitter gel pens scattered across his desk. A Taylor Swift CD is playing from his speaker—Speak Now, specifically. Loud.

And in the middle of it all is her, perched cross-legged on a fluffy rug, painting her toenails.

She doesn’t even look up.

“You’re late,” she says, pouting.

Matt just stares.

“What. What is this.”

“I redecorated,” she says brightly. “Minimalist lumberjack wasn’t doing it for me.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You—”

She finally looks up, one brow raised. “You kissed me. That means something, Matt.”

“On the cheek!”

“A bold and intentional choice,” she says, standing and inspecting the tulips in his hand. “Are those for me?”

He stares at them. “No.”

“Right.”

He wants to say this was just supposed to be a bet. That he’s trying to win. That the tulips in his hand aren’t romantic, they’re strategic. But she’s close now. So close he can smell the vanilla on her skin and see the faint shimmer of glitter on her cheekbone.

She smiles, all teeth. Then she kisses him on the lips. Just a peck, quiet and simple.

The touch of her lips smacking against his and then he opens his eyes and they’re gone again.

She steps away. Her hair smells like something floral. Vanilla, again. He swears she’s doing it on purpose, trying to get in his head when he’s trying to get into hers. “Breakfast still happening?”

He glances at the eggs, at the room, at her. “Yeah. You wanna help?”

“Oh,” she says, “I don’t do domestic. I just look cute.”

He laughs. Actually laughs. And when she turns, all proud and smug and victorious, he follows, tulips still in hand, stomach still in knots. And thinks, God, I am so screwed.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws ꨄ

a/n: dont ask how she did a room makeover in an hour it's fanfiction. sdbbsdhjbfshd anyways shorter chapter but hope u like it still !!!!!!!!!!!

thanks so much for reading!!!! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated :)

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brainddeadd · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 3

I was gonna make y'all wait but I'm too enamoured with him to wait

masterlist

It was just past midnight when the lights flickered.

The Pitt ran 24/7—no sleep, no mercy, just a rotating door of trauma. Jack was halfway through stapling a gash in someone’s thigh when the pager on his hip buzzed violently. He didn’t flinch. He never did.

“Code Gray – Pediatric Trauma Inbound. ETA 3 minutes.”

His blood ran cold. Pediatric trauma. She’d be there.

He finished the last staple, ripped his gloves off, and jogged toward the bay. Yn was already inside Trauma 3, tying her hair back with a bright green scrunchie that clashed hideously with her pink scrub top. She looked like a rainbow after a storm.

“Five-year-old. Blunt force trauma. Possible internal bleeding,” she rattled off, eyes scanning the monitor, hands already moving to prep equipment.

Jack moved beside her without a word. They worked in tandem—her touch gentle, his precise. The EMTs burst in seconds later with the patient: a tiny body on a backboard, barely conscious, face pale.

Yn's smile dropped. Gone was the sunshine.

Jack watched her change gears—fast, sharp, focused. Her hand hovered briefly over the boy’s forehead, a featherlight comfort that made Jack’s chest ache in a way he didn’t understand.

“She’s good with them,” a nurse murmured at his side. “Like magic.”

Jack didn’t reply. He knew. He saw it.

They lost track of time. IVs, vitals, scans, blood work. The kid was stable—for now—but needed surgery. Yn leaned against the wall when it was all over, hands trembling, eyes wet.

“He reminded me of my nephew,” she whispered, mostly to herself.

Jack stared at her. Normally, he would’ve walked away. Left her to process it on her own, because that’s what he did. People were messy. Feelings were worse.

But Yn Ln had walked into his life with cinnamon coffee and glitter shoes and carved out a space he didn’t realise was empty.

So he walked over. And for once, said nothing.

Just stood beside her, close enough for her arm to brush his. Close enough to hear her breathe.

“I keep a notebook,” she said suddenly. “For all the names. Of the ones who make it. And the ones who don’t.”

Jack exhaled slowly. “That’s heavy.”

Yn looked up at him. “Yeah. But I think someone should remember them.”

He watched her, really watched her. There were smudges under her eyes. Her bun was slipping. Her heart was too big for this place.

“You’ll burn out,” he said quietly.

She smiled, tired and soft. “Not if someone keeps handing me coffee.”

Jack reached into his jacket, pulled out a cup he’d picked up hours ago and forgot to drink. Still warm.

She blinked. “For me?”

He shrugged. “You said I looked like I forgot how to laugh. You look like you forgot how to sit down.”

She laughed—just a little. Quiet, exhausted, real.

And Jack Abbott, trauma god, felt something crack open.

Maybe sunshine didn’t belong in The Pitt.

But maybe he didn’t want to chase it out anymore.

#dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt x reader #° braindead writes

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amyzworldds · 2 months ago

Note

heyy idk if requests are open but if they are can i request a wonwoo x reader where reader is super extroverted and hyper and kinda « adopts » wonwoo cause she wants them to be friends, but wonwoo being shy it takes him a while to be more open with her

i was just thinking about like maybe just some scenarios showing how the friendship (and eventual) relationship between them grows

btw can i be 🪼 anon? :)

Title: From Classmates to Soulmates

Masterlist | Part 2

Y/N, a vibrant solo artist, and Wonwoo, the reserved Seventeen member, share a bond that blossoms from high school friendship into something deeper. Her chaotic energy clashes with his quiet nature, but their connection—full of teasing, cat photos, and unspoken sparks—grows through years of laughter and challenges, proving opposites can be inseparable. Pairing: Wonwoo x reader Genre: Fluff

The fluorescent lights of Class 2-B flickered slightly, casting a soft glow over rows of desks. It was 2012, and Y/N, a new transfer student, plopped down into the only empty seat in the classroom—right next to Jeon Wonwoo, a lanky boy with glasses who was trying very hard to disappear into his textbook. She was a whirlwind of energy, her backpack covered in colorful pins, her hair tied with a bright scrunchie. He was... well, the human equivalent of a library’s quiet section.

“Hi! I’m Y/N! You’re my seatmate, right? Oh my gosh, this school is so big, I got lost twice already. Did you know the cafeteria has, like, three kinds of kimchi? Three!”

Wonwoo blinked, his pencil frozen mid-sentence. He glanced at her, then back at his book, hoping silence would make her stop. It didn’t.

“What’s your name? Wait, lemme guess... Minho? No, too common. Seokjin? Nah, you don’t look like a Seokjin. Oh! Are you a Wonwoo? That’s such a cool name!”

He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “...It’s Wonwoo.”

“I KNEW IT!” Y/N clapped, earning a few curious glances from classmates. “We’re gonna be best friends, Wonwoo. I can feel it. Do you like cats? Dogs? Both? I have a goldfish named Bubbles, but I’m thinking of getting a hamster. What do you think?”

“I think you should stop talking before we get in trouble,” he muttered, flipping a page he hadn’t read.

Too late. Their homeroom teacher, Mrs. Kim, spun around from the chalkboard. “Y/N! Wonwoo! If you two have so much to discuss, you can do it while cleaning the classroom after school!”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened as he shot Y/N a side-eye. She just grinned sheepishly. “Oops. Sorry, Wonwoo. I’ll make it up to you! I’ll bring snacks!”

He didn’t respond, but his ears were slightly pink. Great. Day one, and I’m already in trouble because of her.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few weeks, Y/N became Wonwoo’s personal tornado. She talked during class, doodled on the edges of his notes (he pretended to hate the little hearts and stars), and dragged him into her chaotic orbit. He was quiet, reserved, the kid who’d rather read manga in the corner than join a group. She was the opposite—a social butterfly who befriended everyone from the janitor to the school’s stray cat (which she named Captain Whiskers).

One rainy afternoon, they were stuck cleaning the classroom again—third time that month, thanks to Y/N’s chatter. Wonwoo was wiping down desks while Y/N balanced a broom like a tightrope walker.

“Wonwoo, look! I’m a circus star!” She wobbled, nearly knocking over a chair.

He caught it just in time, glaring. “Can you focus for five seconds? I’d like to go home before we’re seniors.”

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” She hopped down, twirling the broom. “But you secretly love this. Admit it. I make your boring life exciting.”

“You make my life a headache,” he deadpanned, but there was a tiny quirk to his lips. She noticed and gasped dramatically.

“Was that a smile? Jeon Wonwoo, are you warming up to me?”

“No.” He turned away, scrubbing a desk harder than necessary.

But she was right. Slowly, Wonwoo got used to her. She’d ramble about her trainee life at Pledis, her dreams of being a solo artist, her obsession with bubble tea. He’d listen, nodding or throwing in a dry comment that made her laugh. They were opposites—her loud chaos to his quiet calm—but somehow, it worked.

--------------------------------------------------------------

One day, during lunch, Y/N spotted Captain Whiskers outside the school gate, looking scruffier than usual. Her eyes welled up instantly.

“Wonwoo, look at him! He’s so skinny! We have to take him home!” She clutched his sleeve, tears streaming.

He froze, her hands gripping his arm like a koala. “Y/N, you can’t just adopt every stray you see. Your dorm will turn into a petting zoo.”

“But he’s lonely!” she wailed, burying her face in his shoulder. “What if he gets cold tonight? What if he’s hungry? Wonwoo, I can’t leave him!”

He sighed, patting her head awkwardly. “Stop crying. You’re getting my shirt wet.”

“You’re so mean,” she mumbled, voice muffled. “But you’ll help me, right? Pleeeease?”

He glanced at the scrawny cat, then back at her tear-streaked face. “Fine. But we’re not keeping him. We’ll find him a shelter.”

“You’re the best!” She hugged him tightly, and he stood there like a statue, cheeks flushing. “I’m naming him Wonwoo Junior!”

“Absolutely not.”

They spent the afternoon sneaking Captain Whiskers into the trainee dorms, only for Y/N to cry again when they handed him to a shelter. Wonwoo bought her ice cream to stop the waterworks, muttering about how she was “impossible.” She just grinned, linking her arm with his.

“You love me, admit it.”

“Keep dreaming.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

By their final year of high school, they were inseparable. Y/N was still a chatterbox, but Wonwoo didn’t mind as much. He’d even started talking more—well, for him. When Seventeen debuted in 2015, Y/N was their biggest cheerleader, sneaking into their practice room with snacks and hyping them up. Wonwoo pretended to be annoyed, but he always saved her a spot next to him.

“You’re gonna be famous, Wonwoo! I’m telling everyone I’m your best friend,” she’d say, stealing his water bottle.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he’d reply, but he’d let her keep the bottle.

When Y/N debuted as a solo artist in 2017, Wonwoo was there, quietly cheering from the crowd. She spotted him and nearly tripped on stage, waving like a maniac. Backstage, she tackled him in a hug.

“You came! I knew you would! Did you see my high note? Was I cool?”

“You were loud,” he teased, but his eyes were soft. “You did good.”

“That’s high praise from Jeon Wonwoo!” She poked his cheek. “One day, I’m gonna write a song about you.”

“Please don’t.”

She laughed, and he couldn’t help but smile. Somewhere along the way, her chaos had become his comfort. Her clinginess didn’t bother him anymore—it felt... nice. And when she grabbed his hand to drag him to her favorite café, he didn’t pull away.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Wonwoo, now a full-fledged idol, was busier than ever, his introverted self buried under choreography and mic checks. But no amount of chaos could keep Y/N away.

The practice room smelled of sweat and determination, mirrors fogging up as Seventeen ran through their routine for the tenth time. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her backpack stuffed with snacks, watching with wide eyes. She clapped wildly after every run-through, even when the members stumbled.

“You guys are AMAZING!” she shouted, bouncing to her feet as the music stopped. “Hoshi, that spin? Iconic. Seungkwan, your vocals? I’m deceased. And Wonwoo, you’re... you’re just so cool!”

Wonwoo, catching his breath, shot her a look—half-exasperated, half-amused. “Can you lower your volume? I’m trying to focus.”

“Focus? You just nailed that part! Take the compliment, Jeon!” She skipped over, holding out a water bottle and a small towel like she was his personal assistant.

Mingyu, wiping his face, smirked. “Y/N, what’s this? Are you Wonwoo’s babysitter now?”

“Or his manager?” DK chimed in, grinning. “You’ve been here every day this week.”

Y/N stuck out her tongue. “I’m his cheerleader, thank you very much. Someone’s gotta keep his grumpy self hydrated.”

Wonwoo took the bottle, muttering, “I can get my own water.” But he didn’t push the towel away when she dabbed at his forehead, earning a chorus of “ooohs” from the members.

“Y/N, you’re spoiling him,” Vernon teased, leaning on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “He’s gonna expect this treatment forever.”

“Good!” she declared, plopping down beside Wonwoo. “He deserves it. Right, Wonwoo?”

He just sighed, sipping his water, but his ears were pink—a detail not lost on Jeonghan, who whispered to Joshua, “Ten bucks says they’re dating by next year.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s visits became a ritual. She’d barge into the practice room with convenience store kimbap or sneak in bubble tea, chattering nonstop while Wonwoo listened (or pretended not to). Sometimes, she’d join their breaks, challenging Hoshi to impromptu dance-offs or roping Seungkwan into karaoke battles. Her chaos lit up the room, and even Wonwoo’s quiet presence seemed brighter with her around.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, the members sprawled across the floor, exhausted. Y/N, somehow still buzzing with energy, started a game of truth or dare. When it was her turn, she picked dare and ended up doing a dramatic reenactment of Mingyu’s part in Adore U, complete with exaggerated winks.

The room erupted in laughter, but Wonwoo just watched, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Man, Y/N, you’re so loud,” Woozi said, rubbing his temples. “How does Wonwoo deal with you? You’re like... a human firecracker, and he’s—”

“A library book?” Seungcheol offered, smirking.

“Exactly!” Woozi laughed. “Seriously, Wonwoo, how’d you two even become friends?”

Wonwoo shrugged, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “She talked. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Rude!” Y/N gasped, tossing a crumpled napkin at him. “You love my talking. Remember when I saved you from that boring history project? I did all the presenting!”

“You got us a C because you kept going off-script,” he deadpanned.

“But it was fun, right?” She grinned, nudging his shoulder. He didn’t answer, but his smile said enough.

The members exchanged glances. Dino whispered to Vernon, “Are they... always like this?”

“Yup,” Vernon whispered back. “It’s like watching a rom-com, but they’re too dumb to notice.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Fast forward to 2017. Y/N’s solo debut was finally here, her single Starlight climbing the charts. The room was a flurry of stylists and nerves, but Y/N was her usual self—chatting with everyone, fixing her mic pack, and sneaking candy from the snack table. In the crowd, Wonwoo stood near the back, blending in with a cap pulled low. He didn’t cheer like her loudest fans, but his eyes never left the stage.

When she hit her final note, the venue roared. Y/N scanned the crowd, spotted him, and nearly fumbled her wave, grinning like an idiot. Backstage, she tackled him in a hug before he could escape.

“You came! I knew you would!” she squealed, arms locked around him. “Did you hear the crowd? Did I slay that high note?”

“You were loud,” he said, but his voice was soft, proud. “You did good.”

“Good? That’s it?” She poked his chest. “Jeon Wonwoo, I need excellent. Phenomenal. I’m a star now!”

“You’re a headache,” he corrected, but he didn’t pull away, letting her cling as long as she wanted.

Fans had noticed their closeness over the years—clips of Y/N at Seventeen’s events, Wonwoo at her debut, their playful banter in old vlogs. Online, they were “the ultimate besties,” with fans gushing over their friendship. But to those who knew them, it was... different.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, at a small celebratory dinner with Seventeen and Y/N’s team, the teasing hit full force. Y/N was recounting her stage mishap—nearly tripping on a cable—when Mingyu leaned over.

“Wonwoo, be honest,” he said, smirking. “You were ready to run onstage and catch her, weren’t you?”

Wonwoo choked on his soda. “What? No.”

“Liar!” DK laughed. “You were staring at her like she hung the moon.”

Y/N, mid-bite of tteokbokki, waved it off. “He’s just supportive! That’s what friends do, right, Wonwoo?”

“Right,” he mumbled, eyes on his plate. But his hand brushed hers under the table when he passed her a napkin, and she didn’t move away. Neither did he.

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, leaned back. “Friends, huh? You two act like you’re married half the time. When’s the wedding?”

The table erupted, and Y/N laughed, loud and forced. “Pfft, me and Wonwoo? That’s like pairing a cat with a tornado!”

“You’re not wrong,” Wonwoo said dryly, earning a playful smack on his arm.

But later, when they walked to the convenience store for ice cream, the air felt heavier. Y/N rambled about her next single, but her usual energy was tinged with something else. Wonwoo was quieter than usual, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” she said suddenly, stopping under a streetlight. “We’re good, right? Like... this—” She gestured between them. “It’s fine?”

He looked at her, heart thudding. The spark had been there for years—her hugs that lingered, his glances she pretended not to notice. But saying it out loud? That risked everything.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “We’re good.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Cool. Besties forever, then.”

“Forever,” he echoed, ignoring the ache in his chest. They bought their ice cream, and she linked arms with him on the walk back, chattering again. He listened, like always, because her chaos was still his favorite sound—even if he wasn’t ready to admit what else he felt.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Years have passedpast and the spark between Y/N and Wonwoo wasn’t just a flicker anymore—it was a flame neither could ignore. For Y/N, it was the way her heart raced when he smiled at her dumb jokes, or how she caught herself staring when he adjusted his glasses during late-night chats. For Wonwoo, it was the warmth of her presence, the way her chaos made his world feel... complete. But admitting it? That was a wall neither dared climb.

Y/N, ever the overthinker, convinced herself it was just their history talking. We’ve been friends since high school. Of course I feel weirdly attached. It’s not... that. She’d lie awake, replaying moments—her tackling him in hugs, him brushing hair from her face during her debut jitters. It’s normal. Totally normal. But the more she thought about it, the more she panicked. What if she confessed and he didn’t feel the same? What if it broke them? Wonwoo was her safe space, the one person she could be her loud, clingy, unfiltered self with. Losing him wasn’t an option.

So, she did the only thing she could think of: she pulled back.

--------------------------------------------------------------

It started small. No more facetime calls at 2 am to ramble about her day. No more spamming him with photos of stray cats or glittery coffee drinks she found on the street. No more bursting into Seventeen’s practice room with snacks and her trademark grin. When she did visit, she kept it brief, chatting with everyone instead of hovering around Wonwoo like before.

One afternoon, in the Pledis practice room, Y/N dropped by with a bag of tangerines—her excuse for showing up. Seventeen was mid-break, sprawled across the floor, sweaty and joking.

“Y/N! You’re alive!” Hoshi called, snatching a tangerine. “We thought you forgot us.”

“Pfft, never,” she laughed, tossing one to Seungkwan. “Just been busy. Soloist life, you know?”

Wonwoo, leaning against the mirror, watched her. She was her usual bright self, but something was off. She hadn’t looked at him once. No towel, no water bottle, no teasing jab about his dance moves. Just... distance.

“You staying for practice?” Mingyu asked, peeling his tangerine.

“Nah, gotta run,” she said, already inching toward the door. “Got a variety show taping soon. See you guys later!”

She waved, and just like that, she was gone. Wonwoo stared at the door, his chest tight. Seungcheol nudged Jeonghan, whispering, “She didn’t even talk to him.”“Yup,” Jeonghan murmured back. “Trouble in paradise.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s new distraction was a variety show, Star Buddies, where idols teamed up for goofy challenges. She’d been cast alongside NCT’s Jaehyun, a guy with a warm smile and an easy laugh. He was kind, talented, and stupidly charming—someone anyone would click with. They bonded over shared snacks and her endless chatter, and soon, they were texting about dog memes and grabbing coffee between shoots.

“Jaehyun, look at this puppy!” Y/N squealed one day, showing him her phone during a break. “Should I adopt him?”

“You’d adopt the whole shelter if you could,” Jaehyun teased, chuckling. “But yeah, he’s cute. Go for it.”

She grinned, but her mind wandered to Wonwoo—how he’d roll his eyes and mutter about her turning her dorm into a zoo. She shook it off, typing a reply to Jaehyun instead. He’s nice. Fun. Safe. No butterflies, no panic. Just... normal.

But Wonwoo? He noticed everything. Her Instagram stories with Jaehyun—laughing over ice cream, posing with silly props on set. Her texts slowed to a trickle, her visits even rarer. He’d scroll through her posts, jaw tight, telling himself it was fine. She’s busy. She’s allowed to have other friends. But the sight of Jaehyun’s name in her stories twisted something in his gut.

One night, during a late dinner with the members, Mingyu brought it up. “Yo, Wonwoo, you seen Y/N’s stories? She’s hanging out with that NCT guy a lot. Jaehyun, right?”

Wonwoo’s chopsticks paused mid-air. “Yeah. So?”

“Just saying,” Mingyu grinned, oblivious to the tension. “They look cozy.”

“They’re on a show together,” Wonwoo said flatly, shoving rice in his mouth. “It’s work.”

DK raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but she’s not blowing up your phone anymore, is she? When’s the last time she crashed practice?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer, and the table went quiet. Woozi, ever blunt, sighed. “You two are idiots. Just talk to her before she actually moves on.”“There’s nothing to talk about,” Wonwoo muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N wasn’t blind. She felt the shift too—how Wonwoo’s replies were shorter, how he didn’t tease her back like he used to. It hurt, but she told herself it was for the best. If I keep my distance, these feelings will fade. We’ll go back to normal. But normal without Wonwoo felt like a song missing its melody.

One evening, after a Star Buddies taping, she and Jaehyun grabbed dinner at a quiet café. He was telling a story about Taeyong’s latest cooking disaster, and she laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“You okay?” Jaehyun asked, tilting his head. “You seem... distracted.”

“Oh, nah, I’m good!” she lied, stirring her iced tea. “Just tired. Long day.”

He nodded, not pushing. “Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. You’re fun to hang out with, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Jaehyun. You’re pretty cool too.” She smiled, but her mind screamed Wonwoo. Always Wonwoo.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Seventeen’s dorm was abuzz with their latest comeback prep, but the members couldn’t ignore Wonwoo’s mood. He was quieter than usual—no small feat for him. During a break, Vernon caught him staring at his phone, Y/N’s latest story paused on a clip of her and Jaehyun high-fiving.

“Dude, just call her,” Vernon said, tossing him a water bottle. “You’re miserable.”

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo said, pocketing his phone.

“You’re not,” Seungkwan cut in, arms crossed. “And neither is she. We’ve known you guys forever. You think we can’t tell you’re both acting weird?”

Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What am I supposed to do? Stop her from living her life? She’s... she’s Y/N. She makes friends with everyone.”

“Yeah, but she’s not this with everyone,” Jeonghan said, leaning over. “She’s only ever been that clingy, that loud, that Y/N with you. And now she’s pulling away. You really think it’s because she’s over you?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer, but Jeonghan’s words stuck. He saw it—her forced smiles when she did visit, the way she avoided his gaze. He felt it—the emptiness where her chaos used to be. And Jaehyun? That was just salt in the wound.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A week later, Y/N was at a pet store, snapping a pic of a fluffy puppy to send to Jaehyun. Her finger hovered over Wonwoo’s name instead. She missed him—his dry humor, his steady presence, the way he’d roll his eyes but still listen to her ramble. This is dumb. I’m making it worse. She pocketed her phone, heart heavy.

Across town, Wonwoo sat in the studio, lyrics open but untouched. His phone buzzed—a group chat notification, not her. He opened their old messages, scrolling through her silly cat pics and voice notes. She’s slipping away, and I’m just... letting her.

“Hyung,” Dino said, poking his head in. “You good? You’ve been staring at that screen for, like, an hour.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo lied, closing his phone. “Just thinking.”

But he wasn’t just thinking. He was realizing that losing her noise—her light—hurt more than admitting how he felt ever could.

--------------------------------------------------------------

an: Hi, 🪼anon ! Sorry this is late—I got busy with my integration paper, hehe. And sure, you can be 🪼 anon hehe! Also, I hope I got your request right, huhu. Btw, thank you for requesting! I think this is the very first request not connected to the 14th member HAHAHHA!

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0wlettie · 3 months ago

Text

sfw, fluffy, dogboy!caleb thoughts pt.I (link to series), wc 1.7k

dogboy!caleb who’s grown up in the adoption system; who’s prone to moodiness and isolation because of the things he’s endured and seen. who’s a few years older than the other hybrid kids at the agency, and knows the difference between a good family and a bad one. he doesn’t want to get hurt again, has been in too many households that treat him like garbage. so he watches and he waits, and waits, and waits until he can find the perfect household for him.

dogboy!caleb who you meet at the hybrid adoption agency on your ninth birthday. because of your macabre interest in horror (your grandma can’t tell the difference between kid friendly cartoons and adult themed anime, and you quickly grew to love the different dvds and tapes she would rent for you on the weekends) the kids at your school have deemed you too ‘weird and scary’ to get close too. you’re lonely because of it, and growing moody, you isolate yourself in your room, delving deeper into the genre behind your grandma’s back. worried about that heavy fog hanging around you, she thinks that getting you a friend in a hybrid is the best way to help.

dogboy!caleb who takes a good look at the people requesting to interview him that day. an older lady and what looks to be her grandkid meet him in the playroom, and it's obvious to anyone with eyes that you’re nervous; hiding your entire body behind the wide drape of your grandma’s skirt. he can only see the barest hints of dark curls pinned into pigtails, and only because they're so big that they peek out from behind your hunched over grandmother.

dogboy!caleb who is willing to give this family a shot, layers on the friendly cheer, greeting the both of you with a wide smile and a soft tone. it instantly puts everyone at ease, even you. hesitant but visibly curious, you peek around your grandma's legs. he catches wide eyes behind even wider lenses before your get spooked and hide again. he and the adults laugh, and it doesn't feel forced to him like usual. he finds your shyness cute, a bit refreshing from the rowdy crowd that usually bothers him at the adoption center.

dogboy!caleb who watches as your grandma nudges you a little, and your tiny voice mumbles a half-hearted introduction. it's quiet even to his enhanced hearing, so it's unsurprising when your grandma huffs and lightly scolds you. he tries to keep his expression open and inviting after your grandma gives you another pointed nudge and gently pulls you from behind her.

dogboy!caleb who notices your height at first. you’re so small compared to him, just barely coming up to the middle of his chest if he were to measure it out. your hair is pulled into two large pigtails, held by two cute panda scrunchies and you've still got your school uniform on. you nervously stare up at him through thick black glasses, and he swears he feels his heart stop the moment his gaze locks with yours.

dogboy!caleb can't stop his tail from wagging even if he tried. your eyes are dark and glossy, and combined with the droopyness of your eyeshape and the faint shadows creasing at the skin beneath, it's a downright lethal combination. you're too cute--way too cute for him to handle. it ignites a protective instinct in him so fierce that it burns him from the inside out, fingers itching with the sudden urge to make the sad gleam in your eyes melt away. 'this is it.' he thinks. he’s found where he wants to be, and he’s gonna make sure that he goes home with you no matter what.

dogboy!caleb who, after being left to chat by the adoption agency chaperone and your grandma, carefully coaxes out your words. it takes a lot of gentle prodding on his part—you’re painfully shy and it’s clear to him that you don’t really know what to say—but he eventually gets you going. small things, like your favorite colors (purple and black), your favorite foods (the fried chicken your grandma makes, as well as the strawberry cake she buys from the bakery down the street), your favorite subject in school (reading because you like to read and it’s the subject you’re really, really good at), until he asks about your favorite movies and shows. he sees how that seems to make you retreat, but before you can fully box him out, he blurts out his own favorite movie to try and make you comfortable; an obscure nothing burger of slasher film that he doesn’t expect you to know about.

dogboy!caleb who can only watch in awe as your moody expression blooms into something incandescently happy. a sparkle twinkles in your eyes, the smile at your lips showing off your slightly sharp lateral incisors. your soft voice gains life as you scoot closer to him, excitedly throwing him rapid-fire questions about the movie. he can only dumbly answer back, eyes unblinking as they stare at your now sunny disposition. on and on and on you talk about your favorite movies and shows—most of them some kind of gore-fest of an anime. you occasionally throw in a few cult classic films, getting even happier when he can tell you his own opinions about them.

dogboy!caleb who gets completely and utterly infatuated with you--more than he was initially. he does everything in his power to win over your grandma when she comes back for her own time to speak with him privately. you’re pouting, upset as you sit by the chaperone a little ways away, picking at your slices of orange as you shoot glances at your grandma and him. he does his best to stay focused, but it’s hard when he meets your eye and you give him an excited little wave and smile, every time, without fail. and maybe something shows on his face when you do, because your grandma chortles. she gets his attention back by telling him that all she’s ever wanted for you was a friend, and she can see that’s what you’ll get if she brings him home with them.

dogboy!caleb who’s nerves are twisting his stomach in knots when you shyly ask for a hug before you two leave. he doesn’t hesitate to agree, barely opening his arms before your careening into his hold. it’ll take at least a few days for all the paperwork to go through, and then after there needs to be all kinds of background checks and safety inquiries before he’s permitted to leave. maybe another month before he’s able to see you again, something that bums you out as you cling to him. a soft rumble vibrates through his chest as he holds you close, lightly nuzzling the top of your head. he takes in your scent then, lightly rubbing his fingers down your shoulders and arms as he does so. he does the same to your grandma when she offers herself for a hug, the nerves in his gut lessening somewhat now that they’re marked by his scent; that you smell like him.

dogboy!caleb who is counting down the days to his adoption, bag already packed and waiting for him to grab. he easily ignores the playful and not-so-playful teasing of the other kids in the bunks. their opinions are worthless to him, and absolutely nothing can kill the excitement he feels at being able to live with you. to be around you and listen to your cute rambles. to see up close how the bright spark of happiness changes the gloomy swoop of your eyes.

dogboy!caleb whose tail wags up a storm when he sees you over a month later, lips pulled into a wide smile when you run up to him and jump into his arms. he barely flinches, wrapping you up and squeezing you until he hears you let out a breathless giggle, fingers playfully tweaking his ears as you rub your cheek against his. he goes to put you down, but you whine and beg him to carry you back to the car. he’s helpless to obey, laughing quietly as he does just that. the embarrassment on your grandma’s face and the amusement on the agency staff greets you both when you do, and he’s happy to note that you don’t seem to care about them as you whisper to him about your secret movie collection.

dogboy!caleb who settles into his room later that night after an amazing home cooked meal, warm and full. his thoughts swirl rapidly around his new home, but most of them are focused on you. how he’ll get to spend the next two days with you since your grandma has to work, and he’s old enough to watch over both of them for a few hours. how you promised to show him all the secret movies and anime you’ve got stashed underneath your bed while you eat breakfast.

dogboy!caleb who blinks when he hears his door open, ears picking up the small shuffle of feet and the soft drag of a blanket. your voice echoes out in a soft whisper after the door creaks open, his tail and ears standing stock still in shock. quickly, though, he affirms that he’s awake and sits up, eyes tracking you easily as you pick your way through the dark. you shyly ask if you can sit in his room with him. you have trouble sleeping, and usually you would go to your grandma, but you figure caleb would be better since she has to work early in the morning and you don’t want to bother her…but he’s totally fine to say no! if it’s too much, you wouldn’t mind at all—

dogboy!caleb who immediately scoots over in his bed, patting his blanket as he invites you in. you make a little happy noise, diving for the open side to his bed. you bump and jostle into him, but he easily rights your fall and pushes you to lay down near the wall. he boxes you in like that, wrapping you in your blanket like a burrito. you try your best to muffle your laughs, but it’s hard for you to when you can tell there’s a smile on his face as he shushes you.

dogboy!caleb who falls asleep listening to your excited whispers, deeply breathing in your comforting scent as you snuggle up closer to him. your grandma later finds the two of you in the morning, you nothing but a dark purple lump in your burrito hold, and caleb with his front facing the door, protective over you even in his sleep.

next episode: pt. II

i had to cut it off here cuz it was getting a little too long for this format i swear i never mean to write this much but there's just something about puppydog caleb that gets me GOING. the brainworms refuse to quit so a part two is coming soon !

edit: if you want to keep up with this story, i have no issues tagging ! but if you do follow me and you don’t have an age in your bio i will block you, i’m sorry but im an 18+ blog despite the fluff and i don’t want minors following me; adding this because i’ve seen an influx of people and i guess they didn’t realize i’ve got rules ;;; so please, have an age in bio or you will be blocked !!

#owlettie's works #owlettie writes #lads caleb #love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb #l&ds #l&ds caleb

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nnight-dances · 1 year ago

Text

FOR LOVERS WHO HESITATE.

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. xu minghao)

GENRE: fluff, some angst

TROPES: best friends to lovers, reader is oblivious and an idiot sometimes, kinda he fell first and she fell harder, reader is a moa lol and also a hopeless romantic, wonwoo is in photography school and a youtuber.

it's raining cats and dogs when you step out of the shower and the burst of thunder that follows has you thanking that your commute from work to home hadn't seen any such rain. it's a big night for you, after all, you can't have anything spoiling it. it's txt's comeback night and for once, your schedule's freed up in time for you to be able to enjoy the coming weekend with some brand new music from your favorite kpop group. what's more is you had a date on saturday and where usually you would be shaking with nervousness, you actually quite liked this guy. his name was minghao, and he made you feel a calmness with him that you had yet to feel with another man on any dating apps. maybe there was hope after all…

you apply your prized lavender-scented body lotion as you re-listen to some old albums that have been close to your heart and hum along happily. you're about to turn the kettle on for some tea when you hear the doorbell ring. with a sigh, you glance at the time. there were only a handful of people who'd drop by your place at 9 on a friday.

"wonwoo," you murmur when you start to vagule recall texts from him about coming over for ramen and ice cream. you pad over and open the door to the tall man peering at you through his glasses, "you didn't read my texts again, did you?"

you gasp in feigned offense, "wow, you're really just gonna assume i didn't? of course i did! and that's why i knew it was you barging into my house this late at night."

"late?" wonwoo questions your wording as he lets himself in and then pauses when he catches sight of the elaborate set-up in your living room. the tiny projector you had bought ages ago and long-forgotten about is now out and function, displaying your laptop screen on the white wall, open on txt's youtube channel.

"ohhh," he slowly turns around in realization, "are they coming out tonight?"

"coming back, yes," you call out from the kitchen, turning the kettle on like you'd planned, "i'm making some tea, you want any?"

"no, but i'll have the ramen you promised me."

you narrow your eyes at him, "you do realize you promised yourself ramen, right?"

"come on, y/n!" wonwoo starts whining, "you never hang with me anymore! it's always just work, home, txt, hinge boyfriend, work, work with you. what about jeon wonwoo time? what about best friend bonding hours?"

you can't help the chuckle that escapes you, watching the tall man slumped against your light blue fridge with a pout on his lips. he pushes his glasses back with sleeve of his black hoodie to stare you down.

"...i hear you, sir," you start, "but to be fair, we did hang earlier this week when i took you out to lunch for getting a million subscribers on your youtube channel."

"that doesn't count!" he complains, "that was like, duty-based hangout."

"right," you laugh, "listen, woo, i do wanna hang but you did see my plans for the night in the living room. so i mean, if you wanna grab some ramen and watch five men being silly before their new music drops… you're more than welcome."

this time wonwoo's quiet, mouth moving undecidedly as he weighs his options. then, he shrugs, realizing he wasn't going to change your plans for the night. "eh, sure. it's not like it's my first time anyway."

"cool! we have a plan!" you clap, "glad we came to an understanding."

wonwoo laughs as he watches you take out to packets of ramen and start preparing the soup for them. now that he knows he gets to spend time with you, he relaxes, taking in the light blue pyjama set you have on. it matches the scrunchie in your hand and the hairclips that hold your bangs back in place. he notices how in the silence you naturally start humming a song under your breath, the melody vaguely familiar to wonwoo from the time he's spent listening to txt with you.

truth be told, wonwoo really needed this tonight. he's had a long week of juggling classes and content creation, now that he had the new burden of pleasing a million people who had put their trust in him to speedrun and try out the newest video games. he's also had to meet up with friends, old and new, who reached out to him thanks to his new milestone. while he was always so grateful for the support, at the end of the day, he was an introvert and it was only in solitude he could gain back the energy he'd spent.

except of course, solitude came back when it was with you, nevermind the real definition of the word. easy to say, over the years of your friendship with wonwoo, he'd become used to finding comfort in your warmth, though it changed with time. when you were both in college, it meant studying together and holding each other through the hard times. when you graduated and went on to get a job at a publishing company you'd always admired, wonwoo continued school to get a masters in photography like he'd always dreamed. now, comfort meant escaping his dorm room to drop by your place so he could bother you.

sometimes, he hesitated, worried that he might actually be bothering you. you were an actual working adult, after all. but then, he'd find you sending him stupid memes in the middle of the night on a working night and he'd change his mind, knowing he couldn't go another week without seeing your face.

"hello? you're just gonna stand there and watch me do all the work?"

your stern voice breaks wonwoo out from his daydreaming and focus on the two steaming bowls of ramen that have appeared on the kitchen counter. "oh, sorry," he says, "just zoned out."

"not that you would've been much help with your hands of disaster."

"hey," wonwoo calls, "that's unfair, i'm a perfectly competent cook."

you raise a brow at him, "really, woo? would you say a perfectly competent cook would cut his thumb on a potato peeler? or, what was it the other time, would he spill boiling hot soup all over himself?"

wonwoo purses his lips. "whatever. i can just wash dishes if you're gonna be so mean about my cooking skills."

"sorry, woo, but there are no skills to be mean about," you murmur as you top the ramen with some fried egg. "anyway, here, take these and i'll bring us drinks. beer good with you?"

"you know it, sir," he confirms as he carries out your orders, balancing the bowls in each hand and making his way to the living room. he takes a seat on the couch, when something on the screen catches his attention. though your youtube screen is crowded with suggestions related to txt on different variety shows, there's a video in the corner that shows wonwoo's face. he recognizes it as one of his newer videos this week, one he made to thank his followers for their overwhelming support. he's honestly surprised to the red bar under the video indicate that you'd already watched the whole video. he didn't think you'd have the time to watch an hour long video.

he can't help the satisfied smile that creeps up his face, feeling a new level of accomplished knowing you were so up to date with his content.

"you're really just gonna grin like that to yourself?" your voice calls out, "i'm scared, should i keep a weapon close?"

wonwoo shrugs, "i don't know, would you really have the guts to kill your favorite youtuber?"

you're caught off-guard and when you see wonwoo's video on the screen, you redden, averting your gaze as you place two cans of beers on the table. "so much for supporting my best friend," you mumble, adorable pout on your lips as you break open your chopsticks, stirring the hot ramen around.

wonwoo keeps his smug excitement over the fact that you didn't deny his claim to your favorite youtuber and simply joins you in cooling his noodles. "anyway, i thought that txt was releasing new music? why would that include them being silly?"

"the countdown live, obviously," you inform him before slurping some ramen.

"ahh, right, i forgot those were a thing. when does the live start?"

you turn your laptop to yourself and scroll till you find the link to the countdown live, "hmm, let's see. it says here that there's 33 minutes."

"wanna watch an episode of demon slayer while we wait?" wonwoo asks gingerly, ready to be rejected immediately. but you seem distracted by your phone, your quick typing indicating you were texting someone. "hm? texting a new guy?" he asks, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

you hum out a yes and after a minute, you put your phone down, smile on your lips. "you must really like him if you're texting him back that fast," he comments.

you look at him with a chuckle, "i met him last week on hinge. woo, he's stunning and genuinely nice. how rare is that combination?" you sigh, "i honestly still think he's a little too good to be true but i guess i'll find out tomorrow."

"tomorrow?" he asks, "where's he taking you out?"

you cough, "we're going to a museum and then to lunch at an italian place."

"damn," wonwoo mutters, "he's rich then, i presume?"

you hit wonwoo's arm, "what's your next question? how much does he make a year? his criminal history?"

"i mean, does he have one?"

"wonwoo," you warn him, "he's a perfectly nice guy. or so i hope. anyway, wanna watch this episode of txt's show? it'll warm you up for the live."

wonwoo quietly nods as you click on the recommended video. he takes a deep breath to settle the storm in his stomach and sips his ramen soup to clear his head. he was here to spend time with you, not fight with you over questionable dates you found on hinge.

"that one's soobin, right? he's my favorite," wonwoo smiles when the guy's dimples deepen with a joke another member cracked.

"i thought you liked beomgyu!" you laugh, "you're a really unfaithful one, aren't you?"

he shrugs, "i don't know what you're talking about, i've always been biased toward soobin."

"you didn't even know his name till five minutes ago, but sure, woo, if you insist."

the episode ends with both of you weak with laughter, partly because of the goofy nature of the games txt was playing but mostly because throughout, one of you would make a remark that would get the other laughing and build from there. it really was a never-ending battle with laughter when wonwoo was around.

"oh, i must know what happens next! i know soobin's gonna win this thing," wonwoo says.

"ahh, as much as i want to watch the second episode, we should tune into the live or we're gonna be late," you tell him. "we can watch the second one some other time?"

"it's a date," wonwoo teases back before he can stop himself from filtering his thoughts. but it's too late, you've turned to him with a look of scrutiny, wondering if he was joking or not.

"right, okay, here it is," you pull up the live, which has been on for about five minutes. soobin is in the middle of talking about the album when you tune in. "ohh, look, your favorite boy's talking about the album."

"i see that," wonwoo smiles, "where's your favorite guy at?"

"hmm, wait… ah, there he is, yeonjun with his new haircut," you gasp, "god, black hair suits him so well." wonwoo narrows his eyes at the black-haired guy you've pointed out. you're right, he looks amazing, though he can't tell if it's the hair or just his general abundance of beauty.

the rest of the countdown live goes not unlike before, with you helpfully supplying wonwoo with any context he might missing behind the member's comments. at exactly midnight, wonwoo watches their new music video with you, laughing when at its end you immediately click the replay button. after its third re-watch, you switch to spotify and listen to the entire album once before nodding in satisfaction.

"that's a solid album," wonwoo comments, smiling at your half-contained excitement. "it's everything i need to get through life till their next comeback," you say, "the title track's my favorite for the first time. although that might change as i relisten to the album."

"the title's the catchiest so that's probably right," he says. wonwoo's about to say some more about the album when he catches the look in your eyes. "what's wrong?"

"sorry, i feel bad for making you sit through that for like, three hours."

wonwoo's heart melts a little when he catches you fiddling with the hem of your pyjama top. he lets out a lighthearted chuckle, "you didn't force me. i had fun, y/n."

you smile, "i had fun, too. i always do with you." wonwoo's heart skips a beat at your admission, his cheeks warming up, "oh, right, i should show you the new speaker i bought the other day." you stand up and run over to your room excitedly.

a few minutes pass and wonwoo sighs, hand at his chest, trying to calm himself down. he rests his head against his arm, slumping against the sofa, as his mind races. this won't do, he thinks, closing his eyes to shut out his bothersome thoughts.

perhaps, he calms down a little fast because when you return with the speaker clutched in your hand, you find him dozing off on the couch. you smile at the sight, plopping down next to him. "always falling asleep anywhere, aren't you?" you mumble under your breath, eyes drawn to the portrait of serenity that wonwoo was. you watch him breathe steadily for a while before you rest your head against his arm, inexplicably drawn to the sight before you.

you felt… weird, almost itchy, when you're this close to wonwoo. his eyelashes were longer than you expected at this distance and you have to contain the desire to brush your knuckles against them. you wonder what he must be thinking, to appear to be so at peace. you let out a hum unknowingly and wonwoo stirs.

he comes to with a start, feeling a weight on his arm that hadn't been there when he fell asleep. and then he opens his eyes, almost convinced he's still dreaming when he finds your head against his hand, blinking solemnly as if you had been watching him sleep.

wait… hadn't you actually been watching him sleep? wonwoo starts to wonder but you cut him off when you whine, "you dozed off, jeon wonwoo."

"sorry, i didn't mean to," he mutters, unusually shy.

"well, it's fine. it's getting late," you say. then, after a moment, "do you just want sleep over? it's kind of a trek to your dorm from here."

wonwoo hesitates, blood rushing to his face at the idea of sleeping over at your place. "no, it's fine, i'll just go back."

"no, i would feel too bad letting you do that," you insist with a pout, "plus, it's saturday tomorrow so you don't have to worry about rushing back to class or anything."

he pauses. you were right, it was a pretty reasonable proposition once he thought about it with straight mind. "then, i will," he agrees, "but where do i sleep?" the question comes from the knowledge that you did only own one bed, the one that was in your bedroom. never mind that it was big enough to fit you both, the fact that it was in your bedroom made it off-limits in wonwoo's mind.

"my bed?" you ask.

wonwoo sits up, "absolutely not."

"damn," you mumble, but don't think much of it, "i guess you'll have to take the couch then?"

"that works for me."

you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to push him to sleep in your bed if he really was that strongly against it but you can't help but pry a little more. "you sure you don't prefer a soft mattress with proper pillows?"

"you forget that i can fall asleep anywhere at any given moment with minimal trouble," he shrugs. "but i will ask of you to lend me one of your plushies."

you chuckle at that, "alright then, if you insist. i'll bring you a blanket and a plushie." when you leave to accomplish said missions, wonwoo takes a second to marvel and… well, panic at his situation.

he'd only ever slept over at your place once and that was when he passed out from drinking too much soju. that didn't really count, especially since that time hoshi and karina had also passed out next to him on your floor. so this really felt like a big deal to wonwoo.

you come back with a pile of a soft pink blanket and a matching pink bunny in your arms, dropping them next to wonwoo on the couch. "there," you say, "you want tea before you sleep?"

"nope."

"anything else? water?"

"oh, is there a toothbrush i can borrow?"

"ah, right. i should have some spare ones lying around. come, i'll show you."

it's nearly 2 am by the time wonwoo's in bed (couch), changed into some oversized shorts you had and sporting the same skincare that you used every night. it's all a little much for his poor heart, doing these domestic things with you as if he hasn't been down bad for you since he can remember.

"okay~ goodnight, woo, sleep tight!" you call out. you pat his cheek, crouching next to the couch as you watch him settle down for the night. he mumbles back a goodnight somewhat quietly and you can't help but laugh to yourself at how adorable wonwoo looked.

"tell me if you need anything, okay?"

you stand up, ready to head to bed yourself and really, wonwoo should be thankful he can be alone at last, perhaps, collect his thoughts and rest his brain for the day. but being up so late must be getting to his reason because he reaches out to hold your wrist when you're about to leave, with a hurried, "wait!"

you stop with a raised brow, "what's wrong?"

"my goodnight kiss!" he blurts out with a sudden rush of courage. "i need one to fall asleep."

silence follows his words and wonwoo's ear slowly start to burn up when he hears the echoes of his absurd request playing back in his mind. he lets go of your wrist just as quickly he'd reached for it, covering up with a half-laugh, "i was just kidding. good night!"

a beat passes and he thinks you must really find him ridiculous to not respond to anything he's said but before he can dig himself any further into the hole he's made, he feels your hair brush against his skin. he barely has time to register your body leaning over him when he feels you lips press against his cheek. the moment should last forever but it's over all too quick. wonwoo can't see your face in the darkness but he hears your voice near his ear, breath soft, "good night, woo."

he could die now, he really could, and he would die a happy man. he muffles the sound that escapes his throat when he hears the door to your room creak as you close it behind you. you, on the other hand, stare at yourself in the mirror in disbelief at what just happened.

you really didn't know what to make of wonwoo's request out of the blue, but something about the way he looked so cozy, hair sticking out every which way in the moonlight that spilled into your living room, something about this night in general had you feeling strange. you felt the same itch you'd felt when you found yourself unable to take your eyes off a sleeping wonwoo. it's like when you encounter a beautiful cat lounging in the sun and had to drop everything so you could take in its joyful existence. you couldn't move an inch, completely fascinated by this being before you.

"what the fuck am i thinking…" you mumble, feeling your cheeks warm up. "i must be really tired."

turns out even after a night's sleep you feel as confused as you did when you fell asleep. with a grunt of frustration, you roll over in bed and choose to scroll on your phone to distract yourself for a bit. it's almost 11 when you hear a knock on your door. you contemplate pretending to be asleep but then there's another knock, followed by wonwoo's, "y/n?"

you feel too bad leaving wonwoo to fend for himself in your home so you force yourself out of bed, patting your hair down as you pad over to the door. "hey, morning–"

your greeting is interrupted mid-way when wonwoo's face moves close to you – hilariously close until he's kissing your cheek. your breath catches in your throat and you freeze up. wonwoo stands back up, arms on the doorway, a small smirk on his face. what had possesed him overnight?

you could only ponder in defeat when he merrily called out, "good morning! did you sleep well?"

"i… did…" you start and then stop, hand coming up to the cheek where wonwoo had kissed you. "what was that for…" you wonder more to yourself but wonwoo picks up your flustered question and shrugs.

"i was only paying you back for your goodnight kiss," he smiles, unsettling you to your very guts, "that was your good morning kiss."

you groan, suddenly losing all clarity. frustrated, hiding the blush creeping up your neck, "you know that's not a real thing…" but where you mean to sound harsh, you simply sound bewildered. wonwoo swallows his chuckle and pats your head, "i'm hungry. can you make me breakfast?"

you glare at him, trying to figure out what his real plan was but he simply follows up with, "pretty please? you wouldn't let a guest in your home leave on an empty stomach, right?"

"i- uh, let me wash my face and i'll make you something," you say, pausing for a split second befroe shutting the door in wonwoo's face. you speedrun your morning routine despite your very best efforts to act and thus, feel normal, you wash your face and brush at your teeth at an abnormal speed. you stare at yourself in the mirror when you consider changing out of your pjyamas and mentally scold yourself for acting like an idiot.

"stupid," you tell yourself as you leave your room to find wonwoo cackling at his phone screen. no matter how you look at it, wonwoo's acting different… he seems more confident, or rather, full of conviction, though you couldn't think of any reason why that would be.

etiher way, in an attempt to act normal, you start making eggs for breakfast, scrambled and slightly runny the way you know wonwoo likes them. "toast?" you ask him as you whip the eggs onto a plate. "yes,," he calls out, "with some butter, please!"

you sigh as you place a slice of toast on his plate, sliding it toward him. you plop the stick of butter next to him with a knife and tell him with a sarcastic smile, "you can butter your own toast."

"i sure can," he says with a satisfied smile. you really can't understand what he was thinking and it pisses you off, but not nearly enough to sit next to him as you dig into your own plate of eggs.

"as thanks for feeding me two meals in a row," wonwoo starts, swallowing a mouthful of food, "can i do anything for you? buy you a new pan? go grocery shopping with you?"

"i'm good, thanks."

he frowns at your curt reply. "ohh, how about a movie? it could make for a solid saturday night."

"sorry, i've a date tonight, remember?"

"ah, that," he says, flatly, "i mean, if you have time later right?"

"i'm pretty sure i'm gonna be beat by the time i'm done with the date. maybe tomorrow," you say but you know he can tell you're only half-heartedly saying so. he gives up after, thankfully for you.

"all right, i should get going! as it turns out i forgot my clothes in the dryer for two days straight and someone threw them onto the floor…" you let out a horrified gasp at wonwoo's casual confession, "so i should probably deal with that."

"dude, please, why aren't you running back to your dorm right now?"

"alright, alright, i get it! see you later, y/n!"

with that, the man's off, seeming somewhat appropriately concerned for his clothes now. you sigh once you hear the door close after him, resting your forhead on your fist. your head hurts and it's not even noon. you're mostly just having a hard time comprehending the last 12 hours you spent with wonwoo.

it's not out of the ordinary for you to do impromptu things with him like this but you feel strangely empty now that he's gone. what's worse is your mind keeps replaying this morning when he kissed your cheek like a broken record. it makes you feel like a pervert, thinking about the kiss as if it wasn't wonwoo, your best friend for life. plus, there's that itchy feeling that won't let up every time you think about him. "man, this sucks," you groan out, opening your phone, "and i still have to get ready for that date."

in an efffort to clear out the weariness you feel, you hop into the shower and take extra long in there, singing along to the new txt album and letting your worries wash away with the new vanilla scented body wash you'd bought earliere that week. without a doubt, you feel much better after, patting your damp skin down with some skincare.

that's when you're suddenly reminded of how last night wonwoo had crouched next to you, ridiculously focused on applying the products you handed him all over his face. he looked adorable, straining to get every pore covered as his fingers ran over his face. he had to squint of course since you'd told him you wouldn't stand him getting your precious skincare all over his glasses. after he was done, he'd elbowed you lightly, "how do i look?"

"so clean and healthy, my princess," you joked as you patted him on the head. the proud look on his face made you swoon a little–

what the actual fuck. "fuck," you curse out loud when you realize you'd lost your newly regained sanity to the walk down last night's memory lane. "what the fuck," you repeat under your breath as you through your last steps in a hurry. you feel yourself spiralling again when a ping on your phone saves you.

it's minghao.

minghao: afternoon, y/n! hope u slept well last night :)

minghao: just wanted to tell you i might be a little late cuz i forgot i had to run an errand for my mom! sorry

you melt a little at how sincere he is in informing you of every little change in your plans and can't help but feel a little guilty for viewing the date as a burden. that's right, you owed it to minghao to respect the date and approach it with an open mind. confusing feelings for your best friend for another day.

you: hey!! thx for telling me but don't worry about it

you: i'll text you when i get there so you know where to find me

minghao: that would be great yay

minghao: can't wait to see you

you: me either :)

—

minghao is amazing, exactly as you expected him to be. he shows up at the exact ETA he'd texted you earlier and not without a whole rose in his hand. when you turn impossibly red and shake his kindness away with a, "...but i didn't get you anything," he smiles and tells you to take it, "it's an apology for me being late to our first date."

you inwardly lose it over his emphasis on first date and calm yourself down, accepting the rose with a thankful smile. you had to keep it together if you want there to be another date, for real. he's incredibly sweet the whole time, walking through the museum at a comfortable pace – enough that you'd be able to admire the piece but not too long that you ended up staring into nothing.

after over an hour of perusing the museum's collection, your feet start to hurt a little, no thanks to the uncomfortable loafers you'd brought out for the special ocassion. it's like minghao senses your discomfort and offers to rest at the museum's in-house cafe and get some refreshments. "ahh, i'd love that," you mumble shyly, embarassed that he could see through you so well.

over coffee, you try not to stare at minghao, noticing the few strangers who would pass by your table and do a double take at the man in front of you. he did catch the eye, what with his blonde hair which sat just right by the nape of his neck. you couldn't think of the last time you'd seen someone pull off a mullet so well.

"sorry if i'm a little out of it today," minghao starts with a small smile, "i slept much later than i usually do because my friend came over without notice."

"wait, you won't believe it but something really similar happened to me last night too," you say with a grin. "what did your friend want?"

"really?" he asks with a similar smile. "also, well, he's not really a friend, more like a former roommate who can't get over the fact that i got a job and now have my own place. he likes to cope by barging in and having meals with me or watching a movie."

"wow, it's insane how similar your story is… my friend's still in college so he likes to also barge in and eat my food that i cook and watch stuff with me."

the two of you share a laugh, thrilled at the newfound similarity. "that's cool, we're like each other in a lot of ways, huh?"

"yeah, that's pretty cool," you agree. this is bad. you can't stop smiling. was minghao always this charming?

not that you would know, you remind yourself, laughing at his blunt sense of humour all throughout lunch, barely focused on the taste of the pasta minghao had ordered. you feel unlike yourself. like you're floating and all you could feel was minghao's magnetic charm, keeping you focused on him and him alone. or maybe that was the wine talking.

that's how you end up at your place, kissing his face, before you can comprehend the situation. "fuck," you breathe between kisses, "i don't usually kiss on the first date."

minghao pulls away with a small grin, "i don't either." with that, he kisses you again. and again. eventually, you make it to the couch, each somewhat recovering in their own way. now that you're back to your senses a little, you're more than glad things didn't go any further with minghao. it really was only the first date. you would hate to regret any of it later.

"oh, i'm so rude, i didn't even offer you a drink or anything," you stand up, embarassed, "can i get you something? water? tea? coffee? um, i also have beer but i don't know if that's to your taste."

minghao chuckles, "you don't have to worry, y/n. i'm good as it is."

"no, that won't do. we've been here for like 20 minutes and i haven't even gotten you water," you say, walking over to the kitchen.

"to be fair," you hear minghao say smugly, "we were kinda occupied for a hot second."

"...right," you mumble, reddening a little, "well, i'm gonna get you something whether you want it or not, so what will it be?"

"some tea would be great," he admits finally. "nice, two teas coming up in five," you call out. you spend another 30 minutes just talking to minghao over tea, when you hear a knock at your door. you frown.

you try to excuse yourself but minghao gets a phone call at that very second so you silently gesture to the door and he nods in understanding. you open the door and almost close it right back when you see wonwoo on the other side. he's grinning, all merry as if he didn't just interrupt your date.

"wonwoo?" you question, "can i help you?"

"wow, that's cold," he says. "am i interrupting something?"

"actually, yes. remember the date i had today?"

"i thought that was just some boring stuff like museum and italian food?? now, he's followed you home??"

you shush wonwoo urgently, thankful that minghao was still on the phone and couldn't hear his rude comments. "wonwoo, i'm busy. i'll hang tomorrow–"

"no, i wanna say hi to your date," wonwoo declares, pushing by you and into the living room where minghao talking on the phone. "rude, bro's on the phone in the middle of a date."

before you can ridicule wonwoo's stupid reasoning, minghao turns around, apparently done with his call and raises a brow when he spots the new figure next to you. you grimace apologetically, "sorry, minghao, this is the friend i was telling you about earlier. i tried to stop him but he wanted to say hi–"

"you've been badmouthing me behind my back?" wonwoo interrupts you with an unimpressed look, shaking his head. "whatever she's told you about me, i'm sorry. i'm wonwoo, nice to meet you."

minghao stands up and strides over to shake wonwoo's hand like the nice guy he is and introduces himself. "nice to meet you, too. i'm minghao."

"i just came by because we had plans tonight," he says, with a side glance at your perplexed face, "but i guess i must've gotten the time wrong or something."

"oh, no, no, you're probably right. i've been here longer than planned," wonwoo doesn't miss the small smile minghao throws at you. "but i should head out, too. i also have some guests coming over later tonight."

you look deflated at how things are going, "are you sure?" minghao nods as he gathers his things – things such as a brown leather jacket that looked more expensive than any item of clothing wonwoo owned – and heads for the door. you follow him like a lost puppy.

when you reach the door, out of wonwoo's earshot, you apologize to wonwoo again and he brushes your sorrys off, "don't worry about it. i'm the one who should be sorry for taking off like this. i would've liked to spend time with your friend."

"i don't know how that would've gone down," you say uneasily, "but thank you for today. really. it was great."

"i'm glad to hear that," minghao says with a grin. he reaches close and hugs you, a warmth radiating between you when he pulls away. "thank you for letting me take you out. i hope we can do it again some time." with that he places a kiss on your cheek and takes his leave.

once he's gone, you go back inside and sigh, a mix of feelings in your chest. on the one hand, you feel uneasy now that your date with minghao is over, doubtful of whether he really meant his words about wanting to go on another date with you. your past experience had taught you can never tell with men, even if they told you they loved spending time with you with the sweetest smile on their lips.

on the other hand, you were now alone with wonwoo, which was a whole another problem on its own. a problem you didn't feel equipped to handle right now. not when you still hadn't sorted your feelings about him out. whatever it was, it wasn't easy and it sure as hell didn't become any easier when wonwoo was staring you down, intently.

"...wonwoo," you start, voice low, "i'm really sorry but i don't have the energy for this right now. i just want to head to bed now."

wonwoo doesn't hide the look of hurt on his face. "what? it's like six right now."

"yeah, but i've had a long day and–"

"is this because i interrupted your date with minghao?"

you feel an rush of annoyance rush to your head but reign it for the sake of your friendship. "it's not about anything other than the fact that i'm tired."

"you seemed perfectly energetic when minghao was here. why'd you invite him over anyway? i thought you kept it chill on the first date."

"well, have you considered that i just genuinely liked him enough to bring him over? more importantly, i don't see how any of this is your business, wonwoo."

"of course it is! i care about you–"

"if you care about me, maybe don't cut my date short next time!"

the silence is resounding, following your silence and you hate yourself when you see the grave look on wonwoo's face. he was being for real right now. but you really can't bring yourself to understand him.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i just don't know what you want from me, okay? i thought you would support me when i'm finally have some luck finding a boyfriend–"

"what i don't understand is why you want to find a boyfriend so bad. i think you're happy enough as it is and you only seem to become upset over men. why invite heartbreak into your life–"

"because i'm a romantic, wonwoo. i just want to fall in love!" you tell him, "i got degree my parents wanted, settled for a job that makes me enough money and maybe a little happy sometimes, but the one thing i want to do for myself is find someone i can love. i want to experience love, at least once in my life. is that really so bad?"

wonwoo scoffs much to your utter disbelief, "some romantic you are…"

"what the fuck did you just say?"

you see him visibly inhale deeply and sigh. "y/n, i don't have a problem with you finding love."

"really? because it sure looks like you do? i know you don't really care about love but–"

"why would you think that?"

"well, have you ever been in love?" you ask him incredulously.

"of course i have!" he cries out, "i'm in love with you, y/n."

"you wouldn't–" you start when he says he's been in love and then stumble over your words when you hear his next words. you stop short with your mouth hanging open, "you're– wait, what?"

over the recent years, wonwoo had thought about whether his feelings really needed to be said out loud at this point – he felt like he was crazy obvious. but looking at the shocked look on your face right now, it was clear that if you would never have figured out his feelings without him telling you. which is fair, he can't expect you read people's minds but what really got his heart in a twist was the fact that you hadn't even remotely considered him liking you, which meant you were far from liking him back.

though this a fact he's gotten used to, he feels the sting stronger than usual, maybe because the last day has him confused. to be honest, when you'd kissed him without a warning, it got to his head. thought maybe he had a chance after all. it was that high he'd been riding the whole time; that morning when he shamelessly kissed your cheek, this evening when he invited himself into your place when he knew you had a date over.

but now he's positive he was delusional because all you have are platonic feelings for him at the end of the day.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i had absolutely no idea that–" you don't even know what to say, you cut yourself off, "i'm- i can't give you a clear answer right now. but if you give me some time, i promise i can."

"you don't have to answer me, y/n," wonwoo says with a bittersweet smile, "i know how you feel about me. but i had to tell you at least once before i gave up. i don't want you to feel burdened by my confession, just– why don't you forget about it?"

you blink at his words slowly, "but–"

"i should probably leave," he says, "i've long overstayed my welcome here." with that, he heads for the door, not heeding your requests for him to wait a second, "sorry for ruining your date by the way," he calls out as he leaves without another glance.

–

it takes you a whole day of overthinking your entire life – after all, that's how long you'd known wonwoo now – to come anywhere close to an answer. and really, it's not much. so far this is what you have:

a week ago, you had never once considered wonwoo as more than a friend. maybe the best friend you'd ever have, perhaps a rare and special connection that you wouldn't have with another person. while the idea had come up, through other people doubting the purely platonic nature of your relationship, you had truly never entertained the thought. not because you had something against it, but because you were convinced a link like the one you had with wonwoo was only possible in a friendship.

but then last night had happened, and something had possesed you to kiss him on the cheek – that something might've something to do with the itch in your body every time he was closer than normal, something to do with the way you'd been captivated by his sleeping form.

and reflecting back, you were dumbfounded by how many times wonwoo had tried to hint at his feelings. a few years ago, when you'd gotten drunk with friends back in college, they'd dared wonwoo to kiss the person he liked and he'd politely declined, muttering that he couldn't kiss someone who was being pursued by someone else. as it turns out, and as you had been too stupid to realize, you had been the only one there in a talking stage with a guy you'd met at your part-time job.

then, there was the way he always responded to you quickly, no matter what, ready to do things he was otherwise reluctant to do. always asking to spend time, always trying to stay close. there was also the eye-contact that he barely made with other friends, even other people – the way you'd look at him to find him already looking at you.

"i'm an idiot," you tell yourself as you stare at wonwoo's contact on your phone, wanting to hear his voice but not when you still were so undecided.

that's how it gets all the way to friday and you still haven't reached out to wonwoo. if you're daft reaction to his feelings hadn't closed the deal, your radio silence for the past week sure did. but unwilling to accept that truth, you call him, only a little surprised when he doesn't pick up.

he must be mad, you think. but as much as that thought scares you, you can't stand giving up already. you end up making your way to his college campus, hoping he'd be in his room, even though it was 6 on a friday night.

uncertainly, you knock on his door. and then louder a few more times when you don't hear a response. you're close to giving up and walking yourself home when you hear faint voices inside. "--sick of you making me open the door every time—" it's wonwoo's roommate, mingyu. he stands before you, in boxers and incredibly shirtless, and you think you should've at least texted wonwoo that you were coming over.

but despite your apprehensions, mingyu doesn't seem embarassed, just amused. "oh? it's noona."

you can't help but smile lightly at mingyu's use of the honorific, as if you weren't only a few months older than him. but him continuing the yearslong tradition reassured you, though you were sure he'd heard some foul things about you from wonwoo over the past few days.

"hey, mingyu," you wave uncertainly, and try to get a look into the room past him with no avail, "sorry to show up like this, but is wonwoo around? i was trying to reach out to him but he didn't pick up."

"ah, right, wonwoo…" mingyu says as if he didn't quite know who you were talking about. you can see the gears turning in his head, probably considering if he should tell you the truth or not. the choice is made for him when wonwoo's voice reaches you. he's screaming, "KIM MINGYU, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS BACK RIGHT NOW— WE'RE FUCKING LOSING OUR LEAD BECAUSE OF–"

you stifle a laugh at mingyu's guilty expression. "right, so he is here," you comment in what you hope is a neutral tone. "you think i can see him?"

he pauses, looking unsure, "listen, i don't know the full details of what happened with you guys, but wonwoo's been really quiet the past week and i'm not sure if seeing you right now– if he's in the right state of mind…"

"is that so…" you mumble disheartenedly, though this was a fact that you yourself had been grappling with. "i guess i should leave him alone, then." you're about to take your leave when an arm drapes itself over mingyu's bare shoulder, wonwoo's face poking into your view.

you freeze up when you lock eyes with wonwoo's face, his smile visibly disappearing. "y/n? what're you doing here?"

"i was just–" you rub your neck, looking away in an attempt to come up with a credible excuse, "i was just taking a walk around here and thought i'd drop by to say hi. but um, since you guys seem busy, i'll just find another time. anyway, good night!"

with that, you take yourself out of their sight, rushing down the stairs to the room so fast that you almost trip over and die. thankfully though you've made it to the door that leads out without actually leaving a crime scene on the poor residents' hands.

"y/n! wait!"

you stop in your tracks when wonwoo's voice echoes in the stairwell and almost lose all feeling in your knees when you see him run after you, out of breath. "god, woman, since when have you been this fast?"

"sorry," you say quietly, though you're not sure why you're apologizing.

"can we talk?"

you look up at him in surprise, "...that should be my line."

"i know, gyu told me why you actually came by," wonwoo admits with a deep sigh, "that idiot, i can't believe he tried to shoo you away without even letting you in. sorry about him."

"no, he was just trying to protect your peace. i get it."

"really? in what world is keeping a guy from the girl of his dreams 'protecting his peace'?"

you gasp at wonwoo's blatant admission and swallow against the lump in your throat. wonwoo looks tired, you can tell from the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulder is set, and you feel guilty for adding to his exisiting stress. you owe it to him to give him a proper closure.

"wonwoo, i'm so sorry i didn't reach out to talk this past week. i was just so in my head figuring things out and i kept losing the guts to face you. i truly can't express how much i treasure what we have, and honestly, i'm starting to doubt if it was always platonic. because somewhere along the way, i got so used to being around you, i didn't think about what it meant to be that close to someone.

"that being said, i still can't wrap my head around how i feel. i know it's not the clear answer i promised you, but if you give me a little bit more time, i will be able to think it through. but i understand if you wanna keep your distance with me while i do that. sorry."

"why do you keep apologizing?" wonwoo asks you, brows set in confusion, "you're maybe the sweetest person ever to even think so hard about your feelings for me. and i understand if you need time, it's years' worth of feelings after all… but, there's one thing…"

you perk up at the last part of his words, "yeah, what is it?"

"i don't think i can keep my distance from you," he says, eyes dropping to his feet for a few beats before meeting yours again, "i thought about it and honestly, the worst thing about the past week was that i couldn't just thoughtlessly intrude into your house and eat with you after a long day. maybe that's on me for having quality time as my love language, but god, y/n, i think i'd be a miserable man if i had to live without you."

"wonwoo, i…"

"i'm warning you, if you say sorry one more time, i'm gonna do something bad. plus, i feel much lighter now that the cat's out of the bag. i can finally be the truest version of myself around you."

swallowing the millionth apology on your tongue, you say, "then let's not avoid each other. maybe spending time with you will help me understand how i feel–" you stop yourself mid-sentence when you hear what it sounds like, "wait, no, that sounds insensitive… what i meant was–"

"wait, no, you might actually be onto something," wonwoo says and you feel a chill run down your spine at the smirk that takes hold over his face. "perhaps i can find a way to make you sure about me? like, seduce you?"

"what? that's not what i was suggesting–"

"i know but it's what i am suggesting!" he says, slowly closing in on you, hand coming to rest atop your head. "maybe i can finally let go and do the impulsive things i've wanted to do– don't worry, all within a limit, of course. think of it as the talking stage?"

"the talking stage?" when he puts it like that, you can see some reason behind it. it wasn't serious enough to be a relationship but still served as a step up from your normal friendship with wonwoo. "i guess that wouldn't be not fine…"

"wouldn't be not fine…" wonwoo repeats your words under his breath, "so you're fine with it??" he sighs in relief, fingering coming to brush through your hair before they returned by his side. "alright then! glad we came to an understanding! now, i'm sorry i must excuse myself for i promised kim mingyu i'd be back at game night in no time."

"oh yeah, you should definitely get back to game night," you say with a soft smile, but then catch him by the wrist as he turns around, "oh, wonwoo! thanks for letting me say my thing, by the way… and i'm sorry."

he sighs lowly at that, pulling you into a hug, "what did i say about apologizing again? now i have to do a bad thing or i'll be someone who doesn't keep his word." before you can protest, he pulls apart and leans in close to kiss your cheek. then he kisses your other cheek– and then, your forehead. you're turning beet red by the time he stops at your nose, laughing at your struck expression. "alright, now we're good. and i should be the one thanking you for taking my feelings seriously. i'll see you later, yeah? we should do something tomorrow since it's a saturday."

"yeah," you agree and give him a slight push away, "okay, now go do your thing with mingyu or he's gonna hate me even more."

"he doesn't hate you, he's just–"

"don't wanna hear it! go play your games, gameboy!"

"alright, miss, whatever you say."

–

"watch it," wonwoo warns you, eyes fixed on your screen, "no, no, don't go that way, the turret's gonna hit you."

"i don't understand," you whine, "there's too many things on my screen."

when you'd agreed to let wonwoo teach you how to play one of his favorite games, league of legends, you hadn't forseen the amount of stress would running in your veins. your head hurts and your vision is blurry. you've just started and you're only up against the easiest level of bots but every time you step outside the safety of your base, you seem to get immediately obliterated.

"okay, y/n, here, let me show you," wonwoo shifts closer to you and if anything, it makes it harder to focus when you feel his shoulder come to rest against yours. at the same time, his warmth soothes you somewhat when he calmly instructs you where to go and how to attack the enemy. his tips help you drastically and in the next ten minutes, you've gotten to the enemy's turret, eventually scoring a kill.

"wonwoo! i got my first kill! did you see that?" you turn to him with a bright grin and find him sporting a similar grin, his hand coming to pat your head. "you did so well!"

that's how you slowly make it through the first game, securing a victory, mostly thanks to wonwoo's overpowered skills, destroying his own lane and getting to the base in no time. "god, you're such a show-off," you mumble when you see the dramatic difference in KDAs on the final stat summary page. "i don't think i was built to be a gamer."

"now why would you say that?"

"look at me, woo! i'm sweating my balls off and that was only against bots! i won't last a day in the real world," you complain with a pout, "plus my fingers aren't fast like yours. i take forever to cast my skill and by that time, it's too late."

"y/n, it took me like a week of playing to get my first kill against a bot," wonwoo tells with a grimace, "so the fact that you got through that with a decent KDA is incredible. and my fingers got because i played so much, i didn't get good in a day."

you sigh, resting your head on the couch, "hmm, you have a point."

"but we can call it day if you're tired," he says with a smile, coming back to rest his shoulder next to you and following your resting figure, "thanks for trying though."

"it was fun, but i'm gonna need a week before i can touch this game again."

you feel the laugh that leaves wonwoo in your own chest, the sound filling you with his joy, as if it were your own. without thinking about it, you shuffle closer to him, a soft sigh escaping you when you feel his bicep harden against your arm.

"you good?" he asks you in a low voice when you stay unmoving for a while. you nod with your eyes still closed. "i'm doing great," you say, "just recharging." when wonwoo doesn't say anything in response, you take a peek at him to see him looking at you sideways, with a goofy smile.

"mind telling me why you're looking at me like that?"

"nothing, i just thought it was cute how you volunteered to play league for our date when you don't even know how to play."

you flush, "well, i figured i'd have you teaching me the ropes. and i've been wanting to play with you because you said it's one of your favorite games."

"that's sweet of you, isn't it?" wonwoo says, unable to stop smiling. "you always treat me so well."

"i do, for some reason. it's almost like i'm attached to my best friend or something."

you bite your tongue when you accidently let the words slip, tensing up as you start to correct yourself. "i didn't mean it like–"

"y/n, don't worry about it," wonwoo shushes you with the same smile he's had this whole time. "i know what you meant. and i'm flattered."

you sigh in relief as you drop your eyes to your lap, fiddling with your fingers, somewhat nervous for no real reason all of a sudden. maybe it's because you're conscious of wonwoo, afraid to slip up again and say something hurtful.

"you don't have to be so careful around me, you know?" he starts, "i've lived with this feelings for a while so it takes a lot for me to sway. and remember no matter what happens between us, i'm always gonna be your friend at the end of the day."

"thank you for saying that," you say quietly, eyes still on your hands, feeling guilty.

"hey, at least look at me if you want to show your gratitude."

"i can't. i'm…" you trail off, and then, "i'm sorry."

"there it is again," wonwoo groans, "now you've done it. i'll have to punish you again for apologizing." his hand comes to rest atop your restless ones, slowly stopping your uneasy movements and intertwining his fingers with yours. and then steadily, he takes your hand close to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the knuckles. "the more you say sorry, the more i'm gonna have to work harder to make sure you fall in love with me, okay? and it's honestly pretty bad for my heart if i keep having to do things like this, so spare me."

bad for your heart? you question him in your head but don't voice iti, shaking your head at wonwoo's sly words. "you're insane," you murmur.

"alright, that's more like it."

–

the following week, you see new sides of wonwoo because he takes it on himself to do all kinds things that are out of the blue for him. for one, he's been labelling every hang-out as a date, even when that day entailed perfectly normal activities you'd done a million times over with him. "it's an attempt to rewire your brain," he tells you with a foxy grin, "i'm making sure you don't forget to view me as a love interest."

speaking of love interests, he'd been straightforward with you that if you wanted to go out with minghao that would be fine. but you'd declined the possibility because you wouldn't know what to do with yourself around him now that you were immersed in the uncertainties of your relationship with wonwoo. and on thinking long and hard about the date with minghao, you'd gotten the feeling that you were interested in his looks more than anything. sure, he'd been so charming but it was wonwoo that was keeping you up at night.

that's why you find a way to turn him down when he asks if you'd like to go on another date with him:

minghao: hey, y/n! there's a night market near where i live this weekend

minghao: i've never been able to go but i've heard it's super pretty

minghao: so i was wondering if you'd like to come with me? :)

you: hey, minghao

you: i'm sorry, i don't think i can see you again

you: i really enjoyed our date but there's someone else i'm talking to atm

minghao: oh

minghao: i see

minghao: dw about it! it was nice to see you either way!minghao: but just out of curiosity, is this new person your friend from the other day?

you: huh??

minghao: you know the one who came to your place when i was over

you: …it is him

you: how'd u know

minghao: hehe i just got a vibe

minghao: he looked at you like you were lovers in another lifetime

you: girl what

you: i mean that's so sweet but really?? didn't he just look at me like i was going to feed him for the night?

minghao: no way, when a guy looks at u like that… i don't know how else to say it but he'd love if you were a worm

you: interesting

you: thanks? idk

you: you're cool for a guy that just got rejected

minghao: it's ok, i'm sure i can land another date in time for the night market ;)

you: of course you can

you: goodnight minghao :)

minghao: night, y/n! maybe we'll meet as friends someday

you: maybe…

"damn it, he's smooth…" wonwoo whines when you show him your screen the next day, only after you've made him promise you that he wouldn't jump to conclusions. "i don't think i can stand you being friends with him. like ever."

"wonwoo, i don't think that's gonna happen. but even if it did, i don't know, i think he'd make a great friend."

"oh he most definitely would. that's precisely the problem. i can't be outdone by another man like that," he says in a ridiculously grave tone, "he's too cool. i wouldn't stand a chance against him."

"you realize that the only reason i'm not going on that date with him is because i'd rather go on a date with you?" you poke wonwoo's arm with a soft smile.

the man hesitates, processing your words before a smile breaks out onto his face. "wait— i mean, of course i know i'm– wait, does that mean you–?"

"i'm in love with you, wonwoo. i think i've always been. i was just too much of an idiot to understand it."

wonwoo's imagined you saying something along these lines a lot but what he's been far more prepared for is you rejecting him. for the longest time, he's lived with the reality of you not reciprocating his feelings and that's honestly what became normal for him along the way. so when you look into his eyes, it's like you're looking into his soul and leaving him completely starstuck. all he can see is you before him for a solid few seconds before he truly comprehends you.

"don't look so shocked! i thought this whole week was for this exact outcome!" you laugh at his speechlessness.

"right," wonwoo swallows against his dry throat, suddenly shyer than he's ever been, "i'm just shocked. i didn't expect for it to actually work? i don't know, are you sure you love me? it's not just as a friend? like, i'd understand if it's just because we've known each for the longest time and seen each other through hard times."

"wonwoo…" you exhale, "are you rejecting my feelings right now?"

"no! of course not!"

"then why are you doubting me? i know how i feel about you. that's the whole reason why i took so long to give you an answer."

"i know," his gaze drops to the floor, head reeling a little. this is what he's wanted deep down for the longest time so he can't help but feel like he's dreaming right now.

when you hear the doubt in his voice, you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look back at you. "wonwoo," you shake him, "i love you." you peck him on the nose. "i want you to be my boyfriend, if you'll have me."

"of fucking course," wonwoo seems to return to his senses when you press your lips against his skin. cheeks red and eyes wide, his hands find your body, fingers already by your jaw, pulling you closer. "i love you so much, i think it'll kill me one day. but for now i think being your boyfriend will do."

you giggle at his dramatic statement and close the distance between you, feeling the warm of his breath like never before. he kisses you back immediately, letting out a low groan at the action, the hand at your waist, squeezing you lovingly.

"can't believe i waited so long to do that," he says when the two of you pull back.

you kiss his cheek with a soft mewl, "you're so warm, woo."

"am i?" he wonders, arms moving on their own as they bring you closer to his chest. he kisses your forehead, "now we can both be warm."

—

"okay, okay, i'm ready to leave," you call out victoriously as you step out into the living room. wonwoo looks up from the projector screen where he's currently rewatching a run-through of a new game was gonna try out for his channel. but he immediately loses the smart comment he was gonna throw out there when he sees you, all dolled up and showing off the dress you're wearing with a smug smile.

it's a simple blue dress with a modest neck and long skirt that hugged your hips perfectly. and it also happened to be the dress wonwoo's birthday gift to you last year. you'd worn it out with him before but this is definitely the first time you'd taken it out on a proper date. and how appropriate for it to be a date with wonwoo himself.

"you like?" you ask him as you walk closer to him, running a hand through his hair.

"i love," he replies instantly, arm coming to your lower back, "you look heavenly. god, do we have to go out? i don't mind just staying here and watching you in this dress."

"no," you decline his ridiculous request firmly, "i've been wanting to visit this bookstore for the past year. so i'm sorry, love, but you'll have to do with watching me read if you really want to be creepy."

"it's not creepy if i'm your boyfriend, is it now?"

"...maybe."

"alright, i think i'm good to go then! let's go!"

at the bookstore, you genuinely have to shake wonwoo off your back and force him to find a book he likes before you leave. he complains and whines about how he just wants to enjoy his girlfriend's taste in books but when he does finally wander off, you find him engrossed in a book he found in the science-fiction section.

you sneak up onto him with a grin, "enjoying yourself?"

he looks up, "...surprisingly. but only because i got kicked out…"

"you wanna get that?" you ask him, taking a glance at the book cover. "just drop in here," you show him your basket that already has a couple of your picks in it.

"you're buying?"

"mhm, think of it as a token of our first real date?"

wonwoo smiles, eyes bright, "alright then. thanks."

after that, the two of you walk over to the restaurant wonwoo had had reservations at. it was also a fairly new place but had gotten popular for being a couples' hot spot. and wonwoo understands why when the waiter shows you to your table for the night– it's secluded by a corner on the porch, with nothing but a candle illuminating the surroundings.

"ah, we can also move the table so that both chairs are next to each other?" the waiter says with a polite smile, "would you like that?"

"yes, please!" wonwoo calls out enthusiastically and you squeeze his hand with a chuckle as the waiter nods and shifts for the rearrangement.

"this is perfect," he says when you sit next to him. "this way, i can still hold your hand," he mutters.

"you're cute," you tell him with a soft grin, "i love you."

wonwoo leans in to kiss your lips softly, leaving you a little breathless when he slips in a quiet, " and i love you more than you could imagine."

author's note:

oh my god this fic took everything out of me to get out there... took a whole entire week but she's here, i really hope you guys like it!! i'm really down bad for wonwoo recently, to the point that he might've joined my bias line haha... more reason why tomorrow's gonna kill me. honestly though, this man will keep me going through some tough times (aka jeonghan and wonwoo shortage).

also, i lowkey fell in love with minghao while writing him here so expect a fic soon??? lol idk for a moment there i was confused who this fic was really for (sorry wonwoo i love u tho). as always, thank you for reading and i love reading what you think so please do let me know <3

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leviraaaaaa · 2 years ago

Text

“Daaa-ddy.”

Levi startles, looking up. The little girl stood before him, all wide eyes and beaming at him.

“Yes? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She shrugs, then thrusts out a hair brush and a set of scrunchies. “Do my hair today!” She grins.

Levi is taken aback slightly, not at all expecting such a request. It’s not that he had a bad relationship with his daughter really, if anything Levi spends every second that he can spare with her. But even so, it was so sudden and specific, not to mention she has never asked him to do it before. It was you who helped her get ready.

“Doesn’t mommy usually do that?” He asks slowly. “Is she busy?”

She shakes her head quickly. “I just want you to do it today.” She smiles, holding the brush out to him, waiting for him to take it.

Levi glances at it then looks back up. How could he say no to that?

So, without a word, he motions her to turn around which she follows happily, pulling a stool nearby to sit between Levi’s legs. Levi takes the brush, though slightly hard to hold without his missing fingers, he manages, combing through the black silky strands.

Like his.

Though, his own hair was stranded with gray now, a sign of the long years he had lived. Even Ackermans don’t stay young forever.

But it’s still so strange to him, having her here, right in front of him. He still freezes a little when she smiles at him, watching her with awe. She looked almost exactly identical to him, starting from the shape of her face to the color of her eyes, just the exact shade of the silvery blue that his own eyes hold. But there was a brightness in those eyes that Levi doesn't think he ever had. She was like this little ball of sunshine, always so bright.

And her smile, that came from you.

She was his. Yours. Theirs.

A part of him and a part of you. A whole other human being. A child. A blessing.

It was the hardest at thr beginning. For him to get used to it. Despite the 9 months of pregnancy, it was when he first held her that the realization finally hit him. That she was his daughter. His.

And the moment his eyes locked with the newborn, he knew he was doomed.

That there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this small, small, absolutely tiny person that came to earth no more than half an hour ago. That he had just met.

It was crazy how it only took him only a moment for him to swear his life for her, to become so protective. It was actually ridiculous, how he felt anxious even when it was the nurses holding her, he’d been so rigid, so poised. Even when handing her over to someone else’s arms, he had his hand outstretched because just in case. It took a shit load of convincing from you for him to let Jean and Connie hold her.

It was crazier watching her grow up. Never had he felt this ridiculous amount of pure joy and excitement ever. Only to hear her first words, to watch her take her first steps, holding his hand. He swears it was only yesterday.

His chain of thought was cut off as she started to happily chatter about things. Unlike Levi, she talks. A lot. Levi doesn’t mind, he listens quietly. Every once in a while, inserting a comment.

“I’ve read about you. In the history books. Our teacher taught us.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles, brushing softly. “What’d you learn?”

“They called you humanity’s strongest.” She stumbles on the word a little, which was a bit heavy for her usual vocabulary. She turns around to look at him with awe and wonder, wide eyes asking for confirmation. “That’s so cool!”

He only lets out a small hum in response.

"Will I be as strong as you one day?"

"Sure. You already are." He hopes she never needs to be.

“I saw your picture too. And mommy’s. Also, Uncle Connie used to be bald back then.” She finishes with a giggle, the idea of Connie’s lack of hair amusing her. “You were like a superhero, weren’t you daddy?”

“I wouldn’t shoot that far.” He answers with a small smile.

Back then, Levi had never imagined the idea of having a family. There, caged between the walls, surrounded by those tremendous monsters. When there was no guarantee that you’d come back alive once you’re out there. How could he even think of bringing a child to the world, if he couldn’t even do the least that is to promise their safety?

But now, here she runs and plays outside, without a worry in the world, tirelessly. She doesn’t have to starve like Levi had to, she grows up with only all the good the world has to offer. She doesn’t know the worst of how things could be and Levi hopes she never does. She doesn’t yet understand the role Levi and you had played in creating this world, but she does understand the value of it. She asks questions sometimes, about the wheelchair and the eye and the hand. About your scars and why somedays you can't get yourself from bed. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to answer. And Levi knows, one day, he’ll have to tell her all of it, life back then and the life he had. But for now, he prays, let her grow up with only love and pureness. Let her see the world in her rose colored glasses. Something he never got to do.

She taps Levi’s leg as he bunches the hair to tie a ponytail. “Do braids.” She says.

“Braids? Don’t you always wear a ponytail?” Levi asks.

“Yes, but,” She tries to explain, stumbling for words. “Tash always pulls by it.”

Tash was one of her classmates, Levi knew from her frustrated rants about him. From what he could gather, neither liked each other much. “Next time he bothers you, you do the thing that I taught you.” He tells her.

“The thing with my hands?” She asked brightly, balling her hands to show him.

“Hey, no beating up kids at school. Levi!” You appear in the doorway, only catching the last bit of the conversation. “Don’t give her ideas. And you,” You look at your daughter who was smiling smugly. “I’ve been looking for you–wait, is Levi doing your hair?” You say, finally noticing and very surprised.

‘Yes!” She replies excitedly, “He’s doing braids! He’s very slow though.”

Levi playfully pats her head. “It’s because you keep moving.” He sighs. “Must you need braids? I’m not sure if I can–”

“Yes.”

Levi was about to say something else until she turned around, giving him the most adorable pout ever, eyes all round and needy, her brows pinched together. “Please?” She asks sweetly.

Well damn.

Levi tries, he really tries. But the word no somehow managed to disappear from his vocabulary, along with all of its synonyms. So he sighs, nodding.

“Levi, I can–” You start.

“It’s okay.” He puts up a hand, stopping you. He doesn’t know much about the process, but he’s spent enough time watching you do her hair. So he thinks he can manage it. “I can do it. Probably.” He says uncertainty.

It was slightly difficult to manage multiple sections of hair when you’re missing two fingers, but even surprising himself, he does manage it, after a few attempts. A little uneven, but works.

"Happy?" He asks her, patting her head.

It was good enough for the girl, who jumped up right after it was finished and cheered happily as an answer to Levi. She jumps to his arms, pulling him by the neck to plant a big smooch in his cheek.

“You're the best.” She beams at him, then running off to grab her bag which was by the door.

“Wow, mommy’s nonexistent now?” You fold your arms in mock offense.

She doesn’t answer, only picks up her bag and runs to hug you full speed, wrapping herself around your knees. “I love you.” She calls out, then turns to Levi. “And I love you too! I'm leaving now!”

Then she was out the door before you could say I love you back.

“Don’t run, you’ll fall.” Levi calls out to her, who was already far out of hearing range.

You closed the door. Then leaned against it, staring at Levi.

Levi looked away, cheeks heating up slightly, noticing the strange way you were staring at him, already knowing what comes after.

“So.” You said.

“So, what?” He said, glancing at you.

“Where'd you learn how to do braids?"

He huffs. "From you. I watched you do it.''

"Really?' It was so cute you could melt.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He grunts. “She’s my girl. I can do her hair sometimes, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“So, I’m not your girl?” You pout, exactly the same expression your daughter made just moments ago. “How come I don't I get braids?”

“I–” Levi starts, then huffing frustratedly. He can’t even say no to his daughter, who was he to say no to the mother? He tries nevertheless.

“I’m not doing it. Stop looking at me like that.”

You did not look away, pouting out your lips more.

“I won’t.”

You blinked, turning your expression sadder.

Levi gives up.

“C’mere.” He sighs.

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pitchsidestories · 1 year ago

Text

the three musketeers II Caroline Graham Hansen x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2227

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, we hope you enjoy it.

It was an important match day for Caroline Graham Hansen’s club but for now you and your lover lay peacefully asleep in your bed. Considering your last relationship with the father of your child ended in disaster being together with her felt like a save haven.

The Norwegian and you were completely opposite characters but because the love you had for each other it worked out great. Light steps signalled that your daughter Maya was in your bedroom now.

“Wake up mamis, today’s game day!”, she yelled excitedly into your and your girlfriend’s ear.

With a glance at your phone clock, you turned around to her, muttering softly: “Love, it’s way too early. You’ve to let Caro sleep.”

“But the sun is already out.”, your child pouted while pointing at the window.

Meanwhile, Caroline started to speak, her voice still heavy with sleep:” Coffee.”

“I’ll make you some.”, you promised her.

Eyes still closed the forward hold you back smiling: ”Thanks, don’t forget Mayas hot chocolate, kjaerste.”

“I’d never.”, you grinned at her.

“Caro, you’re awake!”, Maya noticed happily, wrapping her arms around the tall woman for a hug.

“Yes, I am. Hard to keep sleeping with you jumping on the bed.”, Caroline groaned as she hid her face in the little girl’s hair.

She gave her an apologetic look:” Oh, sorry. I’m just so excited.”

“Excited to walk on the pitch with me later today?”, Caroline asked her, it warmed the Norwegians heart to see the child being so thrilled to go to a game because it reminded her that she was once just like her.

You returned with an amused smile on your lips as the hot beverages were waiting to be ready:” She’s. Maya told everyone in kindergarten about it.”

“Oh, she did?”, Caroline lifted her eyebrow in surprise.

Immediately Mayas cheeks turned red:” Yes.”

“They must all be jealous.”, the Barcelona player winked at her.

“They’re”, with a shy smile your daughter added, Caro, can I wear one of your scrunchies?”

“How about we get you dressed first and after that, you can pick out a scrunchie.”, the Norwegian suggested warmly.

“Okay.”

“Come on.”, with these words Caroline helped the little girl out of bed who was quickly running into the direction of your bathroom.

Only a few minutes later you announced:” She’s ready.”

“Go pick your scrunchie.”, the football player whispered. Watching that wholesome scene between them you could feel your heart melting.

Deeply concentrated Maya touched each hairband individually before lifting the one into the air which she chose to wear:” I like the purple one.”

“Want me to put it in your hair or do you want to wear it on your wrist?”, Caroline wanted to know from the girl.

For a second she thought about it before replying:” Hmm.. I want to wear it like you do.”

“Okay, come here.”, your girlfriend chuckled while she put Maya’s hair into a ponytail.

“It looks adorable.”, you mumbled in awe at the sight of them with their identical hairstyles in front of you.

Maya tilted her head from side to side, her tiny ponytail bobbing with every movement.

Caroline held out her hand to your daughter, who happily grabbed it: “Let’s go and get your hot chocolate. I really need some coffee.“

Your girlfriend flashed you a grin as they walked past you into the kitchen.

You followed with a smile on your lips: “It’s all ready.“

Caroline sat Maya onto her chair. A routine that has become established in the past few months.

You watched as Caroline measured the temperature of the hot chocolate with her finger before handing the colourful plastic cup to your daughter, making sure she would not burn herself while drinking. This small gesture made your heart flutter for a moment.

Caroline then grabbed her own cup of coffee and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek: “Thank you.“

“You’re welcome, mi amor.“, you replied cheerfully.

You girlfriends cheeks turned slightly red. She still had not gotten used to the pet names.

“Caro’s blushing!“, Maya yelled out, followed by a loud giggle.

The football player grimaced: “I’m not.“

“Oh, or did Miss Norway forget her sunscreen before training?“, you teased her.

“Oh, shut up!“, she laughed, shaking her head.

“No.“

“No?!“, she repeated with feigned offense.

You smirked at her: “Make me.“

“I’ll.“

“I’m waiting.“, you laughed as Caroline pulled you towards her. Just as your lips were about to meet, a tiny hand pushed your face away from your girlfriends.

“No, hurry. We don’t want to be late.“, Maya protested.

Caroline rolled her eyes: “Maya.“

You shrugged: “Well, you heard her…“

“Fine.“

With a wink, you leaned over to whisper so only Caroline could hear it: “You know she’ll be very tired after the game today. So I guess we can continue later.“

“We’ll see about that. Either she’s tired or she’s bouncing off the walls after the game.“, she replied, looking over at your daughter.

“Like this morning.“, you added with a laugh.

“Typical.“

“Time to go!“, Maya interrupted you again impatiently.

Caroline sighed before picking her up: “Yes, calm down.“

Arrived at the stadium at the same time as the other players. As Ingrid caught sight of your daughter, she dropped her bag and squatted down with her arms wide open: “Maya, min lille!“

Without hesitation she ran into her arms: “Ingrid, Mapi!“

“There’s our ice princess Caro.“, Mapi laughed.

Caroline shook her head: “Would you please leave my mascot alone.“

“But she’s so cute!“, Ingrid pouted.

“She’s not here for you.“

You smiled to yourself. Your daughter was obviously in good hands here.

Mapi gave you a wink before linking arms with you to walk together towards the stands.

Meanwhile Alexia smirked at the little girl:” Maya, who’s your favourite player?”

“Uhm..”, she started, clearly afraid to give a wrong answer to the captains question.

Seeing her this distressed the blonde reassured her:” It’s okay, you don’t to answer it.”

“Okay, I like you all.”, she replied in an honest tone.

“That’s a great reply, now we need to get in line though, the game is about to start.”, Ingrid intervened smiling.

“Caro?”, Maya pulled at the taller woman’s jacket.

With a warm smile Caroline looked down to her:” Yes?”

“Can I hold your hand?”, the girl asked nervously.

“Of course you can. Ready Maya?”, the Norwegian wanted to know from your daughter, while taking her small hand into hers.

“Ready. Are you?”, Maya nodded.

“Yes, I’m ready too.”, as they walked into the stadium, the Barcelona player pointed into the direction where you and Mapi were sitting in the stands, do you see, mami? She’s over there.”

Following Carolines Finger, the girls face lit up once she spotted you:” Yes!”

“Let’s wave at her so she knows that we’re seeing her.”, the Norwegian suggested before they waved at you together. Only a moment later it was time for Maya to leave the pitch but before she was doing that, your daughter gave the Barcelona player a quick hug.

With the help of one of the staff members, the girl quickly found Mapi and you, looking overjoyed:” Hi, mum.”

“Maya, hi, did you enjoy walking out with Caro?”, you questioned her.

“Mami, that was so cool, so many people and Caro wasn’t nervous at all.”, Maya answered enthusiastically.

Grinning Mapi commented on your daughter’s story:” Oh, she’s a bit nervous, trust me. Caro wants to perform well when her girls are watching.”

“Really?”, the girl glanced at the defender. She paused for a second before continuing:” Are Mami and I her girls?”

“Yes, you two are her girls.”, the Spanish woman confirmed.

Beaming Maya told her:” I like that.” You couldn’t be happier about such a declaration from your daughter, who was so welcoming toward your girlfriend.

After the match Carolina saw how Irene was getting her son to celebrate the glorious win, which made her want to do the same. Smiling she walked to the place you both were standing:” Maya, do you want to come down here.”

“Can I, mami?”, your daughter turned around to expectantly look at you.

“Sure.”, you responded encouragingly.

This was enough for Maya who ran quickly on to the pitch into the open arms of your girlfriend who was chuckling out loud:” Look at you, walking around here like a professional.”

“Mateo still needs a little practice.”, the girl observed laughing.

“He’s still small.”, Caroline reminded her.

“Yeah, tiny.”

“Yes, true.”, the Norwegian agreed.

“Maya, Mateo wants to say hi to you.”, Irene interrupted their talk in a kind voice.

“Mateo, hi.”, Maya greeted the smaller boy politely.

Watching this scene unfold, Ingrid chirmed:” Cuties.”

“Look at them hugging.”, Mateos mum hummed.

“That’s him telling you welcome to the Barca family.”, Mariona explained to your daughter.

Playfully Caroline wrinkled her nose:” This is disgustingly cute.”

Irene looked at her and slightly offended repeated: “Disgustingly?“

“You know Caro, Irene.“, Ingrid laughed.

“I thought things would get better now that she’s a mum too.“, Irene joked.

While you walked towards them to join them on the field, you recognized that the smile had disappeared from your girlfriends face.

You politely smiled at the other players and put a hand on Carolines arm: “She’s trying.“

“Mami?“ Mayas voice called.

You looked down at where she was pulling at the hem of your shirt: “Yes?“

“When can we go home?“ The toddler rubbed at her eyes, a clear sign that she was getting tired.

Before you could answer, Caroline scooped her up into her arms: “We can go now.“

“Okay.“, she mumbled into her chest.

Even though the car ride home was short, Maya barely managed to stay awake. You had watched her eyes close in the rearview mirror. As soon as you stopped the car, Caroline turned towards your daughter: “Tired, Maya?“

“No!“, she murmured, her eyes still closed.

Caroline chuckled: “I can tell.“

She got out of the car before picking up Maya from her seat and carrying her inside.

“No problem, she can have a nap while I’m starting to cook.“, you suggested while you walked inside the house together.

Caroline nodded once: “I’ll bring her to bed.“

“Thank you.“ You leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your daughters forehead. She was now fully asleep in your girlfriends arms.

You started cooking pasta while Caroline left with Maya. It was not the first time that she tucked your daughter in, but it still made you feel warm inside.

A sheet of paper on the kitchen table caught your attention, right as you were about to start with the sauce.

You wiped your hands on a dish towel and skimmed over the document.

The words on the first few lines made your heart skip a beat but you had to suppress a gasp as you saw Carolines signature on it.

Caroline returned into the kitchen in that exact moment, you held up the paper and whispered: “What is that?“

Your girlfriend bit her lip, nervous energy was radiating off of her.

She took a deep breath before answering with an unusually shaky voice: “I… uhm… I thought if we want this to be something longterm, we should be a family on paper too.“

There was nothing you could do. Your eyes immediately welled up with tears. You put the adoption papers back on the table and walked towards your girlfriend: “Caro, this means a lot… you know that?“

“You know, we can just throw this in the trash if you don’t want this.“, she started but you pulled her towards you into a hug.

“No, I want this.“, you sniffed. Tears ran down your cheeks, moved by this beautiful gesture.

“You do?“

You nodded, lifting your head to meet Carolines eyes: “Yes, I’m very sure and so is Maya. Her face lit up when Mapi called me and her your girls.“

“We still should ask if she wants that too.”, your girlfriend thought out loud.

“Maybe after we had dinner?”, you suggested.

“Yes.”

Both of you were nervous when it came to finally asking your daughter the important question. Unlike Maya who looked serious between Caroline and you:” So, what did you want to ask me?”

“She sounds like she’s the mum and we’re the children.”, the Norwegian commented amused.

“She does.”, you admitted laughing, feeling the tension release a bit from your body.

The football player turned her head to your child, sounding earnest:” Maya, I have an important question for you, what would you think if I officially became your mum too?”

“Would you?”, Maya responded big eyed while she made her way to Caroline.

“I’d love to.”, your girlfriend replied seriously, feeling her eyes getting slightly wet by how moved the little girl and she herself was.

Your daughter went on to hug her:” Me too, mum.”

Overjoyed Caroline looked up to you, gesturing with her hands that you should join them:” Come here. I love you, my girls.”

“Are we still the three musketeers?”, Maya asked anxiously.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, the football player reassured her:” Of course, we’re.”

“All for one.”, you and your girlfriend began beaming.

“And one for all.”, the little girl cheered, knowing deep inside that she could count on her two mums in whatever the future would hold for you three as a family.

#caroline graham hansen #caroline graham hansen x reader #caroline graham hansen imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso oneshot #woso one shot #woso community #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #woso #ingrid engen #mapi leon

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