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100vern · 9 months ago

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ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

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oatmealthighs · 4 months ago

Text

-`♡´- plug!eren x blackfem!reader

ᯓᰔ contents: nsfw 18+, MDNI. reader indulges 🍃, eren is overprotective, public sex, maybe semi public? idk. daddy/mama usage. might be some slightly toxic dynamics. but nothing too serious. rushed ending cus i suck at endings 💔 a sequel full of fluff will be coming soon out of this.

ᯓᰔ author's note: omg i haven't posted in like months. but anyways what would i be without dropping the token plug!eren drabble. nothing too crazy, just some bathroom sex. also there are instances where there are texts but i got too lazy and didn't bother making texts out of them mwahahahaaa sorry in advance. this is barely proofread and not my best so if there are mistakes i am sorry. requests are open! also look out for a tengen x reader x wives fic coming really soon. like this week soon

the feeling of your phone buzzing in the back pocket of your true religion jeans whisked your attention away from the pearled blunt you had pinched between your fingers.

your glossy lips curled into a little smirk, your acrylics clicking at the keyboard of your screen.

you've been pushing eren's cute lil buttons all night. honestly all day... but you didn't feel bad for making him sweat. he's been trying you as of late.

you and eren were supposed to be spending some quality time together last night, and he was specifically supposed to be over your place by no later than 8:00. you had the whole shabang... bath and body works candle burning out, led lights on and set to the color purple, some of his favorite snacks and some dinner and dessert you had wrapped up for him that you had made earlier. you were planning on watching a show with him, giving him a scalp massage while he played his playstation that he always brought whenever he came over, and give him the best head he's ever received that night before riding him into the sunset, but all those plans went soiled. 8:00 came, and on the dot he had sent a text message about him having to go make a few more drop offs, then he'd come to you. 8 turned to 9, then 10:30, then 1... fucking... AM.

was it fucked up you didn't answer the door when he came knocking finally? kinda, but the guilt didn't last long when you thought about how he practically stood you up.

eren was a popular plug on the university you attended. you knew friday is usually the day that people were trying to cop, given it was majority people's payday and the weekend, but you were hoping that he would close up shop early just this one time for you. his clientele would live-- there were plugs by the dozen on campus. but eren knew wasn't none of them fucking with his shit. you weren't sure what other outcome you were expecting. he never turned his head away from possible income.

eren already knew he fucked up, but he knew ultimately in the end it was going to be worth it. the extra money was going to go into play towards his proposal to ask you to be his girlfriend, and no amount of your anger was going to get that out of him. he was prepared to keep his mouth shut, throw away the key, and take his lashings like a man. so when he was met with radio silence, he was flabbergasted.

when he pulled up to your crib and didn't get an answer from him knocking on your door and calling your phone, he figured you fell asleep and resulted in retreating to his abode. the next morning, when he woke up to find that you didn't respond to his apology texts from last night, it made him sit up in his bed and squint at his phone with crust-ridden eyes.

no response? it was so unlike you. usually you would respond with a barrage of text messages stating your feelings, or at the very least he'd get a passive-aggressive dry text from you. but to be met with nothing at all made his gut twist in a disgustingly vexing way.

he rubs at his temples, sending you a "good morning baby" text before opening the safari app and going to the local floral shop's delivery site.

later that afternoon, eren's sitting in his blacked out durango when he receives email confirmation that the flowers have been delivered, the low hum of the strong engine the only thing somewhat soothing his frazzled nerves. he made sure to get your favorite, and tried to ask them to incorporate your favorite color as much as possible.

he checks your location as he hits his blunt, releasing the smoke from his mouth and inhaling it through his nostrils. he already knows your home, having your schedule downpack. and you were. so why didn't you say anything about the flowers? did you not like them? he sends you a text, saying, "i sent you some flowers," staring at the screen and awaiting your response.

yess, you know he sent you flowers, and you loved them. you had gasped when you found them on your porch, bright and vibrant in color and smelling so freshly sweet. you had already cut the stems and put them in some warm water in a lovely vase. you almost wanted to text eren, to tell him how much you loved them and thank you, but the strong annoyance you had from last night still lingered. with a twist of your lips you disregarded your phone on the kitchen counter, humming a tune as you moved about the kitchen to prepare you a nice lunch.

eren releases a defeated sigh as he puts his jay out, not even in the mood to smoke anymore. mopily, he clicks off his phone, shifting his gear to drive to make more plays.

he spends the rest of the day pondering ways to possibly pull a conversation from you, and a lightbulb flickers in his head when he recalls you saying you were running low on weed. eren always gives you gas free of charge, one of the special privileges that comes with being his favorite girl. he opens his phone to text you again.

doechii's expressive voice flows through your speaker at a volume level most would call excessive. but you didn't care. anything to drown out the annoying pensive thoughts of eren's sexy little face. "i ain't a killer but don't push me, don't wanna have to turn a nigga guts into SOUP BEANS!" no, really, doechii.

your phone vibrates on your vanity as you rummage through your closet for a cute outfit to wear tonight, striding over to your phone with nimbleness. you figured it'd be hitch, since you and her were accompanying each other to the kickback tonight and she was asking either what time you wanted to go or what you were wearing. your hypothesis was proven incorrect when you saw eren's name on your notification wall instead. just him asking if you wanted to him to drop off some more weed for you.

your heart twinged ever-so-softly at the thought of you ignoring your baby. you missed him. it was embarrassing to say this was the longest you went without talking to him. but how would he know you were serious if you just gave in now?

you wanted to respond and tell him you were cool. hitch was bringing the weed tonight. but you refrained, if anything that would get him all the more riled up. eren doesn't like you smoking others weed, his reasoning being he doesn't "trust their product." he was so sexy when he was protective. you remember when you told him you copped from someone else when he had to go off campus for a little bit to see his family, and he spent a half hour inspecting it on the scale with his phone flashlight.

eren let out an irritated growl after constantly checking his phone for 10 minutes, still no reply from you in his notifications. he wanted to tell you you were dragging it, but he knew you weren't. you had every right to be pissed with him given he had promised you this quality time and swore he would make time for you. you were never a stickler for too much attention, but with eren always on the run it was easy for him to neglect you. he's been getting better at it though. until last night.

connie's name flashes across eren's phone screen. he slides the answer button right and lets his car sync the call to the radio. "yo."

"what's good, man. you coming to the kickback tonight? it's gonna be at jean's place." eren rolls his neck until he hears it pop. he knows you'll be there.

"yeah, i might come. today's been slow. don't got nothin' else to do."

"damn, i know that voice. what'd you do this time?"

eren weakly chuckles at connie's intuition. "what can i say, business was booming like crazy last night. we were supposed to hang out but my phone just kept ringing."

connie let out a long sigh over the line. "typical eren, never knows when to close shop." he pauses. "you know you're the asshole, right?"

"yeah," eren groans, shutting his car off and putting his phone on speaker. "i know. i plan on making it up to her."

"yeah, how? surely not with some weed and dick." connie snorts. "[name]'s a nice girl, you plan on locking it down with her anytime soon? i see the way floch be looking at her."

"he wouldn't dare," eren denies, the simple thought of it just making his eye twitch. while you and eren weren't official, basically everyone in the friend group and the vicinity knew y'all were on each other bad. but some assholes just didn't respect boundaries. he noticed floch's gaze would linger on you a little longer than he deemed appropriate. how they would trail your body. he noticed the way his cheeks would blush when you would speak to him in passing or make small talk.

"i dunno, man," connie instigated, smugness in his voice. "but, bring a quarter with you. it's on me, i'm gonna zelle you."

"just send me $50." eren and connie exchange a few last words before they end the call, leaving eren in silence as he stares at the gray wall of the parking garage he was parked in. he didn't know what he was gonna do about you.

eren always tended to look the sexiest when you were mad at him, or he was upset with you. he always would wear his hair down, taupe tresses brushing his broad shoulders. he'd always wear a black tee and some baggy sweatpants that always had you imagining what it was he had underneath. it was nothing you haven't seen, but it was always a pleasant surprise.

you felt your defiance wavering when he and all is glory walked in to jean's house, high as fuck. you swore you could smell his ysl cologne from across the room.

"you okay girl?" sasha questions, her eyebrows pinching in concern as she leans into your eyesight. you blink your mascara coated lashes, giving her a smile.

"yeah, my man just walked in. he always looks so good when im pissed at him."

"it's a trap. don't fall for it." hitch scoffs, her hazel eyes trained on the blunt she was busy rolling. her thighs were squeezed together to keep her carebear rolling tray in place. "don't even look his direction."

"i forget hitch is such a hard-ass. how does marlo manage," ymir jokes. historia chuckles, her head resting against her girlfriend's broad shoulder.

as their conversation goes on, your eyes can't help but find eren again through the decent amount of people crowding the bottom floor of the house, watching him interact with connie and hand him a bag of what you assumed to be cannabis. his turquoise eyes cut across the room, and you know he's looking for you. you look away before any eye contact can happen. when you feel eyes burn into your skin, you know he spots you.

the night involves you acting as if he doesn't exist, keeping your back turned and acting like you're too busy to acknowledge your phone notifications. when you finally light the blunt hitch pearled, you know eren texts you asking where did you get that. you chuckle to yourself as your thoughts were confirmed when you snuck a peek at your phone.

eren feels anger welling in his body as he watches you from a safe distance, lounging against the wall and his eyes never leaving you. you knew what you were doing at this point. wearing them jeans that made your ass sit so perfect and a crop top that teased at your skin and your belly button piercing. your hair was in curls, and your glittery lip gloss shone in the low light of the room. he knew you probably had on his favorite perfume too. that vanilla one he loved so much.

"just go talk to her dude," connie yells over the aggravatingly loud jersey mixed song that was booming through the surround sound, his words slightly slurred from the drink he's been sipping on. eren furrows his thick brows as he hits his spliff, watching the tip burn bright orange as he shuts his eyes for a moment. "and you better hurry. i think tonight's the night floch makes his move."

"connie, shut the fuck up." eren's tone is firm and warning as he feels the vein in his neck rising to the surface of his skin. he finally opens his eyes, glancing at you, and what he sees makes his stomach cave and everything around him turn red.

floch, with his ugly fucking haircut and that ugly dangling earring had the audacity to be all up in your glory, smiling sheepishly as you were saying something to him. he doesn't know what you were saying, your back was to him, but the way your head swayed and your hands were moving he knew you were talking.

honestly eren was never this defensive of someone before. maybe it was your constant insistence of you being fine on your own. "boy, i'm grown," you'd say to him. it only made his instinct to protect you grow stronger.

he knew well you could handle your own. but how fucking dare him?! it's like floch was begging for an ass whooping!

he wasn't actually. he was begging for you to send him the homework answers for your chem class. "not gonna lie floch, i haven't even looked at that shit yet," you admit with a shrug, your lips pulled into a friendly smile.

floch groans as he rubs the back of his neck. "i'm for sure gonna flunk that class. i might just say fuck it and retake it next year."

"not if i can help it," you interject, furrowing your brows. "we pass together, we fail together. i'll send you the answers on groupme tomorrow when i finish."

floch pumps his fist. "man, you're the fucking best, [name]. if you weren't in there i dunno what i'd–"

a hard body brushes past floch, harshly and intentionally slamming his shoulder into theirs. "hey, man, what the–"

you smell eren before you see him, wearing that delicious cologne that's stained into your bed sheets. you look up to find him looking down at you, fire in his sea green irises as he glares at you.

you feign oblivion, lifting an eyebrow at him. "hey," you speak first.

"why haven't you been responding to my texts." his voice is curt, but still soft nonetheless. you feel your girls looking at you intently to see how you were going to play this.

"been busy, sorry," you respond, not sounding much too apologetic.

eren cuts his eyes to the right to see floch still standing there, much to his distaste, a look of confusion plastered across his face. "you need somethin'?" he asks him, a foreign, cutting edge to his question.

"i was just trying to ask her about the homework, dude," floch bites back defensively, taking the smallest step back.

your dainty hand trails up to grab eren's forearm, your soft, irreplicable touch quelling his aggravation. you swear you could feel his taut muscles relax at your contact, knowing he was probably deprived. so dramatic.

"eren, calm down," you reprimand him gently, but sternly. you gave floch an apologetic glance. "sorry, floch. see you tuesday."

floch nods, his auburn eyebrows creased in the middle as he glanced at eren, then back at you, before departing. in tandem, you let go.

"what's your problem," you seethe, but not loud enough for your friends to hear. "you damn near made that boy shit his pants."

eren sucked his teeth, closing his eyes to roll them as he clenched his jaw. "why are you ignoring me, [name]," his low voice is strained, constricting his internal anger to the best of his ability. his high was blown, the music was too loud, you smelled and looked too good, it was all too much.

you place a hand on your hip, your beautiful eyes passive, but holding a glint of hurt behind them. "just collect your breath. i don't wanna talk about it here... even though you know what the problem is-"

"yo, [name], wanna hit this again?" saved by the bell.

"yes, pleaseeee," you drawl. you turn on heels, but not before telling eren, "i'll see you later."

shortly after eren departed to god knows where, and you got high as hell, was when you received that text. and you don't know if it was the marijuana making you fuzzy and horny, the growing urge to just be in his arms, or what, but you complied.

as you brushed and weaved between drunken bodies, you couldn't subdue the underlying feelings of anxiety that swelled in your chest. you didn't know what to expect. but you knew one thing for certain, you were gonna give eren a piece of your mind tonight.

when you finally made it to the bathroom door, you released a breath you didn't even realize you were holding, shaking yourself of your jittery nerves before your knuckles rapped against the hollow wood of the door.

it wasn't even three seconds before eren cracked the door, and before you could say anything, you were yanked in.

you squealed at his presentation of strength, the butterflies in your stomach downward-diving straight to your core. "well, damn! what happened to hello? how are you?!"

eren ignored your playful reprimanding, instead using the time to soak and drink you in. you were so pretty, fussing at him like that. the way your glossy lips twisted as you spoke on about nothing relevant, the way your hair swayed with every movement you made. every muscle in his body urged him to kiss you, breathe you in.

"whatcha call me in here for? it's hot as hell..." you murmured, leaning against the cool wood of the door in attempt to catch your breath.

eren was quiet as he loomed on the opposite side of the bathroom, half-lidded cyan eyes carefully trained on you. you lifted your eyebrows with a shake of your head, prompting him to go on, your arms crossed against your glittery chest. "you're so pretty," he hums, a side smirk playing at his lips, showing his pretty white teeth that you wish you were nibbling on you just about right now.

"can't smooth-talk your way out of everything, eren," you resisted with a strain in your voice, turning to face the mirror to the left of you instead of him. "i'm still upset with you."

"rightfully so," eren agrees, slowly closing the distance between the two of you, backing you against the cool oak wood of the bathroom door. "'m sorry baby, you know i love spending time with you more than anything in this world–"

"i beg to differ," you interject. eren rests his eyes as he clenches his jaw, withholding a sigh. "all i asked was that you put me first for one night... and you couldn't even do that."

"baby, listen to me." eren's large hand engulfs yours, the warmth of his palm spreading through your limbs like wildfire. "words can't even begin to express how deeply sorry i am. i know i fucked up... i know. but, i had reason i've been wanting to work a lot more often as of late." he pauses. he couldn’t possibly pop his question in a bathroom at connie’s party. you’d hate him ten times more than you already do in his moment.

you cock your brow, looking up at him through those pretty lashes that framed your eyes so well. “i’m waiting, eren.”

he sucks in a deep breath, making the sound he usually makes when he’s about to say something you don’t like. “just… trust me. okay?”

that was enough to make you head for the door, reaching out to twist at the knob before he grabs at your wrist. “man, move,” you mutter, over the bullshit. you were over it all: the lies, the empty promises. and you were especially over being crowded in this bathroom with him, because you felt your resolve faltering with each passing second you remained in his presence. you felt like an animal resisting every primal instinct and bone in your body, begging you to let him touch you. it was borderline pathetic.

“you aren’t going anywhere, [name].” he meant that in more ways than one.

“how much you wanna bet?”

the frustrated glint in his aquamarine eyes and the knit in his thick brows made your knees give.

“ummm, have you guys seen [name]?” hitch asks after a good thirty minutes fly by since you first departed the group, skating her eyes around the living room with a quizzical glance.

ymir snorts. “you already know she ran off with that boy,” she exhaled the smoke she was holding in her chest out towards the ceiling, running her long fingers through historia’s golden locks. “wouldn’t be surprised if she already dipped off with him.”

not quite. instead, you and eren were still in the bathroom, your ass on the bathroom counter and your head resting against the mirror as eren was crouched before you, low to the ground as he slurped at your pussy like a man starved. he looks up at you from his place between your thighs, tongue flicking at your swollen clit before taking it into his mouth to suck on it whole. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your eyes rolling behind your closed eyelids as eren gazed up at you with hearts in his eyes. you were always so fucking beautiful, whether you were mad at him, grinning at him, or cumming for him.

“fuuuck, i think i’m bouta cum again,” you whimper, your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm brewed at a slow boil within the pit of your stomach. you already left your mark all over the marble sink, leaking down your thighs, and all over eren’s chin. but when was that ever enough to satiate his thirst?

“do it, baby,” he breathes, french kissing your pussy before speaking again. “you know i want it.”

“get it outta me, then,” you retort, a sexy simper pulling at your lips, and the darkened glare he have you through heavy eyelids made your pussy squeeze.

his big hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging in your skin as he begins rocking your lower body up and down, sliding his long tongue from between your pussy lips to your ass with each bounce. you let out a squeal of surprise, your pink toes wriggling as he just kept doing it, over and over and over. you hear him, moaning with each stride, reveling in the saccharine taste of you. his dick felt like it was bouta break, restricted to his boxer briefs, and he felt the sticky precum leaking on his thigh. he needed to fuck you. but he always prioritizes you over all.

your orgasm bust inside you, your pussy profusely contracting as your juices coated eren’s face. “fuck, yeah,” he encourages in you, his voice in a low growl of satisfaction. he didn’t stop, cleaning you up and slurping your pussy clean. you flinched as he left a final loving kiss to your aching clit, and he chuckled as he stood to his feet. your eyes couldn’t help but look at his crotch, you couldn’t help but smirk at the prominent tent of his stiff dick being held hostage in his sweatpants. “turn around for me. i want you to see me fuck you.”

you slid off off the counter, ringing your panties off the ankle they were hanging on to, before turning around, leaning against the sink and arching your back. you looked back at him, gazing at him tauntingly. “whatchu waiting for?”

“cool it,” he warns you playfully, his thumbs hooking into the bands of his sweats. "don't bite off more than you can chew."

"i've had mouthfuls of you. i promise you i can chew."

"look at the mirror."

you turn back forward, looking at eren in the reflection. he was so pretty, his hickory locks tousled around yet still framing his face beautifully. his bottom lip was pinched between his teeth as he shifts his pants to fall below his knees before rolling his briefs down his thighs. he lifts his tshirt up, showcasing his tan abs that had a slight shimmer of perspiration as he readies the head of his dick at your opening. then, with steady hips and a deep breath, he pushes forward.

him putting his cock inside of you was such an irreplicable feeling, you don't know how to explain it. to feel his girth stretching you, giving you a burn that was so deliciously good, always made your head spin. you whine, pushing your ass back just a little bit to help eren bottom out in you. he cusses under his breath, grounding himself with a hand on your ass cheek as his pelvis met flush against your tailbone.

you felt his dick twitching inside you, and you couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan as you let your head drop against your arms folded over the sink. eren grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he tries to regain his composure. you were so warm, so wet, so greedy judging by the way your pussy squeezed him like a vice. any sudden movements and he was bound to nut in you.

suddenly, the bathroom knob jiggles, followed by pounding against the door. you jump, your muscles stiffening as fear tickled at your tummy. eren hisses, his nails digging crescents in your cocoa buttered skin at you tightening around him. "uh, anyone in there? i gotta piss!" connie. what are the fucking odds.

"uhh, give me a few minutes!" you yell, your voice uncharacteristically shrill from your newborn anxiety as you looked back at eren with wide eyes. "maybe we should-"

you were shut up with one, heavy stroke, eren almost completely unsheathing himself before bottoming out in you again. your words died in your throat, replaced with a gasp.

"uh, okay...?" the end of connie's okay drawls up in the end. "wait, [name], is that you? are you straight in there?"

"yes... fuck, yes!" you sputter out, squeezing your eyes shut as eren picks up his speed a bit, but not his power. he was gonna do you a favor and not fuck you too dumb in here. he wants you to at least have some chance of walking out of here on your own two feet. "i'm fine!"

"okay, okay! i'll just go upstairs." after a few seconds, you hear connie shifting away, but that genuinely wasn't your main focus. eren was rolling his hips, making sure the tip of his dick hit that sweet spot that made you sing with every. single. thrust. your head was down, resting against the counter, your eyes stuck in the back of your head as you took every inch of him with grace. your moans were mere whimpers, trying your best to muffle them with the inside of your arm.

eren sees his phone vibrate from his place on the hanging shelf beside him, and he smirks to himself when he takes a brisk glance at the banner:

convict: [name]'s in the bathroom. she didnt sound too great so u should prolly check in on her

eren groans under his breath, leaning forward to mold his abdomen against the curvature of your spine. that motion was enough to make him feel like he was touching your stomach. "what are you doing?" he purrs, flicking his tongue out to lick at the shell of your ear. he feels you shiver, your shoulders shuddering as a sex-soaked cry escaped your lips. "i said i want you to watch me fuck you. why are you hiding that pretty face?"

you had nothing but a pathetic moan to offer as a response, and he scoffed to himself, a smirk curling at his lips. he stands straight, both of his hands settling at your lovehandles as he begins sending you to poundtown. the impact of his hips against your ass was loud, and there was no doubt that if anyone came to the door they would hear you getting the shit fucked out of you. "be a big girl, mama," he muses. his hand reaches for your curls, gripping your tresses to pull your head up and back. you squealed, your eyebrows pinching at the burning sensation. you mustered up the courage to flutter your eyes open to be met with the godly sight of your man, looking down at you throw those thick eyelashes, his cheeks tinting pink from the overwhelming heat of the small, crammed space. " watch me while i fuck you."

his wish is your command as you watch him through teary eyes, licking your lips at the feeling his hand snaking up the arch of your spine to come around and grip your chin. the pads of his fingers rest on your cheeks, slightly squeezing as he snaps his hips against you from behind. his eyes are boring into you, clouded by lust with a hint of adoration, watching the way your face contorts into pleasure-ridden expressions. he's watching the way your plump lips wrap around his thumb, the way your titties bounce with every deep thrust and threaten to spill out your victoria's secret bra and tank top, the way that fat ass jiggled and made waves every time he drilled his dick in you. you were perfect. from your pretty face, to your loving heart that had a padlock with his initial on it, to your gushing pussy that would squirt all over him just for him.

"this pussy is so perfect," eren hums, looking down in awe as he watches the way you cream and squeeze on his shaft. "it's like it was made just for me. was it, baby? this is just my pussy, right?"

"you know that, daddy," you slur, feeling your orgasm coming to a head. you were so ready to release, your pussy just aching to cum. you hear him give a chuckle, his hips speeding up in tandem.

"i think you're ready to cum now. i want it all on my dick. can you do that for me, princess? or is that too much to ask of you?"

but before you could even muster a response, it was as if a tsunami hit your pussy, because the way your juices sprayed against his upper thighs was a damn shame. eren lets out a moan of appreciation, biting his lip as he lets your orgasm ride out and coat his dick. he gives your ass a few appreciative cracks, making you tighten around his cock until you managed to collect your breath.

eren slowly begins unsheathing himself from you, his dick still solid as concrete but he honestly wasn't concerned with getting his own nut off right now. after all, this wasn't going to be the last time he was to be in you tonight. as soon as he takes you back to his place, he was gonna fuck you through the mattress and the bedframe.

"girl, there you are! you've been missing for like, an hour!" you bumped into hitch on your way towards the front door, eren being your guide but you squeezed his hand to let him know to stop. she shifts her eyes to him, then looks back at you with an "oh-i-see" look. "you headed home?"

"yeah, eren's gonna take me."

"okay, be safe," hitch adjusts your shirt, tugging the top hem over the shadows of your peeking bra. "call me when you get in."

"she will." eren assures hitch, and she nods, the two of you slipping away from the crowd and going off into the night.

#eren x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager smut #aot x black reader #aot smut #eren jeager x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #aot x black y/n

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sugarverse · 6 months ago

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Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class.

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit.

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking.

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses.

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart.

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him.

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes.

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty.

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut.

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now?

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them.

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top.

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out.

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?”

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother.

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,”

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights.

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home.

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat.

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?”

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him.

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

“You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about.

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times.

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment.

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 6 months ago

Text

the art & science of parenting 101 ─ p. js

↳ summary ── the art & science of parenting 101 (PSY1009): in this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child'. late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. what you didn't expect to be part of the deal? getting paired with jay park—the last person you'd trust to raise, well, anything. you’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade. warning: sleep deprivation is guaranteed. and maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. good luck!

↳ pairing ── jay park x y/n [ft. enha members!]

↳ genre ── e2l!au, college!au, (fake)parenting!au, he-fell-first, she-fell-harder type beat lolz || fluff, crack

↳ ✎ᝰ. 20.5k [ONCE AGAIN -- this was not intentional..if you know me i just have too much fun writing sometimes & get too attached to the characters...]

↳ contains ── mentions of parenting & parental neglect (sorta, only a smidge of like five words), crack! bc if you know me i self indulge in crack whoops, jay & y/n being opposites & school rivals, jay's annoying smirk like a million times, reader & jay are psych majors, jay's also a photographer, cheesy ass kisses, jay & reader are awkward! so awkward! there’s SO much tension . but in a cute awkward crush way

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── omg it’s finally done. tell me why it took me so long to finish, i promise i didn’t mean to but life’s been busier lately :’) aNyways! ugh i luv writing e2l!jay for some reason,,,he fits the trope so well in my eyes heh but i hope you all like him & the characters as much as i enjoyed writing them !!! as busy as i am i love indulging in my crack x enha writes :P hope u enjoy & tell me what you think <333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Welcome to PSY1009, The Art & Science of Parenting 101! Throughout the next 12 weeks, we’re going to dive deep into the wondrous world of parenting—dirty diapers and all. To kick off our course, we’re starting with our campus-famous project: raising your very own robot baby for the first half of the semester (with the help of your assigned partner, of course). Before our first class, we ask that you complete this pre-project questionnaire on your current views and opinions about parenting. No pressure—there are no right or wrong answers (maybe only judgements from your future robot offspring)!

Q1 – The Art & Science of Parenting 101 aims to apply different psychological approaches to parenting. What theories and methods do you believe are important to parenting?

Y/N's Submission [8:25AM, September 18th]:

"I strongly believe that effective parenting revolves around a strict routine, which can be reinforced through the principles of operant conditioning, as developed by B.F. Skinner. Proper feeding schedules, consistent nap times, and regular development check-ins are essential—I think a structured timetable would ensure a baby's needs are met efficiently and consistently. With a set schedule and a focus on developmental milestones, I believe we can maximize a child's growth potential, even if it's just a robot baby.”

Q2 – What do you expect to learn and gain out of this co-parenting experience?

Y/N's Submission [8:29AM, September 18th]:

"I expect to confirm that a well-organized system is the key to successful parenting. I want to test my hypothesis that if you follow a set structure, yes, even with a robot baby, things will run smoothly. I am hoping that this experience runs smoothly with no unnecessary surprises.”

✭・.・✫

Satisfied with your answers, you click 'submit' and close your laptop, feeling a wave of satisfaction as you settle into your seat—center of the second row—as you wait for the 9AM lecture to start.

It's 8:30AM.

You're the only one in the room.

Yeah, you're a little early. So what? One can never be too prepared. You've waited for this course forever, and you're determined to not only ace it (like you do with every class) but to dominate. So yes, coming early is characteristic of you, as you want to ensure you get the best seat in the classroom: center of the second row—center to get the best view of the professor's podium, and second row to be close enough to show you're engaged, but not close enough that it screams, Look at me, I'm a tryhard!

It's clear you've come prepared. Plus, this class isn't just any ordinary elective—it's the elective to take. Only the top students majoring in psychology get in, available only through direct invite by the professor. If you were invited to PSY1009, it meant you were the crème de la crème of psychology students. The best of the best. The elite. The—

Your train of thought is derailed when an all-too-familiar figure strolls into the room with that signature smirk. Backpack slung lazily over one (1) shoulder (as if two straps are too much effort), hair clearly still bedhead status, wearing whatever clothes he fished off The Chair (you know, the one—where all questionable, semi-clean laundry lives).

He strolls past you—of course—and plops down right in front of you.

Front row.

Try-hard.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here," Jay Park spins around, a knowing look plastered on his face, eyes gleaming. "I missed seeing that frown of yours all summer."

"What are you doing here, Jay?" You roll your eyes and scoff at his comment. "Don't tell me you got into this class. It's for serious students."

Jay's grin only widens to your despair. "Contrary to your deeply misinformed opinion, Professor Kim actually loves me. I'm a great student."

“I don’t believe it,” you deadpan back. “You never turn your assignments in on time, and quite frankly, I'm surprised you were even able to find this classroom."

Jay shrugs, unfazed. "What can I say? Professor Kim doesn't just look at deadlines, she looks at talent. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?"

You mumble something under your breath about ‘talent for procrastination’ but before he can fire back, Professor Kim walks into the room, cuing the silence of all the students who've filled up the class.

"Good morning, class! I'm so happy to see so many familiar faces."

Jay turns his head back towards the front of the room, as you instantly straighten up, flashing your favorite professor a smile. This is officially the fifth course you've taken with Professor Kim. It's no secret you’re one of her biggest fans—the countless early mornings you've spent waiting at your computer, finger hovering over the ‘enroll’ button the second registration opens so you can be one of the first students to sign up for her classes have proven that. Challenging but rewarding, her classes are always worth the effort.

And yet, for reasons beyond your comprehension, Jay Park—Jay Freaking Park—somehow always ends up in the same classes. Every. Single. Time. It’s like a curse.

A loud, messy, procrastinating curse…

…that just so happens to have a side profile almost as annoyingly good that it only pisses you off more.

You wonder if he’s actually here to learn or if he’s just here to spite you. Because, honestly, the amount of classes you’ve shared with him is no longer a coincidence. Five semesters in a row? Suspicious.

But realistically, and unfortunately, Jay does study the same major as you, which means those last five semesters? Oh, those were five long semesters of endless debates on discussion boards, in-class duels over psychological theories, and the infamous showdown for the TA position in Professor Kim's Intro to Psychology course. And the worst part? Neither of you got the job because Professor Kim—in a diplomatic twist that made zero sense to you—deemed you both 'equally qualified.' So, the job went to the third best candidate instead. Tough luck.

You open up your laptop again, opening a perfectly organized Google Doc, ready to take notes on whatever pearls of wisdom Professor Kim is currently bestowing about your upcoming project—which, in hindsight, you should really be paying attention to. You should be. But something so ridiculous, so blood-boiling, pulls your attention elsewhere.

Jay's desk is completely...empty.

No laptop. No notebook. Not even a measly little pencil. Did he bring an empty backpack? Or did he just walk in here like he's casually waiting for someone to present him his grade on a silver platter? He's just sitting there like this is a casual hangout—probably expecting his robot baby to parent itself while he simply supervises.

Before your self-induced inner monologue spirals into complete rage, you suddenly hear your professor's voice cut through the class, breaking you out of your mental rant.

"Y/N and Jay."

Wait. What?

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.

You blink. You must have misheard.

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow (and unfortunately) still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.'

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you, puppy dog eyes on display. "You don't want to play house with me?"

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon.

"I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you."

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?"

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction.

You bring your voice down to a whisper, leaning towards him. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply."

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life.

And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he has the audacity to breathe in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak. Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two. And you?

You're screwed.

Q1 – The Art & Science of Parenting 101 aims to apply different psychological approaches to parenting. What are your current theories and methods that you believe are important to parenting?

Jay’s Submission [10:09AM, September 18th]:

"I think babies need more freedom to explore and make their own choices, even if that just means grabbing random things. Bowlby's attachment theory leans towards a secure attachment, but I don't think that means hovering over them 24/7. It's about being there when they really need you, not scheduling every second of the day. I also believe letting babies learn through their own experiences is key. Strict behaviorism, such as Skinner's, sounds exhausting and I don't think a rigid system is what makes a good parent. Babies are messy, and that's okay."

Q2 – What do you expect to learn and gain from this experience?

Jay's Submission [10:12AM, September 18th]:

"I'm hoping to learn how to be a responsive, yet flexible parent without overcomplicating it. The goal is to find balance between being hands-on without hovering. And, I think this whole robot baby thing will teach me how to handle unpredictable situations—because no matter how much you plan, life is going to surprise you. And also, being able to say I know how to change a diaper under 30 seconds sounds pretty cool :)"

✭・.・✫

Jay's screwed.

Like, completely, utterly, hopelessly screwed.

He was already kinda skeptical he’d make it past his 40s if he kept living the way he does, but now? Now, he’s not even sure he’ll survive the next 24 hours. Why? Well, today’s the first official meeting with you—as co-parents—at the campus coffee shop at 12PM sharp.

It's 12:17PM.

He's late.

Seventeen whole minutes late. To your meeting. And you're basically the human embodiment of an atomic clock. You’re probably sitting there, checking your watch every few seconds, calculating his absence down to the millisecond. Jay can practically feel the murderous vibes you’re radiating from halfway across campus.

And while Jay sometimes finds your need for punctuality weirdly endearing (but don't tell anyone that), he also values not getting scolded on a Saturday morning (12PM is still morning to him, don't judge), especially when he could be sleeping in.

As the café comes into view, Jay considers just throwing the towel in. Maybe he could fake a sudden illness, or better yet, skip town and maybe fake his own death or something.

There's no point. Knowing you, you'd probably hunt him down for sport.

With a sigh, Jay pushes open the door to the café, bracing himself for impact.

And there you are. Exactly how he imagined.

Seated at a small table by the window, papers perfectly aligned, laptop open, and two different colored highlighters placed meticulously side by side. Your foot taps in perfect sync with the café's background music, your eyebrows knitted together in focus, and your teeth chewing your bottom lip as if you're about to crack the Krabby Patty secret formula. The window next to you allows the afternoon sunlight to spill through and reflect off of you, making you look...dare he say it...almost pretty.

If Jay wasn't fearing for his life, he might have actually stopped to admire the view. Might have.

When Jay finally reaches your table—17 minutes and 46 seconds late (but who's counting)—you look up, meeting his gaze with a look that's somewhere between not surprised but definitely not impressed.

"Well, well," you say, quirking your mouth up ever so slightly that Jay thinks he might see you smile for the first time in, like, ever. "Look who finally decided to join us! Must be nice living on Jay Standard Time."

Jay flashes his usual, unbothered smile as he pulls out the chair across from you.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/N. Seventeen minutes is nothing in the grand scheme of life."

"Yeah? Tell that to our future robot baby when you're seventeen minutes late to feed it and its batteries die."

"Yikes. That got dark quick," Jay's mutters, grin wavering. "But hey, glad to see you're finally accepting the fact that it's our future baby!"

"Future robot baby," you peer your eyes at him from above your laptop. "Anyways, did you read the guidelines?"

Jay rubs the back of his neck as he leans back into his chair. "Uh, define 'read'."

Without missing a beat, you slap a packet of papers down on the table.

"Here's the breakdown. Feeding schedules, emotional development tracker, diaper changes, mood swings—the whole shebang. We're going to have to approach this strategically."

"Woah, okay," Jay's eyebrows shoot up, his brain trying to catch up with the words you just spewed at him. "First, how the heck is a robot going to develop emotionally—that's a little scary if you ask me. Like, dystopian, Black Mirror, scary. And second, since when is parenting just following a spreadsheet? Isn't part of it, you know, winging it?"

At the words 'winging it', your eye twitches so violently, Jay half-expects you to reach across the table and strangle him with his own hoodie strings.

"Winging it?" You shut your laptop and lean forward. "Winging it is exactly how we end up with a malfunctioning robot baby that starts a fire and fails us. Parenting is all about structure, consistency—"

"—and having a little fun," Jay cuts in, mouth quirked with mischief. "I mean, what's parenting without some chaos?"

"Chaos," you mutter, narrowing your eyes at him, "is what you bring into my life on a daily basis."

"Yeah, and yet you secretly love it," Jay shoots back, leaning in to meet you, as if daring you to disagree.

You stare at him, unblinking. It's either you're plotting his slow and painful demise or seriously considering what he just said. No in-between.

And yet, somehow, Jay almost finds it endearing how you can look like the world's most innocent golden retriever while also simultaneously sending him six feet under with just one agonizing glare. Almost.

Finally, you sigh, "This isn't a joke, Jay. This is 40% of our grade."

"And I'm 100% ready!" Jay shoots back with a wink, to which you respond with a full-body eye roll.

"Oh yeah? Alright, Mr. Ready-for-Anything, what's your brilliant plan?"

"Hmm," Jay leans back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head as if he's got it all figured out (he doesn't). "Well, for one, I was thinking maybe...shifts. We split responsibilities based on our schedules. I'll take the baby on certain hours, you take it other hours, and we'll spend our free days together. And if we're not together and there's a baby crisis, we stay on call."

In complete honesty, that came from out of nowhere. Jay didn't even know any ideas were subconsciously cooking up within him until the words tumbled out of his mouth before he realized it. But there's no way he was going to tell you that, not when you don't immediately tear his idea to shreds. In fact, you actually look...impressed?

Or so he thinks. Jay definitely needs to get better at this whole 'reading your expressions' thing.

"Huh," you murmur to yourself, fingers tapping against the table. "That's...not the worst idea you've ever had."

Jay feels elated. Validation? From you? Phew, this means his life is spared. Thank god.

Jay flashes you a satisfied smile and while you don't return it, he hopes you're secretly softening. Just a little. Behind that straight face, you're probably low-key impressed, but no way are you letting him see that.

"Don't get too excited," you say, as if you've got some sixth sense for whenever Jay throws a mental victory parade. "This is only day one. Of, like, 42. We've got a long way to go."

"Okay, okay," Jay raises his hands in surrender, though there's no hiding the smirk on his face as he still mentally takes the win. "Message received. Let's just figure out our schedules?"

You nod, pushing your laptop aside to make space for a sheet of paper you've already prepared—because of course you're prepared. It's like you're about to whip up some elaborate high-stakes legal contract that probably involves blood signatures.

"Okay," you say, clicking your pen, picking a bright blue that basically stabs Jay's eyes by simply existing, but whatever makes you happy, I guess.

You write 'Jay's Schedule' at the top, neatly highlighting it with a pink highlighter that somehow hurts even more. Jay wonders if this is a secret ploy to blind him into submission. He wouldn't put it past you.

"What's your typical weekly schedule like?"

Jay squints, clearly thinking hard, as he tries to remember what a 'typical' week looks like for him. Mostly it's a mix of spontaneous decisions, power naps, and gym sessions sprinkled between classes.

"Uh...well," Jay rubs the back of his neck. "I usually sleep in until like 11...sometimes noon, depends on the vibe, you know? Classes after that, gym a couple times a week, maybe? And, um, naps are non-negotiable. Make sure you pencil those in too."

Your pen freezes mid-air, hovering like you're considering whether to throw it at his face or not.

"Naps? Non-negotiable? For someone who wakes up at 11AM? We're raising a child, Jay, this requires commitment!"

Jay raises a calm eyebrow. "Hey, sleep is very important for brain function! You wouldn't want me underperforming as a parent, right?"

Your eye twitches. "No, Jay. That's already my biggest fear."

But instead of escalating the snark, you bite your lip, clearly restraining yourself from unleashing a full lecture on time management. Jay struggles to stifle his own laugh at your reaction. If looks could kill, you'd have him buried under six feet of color-coded charts and to-do lists by now.

Finally, you sigh, accepting your fate and jotting down ‘Jay’s naps: apparently crucial for survival’ in your notes with a frown drawn next to it, while Jay gives you an approving nod from across the table.

"Alright, my turn," you flip the page over with dramatic flair, carefully writing 'Y/N's Schedule' in the same stab-your-eyes-blue and pink highlight combo as Jay mentally braces himself for what's to come.

"So," you continue, starting with that no-nonsense tone that's clearly meant to be serious—but to Jay, there's something almost charming about how strict you are. "I wake up at 6."

Jay's brain immediately short-circuits. Forget charming.

You’re downright crazy.

"6? As in AM? On purpose?"

You blink back at him, as if he's the one saying something ridiculous.

"Yes, Jay. On purpose."

His mind reels, purely amazed, yet utterly horrified at the thought. 6AM? Who does that? He's seen 6AM before, sure, but only when he's stayed up all night, probably cramming for an exam. His mornings start at 10AM at best, and that's very, very rarely. There are birds chirping at 6AM. Who wants to live in a world where birds chirp you awake?

When he doesn't respond—still in pure shock—you keep going, undeterred by his obvious existential crisis.

"I usually have class at 8AM until 1PM, then I try to pick up a shift here," you gesture around the very café you two are in, "and then—"

"Wait, wait," Jay holds up a hand, needing a mental pause button. "You work here?"

"Yeah," you nod, like it's the most casual thing ever. "Why, is that surprising?"

Jay squints at you. He's never considered the idea of you pulling espresso shots and dealing with caffeine-deprived college students—he's always pegged you more as a 'quiet math tutor for third-graders' type. Or maybe someone who sells cute stationery at the campus bookstore, organizing pens in rainbow order or something. But now that he's picturing it, yeah, it kind of makes sense. Maybe that's why you're so uptight all the time—too much exposure to coffee fumes. Or, more likely (and evidently), you're just an insanely busy person.

He likes the coffee fumes theory better.

"I guess not," he admits, then surprises even himself by adding, "that's kind of impressive, though."

He gives you a genuine smile, and you blink back, as if searching for the hidden jab that's usually lurking beneath his words. But it's not there this time...oddly. Slowly, your expression softens, and you give him the tiniest of smiles.

"Thanks? It's alright, I guess."

It's nothing big—no, not at all—but Jay feels a weird sense of accomplishment at your reaction. Better than nothing.

He leans in over the table, all faux-innocence—eyebrows raises, large puppy eyes and all.

"Does this mean you can get me a free coffee?"

You lean in too, mirroring him, and he's not sure why his heart skips a beat at the close proximity.

"Yeah...no. Nice try."

Jay groans, throwing himself back in his chair dramatically. Worth a shot.

"Anyway," you continue, totally unfazed, "I usually work here until 5, then Mondays I have a study group for Econ 301, and club meetings scattered throughout the week."

Jay's head spins for maybe the nth time since he's sat down. Honestly, you lost him way back at 'class until 1PM.' Your schedule is like some kind of twisted Sudoku puzzle, except much more intimidating.

"So...you're, like, busy...all the time?" he asks, the words tumbling out of his mouth as his brain tries to process how anyone can function like this.

You give him a look that almost convinces Jay himself that he's the crazy one here.

"Yes, Jay. I am."

"Wow, okay. So why did you even take this class? What happened to being committed? You don't even have time to breathe."

You narrow your eyes, and he swears you're about to launch into some motivational TedTalk.

"It's called efficiency, Jay. Also, I like to challenge myself. That's what parenthood is about, after all."

Jay stares at you like you've just self-declared yourself a cyborg.

"Oookayyy," he drawls, dragging out the word because, honestly, he's 99% sure you've completely lost it. The remaining 1%?

It's slightly impressed by your sheer, terrifying level of commitment. He's over here winging life, including this conversation, while you've practically mapped out the rest of your entire existence.

"Do you even, like, sleep? Or is that optional for you?"

"Sleep is for the weak," you shoot him an amused glance, half-joking, half-serious.

Jay raises an eyebrow. "Good to know I'm weak, then."

You stifle a laugh, but Jay catches the brief twitch of your lips before you quickly compose yourself. He’s known you for so long, and yet, this might be the first time he’s seen even a hint of your guard slipping. It’s subtle, barely there, but he notices. And for some reason, it makes him smile. You’re always so put together, so serious—but this small crack in your armor? Jay can’t help but appreciate it.

Maybe, just maybe, he could get you to soften up more if he tried hard enough.

And yeah, he’s definitely going to try.

But before he can try to tease you more, you snap back into business mode, instantly scribbling down more notes.

"Alright, so let’s just split the baby's care based on my work schedule and your...nap schedule, apparently."

Jay leans back in his chair, catching that flicker of amusement in your voice—despite the serious look on your face—and he fights the urge to push a little more. There's something about that side of you—not the one behind the cold wall you've built of color-coded schedules and deadlines—that he wants to see more of. Somehow.

"Works for me,” he shrugs and grins at you, “but if the baby's anything like me, it'll nap a lot. You might have it easy."

"And if it’s anything like me,” you mutter, barely pausing, “then it’ll easily get annoyed by you.”

Jay catches the ghost of a smile on your face, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it—which he definitely is. It’s enough to keep him intrigued. He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand like he’s watching some fascinating show.

You don’t notice him staring—or maybe you do, but you’re too busy pretending you don’t. Either way, there’s a small, almost imperceptible shift in your body language that Jay senses. Your shoulders aren’t as tense, and you don’t look like you’re mentally calculating how many minutes you have left before you can escape this meeting.

Jay decides to take advantage of the moment. “So…do you think our robot baby is also going to be a superhuman genius? Like in a you way?”

You finally let out a laugh, to his surprise, and he feels so satisfied he has to bite his lip to hold back a smile. “Definitely, but also part crazy. Like in a you way.”

Jay chuckles, mentally declaring this conversation a victory. Your laugh fades but for a split second, he catches you studying his face like you’re trying to figure out what his deal is. And he doesn’t mind it at all—because, for once, you’re not giving him the usual death glare that sometimes seems permanently reserved for him.

Then, just as he starts to settle into this very rare, almost… pleasant vibe between you two, you suddenly snap back to reality, capping your pen and standing up.

Jay frowns as he watches as you turn towards the coffee bar, not ready for this conversation to end just yet.

"Wait, where are you going?" he blurts out, sounding more tragic than intended.

You pause, turning back with a look that sends his pulse tripping.

"Do you want a free coffee or not?"

The following Monday, at exactly 9:55AM, you and Jay are handed your robot baby—Jisoo, as Jay somehow convinces you to name it after his favorite celebrity—at the end of your class.

You didn't even try to put up a fight. The moment Jay's eyes lit up at the idea, you knew you'd already lost. After three whole minutes of bickering and one PowerPoint titled 'Why Our Baby Deserves to be Named After Star Quality,' you realized there was no saving it. He had arguments. He had fan chants memorized. For a robot baby. Your robot baby.

"Admit it, Jisoo has star quality," Jay beams, proudly looking down at the robotic baby in the baby carrier that came with her.

You look from Jisoo to Jay, then back to Jisoo, unimpressed. "It's a robot, Jay. Not your bias."

"Bias or not, she deserves only the best," Jay just shrugs, unbothered.

He glances down at the robot, which blinks its eyes open and closed with a soft whirring noise, its chubby plastic arms flopping lifelessly by its sides.

There's a beat of silence as you both stare down at it, unsure of what to do next.

"It's kind of creepy, right?" you finally mutter, breaking the knowing silence between you two.

Jay snorts. "Not even 'kind of.' A lot."

He leans in to inspect it, his brows furrowed, "So, does it just…sit there?”

"No, it's on schedule. It says here it won't eat for another three hours and it has a clean diaper, so everything should be fine. Babies are predictable once you understand their needs, Jay," you huff, already pulling out the meticulously detailed notes you took during class.

Jay lifts an eyebrow as he turns to face you, "Right...because in real life, babies are totally like robots and are totally predictable. Got it."

You open your mouth to respond, probably with something unnecessarily snarky (you don't know what yet though, you haven't gotten to that part yet), when a loud, high-pitched wail shatters the air, cutting through the now-empty classroom you two are in. The robot baby's face contorts into an exaggerated crying expression, its mechanical arms flailing (which you didn't even know was possible) like it's preparing for takeoff.

"What the—" Jay instinctively jumps back like Jisoo is a grenade on her last few seconds.

"Why's it doing that? What did you do?"

"I didn’t do anything!" You snap, panic slowly rising as you flip through your notes quickly. "It's not supposed to be crying! It shouldn't be hungry, and it's definitely not tired yet!"

The wailing intensifies, vibrating through the room as the cries echo louder and louder, Jisoo clearly not caring about your carefully crafted timeline. You glance down at your schedule. Why is it crying?

You groan and snatch Jisoo out of the carrier, awkwardly holding her in a way that's probably not safe for any life form, real or otherwise. The wailing doesn't stop. In fact, it gets louder, as if Jisoo's personally offended by your existence.

"Hold her!" You quickly thrust her into Jay's arms, a horrified expression written all over his face. "You deal with it."

"Deal with what? It's a robot!" Jay stares at the baby in his arms like it's going to explode. "Oh god, are we even sure this is safe?"

"Yes, Jay! It's a baby!"

You're sure you're borderline going insane from the combination of the screeching baby and Jay's apparent lack of brain cells.

Jay's eyes widen as Jisoo practically vibrates with the force of its cries. He tries to mimic the way you were holding her, cradling her against his chest like she's made of glass. It doesn't help. Jisoo keeps wailing, and now Jay looks genuinely distressed.

"Uh, shh, little buddy, it's okay...Should I, like, burp it? Sing to it?"

“Sing?” You give him a look like he’s completely lost it, but Jay’s already humming off-key under his breath.

The baby, predictably, continues screeching.

You both just stand there, staring at the baby, then at each other, the panic palpable in the room. Jay continues bouncing it lightly, as if this will magically solve everything.

“Does it have an off switch?” he asks, glancing at you like you've parented a robot baby before.

You continue to frantically flip through your notes, pages rustling in a blur. “No, Jay! We can’t just turn off our baby!”

“Well, I don’t know, Y/N, but I’m pretty sure babies aren’t supposed to sound like they’re summoning a demon!” Jay retorts, his tone climbing the ladder of panic. "Maybe she's hungry or something."

“It can’t be hungry, it's not supposed to be!" You’re still too busy scanning your notes as you shake your head in disagreement.

Jay just shakes his head, gently cradling the baby even though he's sure it's about to lift off into space from how much it was shaking right now.

“Sometimes you can’t schedule everything, Y/N. Maybe it just needs a bottle, like, right now.”

The idea frustrates you. “But it’s not time yet. If we feed it off-schedule, it’ll mess everything up for the day.”

The baby’s cries reach a shrill pitch, like it’s protesting your protest. Jay looks at you, then back at the crying baby, then back at you again.

“I think it’s already messed up, so maybe we just... feed it?” he says, half-grinning, half-exasperated.

You hesitate. It feels wrong. Babies are supposed to follow patterns, stick to a routine...or so you thought. You let out a frustrated sigh, your brain bleeding from the sheer sound of the glass-breaking screams.

“Fine,” you mutter, grabbing the bottle from the supply bag. “But if this throws off the whole schedule, it’s your fault.”

Jay grins, but there’s something softer in his expression behind it as he watches you struggle with the bottle...and your need for control.

“Deal.”

You hand the bottle to him, and he places the nipple into the baby’s mouth. The wailing stops almost instantly. The sudden silence is deafening, and both of you are stunned for a moment, looking down at the baby who’s now peacefully drinking.

You let out a small gasp of relief and turn your head up to look at Jay, who's widened eyes meet yours.

Jay lets out a held breath. “Well. That was traumatic.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a slight twitch at the corner of your lips as you mutter, “I think I just lost three years of my life."

Jay watches as you carefully take Jisoo from his arms and place her back into the carrier, making sure everything is in order. He’s still catching his breath, but he glances at you—relaxed, for once, after the panic—and it makes him feel something weird. He almost laughs.

“I dunno,” he says, a little teasingly. “I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Great, now just five weeks and six days of this left." You give him a look, but there’s a tiny, fleeting smile this time. "I just don't understand why it was crying. It's not supposed to need food until—"

Jay cuts you off with a chuckle. “Y/N, it’s a baby. Real ones don’t run on algorithms. They just... cry when they need something. Like this little gal. I mean, you can't exactly schedule crying, right?”

The silence stretches for a moment as you watch him, realization dawning a little slower than you’d like to admit. “I guess,” you mutter reluctantly, earning yourself a content-looking Jay.

"Look at us—team effort," Jay says, as he beams a smile to you before glancing at Jisoo. "We're naturals at this whole parenting thing."

"Yeah, okay," you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face says differently as you reach out to unnecessarily fuss with the small blanket in Jisoo's carrier.

Jay's eyes light up at your response.

"A smile? The Y/N gave me a smile? Admit it, we make a great team, huh?"

You scoff, but the look on your face proves there's no bite to it—Jay knows there's no bite to it.

Maybe, just maybe, he has a point.

You'd never admit it to him, though.

Not yet.

To your pleasant surprise, the past two weeks have been...weirdly smooth. Like, suspiciously smooth. You and Jay have somehow managed to fall into an actual routine—dropping off and picking up Jisoo like two semi-functional adults who almost know what they’re doing. You still wouldn’t call it 'seamless', as Jay himself struggled with having a consistent schedule for once in his life, but at least you’ve gotten through the weeks without major incidents or spontaneous combustion. So far.

That doesn't mean you'll admit to anyone—least of all yourself—that you and Jay might actually make a decent team. His parenting methods are still objectively abysmal...to you, at least. I mean, just the other day, he almost put Jisoo's diaper on upside down. Upside down. You didn't even know that was possible, but leave it to Jay to surprise you more and more.

Despite his questionable approach to baby care, Jisoo's still alive (you think), and somehow you've managed not to explode at him yet (key word: yet). So, that's...something, I guess.

Today, though. Today is a different beast entirely.

It's Sunday, and miraculously, you've managed to give yourself the evening off. No café shift, no emergency club meetings. The stars have aligned, and for once, you have free time. And what did you decide to do with this rare gift from the universe?

Spend it with Jay. Parenting. Together. In his apartment.

You blame Professor Kim for this cruel twist of fate. Something about submitting photographic evidence of co-parenting. After all, this is a partner project.

Teamwork, she called it.

You like to call it pure suffering.

Which brings you here, standing outside Jay's apartment with a tote bag of baby supplies on one shoulder, Jisoo's carrier on the other, and a silent prayer on your lips. If this apartment is even half the disaster you're imagining—frat house, landfill, or some unholy combination of both—you're fully prepared to turn around and run for the hills.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever horrors await behind the door, and knock three times.

Precisely five seconds later, the door swings open, and...yep, there's Jay. His hair is a mess, his clothes are rumpled, and you can't tell if he's been a) napping, b) playing video games, or c) all of the above.

"Hey," he greets you with a lazy grin, eyes half-lidded like he's still half-asleep.

It's 6PM.

You stare at him, deadpan.

"You look like you've been hit by a truck."

Jay snorts as he raises an eyebrow.

"You should see the truck."

Before you can fire back with something equally sarcastic, you catch a glimpse of his apartment over his shoulder, and—you blink, confused. Wait. Wait.

Well this can't be right.

You were expecting a disaster. Maybe a few pizza boxes, a stray sock on the floor, some suspicious stains on the couch. But no.

Instead...it's clean. Like, really clean.

The floors are spotless, there's a shelf with neatly stacked books, and are those...framed photos on the walls? Like, actual art? Your own apartment doesn't even have actual art, just print outs from Walgreens of photos you thought were cute on Pinterest and your Justin Bieber posters you got from a magazine back in high-school. Now you're starting to feel ashamed.

You do a double-take, your brain struggling to process what's happening, as Jay still stands in front of you, confused at your gawking.

"Y/N? You good?"

You snap your mouth shut, as you spot a vacuum neatly tucked in the corner of the living room.

"I...I'm just surprised you even know what a vacuum is."

"You'll learn I'm full of surprises, Miss Y/N," he says, casually leaning against the doorframe as he looks down at you, his gaze making you shift in your stance in front of him. "Come on in."

You step inside cautiously, like you're waiting for something to jump out at you—maybe a camera with someone saying 'You've been pranked, this isn't Jay's actual apartment!'

But nope. His apartment is just...nice. It smells like eucalyptus and citrus, for crying out loud.

You set Jisoo's carrier down on the couch, the robot itself still fast asleep, as your eyes scan the room, still half-expecting to find a hidden mess somewhere. But instead, something else catches your attention.

On the wall, next to his kitchen, there's a collection of professional-looking photographs, all framed neatly. This is what caught your eye earlier from the doorway. You find yourself slowly walking closer to get a closer look: landscapes, city stresses, a few candid shots of people—all in the same style, same camera quality, same angles. You tilt your head, intrigued.

Jay comes up behind you to see what you're looking at and you turn to him, "Are these...yours?"

"Oh," he scratches the back of his neck, looking almost shy. "Yeah. I do some photography sometimes. Just a hobby."

You blink up at him. Jay Park? A photographer? This was not on your Jay Park Bingo card.

"Huh," you say, before realizing how dumb you sound. "I didn't know you were into that."

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Y/N. Full of surprises, remember?" Jay replies, his head tilting to match yours with a cocky smile, which—ugh, okay fine—makes you feel just the tiniest bit flustered. Not that you'll admit it.

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow. "And here I thought your only hobbies were napping and showing up late."

"That's just the surface level," he says with a wink, walking over to his coffee table and grabbing his laptop. "I was actually editing photos before you showed up."

Intrigued, you follow him to the couch and sit beside him as he flips open the laptop. You squint at the editing software on the screen—full of layers, sliders, and all sorts of professional-looking tools that immediately make your head hurt. Jay scrolls through the images, and honestly?

They’re good. Really good. Like, if you didn’t know better, you’d think some of them could be in a magazine. And not the kind of magazine you got your Bieber Fever posters in.

"Wow," you say, nodding, genuinely impressed. "That’s… actually really cool."

Jay freezes, his head snapping toward you with a look of disbelief. He stares at you, eyes narrowing like you’ve just broken some unspoken rule.

"It's been ten seconds...you just gave me an actual compliment without a sarcastic follow-up."

You let out a small giggle, "Geez, you always make me sound like some soulless witch or something."

"I mean… soulless witch might be a bit much. But, like… emotionally unavailable overlord? Hmm, maybe," Jay grins, leaning back in mock thought.

You burst out laughing before you can stop yourself, the sound catching Jay off guard. He looks at you, wide-eyed, like he’s just witnessed a rare phenomenon. And maybe he has—because even you can’t remember the last time you laughed this freely.

"Wow. I should annoy you more often," Jay smirks, clearly way too satisfied with himself. You’re not entirely sure if he meant it to sound that smooth, but your brain certainly processed it that way. Heat rises to your cheeks before you can stop it, and you quickly clear your throat, a small, flustered smile playing at your lips.

You try to gather yourself, praying your voice doesn’t betray you.

"Don’t push your luck, Park," you manage, but the teasing edge in your voice is softer than usual—way softer. And, of course, Jay knows it. You know it. You’re still smiling, and—unfortunately for you—so is he.

Jay suddenly clears his throat as he shifts in his seat, "So...should we order like a pizza or something? Are you hungry?"

And because lately the universe apparently has a personal vendetta against you, your stomach chooses that exact moment to let out a sound—one that resembles between a whale’s mating call and a frog being strangled.

Jay stifles a laugh, trying to act casual but failing miserably, "Okay… pizza it is."

“Shut up,” you mutter, giving him a playful shove that’s just enough to make him fall back into the couch cushions.

"No, you tell your stomach to shut up," Jay snickers, grabbing his phone to place the order.

You’re about to fire back with something—anything—but a soft wail interrupts you from the baby carrier.

"Someone needs attention," you say, scooping Jisoo up and cradling her in your arms. “It’s about time for her to eat anyway.”

As you juggle Jisoo with one hand and dig through the baby bag for her fake bottle of milk with the other, Jay watches you from his spot on the couch, a curious look in his eyes.

“While you feed her, I’ll take care of the pizza. I’m guessing you’re more of a plain cheese type, huh?”

You freeze for a second, then whip your head around to give him a mock-offended look.

“First, you think I’m a soulless witch, and now boring? I at least add pepperoni and sausage. Give me some credit.”

"Okay, okay, noted," Jay lifts his hands up in surrender, "So adventurous. I'll remember that next time you call me irresponsible."

You roll your eyes at him as you adjust Jisoo in your arms, holding the bottle steady at her mouth. It’s quiet for a few moments, the only sounds being the soft hum of your fake baby and Jay tapping on his phone.

Suddenly Jay puts his phone down, turning to you with an unreadable expression. “You’re really serious about this whole parenting thing, huh?”

You blink, still rocking Jisoo in your arms. You're thrown off by the sudden shift and sincerity in his tone.

“Well… yeah. I think it’s important, you know? Responsibility, structure… that’s what makes people feel safe. Especially kids. They need to know they’re taken care of.”

Jay’s expression shifts as he listens, a more thoughtful look settling on his face.

“You're a strong believer of that, aren't you? Structure and schedules and all that?"

His voice is a lot quieter now, lower, and you realize you've never really had a serious conversation (that wasn't a class debate) with him before—at least not long enough to hear this version of Jay. The serious Jay. And if you're being honest, it's making you a bit flustered. You hesitate, hoping your voice doesn't crack or something equally embarrassing.

“I mean… I guess so. I was raised that way. My parents always had everything planned out. It was like...nothing ever went wrong because there was always a system, a backup plan.”

Jay raises an eyebrow, leaning forward a little in his seat.

“But didn’t that feel, I don’t know... suffocating? Like, what if things don’t go according to plan? You can’t control everything.”

Your first instinct is to scoff, but something stops you. It's a valid question, and for some reason, you don’t feel the need to throw up your usual defenses for once. That's new.

“Maybe sometimes,” you admit. “But I don’t know any other way. It just feels like if you’re not prepared, things fall apart. And that’s the worst feeling—like watching everything crumble because you weren’t ready for it.”

Jay is quiet, studying you with an intensity that feels new. His teasing smirk is gone, replaced with something more serious.

“Yeah, I get that. I didn’t have a lot of structure growing up. Parents were kinda… there, but not really. I think that’s why I don’t plan much. Life happens whether you’re ready or not.”

You blink as you sit back in your seat, absorbing his words. It’s the first time you’ve really thought about Jay outside of his 'laid-back' image of him you've had in your head, and honestly, you’re surprised by how heavy his words feel.

“But…you’re actually good with Jisoo,” you say, almost cautiously, unsure if you’re diving into uncharted territory. “You’ve been handling this project better than I thought you would.”

Jay laughs softly, shaking his head as he looks at Jisoo in your arms.

“It’s just a robot baby, Y/N. No big deal if I mess up.”

"It’s not just about the robot baby,” you counter, realizing you're saying more than you intended. “You actually care. You’re not graded on how well you change diapers or keep her entertained, but you’re still putting in effort. You’re trying. And that matters.”

There's a beat of silence as you see Jay pause. For once, he doesn't have a comeback. Instead, he's just looking at you—really looking at you—like he's trying to figure something out, and you feel the heat slowly creeping back onto your face. You're sure you're turning an unflattering shade of red under his gaze on you, and part of you, no, all of you, is begging for him to say something immediately before you combust.

Then, with a suddenness that almost makes you jump, he leans over and nudges your arm lightly.

“Okay, Dr. Phil. Don't go getting all soft on me now."

You let out a playful scoff to mask your relief, thankful for the release of tension in the air. But something about the conversation lingers in the air, hanging like a question neither of you is ready to ask. And despite the teasing, your mind can’t help but circle back to how Jay had looked at you—serious, curious… something else.

Before you can dwell on it too long, the doorbell rings. Saved by the pizza gods. Jay springs up from the couch to answer the door, and you gently place the now-snoozing Jisoo back in her carrier. The conversation still swirls in your head as you watch Jay grab the pizza, too caught up in your thoughts to not even question how suspiciously fast it arrived.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, watching Jay at the door from your spot on the couch, your thoughts too heavy for someone who is literally holding a pizza box.

For someone who sure likes to plan everything out, you definitely weren’t prepared for Jay Park—and how he's quickly becoming the exception to every rule you've ever made.

✭・.・✫

The first thing that jars you awake is a piercing scream—Jisoo's, of course. Your eyes shoot open as you squint into the dim light, your eyes adjusting and blinking your way out of the accidental nap you fell into. You're trying to make sense of your surroundings through your blurry vision when...it hits you.

This isn't your room. You're still at Jay's apartment, wedged into the corner of his couch, and apparently, you fell asleep. Post-pizza-food-coma style. And also apparently, your mutual robot child has decided now was a perfect time for a meltdown.

The second thing you notice is the faint background noise of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire still playing on Jay's TV in front of you. Your memory jogs back to when you two finally came to a consensus on which movie to watch over dinner, and naturally, the deciding factor ended up being 'young Robert Pattinson,' and no, it wasn't your deciding factor. You didn't expect Jay to even have an opinion on this, but apparently, his love for Cedric Diggory is a hill he's willing to die on.

And then...that brings us to the third thing. A sound from the other end of the couch—Jay's soft snores. You two must have dozed off at some point during the movie somehow and of course, he's still passed out cold, totally oblivious to the screams of robotic despair coming from the baby carrier seated between you two. You glance over at him, out cold with his head tilted back, looking completely unbothered by Jisoo's increasingly offended screams.

But even through all these realizations, what really slaps you awake, more than Jisoo or Jay or Cedric Diggory, is the smell. It hits you like a rogue sock to the face, and for a moment, you're convinced that Jay definitely has some biological-grade garbage decomposing somewhere in the apartment after all. The smell is like a powerful, radioactive wave, and all you can think is, What in the world is this guy hiding in here? And why is it now coming to life?

You sit up from your spot, still half-asleep, and follow the foul scent in horror until you realize the source.

Jisoo.

Sure, you have changed Jisoo's diapers plenty of times over the last two weeks, but before? There was no smell. At most, you get these weird, vaguely sticky robotic poops in her diaper that barely registered. Now? Now it’s like Professor Kim somehow remotely gave Jisoo a software update and coded her to emit a scent so pungent that it feels borderline illegal. You're convinced this is Jisoo’s final boss form—peak realism unlocked—solely just to spite you and your nostrils.

While you’re here on one end of the couch, one button away from confirming an Amazon Prime order to ship over a bottle of bleach for you to dip your nose into, Jay is still in blissful dreamland, not even flinching. You stare at him in disbelief, hoping your sheer mental outage might magically wake him up. No such luck.

You grab the throw pillow that's wedged under you and chuck in right at his face.

"Jay!" You're still half-asleep, so your voice comes out like a strangled whisper, somewhere between pleading and passive-aggressive murder.

Jay jolts, sitting up with a sleepy yelp, blinking in confusion.

"Huh? What happened? Is Cedric okay?" His panicked gaze darts around the room wildly before they finally settle on you, across the couch.

"What happened?" You raise a finger to the screaming, stinky, betrayal-machine between you two. "That happened, Jay. Jisoo happened."

Jay blinks slowly, squinting at Jisoo, his brain clearly struggling to boot up, and then makes the fatal mistake of sniffing the air. The realization suddenly dawns slowly, and you can see the look of horror hit.

"Oh my god, how is she even capable of...of that?!" His voice breaks three octaves as his hand shoots up to pinch his nose.

"I don't know!" You squawk, equally traumatized. "She's never done this before—I didn't even know she could!"

Jay groans and rubs his eyes, hoping this is all a bad, bad dream. No such luck, yet again. He glances around helplessly. "So, uh, who's changing her?"

You shoot him a glare as you get up from the couch and start looking for the baby bag.

"We're changing her, Jay."

"We?" Jay winces, inching towards Jisoo with all the enthusiasm one has when approaching a radioactive waste barrel. He slowly reaches down to take Jisoo out from the carrier and he starts muttering to himself.

"Great. Fine, this is fine. Just another bonding moment with our adorable robo-daughter." He finally picks her up, reluctantly holding her at arm's length like she's a ticking time bomb. It's so ridiculous that, despite the war-crime-level smell permeating the room, you can't help the small laugh that you let out.

"What?" Jay glares at you, though a look of amusement tugs at his lips. "You think this is funny?"

"No," you say, barely stifling your giggles. "It's just—you're holding her like she's about to explode."

Jay gives you a doubtful look, "Y/N, I'm not convinced she's not about to explode."

You shake your head, still giggling as you shuffle the carrier off the couch and lay out a blanket, turning Jay's couch surface into a makeshift changing station.

"Alright, c'mon. Lay her down and hold her legs up. I'll handle clean-up duty. And maybe...brace yourself."

Jay exhales like a man about to face his greatest fear. He gently lays Jisoo down and lifts her legs up with the tips of his fingers, his face still contorted as if you're both dealing with a toxic hazard. At this point, it probably is.

"Oh my god," he breathes. "This is it. This is how I die."

You crouch down in position so you're at level with the couch and say a mental prayer before you pull open the tiny diaper. The moment you do, the both of you immediately recoil as a scent that should not even be allowed to exist wafts up and fills the room.

“Oh god.”

The scent is so ungodly it feels like it came from the depths of hell itself and punched you both right in the face. It doesn’t just waft up—it attacks. You’re pretty sure you lost at least another three years off your life from one breath alone.

"That's not legal," Jay chokes as he flings himself back at the sight, dropping Jisoo’s little toes in the process, flailing around as if the air itself betrayed him. "There's no way that's legal."

You freeze in sheer horror, staring at the scene before you: Jisoo’s somehow realistic poop smeared across every surface of her bottom it possibly could spread to, the stench intensifying with every passing second.

Jay starts pacing the room, spiraling into an existential crisis.

“No, no, no, this isn’t normal. This is—this is a crime scene! This can’t be right.”

“Jay,” your voice is muffled as a hand tries to cover both your nose and mouth from the contaminated air, “Jay, focus!”

Jay looks at you from across the living room, wide-eyed and pale, like a deer caught in headlights.

“You expect me to—in this economy—”

“Grab. The. Wipes.”

Jay groans and he stumbles back towards you, hesitantly rifling through the baby bag. His hands finally find the pack of wipes and he peers over your shoulder from behind you, as if you’re his shield.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you going to help?”

“I am helping,” Jay protests weakly, waving the pack of wipes like they’re a magic wand that might save you both.

You roll your eyes and turn back to Jisoo, “Okay, grab her legs again. I’ll wipe.”

His eyes watch in horror as he reaches over you to take hold of the robot’s feet. With a deep breath, you start furiously scrubbing Jisoo’s little body, trying your best to breathe as minimally as possible, sticking your hand out towards Jay whenever you need a new wipe.

“I signed up for fake parenting, not surviving a biohazard. This isn’t bonding; this is trauma,” Jay incoherently mumbles, placing a wipe in your hand.

"I think this trauma is exactly what we're supposed to be learning and 'bonding' from," you retort, carefully tossing a soiled wipe into the designated waste bag.

"Oh, so Professor Kim is forcing us to bond over mutual suffering? Very sweet," Jay deadpans as he hands you another wipe.

"Exactly. Parenting at its finest."

Finally, after you definitely lost three years of your life, the horror show is over. Jisoo is cleaned, diapered, and—somehow—actually looks peaceful for once. Like she didn't just commit a crime against humanity.

Jay exhales, looking at her with a newfound joy. "Well. She's definitely...less terrifying when she's not screaming and emitting toxic fumes."

You plop yourself on the couch and cradle Jisoo like she's a tiny, innocent angel instead of the cause of your collective suffering.

“I’m genuinely afraid to know what they put in her system for this to happen.”

Jay collapses onto the couch beside you, visibly relieved, "Whatever it was, we did it. We survived. We did that."

You can't help but laugh, still a bit punch-drunk from the adrenaline and exhaustion of it all, "We better get an A+ on this project."

Jay chuckles, leaning his head back against the couch. The room falls into a brief silence, just the two of you sitting there, basking in the weird accomplishment of it all. Then, as if on cue, you both start laughing—a deep, exhausting kind of laugh that two people only share after a 'you had to be there' type moment. There's something about the whole ordeal—how ridiculous, how hilariously awful it was—that just makes it impossible to not laugh.

"Now do you think we make a pretty good team?" Jay grins, nudging your shoulder with his.

You roll your eyes at him, "I don't know...depends."

Jay raises an eyebrow, "Depends on what?"

"Depends on whether you can make it through the rest of the project without crying again," you quip, lips twitching into an amused grin.

Jay gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. "Excuse you, I did not cry. My eyes were sweating from Jisoo's toxic fumes. A completely normal biological response, thank you very much."

"Sure, Jay," you deadpan, shaking your head.

"Besides," he continues, leaning back smugly, "I did all the heavy lifting. Literally. I held the live grenade."

You snort, glancing down at Jisoo in your arms before handing her off to Jay, "You're unbelievable."

"And you're stuck with me, partner," he grins back, rocking Jisoo in his arms. "You too, Jisoo."

You lean back into the couch, watching Jay coo at the now-peaceful baby. Somewhere between his flair for over-the-top dramatics, his secret love for young Robert Pattinson, and (for some reason) endearing passion for photography, you realize…maybe Jay Park isn’t the complete disaster you thought he was.

"Yeah," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I guess I really am stuck with you."

And for the first time since this ridiculous project started, you don't mind that as much as you thought you would.

Jay would like to make a few things clear.

First of all, none of this is his fault.

He hopes you understand that, as his thumbs fly over the keyboard of his phone like his life depends on it.

Because, in a way, it does.

Jay [11:32 AM]: “i swear it’s not my fault, but my friend, jake, his entire load of laundry is now the color of strawberry milk. and apparently i’m the only one that can help him. can i drop jisoo off with you for like… an hour? tops?”

He stares at his phone, waiting for your response like you hold the key to his survival.

Because, in a way, you do.

He hears Jisoo coo from her carrier, like even she knows how dire this situation is. Finally, his phone lights up with a buzz.

Y/N [11:33 AM]: “i’m volunteering at a dog adoption event on campus, but sure, drop her off here :)”

Jay blinks at his phone. A dog adoption event. Of course, you'd be saving puppies on a Saturday. Of course. Like some kind of unreasonably perfect human. And here he is, about to save a fully grown man from having to wear solely pink t-shirts for the next week.

Fantastic.

With a sigh, Jay turns to Jisoo, who blinks back a stare that can only be described as the (robot) baby equivalent of good luck, bro.

By the time Jay reaches campus, he's bombarded with the sight and sound of...dogs. Dogs everywhere. It's as if he's entered the chaotic lovechild of a Disney movie and a petting zoo, complete with wags, barks, and the smell of kibble. And then he sees you.

You're smack in the middle of a fenced playpen, laughing, surrounded by every breed of fluffy chaos imaginable and passersby cooing 'aww' at the sight. And what a sight it is.

You look ridiculously happy, and for some reason, that makes something in Jay's chest feel weirdly tight. He wonders what it must feel like to be able to make you smile that widely, that brightly. It's unnerving. He's not used to seeing you so relaxed, so content—or maybe he's just not used to noticing how good you look when you're not glaring at him.

"Y/N!" a voice calls from the volunteer tent, snapping Jay out of his daydream. Jay watches from the distance as you haul a golden retriever pup into your arms and walk over to the tent, naturally falling into conversation with your friend and immediately organizing papers. Meanwhile, Jay stands there, dumbfounded at your unbothered, graceful rhythm that you seem to fall into like second nature.

Jay thought he had you figured out, filed neatly in his mental drawer of uptight-control-freaks-that-happen-to-smell-like-roses-and-have-perfect-smiles, but now? Something about the way you look—so confident, so caring, so...natural—catches him off guard.

Now, you're like some serene multitasking goddess in the middle of pure chaos.

That brings us to the second thing Jay would like to clarify (more so to himself): he definitely doesn't think you look good in, like, an attractive sense, or anything insane like that. Absolutely not. He just is simply impressed at how you seem to manage and carry yourself quite elegantly. This is pure admiration. Admiration, okay?

But...while he's here, staring in 'admiration', it suddenly hits him—you're not just good at taking care of Jisoo. You're good at taking care of everything.

And that makes his heart do a weird flip.

The realization that he's been staring for way too long jolts him back to the present. Focus, Jay. There's a Jake somewhere out there, lost in a sea of pink underwear.

Jisoo carrier in hand, Jay manages to push his way through the dog-packed crowds until he reaches you, but the second you turn around, flashing him that wide, carefree smile that he's still not used to, he's back to stumbling over himself.

He’s 99% sure he audibly gulps.

“Oh, Jay, you made it!” you say, shifting the puppy to one side of your arms to free a hand to grab Jisoo's carrier immediately. Your smile is disarmingly genuine. Jay thinks he may need to sit down.

“Uh, yeah—um, thanks for taking Jisoo," he swallows, his voice barely steady as he's unsure what this feeling is that came over him. He doesn't know if it's the fact that he's seeing you in a completely different light right now, carrying both a live, adorable puppy, and a (not-so-live) baby, but something is different, and he's at a loss for words. "You look pretty—uh…busy.”

He curses himself. Busy? Really?

“Oh, no biggie,” you give him an easy, encouraging grin, one so casual that it really shouldn't make his knees feel like Jell-O. "Honestly, I'd be out here every weekend if I could. But you of all people know my schedule."

Of course, you'd say something like that. Jay tries to think of a normal response, but his brain is spinning with all sorts of not-normal things about you—like how you look so aggressively pretty right now.

And it’s a little infuriating.

"Yeah, no, totally," Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his head. "Because who doesn't want to be covered in dog hair and slobber for fun?"

You roll your eyes, smiling. "Says the guy who's about to be knee-deep in a laundry crisis. Isn't that a little messy, too?"

Jay huffs, feeling himself return just a little bit back to normal. “Listen, Jake’s a special case, okay? You can’t just leave him in that pink laundry disaster and expect him to survive.”

"Right..," you laugh, rocking back and forth on your feet, your smile lingering as a comfortable silence falls between you.

Maybe it's the way you're looking up at him, or the fact that a literal golden retriever is currently nuzzling into your neck, but Jay is doing everything in his power to keep his cool. You're looking at him in a way that isn't remotely judgmental (for once), and it's throwing him completely off-balance.

Before Jay can pull it together and say something else, another voice calls your name, waving you over to a different table. You turn back to Jay, giving him an apologetic glance.

"Do you mind watching Jisoo—and, um, this puppy—for a sec?"

Before he can answer, or even process your words, he's standing there with an actual puppy in one arm, and Jisoo in her carrier in the other, and his life has become a circus he never auditioned for.

"Sorry! They just need me real quick!" You say with a grateful smile as you hurry off.

As you rush off with another apologetic smile, Jay's brain, for better or for worse, decides that grin of yours is now his mental screensaver. He watches you go, dumbly smiling before he catches himself.

Not attraction, he reminds himself. Totally not attraction.

He looks down at his arms—one occupied by a carrier with a robot baby, the other holding a wriggly puppy.

"Bet no one's ever been in this situation before," he mutters, awkwardly standing there as he waits for your return. Honestly, Jay has never felt so awkward or nervous before. Right now, he feels like the epitome of the standing emoji, just simply existing and there, waiting for your next command and hoping he doesn't screw it up.

Jay tries to hype himself up. You can do this, Park. It's just a dog. And a baby. And you. You've got this. You totally have everything und—

Before he can finish his mental pep talk, the sound of your laughter rings from across the event, making Jay's head snap over in record time. He tries not to look—he really does—but the sound is too angelic to not. But right when he does look over, he immediately wishes he didn't.

You're standing there between two of your friends, and you're giggling. With some guy he's never seen before. And this guy, is nudging your shoulder and making you laugh so hard you're practically doubling over. He feels a distinct twist in his chest.

Jay’s definitely not jealous. Nope. Not even a little. It's just...curiosity. Pure, innocent curiosity about what that guy could possibly be saying to make you laugh so hard. Because Jay has never seen you laugh like that with him—ever.

And suddenly, the longer you continue laughing with that guy, Jay feels something hot and uncomfortable bubbling up inside.

Fine, it’s jealousy.

Definitely jealousy.

He scowls at himself. Now he’s basically a bitter standing emoji, clinging to Jisoo and a puppy while glaring from afar.

And there Jay stands, bitterness levels maxed, holding both a puppy and a robot baby, while across the way, your roommate Esther gives you a knowing smirk while you're recovering from your giggling fit. Your giggling fit which was caused by Heeseung making a comment about how he stepped in dog poop more times than the average human-being accidentally should.

“You didn’t tell me that was Jay Park,” Esther says, trying not-so-subtly to sneak a glance at the bitter standing emoji himself, awkwardly shifting his feet in the distance, avoiding to look in your direction. “You said he was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around. You didn’t mention he’s a total cutie.”

“He was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around,” you scoff, though you're clearly not thinking that right now as you catch a glance of him trying to balance both the puppy and Jisoo. "But...I don't think he's so bad anymore."

You definitely don't add that he's a total cutie. Okay, maybe you think it, but saying it out loud is a whole other thing.

“Oh, so you totally like him,” Heeseung snickers from your other side, nudging you again.

You make a sound that's half out-of-tune trumpet, half hiccup, before breaking into a laugh to cover your sudden panic.

"No, I don't!" You clear your throat, trying to stay cool. "We're just—look, we're just stuck together for this project. That's all. Even if I did like him, which I don't, he definitely doesn't like me back. We're probably just going to go back to bickering with each other to no end."

“Right,” Heeseung chimes in, giving you a look that says he's clearly unconvinced. “Just saying, though—someone who doesn’t like you wouldn’t be staring at you like that, and looking at me like I just committed a first-degree crime just for breathing in your direction."

You follow Heeseung’s gaze and, sure enough, you catch Jay trying to look casual while bouncing the puppy and acting like he totally didn’t just get caught. Your eyes meet, and he does a 180 so fast he nearly launches Jisoo into orbit.

You quickly turn back to your friends, heat rising to your face as you catch Esther and Heeseung giving each other a knowing look before smirking at you. You roll your eyes and grab the both of them by the back of their shirts, turning them in the direction of the event, "Okay, okay, enough with the delusions. Shouldn't you guys be signing off some puppies or something?"

"Don't say we didn't tell you so!" Esther calls after you as you turn on your heels towards Jay, furiously convincing yourself that they're so wrong.

There's no universe in which Jay Park, the Jay Park, would ever be into you. The Jay Park, who can get any girl he wants, the Jay Park who's just too different from you, the Jay Park who you proclaimed your school rival (self-proclaimed). Absolutely not.

When you get back to him, Jay’s desperately trying to look natural—so, naturally, he’s scratching the puppy’s belly while Jisoo clings to his chest like a tiny koala. Your heart gives a little traitorous squeeze, but you ignore it. Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.

“Looks like he likes you,” you say, trying to sound casual as you nod to the puppy, who's squirming excitedly under Jay's attention.

“He’s adorable,” Jay replies, blushing faintly as he shifts the puppy around.

“So, uh, everything okay over there?” he asks, totally not imagining a deep, romantic conversation to explain your laughter.

You’re caught off-guard, blinking, wondering if Jay somehow became psychic and caught onto your previous train of thoughts about him, until you realize what he meant.

“Oh! Yeah, they just… needed help with paperwork.”

Jay’s expression hardens ever so slightly as he tries to imagine a world where paperwork could possibly be that funny.

“Cool, cool,” he nods stiffly, side-eyeing Heeseung in the distance who’s still chatting with Esther.

"Well," Jay shifts awkwardly as clears his throat, "I should get going to Jake. He's probably in tears by now, honestly."

You frown at that, and Jay instantly self-identifies himself as the worst person on the planet. He barely resists the urge to apologize for everything he's ever done, from breathing in your direction to any other crime against humanity he's committed in your eyes.

"Aw, come on," you say, teasingly, though even you're not sure why. It's just...fun having him around. "Stay a little longer. For the puppies!"

Jay opens his mouth, fully ready to decline when he catches sight of your expression—those big, pleading eyes that make it impossible to say no.

And that's it. He's doomed. Right then and there, Jay knows he's doomed.

Is Jay currently surrounded by more puppies than he ever thought could physically exist in one place?

Yes.

Does he think your puppy eyes are somehow cuter than all the puppies combined?

Annoyingly, also yes.

And so, Jay would like to make some new things clear, for the record:

First, there is no way any of this is his fault. If Jake ends up crying over outfit choices and demands to know why Jay ditched him for puppies, Jay has a rock-solid explanation. He’ll explain the situation, which obviously couldn’t be helped. Hanging out with you? Totally justified. Perfectly valid.

And second, well—Jay would like to clarify that it's official now. Whatever he was feeling before?

Yeah, definitely attraction.

Your fingers drum against your blanket. You stare blankly at your bedroom ceiling. You let out another deep sigh. You toss and turn, adjusting your position for maybe the hundredth time. It's no use.

You're bored.

And that, in itself, is a shocking revelation. You're never bored. Your schedule is usually packed to the brim—between assignments, club meetings, work shifts, and impromptu Save the Puppies campaigns, there's hardly room for boredom. But today?

Today, life has gifted you a rare stretch of free time. No assignments to finish, no midterms to study for, no dog adoption events or café shifts. And apparently, you have no idea how to handle that.

You turn to look at Jisoo, who's chilling in her spot on your bed next to you, not having a single ounce of consciousness for you to share your boredom with.

With another sigh, you grab your phone and scroll aimlessly through your apps. You eventually land in your Photos app and swipe through mindlessly until a recent picture stops you in your tracks.

It's a selfie Jay took of the two of you, Jisoo sandwiched between your faces. The infamous day of the pizza-night-turned-accidental-nap-turned-godforsaken-poop-incident. You'd submitted the photo to Professor Kim as proof of your co-parenting efforts, but now, looking at it again, you can't help but smile.

It's strange. The memory should be traumatic—okay, it is traumatic—but in hindsight, it's also...kind of fun. The chaos, the banter, the way Jay somehow managed to make everything feel less overwhelming just by being there.

Funny enough, that day was also the last time you remember having any sort of free time, and you remember complaining that you had to spend the day with Jay of all people. But now, looking back at it, you honestly did have fun. Being with Jay was...fun.

Your thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before it unconsciously drifts towards the Phone app. You hesitate, realizing with a jolt that you're one tap away from calling Jay. It's like your brain suddenly shut off and something took over you. What's gotten into you?

You blink at Jay's contact on your phone, your thumb still hovering over his name.

No. Bad idea.

You don't need Jay to entertain you just because you're bored. You're perfectly capable of having fun on your own...obviously. Obviously, even though the last hour of groaning and ceiling-staring suggests otherwise.

Besides, Jay's probably busy doing...whatever it is Jay does at 4PM on a Saturday. Napping, probably.

And what would you even say? Let's hang out? Like some middle schooler asking out their crush? Not to mention, you already have your 'Jisoo' plans in two days, so it's not like you have an excuse to see him.

You sit up abruptly, shaking your head as if to clear the fog of ridiculous thoughts. Seriously, do you even hear yourself right now? Looking for an excuse to see him? Since when did you need excuses for anything, let alone something as absurd as spending more time than necessary with Jay Park?

This has to be some kind of stress-induced meltdown. It's the only logical explanation. All those late-night study sessions, midterm panic attacks, Jisoo diaper changes, and endless extracurriculars must've finally fried your brain. And now, here you are, teetering on the edge of reason, actually wanting to see Jay Park.

Great. Now you have a new problem.

Because as much as you try to convince yourself otherwise, the truth is glaringly obvious: you want to see him. And that, more than any amount of free time or boredom, is the real problem.

You've officially lost it.

I've officially lost it, you chant in your head as your thumb hovers dangerously close to Jay's name on your screen again.

I've officially lost it, the words grow louder, taunting you, as you hover over the call button.

I've officially lost it, your thoughts scream as you give in, pressing down and watching in horror as your screen shifts to Calling Jay Park.

And now, your heartbeat picks up with every ring. You can't decide what's worse—him answering or him ignoring the call. Maybe if he doesn't pick up, it'll be a sign from above that you're better off leaving this madness alone. Maybe—

"Hello?"

Your train of thought screeches to a halt.

"Y/N? Are you there?"

"I'm here!" You blurt out, your voice jumping two octaves higher than usual. Real smooth, Y/N.

"Hi...what's up? Are you okay? Is something wrong?" His voice is soft over the phone, a little concerned, like you're about to tell him Jisoo had another diaper emergency.

You falter for a moment, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be written there.

"No! Nothing's wrong! I just—uh–" Quick, think of something normal!

"I was wondering what you're up to."

"Me?" He sounds genuinely surprised, and you can practically hear the smile in this voice. At least, you think. Or, once again, you've officially lost it. "I'm at the campus gallery, setting up for my photography showcase. It's tonight."

The campus gallery. His photography.

You blink, this is news to you. You vaguely remember Jay asking if you could watch Jisoo tonight, and he hadn't given you a reason back then, but this is why he couldn't be on Jisoo duty today. Because of his showcase.

"Wait, really?" You ask, hoping the interest in your voice doesn't show too much.

"Yeah. I didn't mention it? Guess I forgot," he chuckles lightly. "It's not a big deal, just a student showcase. I'm just setting up now, making sure my pieces are hung straight and stuff."

You swallow, a sudden wave of curiosity washing over you. You find yourself smiling to yourself, feeling a wave of endearment wash over you for some reason. The idea of Jay being completely focused and serious about a passion of his is...it's nice. It’s hard to reconcile the carefree, sarcastic guy you know with the thoughtful perspective he must have to capture the kinds of photos he does.

"You should come by," he says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but you think you catch a small, hopeful note in it. "If you're free, I mean. No pressure."

You hesitate, your mind racing. Go? Don't go? It's just a showcase. It's not like it means anything. Right?

"I'll think about it," you manage, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Cool." There's a smile in his voice again. "Let me know. I'll save you a front-row seat."

"Front row seat? For a gallery?" You deadpan, rolling your eyes as if he can see if over the phone.

"Hey, I'm just being a good host."

"Hmmm," you smile to yourself again. "Maybe. We'll see."

But your decision was made the second he suggested that you should come.

It doesn't mean anything. Friends come support each other all the time, right? Wait—

Are you and Jay even friends? You shake your head, trying to dismiss the warmth starting to spread in your chest.

It's just photography.

It's just Jay.

Nothing to overthink here.

✭・.・✫

“Okay, Jisoo, in and out,” you whisper to the robot baby in the carrier that's perched in your arms as you stand frozen outside the campus gallery doors. "We're just stopping by to say hi. Two minutes max. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Nothing dramatic."

Jisoo stares back at you, wide-eyed and unhelpfully silent, which you take as strong moral support.

"Thanks, Jisoo," you mutter, like a lunatic seeking validation from a robot.

Maybe you shouldn't even go in. It's basically the end of the event anyway—what are the odds he'd even notice you didn't show?

Slim. Probably. Right?

It's not like you didn't have a valid excuse for your lateness. You did have to change Jisoo’s diaper before you left, and that was a whole thing. But let's be real.

The real delay?

The real delay was you standing in front of your closet for a solid half hour like a contestant on America's Next Top Existential Crisis. What do you even wear to casually drop by someone's photography showcase? Something that says, Hey, I'm effortlessly supportive, but I totally don't care if you notice me (yes I do).

Spoiler alert: that outfit does not exist.

And then—because clearly, you love to torture yourself—you spent another thirty minutes pacing around your room trying to figure out why you cared so much in the first place.

It's Jay. Jay. The guy who thought sticking googly eyes on Jisoo's bottle would make her drink faster. Why are you stressed? Why are your palms sweaty?

But despite all that, you somehow made it here, standing outside the gallery with your stomach doing flips like you're about to walk into your own trial. You made it all the way here, so might as well go in, right?

You swallow hard, adjust your grip on your emotional support robot baby, and push the door open.

And there he is.

Center stage, right where he belongs—or at least where he seems to thrive. Standing in front of a massive wall of his framed photographs, the studio lights catch his profile just right. It's almost unfair, like he's been personally photoshopped by the gods themselves. He's surrounded by a small crowd, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he speaks, his smile so bright you're convinced it's starting to hurt your eyes.

But his eyes? There's this sparkle in them. Not the usual playful glint you've grown used to, but something deeper, softer. You've never seen him look so alive, so utterly in his element, and it's doing weird things to your chest.

You can't help but wonder—what does it feel like to make him look that happy? Not that it matters, obviously.

It's just a thought.

A completely useless, irrelevant, go-away-right-now kind of thought.

If you weren't busy trying not to trip over your own feet and accidentally drop Jisoo, you might have stopped to take it all in. To admire the way he looks standing there, talking about something he clearly loves, like he's found this magical pocket of the universe where nothing else matters. Might have.

But instead, your thoughts screech in a halt, jolting you out of your daydream.

Abort mission. This was a terrible idea.

Why did you come here? Why is your face hot? Can Jisoo smell fear?

Before you can think of a single coherent reason to not turn around and bolt, Jay glances up. And he spots you.

His eyes light up even more—if that's even physically possible. "Y/N?" He calls out, grinning widely.

Great. Now you're here. He's happy to see you. You're standing in the middle of his gallery with a robot baby that can most definitely smell your fear.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

Jay's voice cuts through your existential spiral, "Y/N!" He's waving you over as he calls out your name again, like you're a long-lost friend who's just returned from war.

Well, to be fair, you are fighting a war—against your own dumb feelings.

"Hey!" You croak, trying to sound casual but ending up somewhere between a dog's favorite squeaky toy and a rusty car horn. You internally flinch at your own voice.

"Wow, you came," he says, his sweet smile still on display as you shuffle over to where he's standing. "And you brought Jisoo! My biggest fan."

He reaches out to cup Jisoo's cheeks, and you almost smack yourself in the head for feeling jealous over your own robot baby.

"Yeah, well," you start, trying to sound nonchalant. "I figured, you know, project partners should support each other...teamwork and all that."

Jay raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to stifle a laugh, "Right. Teamwork. Totally."

You shift your weight from one leg to another, awkwardly looking up, eventually landing your eyes on the wall behind him, scanning the photos on display. Each photo is so him—a little chaotic, a little bold, but somehow...strikingly beautiful. There's a photo of a rainy city street, the light catching every droplet; a close-up of a sunflower against a brilliant sky; a candid of a kid laughing, his face tilted up toward the sun.

You suddenly feel a weird, warm pull in your chest. It’s one thing to see Jay cracking jokes and making sarcastic comments during late-night baby meltdowns. But this? This is a side of him you’ve never seen before—one that’s thoughtful, intentional, passionate.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until Jay speaks up, his voice softer now. “Do you like them?”

You blink, startled, and then nod a little too quickly. You hope he doesn't notice (he does).

"Yeah. I mean...these are really good, Jay. You're–" you cut yourself off, realizing you're about to say something embarrassing.

''–talented," you finish lamely.

"Thanks," Jay tilts his head, looking almost shy. "That means a lot, actually."

His voice is so genuine that it throws you off. You weren't prepared for this level of sincerity. It makes your stomach flip in a way that's both exciting and mildly terrifying.

Jay gestures toward the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets like he's trying not to fidget.

"I wasn't sure if this was your kind of thing, thought you'd be busy and stuff, but I'm glad you came. I, uh..," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, "I was kind of hoping you would."

Oh.

Oh?

OH.

Your brain immediately short-circuits. He hoped you'd come? Like...in a we're-in-this-together-as-project-partners way, or in a please-let-this-mean-something-more-than-project-partners way? Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? Should you call someone? Should you call him? No, wait, you're already talking to him—focus!

You clear your throat and try to channel every ounce of chill you simply do not possess.

"Well," you say, attempting to keep your voice steady and failing miserably, "I'm here."

It comes out barely louder than a whisper, and you immediately regret every life decision that's led you to this moment. But then Jay smiles—soft, something smaller, more private—and it's like the world shifts slightly off its axis.

"Yeah," he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that makes you forget how to breathe. "You are."

And just like that, the noise of the environment dissolves, and the rest of the world shrinks to nothing but the space between you and him. The moment feels impossibly big like it might swallow you whole, and yet so small it could shatter with the slightest breath.

You're pretty sure you're about to combust. Explode. Turn into a human firework fueled entirely by sheer tension and whatever it is that's happening right now. God, why does he have to look at you like that? Like you're not standing here internally unraveling?

You break eye contact to glance down at Jisoo, and you're positive she's giving you a look that screams, Stop being weird, you two.

"Anyway!" You blurt out, desperate to break the tension.

"Which one's your favorite?" You gesture to the photos, your eyes darting anywhere but his own.

He laughs, and the sound is warm and unguarded, "C'mon, I'll show you."

He grabs your free hand without thinking, tugging you toward the far end of the wall. And just like that, you're helplessly following him, heart racing again, wondering how the hell you got here—and why you never want to leave.

So much for in and out.

Jay pulls you towards the far end of the gallery, his hand wrapped around yours like it's the most natural thing in the world.

It's not.

Your brain is in full-blown meltdown mode. Red alerts, sirens blaring, a voice screaming, "WE'RE HOLDING HANDS, PEOPLE!"

But there's no way you're about to let him see how much this is affecting you, so you shove the chaos down, pretending like your hand isn't currently experiencing the touch equivalent of fireworks...and hoping that it isn't sweaty.

"This one," Jay says, stopping in front of a photo that's somehow both ordinary and magical. It's a simple shot of your campus football field, taken from the bleacher stands. You've stood in those very bleachers too many times to count—for school events, games, the occasional half-hearted attempt to pretend you like sports. But somehow, in this shot, the field looks...different.

The grass glows like it's soaked in liquid gold under a sky caught between dusk and twilight. The field is empty, yet it doesn't feel lonely. There's something about it that Jay managed to capture—like it holds a thousand stories and secrets, quietly hopeful in its stillness.

"It's beautiful," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can catch them.

"Yeah," Jay lets out a breath. "It's my favorite spot on campus. I go there a lot when I need to think or just...get away a bit."

You glance at him, startled at the sudden vulnerability in his voice. Jay never strikes you as someone who gets lost in his head; he always seemed too confident, too effortlessly sure of himself. But right now, he's not looking at you—he's staring at the photo, like he's seeing something beyond it.

"I took it on one of those days—I was just overthinking a lot about life. About who I am, I guess," he continues. "I didn't think it'd turn out good or anything, but...I don't know. It felt right."

Your chest tightens. There's something so raw in the way he's speaking, like he's letting you see a side of him he usually keeps hidden. It makes you wonder how many other layers Jay Park has, and why it feels so important to uncover them all.

The silence between you stretches as you watch Jay continue to study his own photograph. There's a softness in his gaze, a quiet vulnerability that makes you feel like you're seeing him a way few people ever do.

But then he blinks, breaking the moment, and suddenly he's looking at you. You stiffen, panic bubbling up at the possibility that he might've noticed you staring at him.

"Sorry," he says, his voice carrying a self-deprecating chuckle. "It's really cheesy and stupid."

You find yourself shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence.

"No! Not at all, really," you blurt out, the words stumbling over themselves in their rush to escape. You feel the heat creeping up your neck, mortified at your sudden intensity.

Jay raises an eyebrow, amused, but doesn't say anything, so you clear your throat and try again, softer this time, "I mean it. You have a good eye, Jay."

You mean it more than you've meant anything in a while, and you hope he knows that.

For a second, he just looks at you, like he's taking note of something, his head tilted ever so slightly. And then, slowly, his lips curve into that small, genuine smile that makes your chest feel annoyingly warm.

"Thanks, Y/N."

Your heart does a little somersault. Oh great. There it goes again.

And as if Jisoo can sense the moment might be getting too serious, she lets out a cry. You stumble back, jump scared enough by the loud and sudden sound, and Jay reacts instantly, steadying you with his hands on your shoulders.

"You okay?" He asks, his face so close that you can now confirm there are literal, actual flecks of gold in his eyes. Of course there are.

You blink. I've officially lost it. Completely, utterly, hopelessly, lost it.

You nod, your voice stuck in your throat. Am I okay? No. No, you are not okay. You are decidedly not okay.

Jay clears his throat, stepping back—though his hands linger a beat longer than they probably need to, but still a second too short than you should probably want to.

You want to scream into the void.

"Looks like it's time for Jisoo's dinner," he says lightly with a small chuckle.

You fumble for words, your brain still offline.

"Uh—yeah. I left her bottle at my place, and I should probably get going anyways," you manage, your voice a little too breathless for comfort.

Jay glances at his watch, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, something hopeful flicking in his eyes.

"I'm pretty much done here," he says, tilting his head towards the door. "It's late. Let me walk you home."

You hesitate, torn between insisting you're perfectly fine on your own (you're not) and letting him (you want to). But the way he's looking at you—like it's no big deal, like he simply wants to—makes the decision for you.

"Okay," you say, quieter than you mean to, and before you can second-guess yourself, Jay's already taking Jisoo's carrier from your arms, effortlessly shifting it onto his own.

"Let's go," he says, flashing you a small smile that feels like a punch to your stomach in the best way possible.

And just like that, you're walking side by side into the cool night air, your breaths visible in the chill, easily falling into a comfortable rhythm as you walk through the quiet campus, the streetlights above casting long shadows ahead of you.

There’s something easy about walking with him like this. It shouldn’t feel this natural—your heart’s doing somersaults and pirouettes like it’s auditioning for a circus—but it does. You steal a glance at him, and he’s focused on the path ahead, his profile calm and soft in the glow of the lights.

"So," Jay breaks the quiet as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, "Can you believe the project's almost over?"

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head, "Honestly, no. Feels like just yesterday I was praying you'd drop the class."

Jay laughs, a sound that seems to echo in the quiet environment.

"Wow, Y/N. I thought we were bonding."

"We were," you tease, turning to him with a barely concealed smirk. "I just also thought you were going to be a disaster of a partner."

He scoffs, giving you a mock-offended look, "I proved you wrong, right? I was amazing since day one."

"You handed Jisoo to me like she was a bomb, Jay," you remind him, unable to stop yourself from laughing.

"I was assessing the danger!" Jay protests, his grin widening. "And excuse me, I've stepped up. I've made bottles, I've cleaned her, I even know how to put on a diaper the right side up!"

"Jay, the fact that you had to learn which way was right side up is concerning in itself," you manage to let out with a giggle.

"Details, details," he waves a dismissive hand. "Point is, I'm practically father of the year."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. A sharp breeze suddenly hits the both of you, and you visibly shiver from the lack of warmth your outfit provides. All that time choosing an outfit, and you still couldn't pick a weather-appropriate one. Stellar, Y/N.

And of course, Jay notices immediately. Before you can so much as form a protest, he's shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, your body immediately stiffening as his hands brush against you lightly in the process.

You open your mouth to say something—anything, even just a whispered thank you—but Jay beats you to it, sparing you the effort of finding actual, coherent words.

“So,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just sent your brain spiraling, “what do you think you’ll do when it’s over?”

"Uh," you blink, still needing a second to reorient yourself. "Sleep, for once."

Jay laughs again. "Fair. You deserve it. But you'll miss me, right?"

"Not even for a second," you deadpan without hesitation.

"Liar," he teases, bumping your shoulder lightly.

You reach your building all too soon, the doors looming in front of you like an unwelcome reminder that this walk, this moment, is about to end. You stop just before the steps and turn to face him, rocking on your heels.

"Okay, maybe a little," you admit, shrugging. "But only because you make me look like the competent one by comparison."

"Wow," Jay shakes his head, but there it is again. The smile—the small, amused one that makes his eyes crinkle just enough to be unfairly attractive.

You glance up at him, wishing the walk had been just a few blocks longer. Or a few miles.

"Well," you say finally, forcing your gaze away from his own. "Thanks for walking me. And for carrying Jisoo."

You reach for Jisoo's carrier, and Jay hands it over without hesitation, but not before shrugging like it's no big deal.

"No problem," he says. Then, as you're adjusting the carrier on your arm, he adds, "And thanks again, Y/N. For coming tonight. It really meant a lot."

Your heart does that stupid fluttery thing again it's been doing all night, and you're starting to think you need a medical consultation.

"Yeah, well," you clear your throat. "Partner support, you know?" You sound dumb, Y/N. Dumb.

Jay smirks, but there's something gentler in his expression now, a flicker of something you can't quite name.

"Goodnight, Y/N. And goodnight, Jisoo," he says, giving a small wave to the baby carrier, making you giggle slightly.

He takes a few steps back, his hands slipping into his pockets, and gives you one last smile before turning to walk away. But before he gets too far, something bursts out of you, unwarned.

"Jay!"

He stops, turning on his heels, his brows lifting in surprise. "Yeah?"

You step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you, suddenly hyper-aware of how your voice wavers.

"Um, I was wrong. You're...not all that bad." Why am I doing this? "I'm sorry if I've been...you know, intense. These past few years."

Jay blinks at you, his surprise turning into something softer. You take a deep breath, pushing through the self-inflicted awkwardness.

"You've been a really good partner," you add, offering a small, genuinely smile. "And well...you're pretty cool."

His studies your face for a moment, the look longing and careful, like he's piecing together something fragile. A faint smile tugs at his lips, and there's a warmth in his expression that sends heat rushing to your cheeks.

For a moment, the two of you just stand here, caught in the glow of the streetlamp. The world around you feels distant, like someone's hit the mute button on everything but the sound of your heartbeat.

Jay's smile widens ever so slightly, and he nods, his voice quiet but firm, "I'll see you around, Y/N."

He takes a few steps backward, his gaze holding yours until he finally turns and starts walking away. You watch him disappear into the night, the outline of his figure fading with the streetlights, and only then do you realize you've been holding your breath.

As you step into your building and climb the stairs to your apartment, the night replays in your head on a loop—his laugh, his smile, his everything.

When you finally reach your door, you lean against it for a moment, his large jacket still wrapped around you. Your thoughts crash into you all at once, and two things become alarmingly clear:

You are completely, utterly, hopelessly in like with Jay Park.

You're in so much trouble.

“Congratulations, everyone!” Professor Kim clasps her hands together at the front of the classroom, a wide smile on her face. “You’ve survived six weeks of parenting. Hopefully, you’ve learned something useful—and that it hasn’t scared you off from actual parenthood one day. Each baby had a monitor tracking its status, so I’ll be extracting that data, combining it with your progress reports, and factoring it into your grade.”

Jay leans toward you from his seat next to you, his breath warm against your ear.

“That’s a little creepy…she’s going to take Jisoo apart? The poor thing.” His smirk is half-guilty, half-amused, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from laughing out loud.

This is new. Six weeks ago, he was Mr. Front-Row Enthusiast, and sometime between then and now, you’ve somehow managed to convert him into your next-row-back partner. He’d grumbled at first when you insisted about your theory that the front row screamed try-hard, but since then, he doesn’t even glance at the seats up front anymore.

“Grades will be out soon! I’ll see you all next week,” Professor Kim announces. “And don’t forget to submit your reflection posts!”

The shuffle of bags and jackets fills the room as students thank her on their way out. Slowly, the lecture hall empties, until it’s just you and Jay lingering at your seats.

“Well,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you stand. “That’s it. No more parenting lessons for us.”

Jay heaves a dramatic sigh, his lips pulling into a pout that’s far too endearing for your peace of mind, “I can’t believe it. I already miss Jisoo.”

You chuckle lightly but feel an odd tug in your chest, “Right? I got so used to carrying her and her baby bag everywhere. It’s weird not having her around.”

And it is weird. You never thought you’d feel this way about a glorified hunk of plastic and wires, but now, without Jisoo, something feels…off.

Or maybe it’s not just Jisoo. Maybe it’s the fact that this project, unexpectedly enough, turned into an excuse—a reason to spend so much time with Jay. Now that it’s over, what happens next?

The thought hangs between you as the two of you head out of the building. The campus is alive with the hum of students, the energy buzzing around you as everyone heads to their afternoon classes. You both stop outside, standing awkwardly side by side as the silence stretches.

No more 'Jisoo days' to plan for. No more excuses to text. No more shared tasks or inside jokes.

Will he go back to his front-row seat, forgetting these last few weeks? Or will he—will you—pretend none of this ever happened?

Jay shifts beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flicker to yours, then away again, as if he’s waiting for you to say something first.

“Well,” you finally say, breaking the quiet because it’s just too heavy to bear. “I have to head to my next class.”

“Right. Yeah,” Jay says quickly, too quickly, his hands both fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. “Makes sense.”

He hesitates, his mouth opening like he’s about to add something, but then he stops. You notice the way he’s looking at you, like there’s a thousand things he wants to say but can’t figure out how to start. You feel that familiar heat creep up your neck, the same one you tend to get whenever you’re around him nowadays.

“Alright,” you finally say, shifting on your feet. “See you around, then?”

Jay’s lips turn up in a small, almost longing, smile, “Yeah. See you.”

He doesn’t move, though. Neither do you. It’s like both of you are waiting for the other to take a step away first, and the pause grows longer and longer until you can practically hear the universe screaming at you to just go already. It’s getting unbearably uncomfortable for all of us, Y/N.

And when you finally start to turn, before you can even take three steps, his voice stops you.

“Hey.”

You glance back over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Jay scratches the back of his neck, looking like he’s fighting some kind of internal battle.

“Uh, you were also a really good partner. You know, with Jisoo. I mean, you were kinda terrifying at first with all your color-coded schedules and spreadsheets, but…”

His smile softens, and his voice drops a little, “You were great. Really. I think I learned a thing or two from you.”

Your stomach flips in a way that’s both infuriating and addictive.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to sound casual even though your brain is short-circuiting. “Means a lot from someone who had to Google which way a diaper goes.”

He laughs, the sound bright and warm in the cool air, “Okay, one time, Y/N. Let it go.”

“Nope.” You grin, turning fully toward him now, your nerves settling under the familiarity of teasing. “You’ll never live it down. It’s my parting gift to you.”

Jay presses a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, “Wow. I pour my heart out, and this is what I get in return?”

“Exactly.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head before finally stepping back, breaking the invisible bubble that’s been holding you both in place.

“Alright. I’ll see you, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jay,” you say, forcing yourself to turn and start walking away.

You make it a few steps before you hear his voice a second time, softer this time, almost hesitant.

“Y/N.”

You glance back, your heart skipping a beat.

Jay looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips curve into a small, lopsided smile.

“Text me when you get home later tonight, okay? After your day is done.”

You blink, caught off guard.

“What?”

“Just…so I know you got there safe,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. But the way his voice dips at the end betrays him.

Your chest tightens in a way that officially feels dangerous. But you know you never want to get enough of this feeling.

“Okay,” you manage to say, the word quieter than you meant, but it was the most you could muster up with the bubble stuck in your throat.

Jay nods, his smile widening just a little.

“Good.”

And this time, when you turn away, you can’t stop the smile that sneaks onto your face.

✭・.・✫

By the time you get home, it’s late, and the apartment is quiet. Esther is nowhere to be found—probably out with Heeseung or at the library pretending to study. You toe off your shoes and drop your bag by the door, the routine feeling strangely empty without Jisoo’s carrier on your arm and her baby bag strapped to the other.

With a sigh, you find your way to your room and collapse onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Jay’s parting words have been echoing in your head all day, barely letting you focus during the rest of your classes—“Text me when you get home.”

You hover over your messages for a second longer than necessary, typing and deleting a draft once, then twice, then a third time, before finally hitting send:

Y/N [8:52PM]: home safe 👍

You stare at the screen for exactly three seconds before flinging your phone across your bed. You roll over, face buried in your pillow, half hoping he doesn’t reply so you don’t have to overanalyze the significance of a thumbs-up emoji.

But, of course, your phone buzzes almost instantly.

Jay [8:53PM]: good 👍 sleep well.

A small, ridiculous smile tugs at your lips. You really shouldn’t be this giddy over such a mundane exchange, over a thumbs up emoji, but somehow, here you are.

And that’s when you start going insane. You shoot up from your spot in bed.

Why did he tell you to text him? Does he say that to everyone? Or was it just…you? And why does he keep looking at you like that? You’ve never been the kind of person to spiral like this, but lately, everything about Jay has you unraveling in ways you don’t know how to handle.

Clearly.

You groan, flailing your arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Get it together, Y/N,” you mutter to yourself, but it’s no use. Every little interaction from the past six weeks replays in your head on a loop—his laughter, his stupid jokes, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp buzz from your phone. You glance over, half expecting a random notification (the other half hoping Jay double texted you) but instead, it’s the one you’ve been waiting for without realizing it:

Professor Kim: Final grades are posted!

Your heart leaps. Practically fumbling with your phone, you open the grading portal, scanning the page with a held breath. And there it is, staring back at you in bold letters:

Semester Project Grade: 100%

“YES!” you exclaim, punching the air like a successful cartoon character. You’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt, practically bouncing in bed. It’s the kind of happiness that makes you feel like you’re going to burst if you don’t share it with someone.

And there’s only one person you want to share it with.

Before you know what you’re doing, your closet doors are wide open, your hands rifling through. Your hands land on his jacket—the one he lent you after the showcase—and something about it feels right. You shrug it on, ignoring the way it smells faintly like him (and comfort), and grab your keys without a second thought.

By the time you realize what you’re doing, you’re already halfway to Jay’s apartment. It’s not like you had a plan—just this overwhelming need to see him.

Because somehow, he’s become the first person you want to share everything with, want to experience every moment with, want to feel every feeling with, and that thought is both exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

But you’ve never been so sure of anything else before.

Your breath hitches as you reach his familiar door, hand raised to knock. You hesitate for a moment, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this is. Who shows up at someone’s place at this hour, unannounced, just to tell them about a grade? What if he already saw it and didn’t even think twice? You look insane, Y/N. Insane.

But then you think about the way he looked at you earlier, the way he smiled when he said “good job.”

And you knock.

✭・.・✫

Jay doesn’t know what’s happening. One second, he’s on his couch editing photos, and the next, someone’s trying to break down his door. At least, that’s what it sounds like. The pounding is so aggressive it makes his mug of tea tremble slightly on the table.

Heart racing, Jay tosses his laptop aside and scans the room for a weapon. Nothing. Great. In a flash of panic, he grabs the TV remote because, sure, it’s sleek, ergonomic, and maybe intimidating in the right light.

Bracing himself for certain doom, he yanks the door open—

“Oh.”

It’s you.

At his doorstep.

Unannounced.

In his jacket.

Jay flatlines. All he can do is stare at you in the oversized jacket—his oversized jacket—looking like you walked straight out of one of his dream scenarios. The rational part of him is trying to keep it together, but the feral part of his brain is screaming She’s in my clothes. Marriage now.

You tilt your head, studying his expression.

“Jay? Are you…okay?”

He blinks, realizing he’s been standing there for a good five seconds with his mouth slightly open.

“Uh. Yeah. Totally. Uh—what’s up?”

“Well first, why are you wielding a TV remote like it’s a sword?”

Jay glances down at the remote in his hand, then back at you.

“…I thought you were a robber.”

“A robber?” you repeat, struggling not to laugh. “What kind of robber knocks?”

“I don’t know, maybe a polite one!”

You let out a giggle and shrug, “Fair enough. But anyway, I’m here because—did you see?”

“See what?” He frowns, confused, and still recovering from his adrenaline rush.

“Professor Kim posted our grades! We got a 100%!”

Jay stares at you for a second before the words sink in.

“Wait—what? We got a hundred?”

“Yes!” You’re practically bouncing, a bright smile lighting up your face. “A perfect score, Jay!”

He laughs and steps forward, grabbing your shoulders in his hands.

“No way. We actually did it?!”

“We did it!” You beam back, jumping up and down. “We crushed it!”

Jay’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, but he doesn’t care. There’s something about seeing you this happy, standing in his doorway like a whirlwind of energy, that makes his chest feel way too full, too complete.

And for a moment, the two of you are just standing there, caught up in the moment, smiling at each other like idiots.

When the excitement dies down, Jay notices the way you’re still slightly breathless, like you’d run all the way here.

“Wait,” he squints. “You could’ve just texted me, you know.”

“Oh,” you shift your weight, suddenly looking a little shy. “Yeah. But I just…wanted to see you.”

Jay blinks. His brain is once again malfunctioning.

“Oh.”

Oh?

OH.

“Yeah. So…here I am,” you add, failing miserably to conceal the wobble in your voice.

“Here you are,” he repeats, his voice back to that soft tone that knows how to make your heart go into overdrive.

His eyes flicker to yours and stay there as the air between you suddenly feels heavier. Charged.

“Is that all?” Jay asks, his lips twitching into a teasing smile.

“Uh,” you clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “I guess.”

Jay leans against the doorframe, studying you with that stupidly charming smirk of his, “Well, then.”

“Well, then,” you echo, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jacket like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever encountered (spoiler: it’s not. That would be Jay’s face. But we’re not admitting that just yet).

Neither of you moves. Not even a millimeter. The silence stretches so long that you’re pretty sure somewhere in the world, a Netflix show just autoplayed its next episode.

Then, suddenly, Jay watches as your face cycles through the emotional Olympics: panic, resolve, regret, and whatever it is that makes your eyebrows do that cute scrunch thing he secretly loves.

“I should go,” you say, finally breaking the silence, your voice quieter now. “Sorry for barging in like this.”

You look down at your feet, hands still mindlessly playing with the sleeve of his jacket. Jay’s stomach twists at the sight—at the quiet, unsure way you’re suddenly retreating.

No. Absolutely not. He doesn’t know where his bravery is coming from (he suspects it’s sheer desperation), but he refuses to let you leave like this.

Before you can fully turn away, Jay reaches out and gently grabs your sleeve, tugging you back like you’re his favorite person in the world—which, spoiler again, you totally are.

“Wait,” he says, pulling you close enough that you bump into his chest. Both his hands find their way to your waist, steadying you with an ease that feels practiced. Like it’s where his hands were always meant to be.

And that's when Jay knows for sure: he likes you. He likes you bad. Painful highlighters, confusing spreadsheets, and all. He likes the way you carry your stubbornness like a badge of honor. He likes the way you chew on your pen when you're deep in thought. The way you turn his every sarcastic comment into a competition he's somehow thrilled to lose.

“You forgot something,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low as his eyes search yours, then your lips, then your entire face.

Your heart stumbles, your brain short-circuits, and you’re pretty sure your face is now the color of a stop sign.

“Oh, uh, the jacket?” you stammer, looking down at where he grabbed your sleeve, grasping for any logical explanation. “You’re right. Sorry, I almost—”

But before you can finish, Jay does something both incredibly bold and incredibly reckless. He leans in and presses his lips to yours.

For a moment, you freeze. This isn’t real. Is this an alternate universe where Jay kisses you instead of just driving you insane?

But then, the realization sinks in—Jay is kissing you. Like, actually kissing you. And wow.

The first touch of his lips sends a rush through your entire body, like every nerve has suddenly woken up all at once. He’s hesitant at first, almost like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, but when you don’t—when you finally let go of all the confusion, overthinking, and denial—you lean into him, your hands both instinctively reaching up, gripping the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself as you kiss him back, now realizing how much you desperately wanted this.

And that’s all the encouragement Jay needs.

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers brushing the hem of the jacket you’re wearing—his jacket, you remember with a strange, fluttering thrill. The kiss deepens, gentle but insistent, a slow, breathtaking unraveling of all the tension that’s been simmering between you for weeks.

It’s like the air shifts around you, the space between you collapsing into nothing. You feel his breath, warm against your skin, and the faintest hitch in it when your hand moves up to lightly curl against the back of his neck.

He’s so close, and everything about this moment feels right—his familiar scent, the steady warmth of his hands on your waist, the way he tilts his head slightly to meet yours like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

Your heart pounds, the world spinning just a little too fast and too slow all at once. It’s electric, and dizzying, and somehow everything and nothing like you imagined (because, yes, you’ve imagined it—so what?).

Jay pulls back just slightly, his forehead brushing yours as he grins, his voice a playful mumble against your lips, not wanting to break the kiss, “You can keep the jacket.”

Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as you clutch at his arms for balance.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“I’m a multi-tasker,” he replies, deadpan, his lips turning into a teasing smirk as he leans in and steals another quick kiss. He starts to pull back again, but you don't let him—your hand catches his sleeve as you dart up and chase his lips for one more peck, light and fleeting, but enough to make him smile like a fool.

You're completely, utterly, hopelessly obsessed with him.

"Besides," he adds, the words smug as his arms tighten around you, "I've already sacrificed my jacket. Might as well give up my dignity too."

You roll your eyes, “You’re still an idiot.”

“And yet, I’m the idiot you kissed back,” Jay fires back, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You shake your head, your voice soft and teasing, “You’re so—”

The words trail off as you meet his gaze again, and before you can even think about stopping yourself, you tilt your head up, close the remaining distance between you, and kiss him first this time.

Jay freezes for a second, caught off guard, before he fully melts into the kiss again, one hand instinctively curling around your waist to keep you as close as possible. There's no hesitation now, no teasing, no holding back—just the two of you in the quiet of his doorway, and the overwhelming certainty that neither of you wants to let this—this moment, this feeling—to end.

When you finally pull back, Jay’s eyes are sparkling, his gaze holding an undeniable warmth.

“You know,” he starts, voice light but tinged with something deeper, “if you keep doing that, I might start thinking you actually like me or something.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in just close enough to make him squirm, your smirk playful.

“And if you keep talking,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing, “I might change my mind.”

Jay blinks, momentarily stunned, before letting out a breathless laugh, his arms instinctively circling your waist again, pulling you just a little closer.

“Noted. Say less. I’ll shut up forever. You’re stuck with me now.”

Stuck with Jay? As in a more-than-project-partners kind of way?

Yeah, you think, meeting the smile he’s giving you.

You don’t mind that idea one bit.

Now that the six weeks of parenthood is over, we ask that you write a reflection post in response to your pre-questionnaire answers we asked you at the beginning of the project. Were your expectations met? Exceeded? Any surprises along the way?

Y/N’s Submission [11:15AM, October 30th]:

Parenting, even with a robot baby, turned out to be nothing like I expected. I’ve learned that no matter how much you plan, babies (and life) have a way of completely ignoring your carefully crafted schedules. It was frustrating at times, but it also made things…unexpectedly fun.

Speaking of unexpected—let’s just say my partnership for this project caught me completely off guard, in the best way possible. Turns out, some surprises are worth breaking the plan for :)

Jay’s Submission [11:30AM, October 30th]:

Honestly? I expected surprises, but I wasn’t ready to lose three years of my life over a diaper change—or nearly go deaf from tantrums. Safe to say, I learned the hard way that being a little prepared isn’t such a bad idea.

But here’s the thing: turns out, babies (and certain project partners) have a way of growing on you. Who knew spreadsheets and sleepless nights could actually be…kinda great? I guess what I’m saying is, sometimes the best things aren’t planned. And also, I know how to change a diaper in 30 seconds now. The right side up :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! let me know what you think °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

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joemama-2 · 5 days ago

Text

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8.4k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation

series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter < spotify playlist

Year: DECEMBER 1st, 2018

It was yet another night of bringing back Satoru from a party you didn’t know he was at. Another night of watching him mingle too closely for your liking with some random girl. A friend’s house party, he had told you. Satoru had sobered up slightly by the time you dragged him from that rich kid’s mansion back to his estate. Sober, but quiet.

His quietness would usually throw you off, considering he could chat anyone’s ear off. But with the highs and lows of your disordered relationship, the quietness started to become a good thing. When it was quiet, it meant no one was voicing their opinions. And with no voiced opinions, no fighting, no crying, and no words of “needing space”.

So, you’d learned to treasure the silence, even if it was fragile. Even if it always came with that tight feeling in your chest, like walking on a wire you weren’t sure would hold. You preferred this version of him—hushed, head down, hands shoved in his pockets—over the witty, sharp-tongued man who knew exactly how to break you apart without even trying most times.

The front door clicked shut behind you. He kicked off his shoes without looking at you, then padded quietly toward the kitchen. You stayed by the doorway, coat still on, watching him pull a glass from the cabinet like it was muscle memory.

“You want water?” he asked after a pause, back still turned.

“No,” you answered, softer than you intended.

He filled the glass anyway, drinking half of it in one go. You watched his shoulders rise and fall, tired, worn. Not from the party. From everything. From you, maybe.

“I didn’t want to go,” he muttered.

You raised a brow. “And yet, you did. And then you were the same one who told me to show up.”

“I’m sorry, I completely forgot I texted you. That was an accident.”

“Seems like everything is nowadays,” you easily quip back, arms crossed. He says nothing, looking off to the side as he finishes his cup of water and sets it on the countertop beside him. You watch his subtle nervous tics—the way he taps his finger against his bicep, the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, and the way his eyes dart anywhere and everywhere, except your own pair.

“Who was that girl?” You ask again, voice in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” he says immediately.

“Then why were you with her?”

“I was drunk.”

“Did you cheat on me?”

“I already said I didn’t.”

A beat of silence.

Your eyes remain fixed on him, but his still won’t meet yours. Instead, he stares at the sink, as if the answer might be written in the metal grooves of the basin or hiding in the drain.

You take a step forward. “So that’s it?”

He exhales through his nose, almost like a scoff, but not quite. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” he snaps, finally turning toward you, frustration flickering behind his eyes. “Why do you keep asking questions you’ve already made up your mind about?”

Your brows pinch. “Because when you lie, you never blink.”

He flinches, barely, but you catch it. You always do. And for a moment, the quiet returns. Not peace. Just stillness. That dangerous kind of silence—the kind that comes right before something breaks. Satoru runs a hand through his hair, breathing hard now. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I didn’t cheat on you,” he repeats, voice flat. “I danced with her. I talked with her. I don’t even remember half of it. But I didn’t fuck her or kiss her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You stare at him. He finally meets your eyes.

“That still hurts, you know?” you murmur. “It still counts.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t apologize. Just looks at you like someone who doesn’t know what else to give. Like he’s already emptied his pockets and come up short.

“Did you want to?” You continue.

“I didn’t.”

He says it a little too fast. A little too sharply. The kind of defensive answer that tastes more like fear than truth.

You nod slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. “…Right. Just drunk. Just forgot. Just an accident.”

Satoru finally looks at you, and that’s somehow worse. His expression is open, but not apologetic. It’s tired. He’s already lost something and is trying to figure out if it’s worth salvaging. “I didn’t sleep with her,” he says again, quieter now. “I swear to you. I didn’t.”

You believe him. You hate that you believe him. But the ache in your chest doesn’t lessen. Because it was never just about that. Not really.

“Then why’d she look at me like I was intruding?” you ask, arms tightening around yourself. “Why’d she touch you like she had the right to?”

“I—” He falters. “I let her.”

You swallow hard. “And that’s what hurts even more.”

The silence creeps in again. Heavy this time. Not the kind you’d grown to treasure, but the kind that confirmed what you both knew: you were always waiting for the next crack. And maybe this was it.

Satoru steps toward you, slow, hesitant. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You never do,” you whisper. “But somehow, you always end up with the pieces.”

There’s a beat of stillness before he speaks again, voice small. “Do you want to leave?”

You look at him. The man you’ve loved, and lost, and tried to love again. And your voice, steady but hollow, replies:

“Do you want me to?”

He stares and stares, and you resist the urge to look away with a burning onset of fresh tears. Holding your ground is something you’ve learned to do, something he’s helped you do, even if it means using it against him. His lips part, then close. He looks down at your hand before gazing into your eyes.

He blinks.

“No.”

The word hangs in the air between you, fragile but heavy. You swallow the lump in your throat, heart pounding louder than the silence. For a moment, you imagine what it would be like to throw your arms around him, to press your face into his chest and let the tension slip away. To go back to how things were between you before all the mess. But the memory of every harsh word, every cold shoulder, every night spent alone after an argument pulls you back.

Then, his hand reaches out, tentative, trembling even, and you feel the weight of his uncertainty. You don’t pull away. You don’t step back. You let him take your hand, fingers curling around yours with a fragile grip. His other cups your cheek, leaning down to plant a sweet and soft kiss on your lips. His lips linger before drifting to your cheek and down your neck. His arm wrapping around your waist, you feel your body melting into his embrace.

Your arms instinctively loop around his neck, letting out a wistful sigh, eyes closing. His lips reach a particularly sensitive spot he’s grown accustomed to showing extra attention to. Sucking at the area softly, teeth just barely grazing your skin to where it still feels pleasurable enough. You twitch, a moan rolling off the tip of your tongue, head lolling back.

A low breath escapes him at the sound, fingers tightening just slightly on your waist as if anchoring himself to you—to this moment. His lips trail slowly back up, skimming along your jawline, reverent and slow, until his forehead rests against yours. “I miss you,” he murmurs, voice raw—cracked open in a way you hadn’t heard in months.

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy, vision hazy from the heat of the moment and the storm of emotions behind it. “I’m still here,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if you mean it physically, emotionally, or as a plea for him to notice you—really notice you—again.

“For how long?”

It’s like he’s constantly trying to give you ways out—his sorry attempt at saving you, even if it’s far too late. But there’s still that one part of you that keeps you tethered to this moment—to him. The part of you that doesn’t want to be saved.

So your simple response is kissing him once more, reaching up to smash your lips into his, hands running through his hair. For a few seconds, he doesn’t move, as if debating something internally. And then, he’s all over you.

His restraint shatters.

Satoru grips you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, like if he doesn’t hold you tight enough, this fragile thread between you will finally snap. His hands roam your back, desperate and warm, pulling you flush against him as his mouth claims yours over and over. Every kiss is filled with apology, with longing, with a thousand things he never found the words to say. He walks you back slowly, blindly, until the back of your knees hit the couch. You sink down together, his weight gentle but all-consuming as he follows you, lips never parting from yours. Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, grounding yourself to him—to this reckless moment of pretending everything broken between you can be fixed with closeness.

“I feel like I’m losing you,” he breathes between kisses, forehead pressed to yours again, voice barely audible. “I feel like I already did.”

You don’t validate him. You don’t have to. The way you’re clutching him says enough.

His hands slow, brushing up beneath your shirt with a familiar tenderness, as if asking—Is this still mine to touch? Are you still mine to hold? You nod, just slightly, barely a breath of motion, as if you’re unsure yourself. He waits a few seconds and then exhales shakily. That tiny gesture is enough to keep him afloat.

His fingers undo the button of your pants, pulling down the zipper with practiced efficiency. Your own unbuckle his belt, throwing it off to the side.

The clothes come off with the kind of quiet desperation that only familiarity breeds—not rushed, not slow either, just… necessary. Each layer removed feels like shedding another wall, a final plea to be vulnerable, to be seen. Not just skin-to-skin, but soul-to-soul, even if only for tonight.

Satoru kisses down your sternum, reverent again, almost worshipful. His fingers ghost down your sides, brushing the curve of your waist like he’s memorizing you all over again, or maybe making sure you’re still real. His mouth follows, trailing lower with a gentleness that borders on painful. When he comes back up to kiss you again, it’s softer than before, less desperate, more deliberate. His nose brushes yours, eyes locked onto yours like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth. You think he wants to say something—maybe he almost does—but instead, he just presses his forehead to yours again.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let him in.

Not only into your body—but into the parts of you you’d boarded up. The pieces that still loved him. The pieces that still wanted to love him. Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe it’s dangerous. But in this quiet, trembling moment of two people who never really stopped being each other’s, it feels like the only thing that makes sense. You’re not sure where things will go after this, if anything will change, if the damage can ever be undone, but right now, you’re his again. And he’s yours.

Even if only for tonight.

“Satoru,” you moan softly, back arching off the couch at the feeling of the top of his cock hitting your g-spot so deliciously.

He groans as you squeeze around him, face screwing up. His heavy groans and pants fill your ear, your legs locking around his waist. “God…f-fuck—this—you.”

“Right there…please,” you whisper, breath fanning his cheek.

His hips jutt, thrusting his thick cock harder. You cry out, nails digging into his back and scraping smooth lines of red down his silky skin. “Like that. Just like that,” he mumbles.

You cling to him like he’s the last thing tethering you to Earth—fingers pressed against the curve of his shoulder blades, mouth brushing his jaw as breathless pleas slip from your lips. The air between you is thick with heat and heartache, every movement laced with a need that goes far deeper than physical.

Satoru presses his forehead to yours again, his breath shuddering as he moves with a rhythm that feels more like an apology than desire. “I’m right here,” he murmurs, voice cracking at the edges. “I’ve got you.”

Your body reacts subconsciously, but it’s your heart that trembles. Raw, vulnerable, and still healing. Every time he murmurs your name, it lands somewhere deep, somewhere old and aching. The way he holds you feels like he’s trying to stitch the broken pieces back together with every motion, every whispered confession that never makes it fully into words.

His hand pinches and rubs your nipple between his fingers, and you bite hard on your lip. It roams down your stomach, feeling around your ribs before his thumb finds your pretty, puffy clit. With ease, he presses down with the flat of it.

Your toes curl, eyes rolling back. Your limbs feel loose, brain mushy. He rubs before circling the bud, just how you like it. His eyes are laser-focused on your oh-so-pretty expressions. The expressions he’ll miss. He times the thrusts of his thick cock with the swirling of his thumb, fucking you compeltley dumb and boneless until all you could do is slur out meaningless mumbles, mixed with whimpered pleas of his name.

Satoru leans in, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, his breath uneven against your skin. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, his tone a mixture of awe and regret. “I fucking love you. I love you so fucking much, you make me—fuck—feel so g…good...”

Your hands find his face, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheekbones. For a moment, everything stills. Just the sound of your breaths, your heartbeats crashing together, bodies wrapped in something desperate and tender all at once. It’s more than lust. It’s grief, apology, love, and all the things left unsaid.

When he presses his lips to yours again, it’s slower this time. Deep. Full of meaning. Like he’s trying to tell you something he’s never been brave enough to say out loud.

His tongue slips into your mouth, exploring the wet cavern with desperation.

His grip on your hip tightens, fingers pressing deep while his thrusts get faster, harder, more intentional. All you can do is cling to him, panting through your nostrils. When he pulls back, a thick line of saliva connects your mouths. His thumb flicks your clit.

You squeeze.

His cock twitches.

“F-fuuuck. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, g-gonna…yeah—gonna come,” he quivers out, hips snapping against yours in a sloppy motion.

“M-me too!” You whine, grip tightening into a fistful of his hair.

You both border on the edge of finishing for more grueling minutes, as it always did when you two had sex. You both agreed it added to the fun and intensity of it all, edging being your second favorite thing. The first was when he’d moan and groan pathetically against you.

But something’s wrong.

You feel it before you hear it—the way his heart thuds irregularly beneath your hand, the way his breath catches not from exertion, but emotion, how his thrusts just barely stutter.

“Y/N…” he murmurs, voice nearly broken.

You shift slightly beneath him, shakily brushing damp hair from his forehead, eyes searching. “What is it?”

His head pulls back, and that’s when you see it. The faint sheen of tears lining his beautiful eyes. It almost breaks you instantly.

“I…I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know who I am anymore. I know what I want, b-but I know what I don’t…either.”

If he wasn’t fucking you, you would’ve smacked his arm and told him to quit joking. Except he’s not joking, he’s dead serious. It’s almost a little hard to believe him considering he’s confessing in the middle of being balls deep in your cunt, but you assume he couldn’t find any other right time to do so.

You can’t find your voice, so he continues. The hand that was on your hip traveling up to your cheek, gently cupping it. His thumb swipes the area beneath your eye with tenderness. “…I—I think we need to figure ourselves out.”

“No,” you choke out, unaware of the tears that stream down your cheeks. Your arms tighten around his neck, legs as well. You cling to him like he’s your savior, like he’s the only one you have left.

And well, he is.

That’s what makes him feel even more shitty about doing this.

“S-satoru—”

“I know. ‘M sorry, I’m…I’m really sorry, Y/N.” A tear falls from his cheek down to yours, his thrusts growing slower, but still as pleasurable.

“Y-you don’t know!” You shout.

His lips tremble against yours, the motion almost reverent now—slow, shaky, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth before it’s too late. He’s still inside you, still moving, but the urgency is gone. Replaced by something heavier. Final.

“Promise me, Y/N. Please, promise me.”

You blink through the tears, breath catching painfully in your chest. “Promise you what?” you ask, voice cracking open like the rest of you.

He closes his eyes as if your question physically hurts him. And it does.

He blinks them open. “We should have nothing to do with each other. I-it’s not doing anything good for us. So…don’t look for me. Don’t do it. And I won’t look for you.”

Your whole body stills beneath him. It’s like someone has pulled the air out of your lungs, out of the room, out of the world. And yet he stays inside you, forehead pressed to yours, as if hoping to stay close enough to soften the blow.

“That’s not fair,” you whisper. Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “You don’t get to hold me like this, do these things to me, say stuff like that—then ask me to pretend we don’t exist.”

He’s crying now. Really crying. Silent tears trailing down his cheeks, his body trembling ever so slightly. “I know,” he breathes, like it’s a confession. “But if I don’t say it now, I won’t be able to walk away. Neither will you.”

You press your lips together to keep from sobbing. Your chest heaves with the weight of heartbreak, confusion, and the cruel irony of intimacy turning into goodbye. Still connected in the most vulnerable of ways, the silence stretches long between you—thick, suffocating, sacred.

“You’re still everything to me,” you say softly, lips brushing his cheek.

“And you always will be,” he murmurs. “But sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Then, with devastating gentleness, he spurts his seed inside you. He lies still for a few seconds before he pulls out of you—like he’s trying not to break you more than he already has—and gathers you into his arms.

For the last time.

The following morning was the last time you saw him for five years.

He said nothing, he didn’t cry anymore, he didn’t try to stop you from putting whatever valuables you had at his house in a box before his parents came home from a trip. He just watched silently. He didn’t hug you, didn’t kiss you.

You wanted to slap him. Curse him. Maybe kill him.

But you didn’t. You blinked through your blurry vision, hiccuping heaving breaths, hands trembling.

He stood in the hallway like a ghost—like he wasn’t really there, like you weren’t really there either. Just a moment passing through him. Just a chapter he refused to reread. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the shoebox as you stepped past him, waiting… hoping… that he’d reach out. That he’d do something.

But he didn’t.

Not when you brushed past him. Not when you paused at the door, turning one last time with red-rimmed eyes and a silent plea. Not even when your lips parted to say goodbye, but no sound came out.

Was it really this easy for him? He must’ve been preparing for this moment now for ages. You did this, didn’t you?

He just stood there. A statue. An ending.

So you walked out. And the door clicked shut behind you like the final nail in the coffin.

Five years.

Five years of silence.

Five years of learning not to look for him in every man you talk to.

Five years of learning how to breathe without him in your lungs.

You hated him for making it easier with each year that passed. You hated yourself more for wishing it hadn’t been.

And yet—no matter how much time passed, no matter how much healing you forced yourself through—there was still that part of you, small and bitter and quietly aching, that whispered: He didn’t even say goodbye.

That’s why your eyes tear up five years later when you see the way a boyish smile makes way onto his dimpled cheeks after giving you your housewarming gift after officially moving into the new place he got you and Koji.

Because after everything—after the years of silence, of rebuilding your life without him, of nights spent convincing Koji that no, there was no one else coming to dinner—he’s here.

Standing in your living room like he belongs there. Like he never left.

And it should make you suspicious. Should make you slam the door in his face, scream every unspoken word that’s lived in your chest since the moment he let you walk away without a fight.

But then he grins wider.

That same crooked, too-charming smile that used to melt you in the middle of fights. That always preceded trouble. That lit up the darkest corners of your life. He holds out the box wrapped in glossy paper like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Thought this would help you get back into the groove of things,” he says, trying too hard to sound relaxed.

You take it slowly. Fingers brushing his. A tremble you try to mask as a chill. “What is it?”

“That’s why you open it.”

Your throat tightens at the simple reply. You hate how familiar this feels. How easy it would be to fall back into old rhythms, into old mistakes. You shouldn’t be letting him stand here. You shouldn’t be letting him smile at you like that.

But your hands are already peeling away the wrapping paper.

Inside is a ceramic watering can—cream-colored, minimalistic, just like the ones you always pointed out in those expensive catalogs you couldn’t afford back then. The ones he used to say were “boring” before secretly bookmarking them. Except there’s a painting of what can only be Koji’s work, including his mother, him, and his father, all holding hands. You swallow hard as you turn it in your hands.

“Since you have a little patio now, I figured you could get back into planting. Maybe some tulips, peonies, or purple hyacinths.” He shrugs, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Your lip quivers before you can stop it.

“Don’t cry,” he says with that soft, teasing lilt in his voice—the one you used to fall asleep to years ago. “You’ll make me feel like I got you a vacuum or something.”

You laugh, but it cracks, just a little. Your eyes sting as you set the water can gently on the counter. And then you look at him. “Thank you, Satoru. I—You’ve done a lot for Koji and me when you didn’t have to. This means a lot to me and I really appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he sighs, looking off toward the living room where Koji is already making a mess of his excessive number of toys. “I know our…situation is different, less than ideal. But I still have an obligation to my son and his mother, which starts with a safe home. One where his mom can get back into her old habits.” He gestures to the watering can, looking back at you.

You nod, fingers tightening around the edge of the counter behind you as if bracing yourself. “It’s a beautiful gift. Koji must’ve had fun painting it.”

“He was insistent that I draw myself taller,” Satoru chuckles, gaze softening. “I told him I’m already the tallest person he knows. He said I needed to look more like a tree.”

You smile, genuinely this time, but there’s still that ache behind your ribs. Like a door that was supposed to stay locked has started to creak open again. Silence settles between you for a moment, filled only by the muffled sounds of Koji’s playtime.

Then, more quietly, you say, “Can…Can I give you a hug?”

Satoru looks at you for a beat too long, the kind of pause that says he wasn’t expecting that. The kind that makes you immediately regret asking. But then his mouth twitches, softening into something you remember—something warm, steady, like the way he used to reach for your hand in the middle of the night without even waking up.

“You don’t have to ask,” he says, already closing the distance.

You meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his middle as his come up around your shoulders, firm and gentle all at once. He holds you like he’s afraid you might disappear, like he’s only just now realizing how long it’s been since he got to do this. And for a moment—just one brief, fragile moment—you let yourself lean into him. Let yourself be held.

You breathe him in. That familiar, dangerous cologne with faint traces of Koji’s toothpaste on his sleeve. The warmth of him against you brings you boosted levels of serotonin. Your hands tighten on the fabric of his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur into his chest.

His arms tense, then relax again. “Don’t be.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, and his hands linger at your waist like he doesn’t want to let go just yet. “I mean it,” you say. “For the way things ended. For keeping him from you. I thought I was protecting Koji. But maybe…I was just trying to protect myself. I don’t think I can ever apologize enough for what I did.”

Satoru’s smile falters, his eyes scanning your face like he’s memorizing every part of this version of you, this quieter, softer one shaped by years apart and everything unspoken between you.

He exhales slowly, thumb brushing against your side like he’s grounding himself. “You were scared,” he says, voice lower now. “You had every right to be. I was reckless. Arrogant. Hell, I didn’t even know what I wanted until it was too late.”

You shake your head, guilt pinching at your ribs. “No, don’t make this about you. I made choices too. I chose to run instead of letting you try.”

Satoru leans in, forehead nearly resting against yours. “And now?”

You hesitate. The weight of everything hangs between you. The years, the pain, the distance, the child just in the living room.

“Now…I’m trying to stop running. At least from you.”

That’s when his hand rises, gently cupping your cheek. “Then let me catch up,” he whispers, the plea in his voice trembling at the edges.

Your breath stutters in your chest. This moment, it’s too much, too intimate, too soon. And yet you don’t move. You can’t. But just as his lips barely brush your forehead, a loud crash erupts from the living room, followed by Koji yelling, “I didn’t mean to!”

You both freeze, the air between you crackling with what almost was. Then Satoru pulls back with a quiet, rueful chuckle. “Sounds like our son just broke something valuable.”

You blink at the words—our son—the way he says it so naturally now. You offer a soft smile. “I hope it wasn’t your expensive Lego set.”

“Please. Those are a business investment,” he grins, already heading toward the culprit.

As he walks off to check on Koji, you’re left leaning against the counter, heart thudding. The watering can still sits beside you. A little crooked painting of your family stares back at you. And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like a dream you don’t deserve.

It feels like the start of something you might be brave enough to hope for again.

“My buddy Nanami says these are good for kids.”

You blink down at the box he’s holding. “Those are literally dried seaweed snacks.”

Satoru shrugs, tossing them into the cart anyway. “They’ve got iron. And they’re crunchy. Kids love crunchy things.”

You roll your eyes, amused despite yourself. “Your buddy Nanami probably meant for kids who don’t gag on anything green.”

“Koji eats crayons, I think we can get him to chew some seaweed.” He rolls his eyes before strolling ahead, pushing the cart like he owns the place.

You follow, biting back a smile. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, and shelves are packed with items that seem way too expensive. Luckily, it’s not your bill.

“Do you even know what I need?” you ask as you catch up.

“I know you need snacks, juice boxes, and something for dinner that won’t involve me setting the kitchen on fire.”

“So, takeout?”

He gasps dramatically. “Have some faith in me, woman. I can make spaghetti. With meatballs. That’s like…parenting level five.”

You laugh softly, reaching for a can of tomatoes and dropping it into the cart. “We’ll see if Koji makes it past one bite.”

“Mama! Can we get this one?!”

You turn just in time to see Koji waddling over, arms wrapped around a neon-colored cereal box that definitely wasn’t on your list.

“Koji, that’s all sugar,” you warn gently, crouching down. “We talked about this, remember? Something with less…rainbows.”

“But it has marshmallows shaped like planets!” he insists, eyes wide, shaking the box for emphasis. “And a rocket ship toy inside!”

Satoru leans over your shoulder with mock seriousness. “You’re outnumbered. Planet marshmallows are a once-in-a-lifetime culinary experience.”

You sigh, standing and fixing him with a look. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m building morale,” he says, taking the cereal from Koji and dropping it into the cart with a wink. “Also, I want to see what the Saturn marshmallow tastes like.”

Koji cheers, scampering ahead toward the snack aisle like he’s won a war. You watch him go, shaking your head with a reluctant smile. “You’re spoiling him.”

“He’s a kid,” Satoru replies, casually tossing a pack of onigiri into the cart. “Isn’t that our job?”

You hum, thoughtful. It’s strange, standing here like this—shopping for dinner, bickering over snacks, making tiny compromises. It feels…normal. Too normal. Like the calm before a storm. But even as you brace for it, there’s something comforting about how easily he fits into this picture.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you murmur as you walk beside him.

He smirks. “What gave it away? The cereal or the emotional intimacy?”

You nudge him with your elbow. “Definitely the cereal.”

“Not the meatballs?” he grins.

You roll your eyes. “Go look for the rest of the stuff on the list, please. I’m gonna go make sure Koji isn’t raiding the snack aisle.”

Satoru offers a lazy salute. “Yes, ma’am. Anything to avoid being guilt-tripped over cereal.”

You shake your head as he strolls off, already distracted by a wall of oddly-shaped pasta. Turning on your heel, you make your way down the bright aisles, eyes scanning for that familiar mop of messy, white hair and sticky hands. It doesn’t take long to find him—Koji is sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by three open bags of chips and a very confused store clerk hovering nearby.

“Koji,” you sigh, walking over. “Baby, you can’t open things before we pay for them.”

“But I was taste testing!” he beams up at you, crumbs all over his shirt. “This one is too spicy, but this one tastes like pillows.”

A poor teenage employee glances at you, clearly panicked. “Uh—ma’am? Should I—do I need to…get someone, or…?”

You gently place a hand on Koji’s head and offer the boy a tight smile. “It’s fine. We’ll pay for everything.” Then, to Koji: “And you’re not supposed to eat things that taste like pillows. We’ll talk about that in the car.”

You usher him to his feet and start dusting crumbs from his pants. You grab the bags he’s opened with one hand, using the other to hold his hand. “No more snacks, Koji. We need to go to the other aisles now.”

Koji pouts but doesn’t protest as you guide him over to the produce section. Diligently eyeing your next few purchases, ensuring the produce looks right. As you’re leaning over a bin of apples, testing for firmness, Koji clings to your thigh with one arm and gnaws the corner of the chip bag you couldn’t pry from his hands. You’re too focused on choosing between Gala and Fuji to notice the man approaching until his shadow falls over the fruit.

“They really upped the price for these.”

You startle a bit at the nonchalance of the newcomer. Looking to your left, a tall man with brown hair is picking up one apple, inspecting it. He sighs, then gives you a polite grin. “Inflation, am I right? Remember when they were just a couple bucks.”

You offer a polite smile, shifting slightly so Koji is tucked closer to your side as his tiny hands cling to your skirt. “Yeah… everything’s gone up lately.”

The man chuckles, tossing an apple into his basket. He’s good-looking in a clean-cut, office-worker kind of way. Nice watch, rolled sleeves, the faintest whiff of designer cologne. “They say it’s the economy, but I’m convinced it’s just a clever way to make me pay more for mediocre fruit.”

You let out a soft, polite laugh, already glancing back toward where Satoru wandered off to.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” the man continues, taking a casual step closer, clearly encouraged by your response. “New to the area?”

You tense, but keep your tone neutral. “Kind of.”

He nods, glancing down at Koji. “Cute kid. He yours?”

You nod, placing a hand gently on Koji’s back as he reaches toward the display of grapes. “Yep.”

“Well,” the man says, smile widening as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, “If you ever need help navigating the neighborhood—best parks, cafes, good wine shops—I’d be happy to give you a tour. I’m Mark, by the way.”

You hesitate, blinking. He’s not being aggressive, just… confident. And that somehow makes it worse. “Oh, I—that’s okay. I don’t need a guide.”

Mark chuckles, undeterred by your polite decline. “Sure, sure. No pressure.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender, still holding that easygoing smile. “Just figured I’d shoot my shot. Hard not to when you’ve got such a lovely face.”

You force another tight smile, your fingers brushing over Koji’s tiny waves, grounding yourself. “Thanks. But I’m really not looking for anything.”

“Fair enough,” he says, but then—he lingers. His eyes drag a bit too long across your face, down to your hand on Koji’s shoulder, then flick quickly to your left hand. No ring. His smile flickers with something a little more interested now. “So uh…how old's the little one.”

“Kindergartener,” you reply cooly, looking away and stepping over to the celery and avocados.

“Ah,” Mark nods, subtly following your side, pretending to look at the same things you are. “Is he albino?”

You stop and look at him, head tilting slightly. “No,” your voice is steady, “his father just has very light features.”

“He said we can’t talk to strangers,” Koji’s mumbled voice speaks up, but he clears it and grabs your hand, leading you a few steps away.

“Is that so? Well, your daddy must be a smart man.”

“Yep, and daddy’s around here somewhere.” You nod briefly, a silent marker that you’re heading your own way now.

“Daddy’s right here.”

You jolt slightly at the sensation of a warm arm sliding around your waist, Satoru making his presence known as he stands between you and Mark. Nonchalantly ripping the avocado out of Mark’s hand. He hums and tilts his head before tossing it back into the pile. He feels around for a ripe one. “And who’s this?” He gestures with his head towards Mark.

Mark blinks, momentarily thrown off. His smile falters just a little—but not enough. “Just saying hi,” he replies, straightening up. “Didn’t realize you were…uh, together.”

Satoru hums, tone light but razor-edged. “Yeah, easy mistake. Not everyone’s bold enough to flirt with a mom while our kid’s holding her hand.” He smiles as he lifts a ripe avocado to eye level. “But hey, you gave it a good shot. Ten points for confidence.”

Mark’s smile falters again. “Wasn’t trying to cause trouble.”

“Mm. That’s good,” Satoru says with a nod, finally releasing the avocado he’s selected and dropping it into the cart, you didn’t even notice him roll over. “Because I’d hate to cause a scene. Produce sections are sacred.”

“I was just making conversation,” Mark says smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Like I said, I didn’t realize she was with someone.”

“Yeah, well,” Satoru says airily, squeezing your hip for emphasis, “Now you do, yeah?” He offers a bright, toothy grin—one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

You huff a quiet breath—amused, relieved, a little embarrassed—but you don’t pull away.

Mark, for his part, seems to pick up the shift in tone. His smile vanishes into something tight. “Right. My bad.”

Satoru hums, finally facing him completely. He’s taller than Mark, having to angle his neck down slightly. “No harm done. Just don’t go getting too familiar with other people’s families.”

Mark meets his gaze for a long beat, the air thick between them. Then he lets out a short, humorless chuckle. “Sure. Good luck with the shopping.” He takes a careful step back. “Nice meeting you both.”

Satoru raises his fingers in a lazy farewell. “Likewise. Try the bananas next time.”

You watch Mark retreat down the aisle, and only then does Satoru sigh, turning toward you with a casual lean.

Silence lingers for a second. Then:

“I was gone for five minutes,” Satoru mutters, leaning against the cart with a sigh. “I leave and some discount finance bro tries to slide in?”

You exhale, still holding Koji close, trying to shake the edge of unease that lingers. “He was… persistent, to say the least.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “You attract the weirdest types. Like moths to a flame.”

“I think it’s the fact that I don’t walk around swinging like a wrecking ball of intimidation,” you mutter, heart still beating a little too fast.

Satoru leans in with a grin, brushing a barely-there kiss against your temple. “Nah. It’s ‘cause you’re hot and look like you need saving.”

“I don’t need saving,” you grumble, adjusting Koji’s sleeve.

He shrugs and pulls back, pushing the cart as you follow. “Yeah, but it’s more fun when I pretend you do.”

Koji tugs at your shirt. “Mama, who was that?”

“A stranger, baby.” You move some hair out his face.

Koji frowns in thought. “That man was weird.”

“He was,” Satoru agrees, dropping iceberg lettuce into the cart. “Probably sells fake crypto courses online.”

You sigh heavily, pausing by the parsley. Satoru stops with you, noticing your expression. His voice grows quieter, hand gently patting your lower back. “You okay?”

You nod, reaching to grab a bundle of parsley. “I’m fine. Just weird.”

Satoru watches you for a second longer, his teasing demeanor slipping into something more careful. Protective. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts closer, hand still on your back like he’s anchoring you.

“Let’s get out of here soon,” he says quietly, his voice low enough that only you can hear it. “We’ve got most of what we need. Spaghetti’s easy. You, me, Koji—one normal night.”

You glance up at him, grateful. “Normal sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He smiles, giving your back one last pat before going over to the checkout with you and Koji in tow.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he responds, opening the cupboard to put the new pots and pans he bought for you away.

You’re currently storing all the food that could probably last you an entire month in the pantry. You hesitate, unsure of how much of a sensitive topic this could be, but you bite the bullet. “How’s Suguru?”

He pauses, not sparing a glance over at you. He clears his throat and continues. “Fine, I think.”

“You think?” You look at him.

“Yeah, I think. I haven’t spoken to him in a while.”

Guilt shoots up your spine, a frown pulling at your lips. Memories flood you of that dreadful night. The one where you almost kissed his best friend, and you thought you’d have to break up a man fight. Knowing you’re the cause of the small hiatus put on their friendship makes you wish you could turn back time. “I’m sorry.”

Satoru doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps arranging the pans, movements slower, more thoughtful. The air feels heavier now, less like home, more like a pause neither of you wanted to admit was coming. Finally, he exhales through his nose, closing the cabinet gently before leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “It’s not your fault,” he says, voice even, but his eyes flicker with something more tired than usual. “Suguru makes his own choices. Always has.”

You swallow. “But if I hadn’t—”

He cuts you off gently, shaking his head. “It wasn’t about almost kissing him.” His voice is softer now, but there’s something unspoken threading through each word. “It was about the fact that he didn’t stop it either.”

That stings. You look down at the box of granola bars in your hand, heart thudding with that old familiar guilt. “I didn’t want it to happen. I just… I was in a bad place.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know that now.”

You nod slowly, setting the box down and bracing your palms against the counter. “I just wish you two could fix things. You’ve been friends since forever, and now it’s like—”

“Like we’re strangers,” he finishes for you, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. Trust me, I feel it too.”

Silence stretches between you for a beat, and you gauge his expression. “You should talk to him. He’s already set a boundary with me after it happened. But I don’t want to be the reason you guys aren’t close anymore.”

Satoru watches you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, jaw clenched like he’s holding back words he doesn’t want to admit. Then he drags a hand through his hair, sighing hard as he drops his gaze to the floor. “I’ve thought about it,” he says finally, voice low. “More than once. But every time I get close to reaching out, I think about that night… and I don’t know what I’d even say.” His fingers drum anxiously against his bicep. “Like, how do you come back from that?”

You step closer, hesitant. “Maybe it’s not about fixing everything in one conversation. Maybe it’s just… showing up. Letting him know you still care.”

He doesn’t answer right away. You can tell he’s deep in that mental space where his pride and pain wrestle with each other. Eventually, he mutters, “We were supposed to be unshakable, you know? Like, no matter what. And then it got real messy, real fast.”

You nod quietly. “It did. But you’ve forgiven me. Maybe part of forgiving him is just… letting him know that.”

He finally looks at you, eyes softer now, tired but warm. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Maybe.”

You finish putting the groceries away. “Just call him, it wouldn’t hurt, right?” A gentle suggestion.

Satoru watches you close the pantry door and wipe your hands on your skirt like you’re trying to wipe away the tension, too. You look over your shoulder at him with that soft, hopeful expression, the one that always makes it hard for him to say no.

He shrugs one shoulder, casual in appearance, but you can tell he’s still turning it over in his head. “Wouldn’t hurt,” he echoes, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “Might hurt a little, actually. But maybe that’s the point.”

You step toward him, closing the distance just enough to gently nudge his arm. “Even if it’s awkward at first. Even if he doesn’t pick up. At least you tried.”

He gives a breathy laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “You always make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you admit. “But neither is letting someone you love slip away.”

That lands. You can tell by the way his mouth twitches—like he wants to say something else, something deeper—but instead, he pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times before holding it up in a silent offering.

You blink at him. “You’re calling him now?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” he smirks, though it’s a little shaky around the edges. “I’m impulsive, remember?”

The dial tone fills the space between you.

“Stop stringing her along, okay? I want no drama.”

“I’m not, cousin!” Naoya huffs childishly.

“Really? So what do you call using her for information on Gojo for our own personal gain?” Toji raises a brow, buff arms crossed over his chest.

“Look,” he rolls his eyes. “Hana’s a nice girl, what if I like her just to like her?”

“You have higher standards than any woman I know.”

Naoya snorts, shaking his head with a grin. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m just lowering the bar for once.”

Toji smirks, stepping closer, voice low but teasing. “Careful, or you’ll end up stuck with a lifetime supply of disappointment.”

Naoya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Better than being stuck alone, right?”

Toji raises his hand, flicking his cousin’s forehead. “End it. We don’t need you playing secret agent.”

Naoya winces at the flick, rubbing his forehead with a scowl. “You act like I don’t know how to handle her.”

“That’s the problem,” Toji retorts, stepping back and leaning against the counter with a look that borders on both exasperation and warning. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, but she’s not just some pawn. If she finds out you’re using her—”

Naoya scoffs, but there’s a flicker of unease in his eyes. “She won’t.”

Toji levels him with a sharp look. “You sure about that?”

A beat passes.

Naoya looks away first, lips tightening into a thin line. “She trusts me.”

Toji snorts. “Then all the more reason to quit while you’re ahead.”

The silence that follows is heavier than either of them wants to admit. Naoya doesn’t respond right away, instead pulling his phone from his pocket and glancing at a message from Hana—something innocent, casual. A little too kind for the way he’s been treating her.

A pitter-patter of tiny feet is heard against the polished tiles. Toji’s attention is immediately torn away from his idiotic cousin to his six-year-old son. A smile graces his lips, his scar stretching up. “Sup, buddy. How was school?”

Megumi’s black spiky hair looks messier than when he left, taking off his school backpack. His uniform has splotches of green paint, arms reaching up for his father. “Okay,” he mumbles back.

Toji bends down and scoops Megumi up with ease, holding him against his hip like it’s second nature. “Green paint, huh?” he teases, brushing his thumb against a streak on the boy’s collar. “You wrestle an art project or something?”

Megumi nods with a serious little frown. “We painted frogs.”

“Frogs?” Toji grins, walking toward the kitchen table with him. “Lemme guess—yours was the coolest?”

“No,” Megumi says flatly. “Mine looked like a blob. Teacher said it was ‘expressive.’”

Toji chuckles, setting him down on a chair and ruffling his hair. “Well, expressive blob or not, sounds like a masterpiece to me.”

Naoya watches the scene quietly from the side, arms crossed, lips pulled in a tight line, though there’s a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clears his throat, forcing a grin. “Kid’s got more personality than half the people in this house.”

Toji shoots him a glare. “Don’t start.”

Megumi blinks at Naoya, then turns to his dad. “Is he staying for dinner?”

Toji smirks. “Only if he promises not to be annoying.”

Naoya holds up his hands in surrender. “No promises, but I’ll keep it PG for the kid.”

Megumi huffs, already pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his bag. “I drew a ninja too. Want to see?”

Toji leans over, genuinely interested. “Hell yeah, show me.”

He motions to be let down, and Toji complies. He zips open his backpack for the ninja piece. “Mr. Tanaka said we’re getting a new student soon, I can show him my drawing.”

Toji crouches beside him, watching as Megumi pulls out the wrinkled sheet of paper, proudly smoothing it across the table. “Think he’ll like ninjas too?” he asks, studying the tiny stick-figure warrior with a sword and an oversized headband.

Megumi shrugs, not looking up. “Maybe. But if he doesn’t, I’ll show him the frog.”

Toji chuckles, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Good plan. Win him over with options.”

Naoya leans against the counter, watching with a lazy expression. “You’re already working on your charm, huh? Got that from your old man?”

Megumi looks at him unimpressed. “I got it from TV.”

Toji bursts out laughing. “Smart kid.” He ruffles Megumi’s hair again, softer this time, his voice a bit more thoughtful. “New student, huh? Be nice to him, yeah? It’s tough being the new kid.”

Megumi nods without hesitation. “I will. Yuuji and Nobara said the new student could play tag with us at recess.”

For a fleeting moment, Toji’s expression flickers—something distant and unreadable passing over his face. But it’s gone just as fast, replaced by the usual crooked smile. “That’s my boy.”

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

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illbegottenfaith · 24 days ago

Text

that one girl from summer camp

you drive yourself up the wall trying to figure out who your best friend is taking to your year's farewell dinner (theo nott x reader, ft. the Slytherin boys)

a/n - before anyone says it I KNOW they can prob just use magic for whatever they're doing but i feel like that wouldn't make for a very fun fic heheh okay enjoyyy

tropes/warning - fluff, friends to lovers, jealous!reader, happy ending, the Slytherin boys being menaces/irritatingly unhelpful

word count - 2k

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

May - the one time of year the air smelt so deliciously of tangerines and escape, freedom so close you could taste it. In the midst of all the finals and packing, you and your friends had volunteered to help prep certain areas of the crumbling castle for a little refurbishment. Now, you were dropping by to visit Theo, who was helping pack the majority of the Restricted Section books into boxes.

"Anyway, Melissa and I should get back to packing," Ivy was saying with him half-listening. "It's awful, Theodore. Our room is such a mess, there's barely enough space for the three of us. Especially on Y/N's side of the room."

You glared at her as Theo bent to tick something else off his list. But she only gave you an exaggeratedly saucy wink.

"I guess we'll just...leave Y/N with you."

She ducked as you you brandished a book at her threateningly. You weren't going to let her hear the end of it later.

Melissa had the good sense to steer Ivy towards the exit, who was now making exaggerated kissy faces despite your scowl. Lucky for you, Theo hadn't caught much of it. He glanced up as Ivy was noisily leaving, looking a little lost. You pointed at his box.

"Want some help?"

And so the two of you spent the better part of the next hour emptying It felt nice to watch him work, unbothered - how he distractedly pushed his hair back when he was thinking a little hard, how he hummed when he forgot you were only a few shelves away, how he'd take in a particularly deep breath if he was deeply absorbed in something.

"I can't believe we're finally graduating. I thought it would never end," you sighed, taping a box closed. "Are you staying for the farewell dinner?"

"Yeah." Theo said distractedly, frowning at his list. You watched him carefully.

"Are you...taking anyone?"

Theo's head jerked up.

"What?"

You flinched, startled. You could feel the back of your neck growing warm as you hastily started to explain. "To the dinner. Are you going with someone? It's just, I was wond - "

"Oh." Was it just you, or did he look a little relieved? "Yeah. I mean, yes, I'm hoping to take someone. Someone special. I haven't asked her yet, though."

You put your stack of books down, giving Theo a sidelong glance. He had to be talking about you. Was this him being coy?

"And who exactly is this mystery someone?"

Theo waved a hand dismissively. "No one, really. Just this girl I met at that summer camp. The one after first year, remember?"

Of course you remembered. It had been like one big sleepover for all the first-years, free to explore the castle and terrorise the House head without the threat of finals or detentions (not that a certain greasy-haired professor still didn't try). It was one of your fondest memories, marred only slightly by this girl with dark, deep-set eyes and an unfortunate bowl-cut, bob-esque haircut who constantly followed you and your friends around.

You also remembered that you had only met Theo in your third year, in a shared Herbology class, a good two years after the camp. All of a sudden, your tongue felt too big for your mouth.

"Oh," you said, stupidly. Because what else could you say?

"It only seems fitting after all these years." Theo continued, oblivious to the embarrassment washing over you, scooping up your stack of books like it weighed nothing.

Your face fell. "Right."

You busied yourself with the next shelf of books, and the next, and the next. The two of you worked in silence. You wondered if he noticed how quiet you had become.

"We're out of boxes," Theo said after a while. "I'll have to go get more. Meet back here in 15?"

He was already halfway out the door before you could respond.

You decided a little fresh air would help. In the courtyard, Mattheo was covering the walls with a fresh coat of paint with a few others, a smudge of paint on his nose.

"Mattheo," you called out, walking over to him. "You have a little - "

He looked up inquisitively just as another dollop of paint dripped off the roller and landed on his hair.

"Never mind."

"How goes the library?" he asked, pausing his work. You shrugged.

"Alright. Boring. Fine."

He hummed noncommittally. "Just fine? No...scintillating conversation?"

Mattheo's tone was deceptively casual as he turned back to his work, dunking his roller into the bucket of paint. You narrowed your eyes at the boy suspiciously.

"You know something," you concluded.

"I should hope so, after seven years in this place," Mattheo responded coolly.

"You know who Theo's taking to the dinner."

He paused his dunking efforts, looking genuinely surprised.

"You don't?"

"You do?"

He hesitated, trying to look exceptionally engrossed in wringing out the excess paint.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Either you know or you don't. Which is it?"

"I might know. I might not," Mattheo continued in that irritatingly smug tone. "But if I did know, I wouldn't be telling you."

You rolled your eyes. "Rude."

He smirked. "It's the truth."

"What's the truth?"

You looked over your shoulder to see Draco walking towards the two of you, lazily tossing an apple. Maybe you'd have better luck with him.

"You wouldn't happen to know who Theo's taking to the farewell, dinner, would you?"

"Not you, that's for sure," he replied almost immediately, taking a generous bite of his apple.

"I know that," you muttered, your voice faltering a little. Merlin knows he had made that exceptionally clear. You cleared your throat awkwardly. Mattheo glared at Draco.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the Astronomy Tower?"

"I'm taking my break."

"Well, go take your break somewhere else. Like with the ferrets."

"Hey," Draco said, the tips of his ears turning faintly pink. "That was one time, and as far as I'm concerned, it was nothing short of child abuse - "

"Animal abuse, more like."

You left the boys to bicker as you morosely drifted back towards the library. If only someone would tell you.

Someone you could trust to be telling the truth.

In a fit of inspiration, you changed course, walking in the opposite direction. What you needed, you had decided, was someone in Theo's inner circle who couldn't bear to lie.

You watched Blaise step out of the Slytherin common room from a short distance away, near the shifting staircases. He was fiddling with his watch but stopped short as soon as he saw you. You smiled cheerily.

"Zabini," you started breezily.

"No."

The boy held out a hand in warning. You frowned at him, appalled.

"Zabini," you said, much more impatiently, taking a step towards him. He let out a strangled sort of sound and stepped back.

"No. I already told Theo I want no part in this - this game of yours."

You scoffed. Someone had to have given him a heads up. "Was it Draco? Was he the one who told you?" That slimy eyesore of a snitch.

"It doesn't matter," Blaise was saying, more preoccupied with finding a way out now that you were drawing closer, closing in on him. "I want nothing to do with it. This is between you and Theo."

You laughed weakly.

"Honestly, Blaise. I just want to have a little chat with you! There's nothing wrong with that. Why are you - where are you going? Why are you walking away from me? Blaise? Why are you run - Zabini! Stop running! TELL ME WHO THEO'S TAKING TO THE - "

Unfortunately, you weren't half the track star Blaise was, and yelling while sprinting at full speed was more than your lungs could take. You decided to take a little breather on the steps, hatefully watching him disappear into the convoluted network of staircases with the most awful stitch in your chest.

"I got the boxes," Theo said brightly as you walked in, "and water."

You were too exhausted to even pretend to be fine. "I'm not thirsty," you mumbled, turning your back to him in dismissal. Theo paused, uncertain.

Though, you thought after a moment, you were feeling a little parched, what with all that running.

"Give me that."

Theo handed the bottle over.

"Are you okay? You look a little..."

You shook your head.

"It's nothing. I've just been running around the castle." Like an idiot.

Theo looked confused. It was a frustratingly adorable look on him. "Whatever for?"

You sighed. You pulled him into the chair next to yours, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Nott."

"L/N," he echoed in a completely serious tone, looking like he was enjoying this more than he should.

"I'm going to be straight with you."

"You do that."

"I need you to be straight with me."

"I'll try my best, ma'am."

"Okay. Why won't you tell me who you're taking to the dinner?"

Theo opened his mouth, but then closed it again, as if deciding better of his response. You hated it. You couldn't remember the last time you kept something from him, other than the very big Something you felt about him, and it felt horrible to have him keep something from you.

"Do you not want me to know?" you asked a little pitifully. You wouldn't like it one bit, but you'd learn to accept whoever it was Theo had taken a fancy to. That's what friends did.

"I do want you to know," he said earnestly. "Trust me, I do, more than you know."

"So tell me."

"You."

"Me what?"

"You. I'm taking you."

You stared at him, silent. He stared back, face equally inscrutable. What kind of sick joke was he playing? Hadn't he embarrassed you enough? You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You worried your bottom lip.

"First you won't tell me who you're taking, now you're making fun of me? Is this all a big joke to you? Do you find this funny?"

"A little."

You stood up. Maybe your reaction wasn't making a lot of sense to either of you, but you had had enough. He finally spotted the gleam in your eyes.

"Wait - Y/N, please, I did mean to ask you. This afternoon."

"Enough with the lying, Teddy. This isn't funny anymore."

"But I'm not lying." He looked so distraught, you almost felt sorry for him.

"Draco already said it wasn't me."

The concern knitted into his face almost instantly evaporated. "Malfoy lied? For fun?" He deadpanned. "Alert the presses."

You floundered. "Well - erm - you said you met her at camp. We only met in third year Herbology."

Theo shook his head, mystified.

"No," he said slowly, "we met at the camp. I'm sure of it." He cocked his head. "Do you seriously not remember me?"

"All I remember is this one - " your heated words died on your lips as you finally out two and two together. That had been no little girl, but a little boy, with hair as wavy and soft and dark as Theo's.

"We did meet at camp," you corrected yourself. "We did." You had to hold back a laugh. "My - my mistake. We met at the camp."

Now he was watching you suspiciously.

"What's so funny?" he asked testily.

You just shook your head, swallowing your smile.

bonus (a few months later):

"Girl?" Theo echoed, scandalised, flipping through your photo album. The two of you were in your dorm, sitting side by side on your bed while Theo looked through your album and you - well, you were just enjoying staring at your boyfriend and his handsome side profile. Your heart gave a giddy jolt. Boyfriend. You'd never tire of hearing the word.

"You thought I was a girl?"

You rolled your eyes. "In my defence, your voice was at a much higher pitch back then. Also, you were 11. I was 11. So..."

Theo shook his head slowly, mumbling disbelievingly under his breath.

"Look - " you pulled the album from his lap towards you. "See, your hair's a little long, so it kind of looks like a bob, and it's sort of overwhelming on your face, which is - "

"What about my face?" Theo asked in a half-injured tone. You grinned. He could be so sensitive sometimes.

You put aside the album, leaning in close enough to see the faint freckles dusting his nose, the faded birthmark near the corner of his eye. You pressed a kiss to your cheekbone.

"Nothing. It's perfect."

#theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fluff

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre/warnings: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

3K notes · View notes

prettygirl-gabi · 2 months ago

Text

Title: You Should’ve Told Me

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Slow Burn, Romance

POV: First Person (Reader)

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Freshman year of college, you and Paige Bueckers became fast friends after bonding over having the same major and the same schedule. You told each other everything—well except the fact that you’re a stripper in your junior year.

Fic is based of @yailtsv ‘s mood board: Paige w/stripper!gf

I low-key want yail to do a pt.2 to fic….

🏷️: @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr

Freshman year, I was awkward as hell—tote bag too full, hair always in a rushed bun, and clumsy enough to spill coffee on someone within the first week of classes. That someone just happened to be Paige Bueckers.

“I am so sorry!” I remember fumbling with napkins, heart sinking as the brown stain spread across her hoodie.

She just laughed, blue eyes full of amusement. “It’s fine. I didn’t even like this hoodie anyway.” She glanced down at my binder full of psych notes. “You’re in Psych 103 too?”

And just like that, we became inseparable.

We sat next to each other in every class, studied together, FaceTimed when one of us missed something. Paige introduced me to her teammates, took me to games, and somewhere along the way, we started telling each other everything. Or… almost everything.

I never told her what happened the summer before junior year.

When my parents found out I liked girls, they didn’t scream. They just cut me off. No more tuition. No more health insurance. No more help. Just silence.

So I found a way.

It started small—cocktail waitress. Then VIP hostess. Eventually, I was offered a stage audition at Club Venus. I said yes.

I told myself I’d quit once I had enough. But then rent came due. Then books. Then food. And now, here I was in senior year, dancing on weekends, midterms on Mondays. Still getting straight A’s, still smiling at Paige in class… still lying.

Tonight, I was working a shift but planned to leave early. I had cupcakes waiting at home and a card for Paige’s birthday. I couldn’t wait to surprise her.

But life? Life had other plans.

⸻

“VIP bachelorette party at table three!” my manager called, shoving a tray into my hands.

I groaned. My set was next. “Tell them I’ll be there after stage.”

He rolled his eyes. “Make it quick, baby. They brought the birthday girl.”

As the lights dimmed and the bass rolled in, I stepped out onto the stage, heels clicking, hair bouncing. I plastered on my best smile, the one that made rent and textbooks possible.

But then I saw her.

Front and center, blue eyes wide with disbelief, was Paige.

Her teammates flanked her—Azzi, Nika, Ice—all grinning, waving dollars.

Paige? She looked like the earth had dropped out from beneath her.

She was frozen, staring up at me as if I’d just confessed to murder.

My stomach dropped.

No. No, no, no.

I tried to look anywhere but her as I danced, heart racing, cheeks burning. I wanted to bolt off stage and hide, but I couldn’t. Not mid-set.

When I stepped down and made a beeline for the dressing room, Paige was already moving.

“Hey! Wait—wait up!”

“I’m working,” I hissed, not looking at her.

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, grabbing my forearm gently.

That’s when the other girls noticed.

“You have to pay to touch!” Amber snapped, stepping between us.

“Back off,” another added. “No touching without permission.”

I opened my mouth to say, “It’s okay,” but then Paige reached into her pocket, pulled out every bill she had—$550—and slipped it into my bra strap with steady hands.

Her eyes locked on mine. “Let’s go to a room, shall we?”

I hated how professional I had to stay as I nodded. Hated how much shame churned in my gut. Hated how I couldn’t even celebrate her birthday right.

Once we got into the private room, the door closed behind us, and she didn’t even sit down.

She paced.

“You’re a stripper? Seriously?”

“Paige—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because!” My voice cracked. “Because I didn’t want you to look at me like that. Like I’m something dirty.”

She stopped pacing.

“I don’t—God, that’s not it, I swear.”

“Then what is it?”

“You could’ve told me,” she whispered, softer now. “We tell each other everything.”

“I couldn’t,” I said. And then it just poured out. “I didn’t have a choice, okay? My parents cut me off after I came out. I had no money, no job, no backup plan. I tried everything else. This pays enough. It pays… enough to stay in school.”

Her face crumpled.

“You’re doing this… just to pay tuition?”

I nodded, blinking fast. “It’s not what I want to do. I just—don’t have any other options.”

I didn’t know it then, but that moment shattered something in her.

“I’ll pay it,” she said suddenly.

My eyes widened. “What?”

“My NIL deals cover everything. I barely touch my stipend. Let me help—please.”

“No, Paige—”

“I mean it. You’re killing yourself for a degree. Let me take care of it.”

“I can’t take that from you.”

She looked hurt. “Why not? You’re my best friend.”

That stung more than it should’ve.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

⸻

I thought that was the end of it.

But then she started showing up.

Every night I worked, Paige was there, always tucked into a corner booth, hood up, arms crossed like a bouncer. She tipped big. Watched bigger. Anyone who even looked like they were gonna get handsy? She was up like a shot, staring them down until they backed off.

My coworkers started calling her “your bodyguard.”

Eventually, her presence became comforting.

When I danced, I knew she was watching—but not in a creepy way. She watched like she was protecting me from the whole world.

A few weeks later, after another quiet shift, she waited outside the dressing room.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” she said, handing me a grilled cheese and my favorite boba. “But I miss our study dates.”

I smiled. “You could’ve said that instead of bribing me with dairy and tapioca.”

We talked for hours that night. About school. About the future. About everything but this place.

Eventually, one night, she just blurted it out.

“I like you.”

I blinked. “You what?”

She stepped closer. “I like you. Like, more than a friend. More than anything.”

“…Even though I work here?”

“Especially because you do. You do what you need to survive. That’s… kind of badass.”

I melted.

⸻

Dating Paige was like finally breathing again.

She never judged me. Never looked down on me. But she never stopped worrying either.

She’d sit at the bar, watching every lap dance like a hawk. If a guy leaned in too close, she shot daggers. If someone tried to touch me, security would swoop in—probably tipped off by a glare from Paige.

And yes, she paid for lap dances. Smirking every time.

“You gonna scold me again, babe?” she’d tease, slipping twenties into my garter. “Or you gonna dance for your biggest fan?”

I hated taking her money. She knew it. But she insisted.

“Think of it as a girlfriend tax.”

Still, I drew a line—no more private room sessions once we were official. I couldn’t handle the guilt. She supported the decision immediately.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” she said one night, brushing hair from my face. “Just keep doing what’s best for you.”

The trouble was… I wasn’t making enough anymore. Less tips. Fewer dances. I picked up more shifts, lost more sleep, skipped more meals.

Until one night, I collapsed in her arms.

We were in my apartment. I’d just gotten off work. She brought me tea. I sat down, and before I could even sip it, I started crying.

“I’m so tired, Paige,” I whispered. “I’m tired of selling pieces of myself to strangers while trying to study for exams. I’m tired of dancing when I can’t even feel my legs. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m falling apart.”

She pulled me in, arms tight around my waist. “Baby, you’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

“I can’t take your money. I just… I can’t.”

She kissed my temple. “Okay.”

That was all she said.

⸻

A few weeks later, I got a letter from Financial Aid.

Your balance has been paid in full.

I called. They said an anonymous donor paid off my remaining tuition.

I knew.

She didn’t say anything right away. She waited until I was calm. Until I was home. Until we were curled up on the couch and I was smiling again.

“I love you,” she said. “And I’ll always do what’s best for you. Even if you won’t let me say it out loud.”

I cried again, but this time, I didn’t feel ashamed.

Paige was more than my girlfriend. She was my anchor. My protector. My everything.

And if loving her meant letting her be my sugar mama on my off days?

So be it.

“Okay,” I whispered, curling into her side. “Buy me that Lego set.”

She grinned. “You got it, baby.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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sinstear · 4 months ago

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SECRETS WILL KILL YOU, KEEP IT HUSH.

synopsis: what was once the best times of your lives, what happens when the one you loved more than live itself, your best friend; vanishes without a trace and it’s up to you and your friends to figure out what happened? can you save her in time? tags: major angst, talks of character death, reader being oblivious, cursing, nervous and depressed reader, talks of guns, an appearance from said gun near the end, sprinkles of fluff. happy ending, somewhat. there’s probably a bunch of other stuff i’m missing, but i need this out my face already. wc: 22k .... uhm, look away. an: i’m not sure how i feel about this, but i’ve been reading too many psychological books over this past month; send help asap, and had the idea to write a little something of my own, i say little like this isn’t sitting at a fat 20k+ words .. don’t judge me please or i’ll cry. i cried too much writing this because i hated it for so long LMAO. thank you @vifilms for proofreading and supporting this crazy idea, and helping me through it. i love you. anyway, enjoy <3

Thursday, 28th April 2015.

“you know you could just tell your date you came down with a cold, s’not like she would notice, girls too obsessed with herself notice anything,” Abby suggested, her round dark green glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t just lie,” You scoffed, looking up from your phone, and noticing Abby was clad in one of your sweaters, cross-legged and reading yet another recommended book. “Besides, you know me and dates never last, remember the last one? 20 minutes into getting to know her,”

“She accidentally mentioned her girlfriend, yes, I will never let you live it down.” Abby giggled from beside you and shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen this time? She tells you about the 4 wives she has at home?”

“Funny,” You grumbled and slapped her shoulder playfully. Abby laughed and you felt your heart flutter. You liked it when she laughed, it felt refreshing and beautiful. “If that happens, I hope you’ll be there to rescue me when I call you stressed out.”

Holding her hand over her heart, the blonde nodded with a subtle smirk on her lips. “I solemnly swear I will always rescue you from your failed dates.”

“Hey, Honey.”

Jerry. Sweet and kind Jerry Anderson; He still looks young, even though the stubble on his face is more grey than before, the dark bags under his eyes darker, but you can tell the glint is slowly burning out in his eyes. He used to have a spark to him, but now it’s dim, almost vanishing right before you. “Hey, Mr Anderson.” You coughed on smoke and cleared your throat.

“C’mon kid, I’ve known you since you were in diapers, and throwing eggs at the neighbor’s house, you can call me Jerry.” He laughed, but the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. Not like it used to be.

Stubbing out your cigarette on the sidewalk, you chuckled nervously and wiped your hands nervously on your jeans. “Yeah, no right, sorry, Jerry, habit, you know” you trailed off, looking at him silently, trying to work him out. “Any news?”

“No, don’t think there will be any for a while.”

Abby, your best friend, had made a joke once in her backyard that if you weren’t both in a serious relationship before you turned 18, you would both date, settle down, and get married. It was a promise you promised to keep, if anything, you would be right outside her door, asking her to be your girlfriend the second you turned 18.

Her 26th birthday is next week.

Abby disappeared just weeks before her 18th, she left your house happy and smiley, secretly hoping you would still be single in the next two weeks. She loved you. Jerry knew how much she adored and loved you. Hearing about the dates you would set yourself up on, broke her heart but you were her best friend, so she should be happy for you right? Never ruin a best friend’s dream and wish, she told herself each time she left you and went home to cry into her pillow while her dad, god bless his soul, sat on the end of her bed, comforted her, and stood by her.

“I miss her you know?” You finally mumbled out, looking away from him. “More than I did yesterday, and I’ll miss her more tomorrow than I did today.” The crack in your voice was evident, and it broke Jerry’s heart to see and hear you so distraught. His was hurting too, for so many reasons, but the main one was he didn’t know where his daughter was and it was slowly killing him.

“I know you do, kid,” His smile was faint, his hand trembling as he took a seat beside you on the sidewalk. “My girl loved you with all her heart,” His voice wavered and you couldn’t even smile at him, you couldn’t even promise him anything because how can you? “I know in my heart she’s still out there, somewhere, I’ve heard the talk, the gossip people are saying, saying that she’s dead, some days I believe it, some days I don’t, but I do know one thing, she’ll come back, to us, to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s an Anderson, we don’t give up,” Jerry laughed and for a second it felt like Abby was still with you, laughing and joking like nothing else in the world mattered. “And she’s your best friend, my girl wouldn’t leave you behind. She’ll come back, and that promise you made each other? When you were younger, stealing my beers and trying to smoke a joint?” He laughed again when your eyes widened and he patted your back lightly. “No judgment here, Abby is always safe with you, but you both made a promise, and she will always keep a promise.”

“I’ll find her, Jerry, I promise.”

“You’re slouching like a dog and m’pretty sure you’re drooling”

Peeling your eyes open slowly, you scowled at the sight of a smirking Ellie looking down at you amused. “Fuck off, what do you want?” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and closing your eyes again.

“Saw Jerry,” Her voice was suddenly softer, and you could just picture the way she was playing with her fingers, not knowing what else to say. “He looked—”

“Worse for wear?”

“Something like that,” Ellie smiled and sat in the empty chair beside you. “I know this is a dumb question, but have you heard or seen anything?”

“You mean have I seen the girl I’m in love with walking around? The same girl who suddenly vanished into thin air?”

“Don’t be a dick, m’serious.”

“Then no, I haven’t seen Abby walking around. Do you think I would be sitting here, drinking a beer at 1pm if Abby was here?”

Ellie, even though she pisses you off and gets under your skin, was helpful with everything. She was always there if you needed someone to talk to, always about if you needed just a little help trying to figure out when and where Abby disappeared too. After the breakup with Dina, Ellie felt herself stuck in a hole, unable to feel that push to get out and get help. You were there for each other, even if Dina did give you a subtle glare or side eye when she saw you together. You and Ellie was a line neither of you would cross. That’s always been how it is.

“Hey guys!”

“Oh here we go,” Ellie shrank back in her chair and held back a groan. “Doesn’t this girl have other friends? I wouldn’t even say we are friends”

“Who is— Oh fuck sake.”

“How are we doing?!” Mandy, someone that Dina had brought into the friend group when Ellie and she were still together, skipped over and smiled at you both. “Ellie.”

“Anyway, as I was saying,” She completely blanked her, turned back to you, and smirked. “I think that we, me and you if you get my drift, should go and look for her.”

“Say fuckin’ what now?” You blinked.

“Find whom?”

“Abby, who else do you think?” Your friend snapped.

“Oh, the girl who wanted you to abandon our date that one time?”

You can see her lips moving, but you don’t know what she or even Ellie are saying; your eyes are locked in on the charm around her bracelet. It wasn’t there a few weeks ago, you’d know, she’s always happy and cheery, flinging her arms about like she’s just snorted the lemonade instead of drinking it. It looked oddly familiar, but at the same time, you couldn’t put your finger on it. “So what do you think?” Ellie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and she looked at you with that infuriating grin.

“About?”

“Finding Abby”

Ellie can’t tell if you want to throttle her or throw something at her with the way you’re staring at her. It used to freak her out when you would go silent and just stare like you suddenly forgot how to function, but lately, she’s gotten used to it, this is your way of processing something. “Ellie, you can’t be serious right? We don’t even know where she went before— before she just disappeared. How are we going to find her? With what money? Where do we even start? This isn’t some crime show we watch on the TV, Ellie, this is real, this is her life—”

Her hands came up, grabbed your shoulders, and squeezed tightly with a soft chuckle. “Breath, Nancy Drew, you’re going to give yourself a panic attack. We don’t have to suddenly rush off, and get ourselves into trouble, we just have to retrace steps. Abby’s steps.”

“It’s been years, El.”

“I know, but we’ll find her, okay? She wouldn’t just leave, and she wouldn’t leave you. We all know this, you know this.” Her smile reassured you somewhat, but you still had that nerve eating away at you. What if she really was gone?

The charm was still gnawing at you. Where could you have pictured it before? You weren’t 100% sure you were seeing things right, maybe it was one that you had thought you had seen before but it was your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe it was because you had a hole in your heart, and you were trying to put something there to ease it a little. To make it whole again.

So why couldn’t you let it go? Why did you have to keep pushing yourself into something that wasn’t there? Was it because you needed Abby, and you needed to find her? To restore your thoughts? Or was it because some part of you knew the outcome of what’s happened, and you were too afraid to say it out loud?

“Been a couple of years since you came in here,” Jerry’s voice rang out from behind you. He sounded tired. He probably hasn’t slept properly in years, just like you. So you knew how he was feeling. “You and Abby would try stealing the candy, but I always knew it was you two. Always sneaking around and causing trouble between yourselves.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, fingers grasping at the picture he hand hung up on the wall of Abby, tightly and smiled painfully. “Did Abby take anything? When you—”

“I would have told you, you know that.” Jerry cut you off, dropping the box in his hands onto the floor, and sighed softly. “I’ve been in her room hundreds of times since she, well, since she disappeared and I haven’t noticed anything different. I haven’t even changed the wallpaper, s’too hard to handle.”

“She wouldn’t have left without a reason, Jerry. Abby doesn’t just go missing. If she was in trouble, she would have come to me, if anything was wrong, she would have called me, she would have asked for my help.”

“This is hard for me to talk about.”

“And you think It’s not hard for me?” You scoffed, gripping the picture tighter. “My best friend goes missing and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do. There’s nothing I can do. It fucking kills me to know that she’s probably out there, scared and alone, and I’m here feeling sorry for myself? You know how fucking shitty that makes me feel that I couldn’t keep her safe? She’s not fucking here and It’s my fault because I didn’t protect her hard enough. I should have walked her home that night, I should have done more.”

For the first time in years, Jerry can see how terrified you are. For a while, you’ve been able to keep your emotions and feelings at bay, keep them under control, but as you stand there, looking at him, he can see a younger you. A scared little you. You look small, broken, and terrified as you stand before him. “This isn’t your fault,” He shakes his head and clenches his fist. “This has never been your fault.”

“When I look at you, I wait for you to shout and yell at me. Blame me for her going missing, I wait every single time, and it never comes. That’s pathetic, right? That I wait for you to blame me for the reason your daughter is missing.”

His sudden sob catches your attention, and you feel like shit. You’ve never meant to make him upset, you’ve always been the one to make people laugh, to make their stomachs hurt over a silly joke you made, but always has everyone laughing and smiling. But you’ve made him cry, and you suddenly feel lost again. “M’sorry—”

“I’ve never blamed you for this, and I won’t start today”

You find Ellie on her porch step that same afternoon after your conversation with Jerry, nursing a glass of water in her hand and her eyebrow raises just slightly when you storm over and stand right in front of her with your arms folded over your chest. “Alright? You look like you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown or murder.” She joked, and your lips quirked up just slightly. “What’s up?”

“I want to find Abby.”

Just like that, Ellie placed her glass beside her, almost knocking it over when she leaned back and grinned at you. “Nancy Drew, this is going to be something,” She lazily smiled and stood up quickly. “Just don’t go telling Joel, he worries enough about me and whatnot,”

“Tell him that we’re just going camping, just until we get somewhere with whatever steps we have to retrace around here.”

“Camping?” She scoffed and glared at you.

“Ellie, you dress like you live in the fuckin’ woods, he’ll believe you.” You rolled your eyes, brushed past her, up the stairs, and into her house. “C’mon idiot!”

“God, yes Mother!”

When you were younger, you and Abby spent a lot of time at Ellie’s house. Joel always had to refill glasses with lemonade to put more sandwiches on empty plates, and you were always thankful for him, Ellie, and Abby. Always for Abby. The memories of your childhood, your growing up, lingered in certain parts of the house. For a split second, you felt like you were back there as you walked into the living room; you remember how Abby almost cried when she lost a game of Uno, and Ellie teased her nonstop for it. You remember how the blonde would cuddle into your side during random movie nights, especially the horror movies Dina decided to watch, even though she would turn them off most of the time because it got too scary.

The picture of the 4 of you still sits on the fireplace and a smile curves on your lips. You still remember the day it was taken, and how cold it was to take such a picture in the snow. If you squint hard enough, you can see the redness forming on Abby’s nose, and if pictures had audio then you would be able to faintly hear the chattering sound of Ellie’s teeth at how cold it was that night. You weren’t sure if Ellie would have gotten rid of all the memories, but you were thankful she didn’t. You lost Abby, Jerry lost Abby, but in the end, you all lost her. You all lost a part of yourselves that morning he couldn’t find her. A little bit of each of you died when the posters were put up all around Jackson not even a week later. The missing poster still haunts you. No matter what.

“Even in pictures, Abby always wanted to be close to you.”

Joel. Placing the picture back down, you turn around and find him holding logs of wood. His hair was slightly shorter; Ellie probably had enough and took the scissors to it. His eyes still had a small glimmer of hope, but he still looked exhausted. “Yeah,” You nodded and fumbled with your hoodie sleeve. “Haven’t taken a photo since, feels too weird without her in them. It would also feel like cheating, can’t take a picture that she’s not in, you know?” A faint smile tugged at your lips.

“You’ll all take one together when she’s back, no doubt about it. Hell, Ellie will probably fill her wall with new pictures of you guys,” Like Jerry, Joel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you hold back either a sigh or a cry. “El misses her too, you know?” He added quietly, like he was scared she would hear you both. “She might not talk about it, like you, but I’ve heard her crying at night, sometimes it takes me hours to get her to calm down. Poor girl almost sent herself into a panic attack last night because she was crying so much. I wish I knew how to help her, all I ever want is to help her and keep her safe and I don’t know how. I feel lost because I can’t help her when she needs it.”

“You’re doing the best you can, Joel.” You wanted to help her too, you wanted to ease and help everyone but even you were lost and confused. “She knows you’re here, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk about it. I promise.”

“Yeah I know—”

“Joel? I thought you were out with Tommy?” Ellie appeared finally and looked between you both. “You guys alright?” She laughed nervously and dropped her jacket on the back of the chair with a shiver. It was slowly getting colder, so more blankets and fires were needed.

“Yeah, yeah, was just catching up and stuff, haven’t seen Joel or Tommy for a while.”

“If you didn’t cancel on the dinner last week, you would have seen them,” She teased, kissing Joel’s cheek and taking the wood from his hands before walking over to the almost gone-out fire. “Old man misses you, he misses all of you.”

Even Abby, she thinks.

“Right, you guys staying for dinner or?” Joel laughed.

“Yes, we’re staying,” Ellie looked at you, folding her arms over her chest. “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, missed your cooking.” You grinned playfully at him.

“We’ll be in my room!”

“I know El, It’s the only place you socialize.”

Pushing open her door, Ellie slumps herself in her desk chair, sighs, and then looks over at you as you slump face-first onto her bed. “Right, operation find Abby, what’s first?”

“Well, we all saw her that night, surely someone knows something that we don’t,” you mumbled before lifting your head slowly with a grumble. “Abby doesn’t just go missing within 24 hours, El. Not without someone seeing something. Have you seen how many people lurk outside the bar? Lurk around the shops? Someone has to have seen her, or something.”

“So, we start there. We ask everyone.”

“C’mon dude, surely you remember seeing her at least once that night?!” Ellie scowled, holding up a photograph of Abby in his face, almost shoving it under his nose with how angry she was getting. Sighing under your breath, you reached your hand up and pulled her arm away.

“El, he doesn't remember, let’s ask someone else. Preferably someone who isn’t drunk right now.”

“We’ve been asking people for hours—”

“It’s not going to happen overnight El, and as much as I want it to, It’s impossible.” You rubbed at your face and sighed loud enough for her scowl to drop and a frown to appear. “I just want her to be okay, and I know that she’s scared somewhere, whenever she is, but I need to find her.”

“We’ll find her, we’ll look around all day and night if we have to.”

The metal door clangs loudly against the brick wall, sending a slight vibration through the floor, and the feeling of terror sinks in all over again. The room is dark, and cold, not even a blanket could keep you warm if you tried hard enough. The days have been lost, not even sure what year it is anymore, and not even having enough energy to count specks of dirt on the walls have been long forgotten. The energy to keep going was slowly getting lower and lower.

The painful squeak of the door opening would cause anyone to lose sleep. “Eat your food, don’t make me waste more money on this shit if you don’t want to eat it. Stop being ungrateful and do what I tell you.” The small plate of food hits the floor, almost going everywhere, and just like that the door slams shut again without another word.

How much longer?

“Yeah, I saw her.”

Both yours and Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up at his words, and you look at her with a glimmer of hope. “You did? You saw her?” You asked.

“Course I did,” He nodded, taking a hit from his cigarette and coughing abruptly. “Was getting something from the bakery store, bread or something? She wasn’t there for long, but I saw her.”

“Was she with anyone?”

“Nah, was by herself, she didn’t seem to be in a rush or anything. I was cleaning up the tables outside, and that’s when I saw her. Then when it came about that she had gone missing the next week, I didn’t know what to think. I don’t think she went missing, but I suppose I should let the professionals deal with it.”

“Professionals,” Ellie clicked her tongue on the side of her mouth and laughed. “Yeah because they’re much help.”

“Thank you,” You smiled apologetically. “Let us know if you can remember anything else.”

“Will do. Hope you find her.”

Just as you and Ellie turned around to leave, to ask someone else, that high-pitched voice rang out again. Stopping you both in your tracks. “Hi!” Mandy smiled sweetly, looking between you both as she got closer.

“Gonna take this pencil and shove it right in my fuckin’ eye,” Ellie grumbled under her breath.

“Hi, Mandy.” You murmured.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Looking for Abby, didn’t we mention this to you yesterday?”

Jabbing Ellie in the rib, you shook your head when she glared at you and slapped on a fake smile. “Did you see Abby at all?” You asked, looking at her closely.

Mandy looked between you both again, eyes just widening slightly before she laughed and shrugged. “No? We weren’t close.”

“Don’t have to be close to someone to know if you saw them or not.” Ellie pointed out.

“I was with my parents, and even if I did see her, I was drinking too much that night to know,” She shrugged again, looking at you with a happy smile. One that for some reason, made you uncomfortable. “Speaking of which, I have some books I have to give back to my parents.”

“You remember being drunk that many years ago?”

There it was again, the wave of her hand brushing her hair away from her face when you noticed that same bracelet charm. It was making you irritated because you still can’t picture where it’s from, or who made it. But you know that you’ve seen it before, that you do know and are aware of. “—If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?” Mandy offered, giving you one final smile before she walked away.

“She pisses me off more and more every day I swear. Remind me why you went on a date with her?” Ellie slipped the pen into her pocket and rubbed her nose harshly. Was she coming down with yet another cold? You thought to yourself.

“M’not sure, she always cornered me when I was alone and kept asking until I said yes, that’s it.” You shrugged as you both walked. “She always shows up when we’re talking about Abby, no?”

“I don’t think she’s the kidnapping or killing type, to be honest. Too bubbly and cheerful.”

“She’s not dead, Ellie.”

Halting in her steps, Ellie turns around and acknowledges her words quickly. “Shit, no I know, I didn’t mean it like that. This is just stressing me out, we’re still getting nowhere.”

You both take a seat on the chairs outside the bakery, tired and feeling sorry for yourself as you both silently look through the list of names of people you still need to talk to. Wanted to know if anyone had seen her, just something. “There’s still the lady who owns the wine shop, that creepy guy who owns the other bar,” Ellie mumbled.

Brushing your fingers over the paper, you shrink back in the chair with a sigh, one that already explains how tired you are, and close your eyes.

Saturday, 1st May 2015.

“Yeah, m’here,” you mumbled, holding your phone to your ear, feet kicking at the rocks. “Make sure you rescue me.”

“I have a good feeling about this date,” Abby admitted softly, unbeknownst to you, holding back her sobs, and smiled even though you couldn’t see her. “I think It’s going to be amazing.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“Because I know you, and you deserve this.”

Her words buried deep in your chest, and you felt your eyes slowly well up with tears, but you couldn’t cry, not today, not when you were about to have a fucking date. “Abby?”

You weren’t sure if you heard the hitch in her breath, and if you did, you ignored it. “Yeah?” She asked, fumbling with the sleeve of the hoodie she stole from you.

“Thank you.”

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, Abby smiles sadly to herself. “Of course. I love you.”

“I love you—”

“Y/N? Hi!”

“Abby I gotta go, I’ll come over after, yeah?”

“Good luck.”

Slipping your phone into your back pocket once you hung up, you smiled tightly. “Mandy, right?”

“The one and only! Seems unsettling it took you until the first date to know my name, but whatever, we’re here now.” She didn’t seem to notice your tight-lipped smile and urge to roll your eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

The small restaurant was slightly dimmed, smelling of cigarettes and strong beer. Mandy didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she was happily walking around; looking for a table to sit at and a small shriek of happiness flooded from her once she found a table that fitted her. “Let’s sit, come come.” The redhead hurried, throwing her bag and jacket onto the table beside her.

“Oh, uh, sure,” You took her things, smiling apologetically at the old couple who looked at her shocked, and seated yourself in the chair opposite her. “M’not sure what to eat here, never been before.” You admitted sheepishly.

Mandy, who had yet to even speak, looked at you with a smile. “Everything here is good except for the lemon tart and the white wine.”

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

“Tastes like shit, typical for them, and whatnot.” She shrugged again, and It caught you off guard with how fast she covered up her distaste for things with a wide smile. One that’s almost sinister-looking. She was a good person though, Dina mentioned she was. You couldn’t judge her based on a smile. “Now, how did you meet Dina and Ellie?”

“I met Abby first, actually—”

“Abby? Why doesn’t that name ring a bell?”

“Oh, uh, Jerry Anderson’s daughter? They own the candy store?”

“Ah,” Mandy flashed yet another smile, sitting back in her chair and nodding along. “Don’t know them personally, I wouldn’t have a reason to.”

“Right,” Clearing your throat, you hummed and gave her your best grin. Did you look stupid? Maybe, but did she care? Apparently not. “How did you meet Dina?”

The sharp pinch on your skin had your eyes snapping open, your body almost falling out of the chair when you spotted Ellie looking at you, grinning from ear to ear. “Dude, fuck you.”

“You’re wasting time, If m’not allowed to nap, then you aren’t allowed either.” She scoffed, slipped the sheet of paper into her pocket, and stood up. “We aren’t getting anywhere, let’s go back to mine and we can go from there.”

“What if there’s nothing?”

“There’s always something.”

You started to lose count of the days. First they started as days, and then they suddenly started blending into weeks. You and Ellie were still none the wiser. Still lost on every account of what happened when Abby had left your house the night she vanished. You had barely left your bed; only to shower, brush your teeth and eat, but besides that, it felt like you were falling into another deep hole you weren’t sure you could dig yourself out of.

Today was the first day you gathered enough energy to pull yourself out of the hole that was your unmade bed, and clothe yourself in something that had way too many holes, and probably is over 5 years old, but it was a start. “Most books that come back are usually missing a couple of pages, s’not unusual,” Brenda, the owner, explained with a tired smile. “Doesn’t make it less annoying though.”

“Yeah, can’t read a book with a fuckin’ page missin,” You grumbled, feeling the same emotions as her. You could get lost in your books, and to know the one you wanted to read was missing about 5 pages pissed you off. “S’fine, I’ll just take the other books.”

“Are you sure, Honey?”

“Yeah, m’sure—”

From the corner of your eye, there was a sudden flash, a sliver of blonde hair caught your attention and your body did a full 180, dropping the books on the floor, causing Brenda to let out a scowl and drop to her knees quickly just to pick them up. They were collector books, how dare you just drop them?” Shit, fuck, sorry, Brenda, I have to go—”

You were already running away before you finished your sentence. Pushing people out of your way, tugging them and almost pushing them over as you scrambled to get past the large crowds. “Abby!?” You shouted, sadly tripping someone over in the process, but a part of you didn’t care. “Move out the fuckin’ way,” Your hands pressed onto a back, shoving them a little too hard for anyone’s liking, sending them tumbling over one of the stools. “Abby!”

Before you could comprehend anything else, let alone think about the blonde hair, your body barreled into another harshly, sending you both to the floor, your back hits the dirty floor with a loud thud and winds you in the process. “Fuck!” You hissed, coughing painfully.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

Jesse. Turning on your side, your eyes flutter open, the pain in your back trailing all over your body as you find him already pushing himself off the floor, crouching beside you, and holding a hand out for you. “Sorry, I just thought I saw someone.” You explained, taking his hand and letting him pull you up.

“Abby?”

“What?”

“You were shouting her name,” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders and dusting off yours. “Dina told me you and Ellie were looking for her, or something like that,” Jesse murmured, holding his hand up to block the sun from his eyes. “Had any luck?”

“I wouldn’t be shouting her name like a fuckin’ maniac and pushing people over if I had luck finding her,” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. His smile fell at your aggression, but quickly recovered and patted your shoulder with another smile. “Sorry, I’ve just— I don’t know what to do, It feels like she’s still here, somewhere, and I just want her to come back.”

“I know, and she will. You’re both like, stuck to each other, If anyone can find her, It’s you,”

“Y/N! Y/N!”

Turning your head, you find Ellie frantically running towards you and Jesse. She barely acknowledges him though and instead, shoves a piece of paper into your hands before hunching over, resting her hands on her thighs and panting heavily. “What’s this?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

“Abby was arguing with someone,” She spoke between pants and cleared her throat. “That creepy old man we saw last week? Freaked me the fuck out, to be honest, but when I saw him again this morning, he kind of cornered me and started telling me that she was arguing with someone near the barn, it got heated, but that’s all he remembers.” Ellie finally got out.

“Arguing? With who?”

“Fuck if I know, but he said it sounded bad. So whoever she was arguing with, knows where she went, or was the one to see her last, right?” She blinked, copying Jesse and blocking the sun from her face with her hand.

“I thought I saw her,”

“Saw who? Abby? When?”

“Was talking to Brenda about books, and then It just felt like I saw her—”

“Almost took me out in the process.” Jesse chimed in.

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the sheet of paper; the same sheet that listed the names of everyone who lived here. “So she was arguing with someone? That could have been anyone.”

“Half of them are old, one argument would send them into their coffin—”

“Ellie!”

“What?! M’just saying! It’s true.”

“Jesse, do you remember Abby wearing jewelry?” You asked after a few seconds of silence.

His eyebrow rose this time, only to furrow. “Uh, maybe, I’m not sure, why?”

“Abby never wore jewelry unless it was from you or Jerry.” Ellie gave you the same confused look. “Why? What is that big head of yours thinking?”

“Nah, s’nothing, was just wondering,” You shook them off and scrambled the paper between your hands. “Something just feels off and I can’t explain it no matter how much I think.”

“Jerry still has all those pictures we took, maybe we can start there this time, see if anything jumps out at you?” Jesse suggested this time.

“Wha— You?” Ellie scoffed.

“Abby is my friend too, Ellie.”

“And yet you’ve never taken the time to visit us or Jerry since she went missing, shocker, Jesse.”

“Guys, enough,” You pinched the bridge of your nose harshly and sighed deeply. “Let’s just go see Jerry for the pictures.”

Jerry wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t changed anything in Abby’s bedroom. The wallpaper was still the yellow and sunflower she picked when she turned 16. The bed sheets were the same light blue with clouds that scattered around the fabric. Her mirror still had every Polaroid hung up from the multiple drunk nights you all had. “There’s still another box in the attic, I’ll get it for you.” Her Dad appeared in the doorway, looking at you all with a gentle smile. “Weird seeing all of you in her room after so long,” He chuckled and placed the box on her bed. “Can I get any of you something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“M’alright, but thank you, Jerry.”

“Can I have a glass of water?”

“Really, Jesse?” Ellie glared.

“What?! I’m thirsty.” Jesse glared back.

“I’ll get your drink and then grab the last box.” Jerry laughed at their bickering and left the room.

“Right,” Ellie clasped her hands together and took refuge at Abby’s untouched desk. You could tell Jerry hadn’t touched anything there because the old music festival poster was still lying there on the oak. “Something that could help us.” She muttered to herself while you and Jesse were already opening the box.

“I didn’t realize how many pictures we took when we were all together,” Jesse smiled fondly at the thought of seeing so many old memories between you all and instantly shoved his hand into the filled box and grabbed a handful of pictures.

“How many are there?” Ellie laughed from the other side of the room.

“More than Joel has of those vinyls, that’s for sure.” You chuckled.

“Old man is gonna be so jealous we have more pictures together than he has of his beloved music.”

“Or you could find another that he doesn’t have yet, you know, being a good daughter to the old man seeing as he feeds you 4 times a day and takes care of you,” You suggested with a subtle smirk. “Just a little idea of what to get him for his birthday.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna get him then?”

“Another jumper, what else?”

“You’ve given him over 10 since you met him!”

“Didn’t you steal 3 of my jumpers?” You quipped back, eyebrow rose and lips quirked up.

“You just— Your jumpers are comfy, okay!?”

“Oh I was just asking, you’re the one getting all defensive,” You teased before taking your handful of pictures. You don’t remember each time you took them, there were so many that it could go back years before you were even friends with Ellie or Jesse. There were more than enough to write an entire book; it seemed as you scanned over a couple.

As you went to grab another set, seeing as the ones you picked didn’t really give you much, you had knocked over the pile that Jesse had already looked through, and sent them tumbling to the floor. Cursing under your breath, you rolled your eyes at yourself and sighed. “Shit,” You grumbled, placing the pile of photos on the bed before kneeling on the floor to grab the few that you knocked over. “Ellie, did you find anything?”

“Nah, still nothing.” The Brunette sighed from the desk.

Picking up the abandoned photos, you quickly catch onto a slight glint and sparkle from the corner of your eye; furrowing your eyebrows, you push the pictures onto the bed with the others, and lean your head down more, looking under her bed. “What the—” Reaching towards whatever it was you thought you saw, you grabbed it, and your lips parted with a soft exhale.

A bracelet.

Holding it up, you inspected it closely. “What’s that?” Jesse spoke up as you noticed there were quite a few charms already missing. Did Abby hide them? Why was there only a few left, and the others were gone? “Is that Abby’s?”

Ellie had quickly snatched it from your hands, which caused you to almost stumble onto the floor at her abrupt movement, held the bracelet up and looked at it. “I’ve only seen this once,”

“So It’s hers?”

“I assume so, I saw her with it on her 16th birthday,” Ellie nodded and took a seat in the middle of Abby’s bed with her legs crossed. “I’ve only seen her with it on once, and I mean, you guys should know that too seeing as you got her the fuckin’ thing, Y/N”

Did you? Then why couldn’t you remember?

“How don’t you remember?” Jesse laughed and slapped the back of your head gently. “Can we just talk about the fact she wore all of your clothes? She wouldn’t go out unless you were going, nor would she go to any of the parties here unless you were with her? You were both obsessed with each other. You bought it for her, or made it for her, should I say.”

“Made it?” You choked out, looking over at the bracelet that was still in Ellie’s hands. “I don’t—”

“It’s been hard for all of us, but more so for you,” Ellie admitted quietly and smiled sadly. “Abs was closer to you than the rest of us. We can all understand that this is something you don’t remember because you’re too busy blaming yourself.”

“That’s not—”

“Y/N, you’ve been blaming yourself the second the missing posters went up,” Jesse spoke, sitting beside Ellie on the bed. “Every day since then you’ve blamed yourself,and you’re still blaming yourself, right now, I just know your head is going through the cycle It’s been going through for the past god knows how many years.”

“But why don’t I remember making her that? Why?”

“Because you’re blocking it out,” Jerry spoke up. “You’re blocking out all the memories because you’re scared.”

“M’not scared—”

Planting the final box on the floor, Jerry crouches beside you and places his hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “You’re blocking them out because you’re scared. You’ve been blocking them out because you’re blaming yourself, and maybe if you block them out, it won’t hurt you as much—”

“Hurt me,” You scoffed and shrugged his hand off your shoulder as you stumbled to your feet. “Won’t hurt me as much. M’not ready to let her go, is that better for you? Maybe if I keep my memories locked away, I’ll have more time to make new ones when she comes home. I know this is fucking hard for all of us, for you, but it is killing me—” You paused to take a deep breath, ignoring the worried looks on all of them. “It’s fucking killing me going through fucking photos, asking people around the fucking village, trying to figure out what happened when she’s fucking alone, all alone and I don’t know where she is. This is pointless, all of this is pointless because Abby means more to me than some pictures! I’m here looking at fucking pictures while the girl I love is somewhere out there, fucking scared and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t promise you anything, I can’t promise no one anything”

“Y/N—” Jerry frowned as he rose to his feet and cupped your face gently between his hands. “You’re looking for her,” He murmured with a soft smile. “You’re doing something, and you’re doing a better job than the so-called professionals.”

“I can’t even figure out who she argued with, I haven’t done anything.” You choked out, body falling into his as he wrapped his arm around you and cupped the back of your head. “I need her back, I just want her back.”

“I have faith. With you both, I always have.” Jerry smiled.

You weren’t sure what happened after your small breakdown, all you know is that you’re still sitting in Abby’s bedroom 5 hours later. Still sifting through endless pictures, notes, journals, anything to give you a hint of something. Was Abby afraid of someone? Why was she arguing? Who was she arguing with? You had so many questions and yet you felt like you had so little time to get everything. “This is the second time she’s yelled at me, what did I do wrong?” Ellie, who was hunched over the desk, mumbled as your eyes locked onto her back.

“Ellie? Who yelled at you?” You asked, sitting up slowly.

“What? No, It’s a diary entry in Abby’s journal,” She turned around, made her way over to you, climbed onto the bed, and slumped beside you. “Look,” Ellie passed you the book, onto the page she was reading and you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw it.

“Who yelled at her?” You took the journal from her hand and skimmed through more of the pages, ones you assume Ellie has yet to read through. Jesse left not that long ago, muttering apologies but his parents wanted him to help with dinner.

The more you flipped through, the more you noticed.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

I think she hates me. I’m not sure what I did for her to hate me, but apparently I must have done something.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

She threatened me today. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t know why she hates me.

Monday, 3rd May 2015.

It’s getting harder and harder to look at her and tell her I’m fine. It’s breaking my heart and I can’t even talk to her about it.

“Obviously the last one has to be about you. So something happened and she couldn’t even talk to you about it, I assume?” Ellie slumped her head on your shoulder and grumbled. “Is there anything else? To just give us a timeline for however long this went on for?”

“That was the last one,” You closed the book and placed it on your lap with another long sigh. “Abby never told Jerry anything, so I doubt talking to him about this is going to do much.”

“So, over the past god knows how many weeks we’ve been doing this, we’ve found out that someone was on Abby’s case, who, that’s still another thing we need to figure out,” Ellie explained, nervously fumbling with the ring on her finger.

“I wish she would have spoken to me, I could have done something, kept her even safer,” You felt worse now than you did earlier, reading those journal entries made your heart sink. Your best friend, the girl you were in love with, was going through something she felt like she couldn’t even talk to you about.

“Abby would hate that you’re blaming yourself,” Ellie frowned, curling into your side and rubbing her nose. “You know that she would never let you think that about yourself, it will kill her to know you’re blaming everything on yourself, still.”

“I always promised I would keep her safe, and I couldn’t even do that. If I did, she would still be here, she wouldn’t be missing, El.”

“When we find her, m’going to ask her for permission to punch you—”

“Why?!” You cut her off, outraged and shocked at her words.

“Because then maybe you’ll stop blaming yourself for this, for everything that’s happened.”

You’re sitting at the bar the next evening when it happens, minding your own business as you wait for Jesse and Ellie, when a guy, a gruff guy walks up to you; slightly drunk and smoking a cigarette, when he bumps into your shoulder and scowls. “Heard you and your little friends are looking for that girl,” He hiccups, the stench of his beer breath has your stomach churning and nose scrunching up at the smell.

“Fucks it to you?”

“She’s been gone for years, no chance she’s gonna turn up now, no?” His laugh made your skin crawl and you didn’t know if you wanted to smash his beer bottle over his head or break his jaw. Maybe both, it would be easier for him to stop talking to you. “I don’t know why you try, she was a lost cause years before she disappeared.”

“You don’t even know her, shut your fuckin’ mouth.” You warned, standing up slowly. You towered over him by a few more inches, and half expected him to cower away, most people did, but he didn’t, he just laughed harder, taking constant drags of his cigarette and looked you up and down. “M’not afraid to shove that bottle down your throat, now fuck off.” Your face was now in his, and the smell of beer smelt worse if that was even possible.

“Oh yeah? The fuck you gonna do? Shove this bottle down my throat? Your threats are empty and pointless, like your search for your little fuckin’ girlfriend—”

“Say one more thing about her, I dare you.”

Before you can go through with your promise, a hand grabs your arm and pulls you away. “He’s not worth it, just let it go.” Ellie, who you hadn’t even noticed arrived, murmured into your ear and dragged you away from the smiling man. “Fighting someone isn’t worth it when we have someone more important to find, okay?”

“Stupid cunt.” You growled at him, letting Ellie drag you out of the bar and into the open air. “Could have just let me throttle the bastard or something.”

“And risk you getting into trouble when Abby is waiting for you?” Jesse spoke up and pushed himself off the wall.

Just her name has you relaxing in your spot and nodding to yourself slowly. Abby was waiting for you, wherever that might be, she was. No matter how long it takes, you’re going to be the one to save the woman you love. All you have is hope. Pulling out your small box of cigarettes along with your lighter, you shove one between your lips, lighting it up and taking a long drag. “So, the notes, the bracelet, what’s next?” You mumbled between puffs.

“Are you chain smoking?” Ellie laughed with a subtle scoff.

“Give me a break, I haven’t slept properly in years,” You rolled your eyes and slumped your head on Jesse’s shoulder. “What’s next?” You asked again.

As Ellie went to open her mouth, Mandy appeared outside the small shop beside the bar, looking over at you and waving quickly. “Y/N!” And before you knew it, she was already standing in front of you before you had the time to register what was going on. “Are you free tonight?”

Coughing on your cigarette, Jesse slapped your back and laughed softly while you cleared your throat and smiled painfully at her. “Tonight? Uhm m’not sure, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with me?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, silly, I said tonight didn’t I?”

You could see Ellie rolling her eyes beside you from the corner of your eyes, and as much as you wanted to say no, maybe saying yes might help your case. You could try and find something else about Abby, maybe Mandy might have seen someone being rude or mean to Abby when you weren’t around. “Yeah, sure!” You agreed, a little too enthusiastically for your liking.

“What?!” Ellie shouted.

“Oh really? That would be wonderful, how’s 7?”

“7 is great, Mandy”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ellie whisper-yelled once Mandy walked away and was so far away that she couldn’t hear you guys. “Are you fucked in the head or something?”

“Relax, If It’s just me with her, she might know something and tell me.”

Eyeing you up closely, she simply sighs and slaps your back gently. “Make sure you text or call if she starts to freak you out too much.”

“Or if she tries to kiss you again,” Jesse added with a snicker.

“You guys are so funny, seriously, should become comedians or something.” You took another drag of your cigarette and glared at them both.

“And never be able to see your angelic face again? How would I survive?” Ellie gasped dramatically and grinned. “No but seriously, don’t give into her weirdness. Remember, only anything to do with Abby, got it?”

“Yes mom,” You huffed while Ellie simply pinched your arm and laughed at your scowl. “We have time to kill until then though. Any idea on who threatened her? I keep thinking but no one comes to mind.”

“No fuckin’ idea, Abby had her secrets, ones she didn’t tell us about, but if it risked her like, m’sure she would have told one of us right? She wouldn’t just hide it until something like this happened?”

“None of us knew this was going to happen, let alone Abby knowing,” You murmured, using your shoe to put out the cigarette you dropped on the floor once you were done with it. “Abby used to have multiple journals, were the others not in there?”

“Not that I saw, she probably kept there somewhere else. Journals aren’t supposed to be snooped in, hiding it is what I would have done if I had one.”

“So you’re saying we look in her room again?”

“Worth a try, might find something else.”

Abby’s Dad didn’t mind that you were once again sitting in her bedroom, it was something you all did when you were younger; Abby’s house being the one that everyone hung out in the most, so changing that routine now would be pointless.

Looking through the endless supply of books in her bookshelf, you bite back another sigh when you placed yet another back, still not finding anything that could be of use or even a fuckin’ clue, and turning around. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the end of the bed, going through the journals you both looked through last night, and with the sigh she lets out when she throws her head back, you know it’s another deadend.

“Nothing, again.”

Sitting down beside her, you take the journal from her hands, your fingers brush against the words, even her words were somewhat comforting to you. As you fumbled with the pages, you were suddenly intrigued with what Ellie was doing; Reading notes you all used to write for each other if one of you had gotten into trouble with your parents, and weren’t allowed to leave the house. “Abby never got in trouble, like ever,” She laughed.

“Because we never told Jerry about the other shit,” You snickered, the memory of Abby trying weed for the first time, and her Dad freaking out when you both arrived home, slightly buzzed out your minds, trying to act normal. “He knows about most of the weed stories, but not the insane shit we used to get up to as kids.”

“We were fuckin’ crazy, weren’t we?”

“Oh, we should have been shipped off to the ward for the shit we did.”

“Remember Brenda thinking she had rats in the shop? But it was just us making it seem like she was going crazy?”

“I still regret that, I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t give me 4 joints before,” You threw your head back and laughed. Your laughter died down quite quickly when you brushed your thumb against the edge of the page, a sharp pain shooting through your hand. “Shit! Ow.”

“Fuck you do?”

“Paper cut,” You grumbled and looked down at your small wound.

Only for your eyes to widen at the slight kink in the paper.

“Ellie”

“Did you know that Abby used to call you butterfly?” Ellie, oblivious to your stare, laughed.

“Ellie” You repeated, louder this time.

“What?”

Turning to face you, her eyes land on the paper instead of your face, and the letters fall from between her fingers once you’re peeling apart two pieces that had somewhat been glued together.

“Typical Abby, fair play,” Ellie murmured once you pushed the two pieces apart.

A whole new entry.

Tuesday, 4th May 2015

I can feel her. She’s everywhere. She’s told me to back off, but what do I say when she notices I’m pulling away? I can’t even smile at her without it being a problem. What if she kills me? She’s crazy, I don’t think anyone understands. I tried to keep her away, but she’s clawing her way into everything and tearing things apart. At night, I can see her outside the window, looking at me, smiling at me, looking at me like she wants to kill me. Who do I tell? Who can I go to without making it a big issue? Is she really capable of killing me? Making me disappear?

What if she kills me?

What if she does?

What if this is the last time I’ll see my friends, my dad, my journals?

What……………….

Closing the book quickly, Ellie flinches beside you at the force, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is getting fuckin’ weird.” You admitted. “I’m going to kill whoever it is.”

“Let’s not jump to those conclusions just yet, is there anything else?”

“No, it’s the only page we haven’t seen. So it’s a woman, a woman was the last person to see her, right? That’s gotta be the only reason right now. We have nothing else and if there is other stuff, we’re fuckin’ missing it.”

“I can look through everything again when you’re with that crazy one, see if we missed anything. I don’t mind drinking another black coffee, some energy drinks and staying awake all night.” Ellie joked.

“I don’t mind going through it all again with you when I get back. We’re still meeting up later, yeah?”

“If she doesn’t somehow kidnap you and trick you into dating you, yeah.”

6:45pm rolled around quickly and you found yourself standing outside of Mandy’s house, one hand shoved in your jacket pocket while the other was at your side, and patiently waiting. Just as you were about to knock a second time, the door swung open to reveal a very happy Mandy, smile so wide you could see her teeth. “You made it!”

“Course,” You laughed, digging your hand deeper into your pocket. “Sorry m’early,”

“Don’t worry, earlier the better! Come in, it’s cold out here tonight,”

Stepping aside to let you in, Mandy’s hand brushes against yours as you walk past her and into her warmer house, oblivious to the way her eyes raked over you, almost a little too desperately. “The food is in the oven, should be ready soon, can I take your jacket?”

“Nah, you’re alright, It’s freezing out there, gotta warm myself up a little.” You smiled, eyes instantly noticing just how neatly the table was set. The candles flickered almost angrily, the cutlery placed perfectly, and the tablecloth somehow matched everything. “This is nice,”

“Yes, isn’t it? I wanted it to be perfect for you.” Mandy commented softly. “I’m just going to check on the food, feel free to take a seat, get yourself comfortable and stuff, I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

Just as you sat down at her table, a sudden loud banging had you flinching in your seat. You looked over at Mandy who halted in her steps not even 5 minutes later when she reappeared from the kitchen and from where you were sitting you could see and hear her grinding her teeth together. “What was that?”

“The neighbors are probably decorating again, It’s starting to get on my nerves If I’m being honest.”

“At 7:30?” You laughed nervously.

“They have no consideration for those who live beside them. I’ll start giving them a piece of my mind If they keep it up,” She explained, placing the hot pot in the middle of the table with a bright and wide smile. “There! Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice? Wine?”

“Smells amazing,” You smiled and got a little more comfortable in your seat before looking at her again. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“It’s my Mother’s recipe, nothing beats a homemade meal,” Mandy’s smile never left her face, not even when you quickly dug into the fresh meal. “I’ll be back with your water.”

You were almost done with half of your food by the time she came back with a fresh glass of water, and you looked at her with a thankful smile when she placed it beside your plate. “Thank you,” You mumbled before furrowing your eyebrows. “Sorry, that’s gross.”

“No, no it’s cute, don’t worry.” She giggled, sitting in her own chair.

As she started digging into her meal, her eyes would flutter over at you, but you seem really into whatever it was that she made to notice the subtle flirtatious eyes she was making at you. It was delicious, and you loved food, so you couldn’t complain now could you? “This is really good,” You mumbled between chews.

“I’ll thank my mother for you when I see her again.” Mandy smiled.

“You might want to give me the recipe, it’s so good.”

“As much as I like you, I can’t do that, family recipe.” She smirked widely.

Mandy continued to eat her food, little moans of delight falling from her mouth with each bite she took, while you were suddenly falling into your own world. Mandy hadn’t seemed to notice you had stopped replying to what she was asking you, or just wanted to get the food out of the way before she continued. Either way, it didn’t seem to affect her much. All you could seriously think about was Abby, hoping that she had some source of something to keep her hoping and until you could find her.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone quiet,” Mandy murmured finally, finishing the final piece of her food. “Is it the food? Is it not sitting right with you?”

“No! No the food was amazing, m’just thinking, nothing to worry about.”

“Worried about what?”

“Just worried about Abby is all, like I said, nothing to worry about.” You smiled and wiped your face with the napkin you had on your lap.

You hadn’t noticed the way the smile on her face dropped and just stared at you. “Were you close? You and Abby?” She asked.

“Since we were babies pretty much,”

“That’s nice, nice to have someone close to you and that you can trust, I suppose.” Her voice suddenly got a little quieter, and nursed her glass of wine. “How do you know she didn’t just leave willingly?”

“Abby wouldn’t have left Jerry without a reason, she wouldn’t have left us, left me, without a reason.” You frowned, eyes focused on the empty plate before you. “She’s not the type of person to run away. Even when things are hard, she comes to me for help and she didn’t—”

“Was she in trouble?”

“Someone didn’t like her, threatened her, and I didn’t even know. If she told me, I could have helped her, kept her safe.”

“S’not your job to protect everyone,” Mandy smiled softly, watching you closely. “You know that right? You can’t save everyone, especially if they can’t even save themselves.” Her fingers graze yours on the top of the table, you weren’t even sure how or when she moved hers but when you felt them against yours, your eyes locked with hers. “Maybe Abby left because there are better things out there for her, or maybe she just wanted to see something new.”

“Without me?” The crack in your voice was evident.

“Anyone can leave if they truly need to or want to,” Her fingers continued to brush against yours with each word and you couldn’t even move. “People expect so much from people around here, we’re all trying to live, find someone, and get on with our lives, and sometimes that can be too much for one person to handle. Maybe Abby didn’t want to burden you with a thought she might have had.”

“Her burdens are mine,” You murmured. “Whatever she deals with, we deal with it together.”

Her hand retracted from yours quickly, once again you didn’t notice the scowl on her face, and grabbed your plate from in front of you as well as her own before making her way into the kitchen. “Would you like some dessert?” She asked, abandoning the conversation altogether.

“Oh, uh, sure?”

The light above flickered, making a soft buzzing sound as the room felt colder again. Sunlight wasn’t a luxury anymore, even if it was so desperately needed. Mold has started coming in quicker than before. Even the eerie darkness is something straight out of a nightmare. The only thing in the room that was noticeable was the small lamp on the floor, but even that wasn’t bright enough. It never was.

By the time Mandy came back with two bowls in her hands, you were standing by the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of what you can already tell are very old books. “Didn’t know you liked to read books?” You asked, looking over at her.

“Oh yeah! I love books, mostly the classics, but the thriller ones are my favorite. Could read them all day. I actually have to return those to Brenda soon, had them way too long.” She giggled and placed the bowls on the table. “What is your favorite?”

“The Shining.”

“Haven’t read it before, do you have a copy I could borrow?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll find it and give It to you.”

“Perfect, let’s eat dessert!”

“Glad you’re back in one piece,” Ellie was the first to comment when she noticed you walking into the bar an hour later. “Didn’t try to shove her tongue down your throat this time?”

“Like you tried with Abby that one time you got drunk?” You quipped back with a lazy grin and slumped into the chair beside her. “Nah, she just kept touching my hand, not trying to kiss me this time.”

“Oh? Are you lovebirds now?”

“Knock it off, El.” Jesse laughed and continued to sip his beer.

“No, you imbecile, she did get weird whenever I spoke about Abby though,” You shrugged, pinching some of Ellie’s chips. “Like, she just got up and went to get dessert?”

“She’s always been weird, so fuckin’ obsessed with you for a start.” It was Jesse this time.

“Really? I never got that vibe before,”

“You wouldn’t, you’re like so fucking oblivious to most shit,” Ellie snorted. “You didn’t even realize I was flirting with you when I first met you. Took you 4 months to say, Ellie, were you asking me on a date that one time? Oblivious.”

“In my defense, you fuckin’ flirt with everyone,” You defended with a soft laugh, and eyed up the pictures on the table. “What are you guys doing anyway?”

“Well, while you and Barbie were having your little date, me and Jesse were going through the rest of the pictures. Nothing has jumped out yet, but I do have a feeling something will point us in the right direction this time.”

“Right, pass us some then,”

“Of course your majesty.”

“Fuck off, man,” You snickered and snatched the pile from her hand. “Oh, you know the family that lives beside Mandy?”

“Huh? Beside Mandy?”

“Yeah, the family that lives next door?”

“No one has lived in that house for like 4 years,” Ellie blinked, confusion written all over her face.

“Oh, she said they were decorating or something earlier, there was banging and that’s what she told me.”

“Joel knows more than me about anyone, I’ll ask him later, see if anyone’s moved in since the other family,” Ellie promised with a tired smile.

“Thanks, El,” A chip that you flicked hit her in the chin and you held back a laugh when her eyes widened and she suddenly scowled at you. “Sorry, you looked like you needed something to cheer you up. Did you sleep much last night?”

“A few hours, better than none, right?” The smile she gave you didn’t reach her face. Everyone is like that lately and you sadly understood why. The community wasn’t exactly whole right now.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” You suggested as you ate some more chips.

“What one?”

“Uhm, you pick, I don’t mind which one.”

“Don’t wanna freak anyone out or anything,”

“What is it?”

“There’s someone in the background of the picture you and Abby took the night before, well, you know, you can’t see much but It’s someone for sure,” Jesse mumbled and slid the picture over to you.

The background is blurry, you notice that much at first but as you squint your eyes just a little more, a black silhouette is something you can pick out. Standing behind what you can only assume Is one of the trees just across the ways of the pond both you and Abby spent a lot of time at. “It’s too dark, I can’t fucking pick out who it is,” You huffed. “Do you think It might be who threatened her?”

“And risk getting caught when she’s with you? Knowing damn well you’d knock their teeth out?” Ellie laughed.

“Anything’s possible, El.”

“Let’s say this is them, how do we find out who it is?”

“Could host a small get-together tomorrow night here, remembering Abby or something, and we all write something for her, see if someone slips up and exposes themselves?” Jesse suggests, looking between you and Ellie.

“It could work,” Both you and Ellie answered at the same time. “But how would we know who it is if they turn up and say something bad?”

“No idea, but we’ll figure it out as we go. Haven’t we always done that?” He smiled and pushed the rest of the pictures which were of no use back into the box before putting the lid on. “We’ve always had each other's back, that’s not going to change.”

“I’ll do whatever It takes If It means we’re one step closer to finding Abby.” You agreed.

“Alright, you’ve pulled my leg, I’m in too.” Ellie dramatically huffed but the smile on her lips gave her away. “Let’s watch that sappy romance movie,”

“Which one?”

“Abby’s favorite.”

“You, Ellie Williams, want to watch Love Actually? Willingly?”

“Why are you saying my name like that?! Yes, let’s watch it.” She scoffed and slapped the back of your head when she stood up. “Besides, you and Abby can bully me all you want for wanting to watch it when she’s back with us.”

“She’ll never let you live it down, you know what right?”

“Yeah, but It’s worth It, she is too.” Ellie winked.

—

The following evening dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. All of you were on edge. The picture, the missing charms, the truth that someone didn’t like Abby had you, Ellie and Jesse looking around the bar with caution.

The remembrance of Abby had the all clear, everyone helped and chipped in where they could. Jerry was over the moon when you told him that you guys were doing this for her. Maybe in hopes that it would bring you one step closer, or maybe one step closer to her coming home.

Thursday, 6th June 2015

“Abby, you look beautiful, why are you panicking?” Abby was sitting on the edge of her bed, fumbling with her bracelet yet not looking at you. “Hey, Abs, what’s up?” You crouched in front of her and took her hands into yours with a soft smile.

“I don’t feel beautiful,” She admitted sadly.

“Oh, Abby, you are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful, your soul is perfect and stunning. You are the most beautiful person in the world. Your hair is beautiful, your smile is beautiful, your pretty eyes are stunning,” Her sniffle caused you to pause, reach your hand up and wipe it away. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

“Really?”

Cupping her face between your hands, you press you lips against her forehead and smile. “Yes, really, you are so fuckin’ beautiful.” You whispered into her skin. “I promise, love.”

How could you not see the pain she was holding back, behind the little glint in her eye?

“To Abby!”

Jerry’s voice brought you back to reality, smiled at everyone who raised a glass in her honor and nodded to himself as he walked down the small steps. “Thank you for coming,” He murmured to a few of the older couples who gave him a gentle hug and a soft reassurance. “I know that Abby would have loved to see you guys together again.”

On edge, you looked around the bar slowly, trying to pick out anyone that was acting weird or unusually suspicious. That’s how you looked at most people these days, picking them out one by one, wondering if they had done or said anything to Abby the night she vanished. You spotted Ellie doing the same on the other side of the room, taking small unsuspicious glances at everyone who came in and left. “Here,”

To your left, Jesse was holding a beer towards you, which you took with a soft thank you, and leaned against the wall with you. “Anyone catch your eye yet?”

“Not yet, everyone seems to be kind, and talking to Jerry, cheering him up and stuff,” You mumbled between sips, eyes still moving around as each person moves around before you. “I don’t think they would hide, we know most people here, if anyone’s missing, we’ll know.”

“And if they do choose to miss something that is important to the community, then they are hiding something.” Jesse added.

“Exactly, I don’t think they’re stupid enough to let it slip, know that we know something.”

“Did that guy who told you she was arguing with someone tell you anything else or?”

“Deadend, he just smiles at me all weird like now when I see him.” You grimaced and took a big gulp of your beer.

“It’s that friendly smile you have.”

“Eat a dick.” You laughed.

In the middle of the bar, there was a box, which gave people to write notes, poems, or even just one word, so that when Abby did come back home, she would have kind things to read, and hopefully it would be able to cheer everyone else up when they read a few of them nearing the end of the night. You thought the idea was a good one when Jerry asked you about it this morning. He enjoyed having your input when it came to his daughter.

You wrote something simple, not overdone, but a little i miss you and i love you more than anything. It meant more than anything, Abby would know that if she was here right now, reading them. You always noticed the way she would blush and look away when you would tell her you love her before you either hung up after being on a phone call with her for hours, or even when you left her house. “I love you.” You murmured, folded the piece of paper and pressed you lips to it.

Ellie smiled from across the room.

She always found it amusing it took you years to know you were indeed madly in love with your best friend.

“Hey,”

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you turned around to find Dina looking at you and nervously fumbling with her fingers. “Dina, hey,” You smiled awkwardly.

“Do you hate me? It would make sense if you did, with how I pulled away from you all, but with Abby going missing, I just got scared, and being around you guys made me miss her so much.” Dina rushed out.

“I don’t hate you,” You reassured her quietly. “I understand though, it’s okay, we all deal with it differently, but I don’t hate you, none of us do.”

“Is Ellie okay?” She asked hesitantly.

“I don’t think so, but she’s getting there,” You admitted truthfully. “You should talk to her.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“Nothing’s awkward unless you make it awkward.” You winked with a soft laugh.

“Right, I’ll go and see her, if she starts freaking out, you should probably come over or something.” Dina smiled.

“Will do.”

If it wasn’t for the fact you were already looking at Ellie, you would have had a stroke when you heard the loud crashing of her falling off the chair when she noticed Dina making her way towards her. Snorting under your breath, you shook your head, pushed yourself off the wall and made a beeline straight for the beer. “Usual?” Elaine, the older woman who took over the bar after her husband passed, smiled when you were quick to nod and slump yourself against the counter. “You look tired, you sleepin’?”

“When I can, which isn’t much,” You mumbled softly with a subtle shrug. “But what can you do? Sleep is the last thing I need right now.”

“Maybe you need just a little bit to find her.”

Pushing the beer into your direction, she laughed at the way your lips parted as you grabbed it; ready to ask her how she knew. “Jerry told me earlier when he came here to set up. It’s a good thing, you know? Abby adored you, and I know how much you care about her.”

“I seem to be getting nowhere when I feel like m’finally getting somewhere.”

“There’s more out there than meets the eye, Honey,” Elaine smiled. “You just have to look closer.”

“What do you—”

“Y/N?” Jerry called out.

God fucking damn it.

At his voice, you turn your body slightly, almost stiffly and raise an eyebrow at him. You quietly excuse yourself from the conversation you got yourself into with Elaine when he waved you over, and took a couple of strides towards him, placing your almost empty bottle of beer on the table beside you. “What’s up?”

“I was just going through some of the notes, you know, the ones people left for Abs, and I found this. What does it mean?” He explained, slightly rushed and shoved a piece of paper into your hands with worry written all over his face. “Did someone hurt her? Take her from me? Why?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look down at the slip of paper in your hands, looking back up at him confused. “What is it?”

“Read it, It’ll make more sense if you see it.”

Doing as you’re told, you don’t have time to acknowledge the small fact that your hands start to tremble as you unfold the little note with caution. Your lips part, body tensing as your eyes widen as you read over the note slowly. Not fully understanding. “Someone put this here?” You asked, voice cracking. “When?”

“I’m not sure, so many people have been leaving notes. I wouldn’t have been able to catch who.” Jerry shook his head, and gripped the edge of the table tightly. “If someone’s hurt her, m’gonna kill them. M’gonna kill them, Y/N”

“Not before us,” You murmured, already looking around the room. “Who was in charge of the box?”

“Me, and a couple of others, but this is the only bad one.”

“You’ve looked at the rest?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, put it somewhere else, out of sight from everyone. If this is the only bad one, then it’s possible they’re just trying to scare us, making up a lie about what’s happened to her. She’s fine, okay? Abby is strong, and we’re gonna find her.” You nodded. You weren’t sure who you were trying to reassure more, you or Jerry? Both of you? The whole town?

“What are you going to do?” He blinked.

“Figure it out. That’s what m’gonna do.”

The night rushed along slowly as you, and a bunch of others made your way out of the bar, cigarette hanging between your lips and a cold beer in your hands. The note played on your mind angrily, eating and chewing away at your brain, almost trying to claw its way out of your head as you inhaled hit after hit of your cigarette. Who here hates Abby enough to hurt her? Take her away? She was nice to everyone, always offering to help someone who needed it, never letting the older people carry stuff too heavy, Abby wouldn’t hurt a fly, so why would they feel the need to hurt her? Take her away from where she loves? From the people she adores? It doesn't make sense.

The longer you stood there, practically taking Ellie’s thought into consideration, pulling out cigarette after cigarette, the darkness seemed to loom and lurk more creepy than any other night. Almost like it was mocking you, judging you from afar as you tried to wrap your head around everything. Even the journal pages still don’t make sense to you and it’s been over a week since the first. It’s like she left, and suddenly you’re trying to figure out a really fucked up riddle in order to get you prize, the prize being Abby once everything slots into place like a puzzle.

“Let’s get you home, Honey. Night time around here has become a little scarier than before.” You spot a mother wrapping her daughter up on her scarf and jacket before holding onto her hand tightly after she places a kiss on her forehead. “Stay close to Mommy and you’ll be okay, alright?”

You wish Abby stayed close to you.

You watch the family walk away down the path, the lights casting a shadow around them. Like a possessed child, the shadow like a demon hanging on by a thread as they were no longer in your peripheral each step they took until they were around the corner. Gone just like Abby.

As you dropped your cigarette on the ground, you caught something behind one of the trees when you looked back up, lurking in the darkness and your body suddenly tensed on the spot. Did Abby feel like this? Did she feel like her entire soul left her body when she knew someone was watching her? Following her?

“Hey!” You shouted, dropping your bottle in the process as you walked over to them, or trying to. It seemed like you had slightly spooked them, not aware you were staring right at them. “Hey!” This time you started running as you saw the rustle of the leaves, the snapping of twigs under their feet. “Stop running away!” You called out, pushing the branches out of your way.

Were you really doing this right now? Running after someone who could easily just kill you?

In your eyes, you could see the outline of their figure under the moonlight, shimming between trees, jumping over tree’s that’ve been left to fend for themselves over the years, and even though the pain and burn in your legs were starting to ache more and more the longer you ran after them, you couldn’t stop. You needed to do this no matter the outcome. “Stop running away from me!” You shouted, jumping over the same tree as they did. “I just want to talk! That’s all! Stop fuckin’ running!” You huffed.

You didn’t see the branch hanging in front of you, or the rock on the floor, not until tripped, your face smacked into the branch harshly and landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck,” You groaned, cupping your nose quickly with a wince. “Fuck!” You yelled, spitting out the dirt.

Rolling yourself over slowly, you puffed out a sigh as your eyes fluttered open; the midnight sky lurked down at you, almost inviting it to eat you whole. If it could reach out and grab you, you would be the darkness’s first victim. The chitter of insects in between the long grass had your ears perking up as you sat up. Cupping the back of your head, you hissed and screwed your eyes shut tightly and pulled yourself up off the floor.

Looking around, even though it was no use and they were probably gone already, you stumbled towards one of the trees and leaned against it tiredly. But all things turn you angry at some point.

All you could really think about the fact you still hadn’t found Abby the longer you slumped yourself there, and that was enough to anger you enough until you repeatedly punched at the oak, over and over again until your knuckles were completely red, bits of wood stuck in your skin, but you didn’t care, if you don’t have Abby, what was the point?

“Fuck you!” Your scream echoed eerily.

The flap of bird wings rang out loudly around you.

It took you an hour to trek back to the town. You held your hand against your chest, your nose stung like a bitch but this was the last thing on your mind as you stumbled your way through the crowds of drunk people, not giving you a single glance or worrying about the fact your nose was still bleeding, you probably broke a few knuckles. “Jess, have you seen Y/N?” You heard Ellie’s voice but couldn’t see her.

“Y/N? No, I haven’t seen her for a couple hours, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Shit, alright, uhm,”

The sound of loud crashing caused both of them to look straight at you as you stumbled over one of the tables. “I think we found her?” Jesse laughed.

“Shit, Y/N?” Ellie’s eyes widened at the sight of your bloody nose and rushed over to your side; not before watching you struggle 4 times to stand on your feet. “Fuck, what the fuck happened to you?” She scoffed, pulling you up carefully.

“Someone,” You groaned and slumped your head against her shoulder. “Someone was watching, through the trees, ran after them but hit my head, broke my nose, I think? And then I lost them, so I punched a tree, I think my knuckles are broken.” You explained with a slight slur in your voice. “But m’fine, just need to sit down for a second.”

“That’s a lot of I thinks, we can’t leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes.” Ellie muttered under her breath and wrapped her arm around your waist tightly. “Let’s get you to mine, Joel’s out with Tommy so he won’t ask questions.”

With the help of her and Jesse, you made it to Ellie’s house in one piece, well minus your dignity that the tree smacked out of you, but you still made it without another fall. They had managed to patch up your knuckles, and stopped the bleeding of your nose, ignoring every curse and wince that fell from between your bloody lips; telling you that it was your own fault for going without some kind of help or backup. “So who did you see?” Jesse asked, dropping the dirty rags in the bin and turning to face you again.

“I was drinking my beer, and then I saw someone behind the trees, if this is the same person who was watching Abby, I can tell you it would have freaked anyone out—”

“Says the one who ran after them.” Ellie scoffed from beside you.

“You were talkin’ to Dina, and Jesse was, well Jesse was where he usually goes, which is where? I don’t know.” You glared at the pair of them. “But m’here, no?”

“Luckily.” Ellie sighed and pulled the tissue from out of your nose carefully. “What if something else seriously bad happened to you? And no one was there to get you?”

“M’not going anywhere—”

“You don’t fuckin’ know that! You can’t just disappear without telling one of us. That’s not fair.”

The panic and worry in Ellie’s eyes is something you haven’t seen since Abby went missing. She didn’t talk about how she felt, but her eyes and face did, which is why your shoulder sagged and you nodded slowly. “I know, El, m’sorry, okay?” You smiled sadly.

“For what it’s worth, this whole look—” She pointed to your entire face with a laugh. “Is so worth it. M’gonna tell Abby you risked breaking your knuckles and nose for her.”

“And she’ll ignore me for a week—”

“A week? She will ignore you for a solid 5 seconds before she’s asking you to cuddle her.” Jesse laughed with a slow head shake. “Did you find anything else out? Minus the dumb injuries?”

“There’s one thing Jerry showed me.”

“What is it?”

Reaching into your back pocket with a quiet groan, you pulled the slip of paper out and handed it to Ellie, who was watching you closely. “That’s all that happened tonight.”

Unfolding it, exactly like you did earlier tonight, Ellie’s eyebrows furrow into a tight frown almost and nothing comes out of her mouth when opens it and instead she looks back at you with wide eyes. “This happened tonight?”

“Let me see,” Jesse held his hand out and took it from her. His eyes widen too. “How didn’t we notice? How many people were going to that box?”

“M’not sure.”

Does a domino effect really have to happen in my life? You thought.

Ellie, who’s usually the one to be the first to ask what’s next, doesn’t do that, instead she looks at you and frowns. “You need to rest, If Jesse has to leave, I can figure out what’s next for this sudden murder club search party, but you need to get some sleep, and I won’t take no for an answer. Got it?”

“El—”

“I said got it?”

Slumping against the bed, you simply nodded like a lost puppy and folded your arms over your chest, completely forgetting about your broken knuckles you winced. “Fine, but if you find anything, wake me up, yeah? Please?”

“If you’re knocked out cold, then no, but I will if you aren’t.”

“The tree already knocked her out cold” Jesse chimed in with a sudden laugh.

“Both of you go fuck yourself!”

Brenda, poor woman was reading through one of her own books, jolted in her spot and looked up when the bell on the door rang, and held back a sigh at the sight of you and Ellie stumbling in through the small door with curses and grumbles. “Brenda! My favourite lady!”

“Ellie, may I remind you of the time you almost broke my window? we aren’t even acquaintances”

“I paid for it to be fixed, didn’t I?!” Ellie moaned and kicked the floor childishly. “Can we look at that book you keep when people loan or bring back books? We have something we want to compare,”

“For?”

“Just something we are working on, please? It’ll only take a couple minutes,” Your friend begged, leaned over the counter and pouted. “I will even ask Joel if he will take you on that date!”

“Date?! Excuse me—”

“You’re in love with Joel, do this for me, and then I’ll get you that date with him”

“Fine, but don’t knock anything over like last time, It took me an hour to fix everything.” She scowled and walked away.

“You’re the best!” Ellie shouted after her.

The flight flickered on, and the sounds of loud banging could wake anyone up, even the small insects that lurk in the long grass outside in the wilderness. “Need to take these back, hope you enjoyed those pathetic reads.” They mumbled, snatching the books from the dirty floor and scoffed. “Don’t understand what’s so special about them or you. Also, I can't afford to borrow anymore so this is the last of them for you.”

Just as fast it went on, the light was gone and it felt even colder once the door slammed shut.

Hunching over the counter, Ellie spots the thick yet old book and grabs it with both hands, a soft grunt slipping past her lips before pulling it over the counter and dropping it on the oak, the loud bang causing you to flinch and flick her ear. “Ow!”

“That’s for trying to give me a heart attack.” You scoffed and slapped her shoulder. “So this was your big plan? Look through the names until one stands out?”

“Yeah or until we find one that matches, I guess?”

“Brenda, I know i’m late with returning these books but— Hey!” Mandy halted in her steps mid way through the door when she spotted you and Ellie leaning on the counter, looking through something. “Loaning another book, Y/N?”

“Oh, no not today, just finding something for Joel.” You lied, Ellie almost snickering behind her hand at your blatant lie. “You read them already?”

“Oh yeah! I had some free time after you left last night, really enjoyed them”

“What was your favourite?”

The question caught her off guard as her lips formed into a pout as she thought about it. “Uh, I really liked Pride and Prejudice, the others were boring but that one was amazing.”

No one in this town apart from me and Abby love that book. You thought.

“Ah, well m’glad you enjoyed it. Do you still want to borrow my copy of the shining?”

Mandy chewed her inner cheek before nodding a little too quickly and smiled again. “Yeah, of course! Those stupid neighbors finally stopped decorating so I can probably get a night in to read some of it!”

“Mandy, hello Love.” Brenda appeared with a mug in her hand and a plate of biscuits. “Returning them already? That was fast.”

Placing the stack of books on the counter, Mandy simply gave her a warm smile, one that was slowly starting to creep you out, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t afford to borrow anymore for a while, my brain is fried with all the stories I’ve read this week.”

“No worries, Honey, just sign in the books you borrowed and they’ll be more for you next time when you do want to read again. Girls, can she use that for a second and then you can get back to whatever you were doing.”

“A date is on the line, Brenda, don’t rush me”

“I’ll rush you both out of that door,” Brenda smirked and the words died in throat once Ellie nodded her head quickly, picked up the book and practically shoved it in shocked Mandy’s hand with a stutter of words. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

Reaching for the one beside you, you hold it out towards her, which she takes with a soft thank you, places the book back on the counter and doodles her name onto the sheet of paper. “Thank you again, Brenda. You always have a really good selection of books!”

“You’re more than welcome, Love.”

“See you later, Y/N?”

“What’s happening later?” Ellie eyed her.

“It’s that party thing, dunno if m’going though,” You smile and shoved your hands into your pockets. “If I do, I assume you’re going?”

“Yes! The only time I get to be free and myself, I guess. So I’ll be there. If you do change your mind and come, I’ll see you there?”

“For sure.” Another tight lipped smile.

Mandy took her leave not long after, leaving you and Ellie to your little search once more and Brenda took herself into a little corner of the shop to what you could only assume was to read one of her books. “Now that she’s gone,” Ellie trailed off.

Opening the book again, you brush your fingers down the list of people until it lands on hers; furrowing your eyebrows when you look at the book in front of you again, you lean your face closer and look at the signature a little longer, for far too long until you’re shoving your hand in your back pocket, rummaging around for the slip of paper you and Ellie took last night. “What are you doing?” Ellie laughed, watching you struggle.

Pride and Prejudice ………………………… Mandy ♡

“Look at her name,” You murmured, pulling the slip of paper out.

“Whos? Mandy’s?”

“The way she’s spelt it.”

Once you unfolded the paper, your eyes flickered between the slip between your fingers, and the name in the book, Ellie doing the same, having to lean over you. “Wait,” She paused, snatching it from you and taking a look for herself.

Ellie looks at her name, and then at the note again;

ABBY DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT. ♡

“Did she just—”

“The fuckin’ heart, Ellie.”

“Wait, is she really that fucking insane?” Ellie looked at the slip still in shock. “Are you joking me? She’s been under our nose this entire time?”

“So, the banging I heard?”

“Wasn’t anyone fucking decorating that’s for sure.”

“Before we jump to conclusions, let’s just go get something to eat, m’starving, and go through what we have. Anyone could write hearts next to their name.”

“In the exact same way she does it? I doubt it.” Ellie murmured, tore the page out of the book quickly and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Glaring at your stare. “What? Brenda won’t fuckin’ miss it.”

Shuffling out of the door, you and Ellie spot Mandy happily skipping away, and the sight has your friend scowling ad mumbling incoherently under her breath, “Why’s she so fuckin’ happy all the time? Has she never dealt with sadness or hurt in her life?”

Nudging her shoulder with yours as you both walk, you shook your head. “Apparently not. Look at me, depressed as fuck.”

“Same,” Ellie looked at you before you both burst out into a laugh. “Man, if she’s somehow done anything to be the reason Abby went missing, m’gonna kill her. You know that right? I don’t care what you say, I’ll do it.”

“Ellie—”

“No, whoever took Abby from us, is going six feet under. You can’t stop me.”

“Let’s feed you, that monster is hungry—”

“Y/N, m’not joking, this isn’t a joke—”

“I know, and that’s what’s scaring me right now, Ellie.”

Pushing past you with a grumble at your words, Ellie’s quick to find a seat in the far corner, out of the way from people, and ushers you to hurry up. “I’ll be right with you, Honey, just have to get a few orders out of the way.” The old woman smiled from behind the counter.

“No worries!”

Unzipping your jacket, and placing it on the back of your chair, you sit down opposite Ellie and really look at her. She’s frowning, which means she’s deep in thought again, and that only means she’s planning something, something that you aren’t sure is supposed to scare you or make you happy. The bags under her eyes are much darker than they were last week, so that’s a clue she’s not been sleeping no matter how many times she’s told you she has been. Her lips are in a tight line. Even her smile lines are vanishing. “And then I think— Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She mumbled, catching you staring.

“S’nothing, you just look exhausted,” You offered a soft smile. “What are we eating?”

“I’ll just share with you, order whatever.”

Ellie was always a picky eater, well she says she is but always steals any of the food you make or buy, and went with something simple when it was your turn to order food; a bowl of chips, salsa and a chicken sandwich. “—And then we have the note, if that crazy psycho took the book out last week, then Abby’s alive, which means she has to be here somewhere, and we’re just not looking hard enough—”

“The woman at the bar, who got me a beer, told me that we need to look closer, so you might be right,” You nodded, munching on your chips. “She might know something, but doesn’t want to get too close to it, I don’t blame her, this whole thing has been freakin’ me the fuck out.”

“So Abby’s here somewhere?” Ellie took a handful of chips and ate them slowly. “That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yeah, but where? We know this place like the back of our hands. We would have found her already by now.”

“That’s where m’confused because I don’t know. I have no idea where she could be—”

“Y/N, Ellie! I’m so glad I found you guys!” Brenda’s voice rings out.

The pair of you turn in your seats, and look at her with your mouths full with food, and staring like a deer in headlights. “Brenda, miss us already? It’s been 30 minutes.” You coughed, swallowed your food and wiped your face. “What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed her worried look.

“There’s something you need to see, I haven’t told anyone else yet, apart from you guys.” She rushed out, pulling a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “I was going through them, like I always do just to make sure she didn’t rip any of the pages, some people have done it, and I found this.”

“Pride and Prejudice?” You blinked.

“Just look at the back. please.”

Looking over at Ellie, who was just watching with confusion written all over her face and still eating, you open the book and skip through the pages, until you’re on the last page before the back. “Did you hide spiders here? To scare me?” You laughed nervously.

“It’s about Abby.” Was all she could stutter out.

Once the words fell from her mouth, your hands dropped the book on the final page, and all of you looked down at it. Staring at it like the horribly written words were going to jump out of the page and eat you. “She took this book out last week.”

M….Mandy

Crazy…

Abby

“Is that—” Ellie swallowed and locked eyes with you. “She’s still—”

“Alive.”

“So what’s the plan?” Ellie mumbled into your ear, the 3 of you watching a very happy Mandy dancing with her friends, and snatched your beer from your hand. “We corner her?”

“Not here,” You shook your head. “Too obvious. She would see it coming.”

“You think she knows we know?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t think so, If she knows that we know, I don’t think she would have shown up tonight,” You grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into your mouth. “Besides, this way, we can observe her, try catching her saying or doing anything that could expose her.”

“We’ve been looking through so much shit for the last month, why can’t I just hit her?” Ellie grumbled and slumped in the chair like a scolded child with a pout on her face.

“Look what happened to Y/N when she went against a tree,”

“Jesse! Stop bringin’ up that fucking tree.” You groaned and threw your head back.

“It’s funny!” He laughed.

“Your poor nose didn’t think so,” Ellie cooed playfully and kissed your cheek. “Don’t tell Abby, she will actually kill me for that.”

“Leave my nose alone!”

Amongst your conversation with your friends, you hadn’t notice Mandy walking over to your table until she slid into the empty chair beside Jesse and that’s when all the laughter died down. “Who died?” She giggled, words slightly slurred. “I’m just coming to see how you are doing.”

“M’good,”

“Been better.”

“I think I’m gonna get another drink, Ellie? Y/N? You guys want anything?”

“Two beers!” Ellie cheered.

Fumbling with the bowl of chips, your eyes flicker between Jesse at the bar, and Mandy who was happily sipping her drink through a straw, not worried about the fact you were either about to lose your shit, or throw a chair at her. “So, how’s the search going?”

“S’fine,” You shrugged, not wanting to give her too much without her catching on that you knew. “Keep hitting deadends, but it’s fine besides that.”

“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

Ellie makes a face of disgust at her, her need and want to just throw something at this girl gets stronger every time she opens her mouth with something ridiculous. “Is Jesse making the beers or something? Why is he taking so long?”

“Ellie, half the town is here,” You laughed and threw a chip at her. “Be patient.”

“It’s hard to have that when you live here.” She grumbled and leant her head on your shoulder. “Wake me up when he’s back.”

“You got it, El.” You laughed.

You hadn’t expected her to actually fall asleep, but when you feel her body slumping more into your side not even 10 minutes later, you’re quick to wrap your arm around her to stop her from falling off the chair and onto the floor. Nor do you notice the look of annoyance on Mandy’s face, still sipping her drink. “I would have guessed Jerry would have been helping you search for Abby. Did you say that was her name?”

The question catches you off guard, slightly offended she even thought of it let alone asked it; Jerry spent countless months of time over several months searching for her. Never eating or sleeping, he stayed awake in hopes she would walk through the door at any given moment. “How long have you lived here?” You found yourself asking and cocking your head to the side.

“How long have I lived here? Oh, since I was like 8 or 9. Why?”

“Then you’d know we look out for our own. Same thing happened when a little boy went missing for 3 days when I turned 16, we all went looking for him and brought him home when we found him. It doesn’t matter if we have distaste or disagreements with someone, if something happens in our community, we help each other, we search, and we don’t rest until we find them.” You explained slowly, eyeing her up. “Jerry doesn’t sleep, just because you don’t see him asking every single person where his daughter is, doesn’t mean he’s not looking. Jerry would kill everyone in his way to get to his daughter. That’s how much he gives a shit about her. We all do.”

“Would you?” It’s like your words didn’t phase her.

“Would I what?”

“Kill someone to get her?”

Looking down at Ellie, your eyebrow raises just slightly, and it’s back to normal before she can blink and when you chuckle, her skin crawls. “S’not me they should be worried about. When we find whoever took her, m’gonna have to keep Ellie on a tight leash or she’ll be like a rabid dog looking for something to chew,” You paused and inhaled deeply when your eyes met. “But I would, if you want the truth. I would kill anyone if it meant I could have Abby back.”

“Do you have it in you?”

“If the right person fucks with my family, yeah,” The smirk you gave her caused Mandy to shift around in her seat comfortably. A sense of terror seeps into the cracks of her skin and travels up her spine. “I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their fuckin’ eyes, unless Ellie gets to it before I do.”

“Make it seem like a horror movie.” She giggled.

“I think we’re scarier than anything in a horror movie you’ve seen before, Mandy.”

On a note, she hadn’t realised or seemed to have noticed just how bold and eerie you got when you would bluntly stare. Like Ellie, Mandy never understood what you were thinking about when sitting there, zoning out like a zombie. At some points she expects to start seeing cartoon bubbles with those pictures appearing by the side of your head. “What’s the scariest movie you’ve seen?”

“The life m’fucking livin’. That’s what.”

“Your life isn’t that—”

A tray of beers enters your vision as you look up to find Jesse side eyeing Mandy, and then looking at a sleeping Ellie on your shoulder. “At least she’s sleeping. What were you guys talking about?” He asked, wrapping his lips around the bottle and gulping down the liquid.

“I was just telling Mandy that m’not afraid to kill whoever took Abby from us.”

“Remember when you tried to kill that guy who stole your chips a while back?” Jesse smirked, subtly waiting for Mandy’s reaction.

“For stealing chips?” She choked out, pushing her chair out, picking up her almost empty glass and rising to her feet.

“Oh yeah, the guy’s terrified of me.” You smiled.

“I would have been too if you tried to kill me for taking your chips. I need to get another drink. Speaking of, do you want more chips?”

“You’re alright, your friends look like they miss you”

“They’re all drunk, but I’ll see you.”

Once she left, you finally let out a laugh. “Really Jesse? When did I try to kill a man for stealing my chips?” You shook your head and took your beer.

“I tried to see if it would get a reaction out of her, not sure if it worked though,” He shrugged, once again taking a longer glance at Ellie. “Has she been asleep for a long?”

“Not a long time, but she just fell asleep when she came over here, I thought she was joking until she practically fell into me and I don’t have it in me to wake her up, not when she’s barely slept much since we started all this.” You murmured and rubbed her back slowly.

“I can hear you both talking, stop being so loud.” Ellie grumbled against your shoulder and peeled her eyes open slowly. “Is she gone? Can I get the fuck up now?”

“Were you fakin’ that?” Your hand slapped the back of her head gently; which she laughed at when she sat up completely. “After tonight, you’re getting at least 15 hours sleep.”

“Says you, you haven’t slept in like 10 years.”

“I take naps when needed”

“Not enough, those dark circles under your eyes finally match that bruised nose.”

“Enough with my nose! And the tree!” You warned when Jesse opened his mouth. “Let me live it down for fuck sake.”

“I don’t think I can, the story was hilarious,” The brunette smirked, hands running down her face as she yawned into the palm of her hand. “So, did she start freaking out when Jesse said you tried to kill someone?”

“Not like we hoped.”

Once the clock hit 11pm, Ellie was the first to notice Mandy slipping out of the doors, with a few of her friends following closely behind. “She’s leaving, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Following her. She wrote the note, she doesn’t fuckin’ read books, she can’t even read the fact you aren’t interested in her, and she’s obsessed with you for a reason none of us know. She knows something, if you don’t want to follow her, I’ll go alone.” Ellie rambled on and she jumped to her feet.

“Like fuck you’re going alone. Jesse open your mouth about a certain something, I will hit you.” You warned again, looking at him with a harsh glare. “Not a single word about it ever again, you guys got it?”

“I was just going to say that Abby owes you two kisses for the black eye you got.” He smiled innocently. “Risked your whole face for her. Props to you.”

“Can we talk about you and Abby flirting after?”

“Right, let’s go then.”

You kept your distance, not wanting to give anything away. A part of you did feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact you were literally following someone, but the other part of your brain was screaming at you. She knows what happened to Abby. She knows something. It wasn’t like you could ignore that gnawing feeling in your mind. “What are we going to do if we find something?” Ellie asked, huddling close to you.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?” You murmured with each cautious step. “If she’s as crazy as that note proves then we can’t just throw ourselves at her and attack her.”

Hiding behind the tree when she suddenly drops her purse, Ellie grabs onto the back of your shirt tightly as you all watch Mandy scrambling to pick it up and stumbling her way up the path towards her house; almost tripping over in the process and if it wasn’t for the fact your hand quickly came up and cupped Ellie’s mouth, the laugh she let out would have gotten you all caught. “Shut the fuck up.” You warned.

“Yes, Boss.”

“Ellie’s gonna be the reason we all die.” Jesse grumbled, sneakily running over towards the other tree that was closer to her house. “I think she’s gone in the house now, you can move.” He waved you over, still looking at the window.

“Don’t laugh, or you’ll get us caught.”

“God, I won’t laugh again unless she falls out of the fuckin’ door.” Ellie grumbled from behind you, still using your body as a shield. “Or hits a tree—”

“Ellie, I will tie you to a tree and leave you out here. I said don’t bring it up.”

“C’mon, you and that tree have a pure love relationship now.”

“M’gonna tell Joel about what you did with that girl behind his house if you don’t shut your mouth right now.” You warned, turning to look at her.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would, now shut the hell up.”

Stalking up the steps quietly, you keep your hold on Ellie tight when she stumbles up one of the steps and Jesse was the one who had to place his hand over her mouth this time when she went to yelp. “Do not get us caught, Ellie, I’ll never forgive you.”

From here, you could see Mandy in the kitchen, filling her glass up with whatever she chose to drink tonight, taking a sip as she leant against the counter and her shoulders sagged. That sudden loud banging had you all flinching in your spots and Mandy straightened herself up. “Quit it! You do that all the fuckin time, it’s driving me nuts!”

“She’s already nuts,” Ellie’s voice muffled behind Jesse’s hand.

“Should have killed you when I had the damn chance, but no! Everyone gives too much of a shit about you!”

Carefully, without dropping Ellie or causing Jesse to fall over, your hand lightly grips onto the door handle, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you turn it just enough to hear a soft click. “Let’s go.” You whispered, removing your hold reluctantly and stood up.

Pushing the door open wildly, Mandy stumbled back, almost falling over the table when You, Ellie and Jesse stormed in through her front door. “Y/N?”

“Where the fuck is she!?” You’re suddenly in her face in a flash and fists balled up by your sides.

“What happened to not throwing ourselves at her and attacking her?” Ellie grumbled quietly from beside Jesse under her breath.

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mandy stammered, eyes wide and glossy.

“Oh, you don’t?” You laughed sarcastically and shook your head. “You know exactly what m’fucking talking about.”

“I really don’t—”

“You can drop the innocent act, you insane little bitch.” Ellie seethed from beside you.

“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mandy sobbed, backed into a corner and not knowing an escape route.

Her breath hitched and she gasped when you’re suddenly gripping her face between your hands tightly; looking down at her angrily. Angrier than she’s ever seen before. “No? Then fuck what fuck is this?”

The sheet of paper hits her square in the chest, and Mandy scrambles to catch it, her shaky hands fumble to open it, and as her eyes catch onto what’s on the page, you finally see the way her jaw clenches and her face relaxes. “She never deserved you,” She scoffed, finally letting her guard down. “That stupid little bitch deserved everything that happened.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“She had it coming. If she didn’t keep taking you away from me, telling you to ignore me, blowing off our dates—”

“We went on one date!”

“A date she kept telling you to miss, always listening to her, doing what she tells you, with her out of the way I could have you to myself.” She grinned.

Leaning closer to her, you laughed in her face. “You still have nothing,” You murmured with a grimace. “This makes me hate you more.”

“No you don’t, you don’t hate me.” Mandy shook her head and plastered on a smile. “No,”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ellie blinked, eyes going between you and then Mandy. “You’re fucking crazy, obsessive, who would love that?”

“Dina loved you, didn’t she, Ellie, takes one obsessive bitch to know another?”

“Hey,” Jesse warned, stepping in front of Ellie. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

“Ah yes, Jesse, the other one. How does it feel knowing she loved you both yet still broke up with you when she had her fill?”

“Shut the fuck up,”

“Where is Abby?” You glared and gripped her face harder. “Tell me where she is!”

“She’s gone! She was never here, I took care of her for us!”

“There is no us!”

The fact she’s not getting it makes you more angry, angrier than when you found out Abby went missing. “But, I did this for you? Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see I do everything for you?”

“I didn’t ask you to take my best friend away from me! I’m asking you to give her back to me!”

“She’s not here! Why would she be here?!”

“Do not let her move,” You told them as you slowly took a couple of steps away from her. “If either of you let her walk out that damn door, m’shooting you both.” With the stare you were giving them, they both knew you weren’t kidding. You were scary when you were angry, that’s not a secret.

Wandering into the living room, the same one you ate fucking dinner in, you halted in your steps with your arms folded over your chest. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but as you glanced around the room, you couldn’t exactly find anything out of the ordinary, or even remotely suspicious. Maybe you had gotten it wrong? You were so sleep deprived that anyone could have written the note, Mandy can’t be the only one to write hearts next to her name, right?

You were about to give up on this crazy plan; the crazy plan of yelling and screaming at Mandy until she told you what you wanted to hear, when the faintest scraping sound had caught your attention. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough that you could hear it from where you were standing. Your eyebrows furrow and your body turns just slightly, head pointing in the direction of the cabinet opposite the bookshelf. “What’s that noise?” You asked to no one in particular.

“What noise?” Ellie quipped, cautiously keeping her eyes on Mandy, who was still slumped against the counter, and occasionally over to you where you stood. “I don’t hear anything—”

There it was again, the slight scraping sound, but only this time it’s a little louder.

Before you could take another step towards the cabinet, Mandy was suddenly moving around and pushing herself in front of you, but you weren’t focused on her face, no, you were more focused on the gun pointed at your fuckin’ face. “I can’t let you go through there,” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “If you just stopped looking, stopped asking people, begging people for help, then this wouldn’t be happening. I did this for us, for you, why can’t you see that?”

“You took her from me, from us, why would I love you for that?” You scoffed, stepped a little closer. “If you’re gonna shoot me because I want to find her, then don’t be a goddamn pussy and shoot me.”

“S…Shoot you?” Mandy stammered, quickly shaking her head. “No! No, I don’t want to shoot you, I love you!”

“Y/N,” Ellie warned, trying to figure out a way to help you, get you away from her. “Y/N.”

“Let me have her, that’s all I want, please just— I need Abby, please” You begged, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the cool metal on your skin. “I just want my Abby back.”

“There’s no Abby left to bring back.”

“I really hate when people lie to me,” You whispered so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it. “Liars are one of the worst things in the world, stop trying to piss me off even more.”

You’re not sure what happens, one second you’re all standing there, and the next Ellie’s jumping at her, putting herself on the line to simply help you. “Ellie!” You growled, watching her practically pushing Mandy onto the floor, the gun still safely in her hands.

“Now is really not the time to question what m’doing. Go get her!”

Quickly, you manage to rush around the commotion, and slip back into the kitchen; keys, surely she keeps keys around here somewhere right? The kitchen is cold, plates in the sink that haven’t been touched in weeks, and your mind starts to wonder again as you look around. Could Abby really be here? Locked away without any sunlight? What if she was here but it’s too late?

Pulling open one of the drawers, you let out a sigh of relief once you spot a set of keys, way too many now that you look at it. Who needs that many if they don’t have secrets they’d rather stay locked away? Snatching them up and slamming the drawer shut again, you stumble your way out of the kitchen.

Jesse’s already pushing the cabinet away, a metal door hiding and tucked away perfectly behind it, when you also happen to glance over to see Ellie was standing over Mandy as you walked back into the living room, the gun now in her hands. “Go, I can look after Ellie, make sure nothing happens.” He groaned, slumping against the wooden cabinet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go!”

With trembling hands, one by one, you slot the keys into the lock; cursing and muttering under your breath when certain ones don’t unlock it. By the 7th key, the lock falls and you suck in a deep breath. Anything could be waiting for you on the other side of that door. Your life is already on the line, what’s one more to the list? So with a final sigh, and groan, you pull down the handle and pull the door open. The loud screeching of metal rings through your ears and sends a shiver down your spine.

The coldness washes over you quickly as you look down at the steps leaning into the basement once the doors open. You glance over at Ellie, Mandy’s still kicking at her legs, trying to get up and you send your friend a reassuring smile before making your way down into the dark and eerie room.

There’s no windows, you notice that quite quickly first, they’re all boarded up. No one would hear you if this entire plan goes to shit, Mandy somehow locking you up in here. Not a single living soul outside of this house would be able to hear your screams and cries for help. Not even the animals or insects living right beside it.

Tucking the keys in your back pocket, you step off the last step and release yet another sigh. It’s colder down here than it was opening the door, you think to yourself. To your left there’s a table with an endless supply of books, weird. Moving towards them with caution, you’re quick to pick up on all the torn up papers, the pens scattered along it. Picking up one of the notes, you’re in no luck when you find there’s nothing on there, yet another mystery in your endless supply of wonder.

To your right there’s another small room. You look at it for longer than you like, wondering who would need two rooms in one, until the gentle scraping catches your attention again as you went to turn around. It sounded like chalk on a chalk board, that’s the best way you could describe such a sound, maybe it wasn’t exactly lose to what you can imagine, but it’s the best you got.

As you got closer, you noticed the smaller padlock on the door, keeping whatever’s hidden, hidden.

Pulling the keys out of your pocket, you’re shaking even more when you look through them to find a key much smaller than the other ones, one that’s dainty and could hide anywhere if it tried harder enough.

The lock drops and you start to notice your hands haven’t stopped shaking, but now it’s starting to get uncomfortable, and uncontrollable for you to deal with. Sliding the lock, you press your forehead against the door and take a deep breath. Was this how it ends? Was this going to lead you into yet another deadend? Was Abby really gone and you were going to be stuck down here with some crazy psycho?

“Let go of me!” You heard Mandy scream from above you. Ellie’s words being screamed angrily right back at her.

With a final sigh, you pull the handle down and pull the door open.

If Abby’s not here, and this is just me falling into a trap, let everyone know I tried.

It’s dark. You can’t see anything. Turning your head, you notice a small light switch just beside the door, covered in mould and dirt, probably not the best idea to put your hands all in it, but you do it. You flick the switch and the light loominates the room and that’s when you notice it. You finally see it.

The figure curled up in the corner of the room, holding themselves until whatever nightmare they’re able to get out of. Taking a singular step into the room, you crouch slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in your hand as you reach it out and gently touch their shoulder. “M’not gonna hurt you,” You reassured just before they flinch at your touch with a pained whimper head whipping around and tired blue eyes meet yours.

The sight causes your breath to hitch and heart to thump loudly in your chest.

“Abby?”

Jerry, who was smiling and cooking something for dinner as the music on the radio played quietly, almost fell to his knees the second the door opened to reveal you, Ellie, Jesse and Abby.

“My girl?” He whispered, not wanting to be loud to the point it might scare her. “Abby,” He breathed out when blue eyes met him. “Oh, baby.”

Guiding her towards the table carefully, you gently helped her sit down, but not before her hand tightens around your arm when you went to walk away. “M’just gonna run you a bath, you’re cold and you need to be warm, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Abby simply nodded slowly. Almost like she wasn’t even there.

“Honey, I can make you something else to eat? You don’t have to eat this but,” Jerry trailed off, watching the way Abby’s simply still looking in the spot you once were, yearning for you to come back already. “At least drink something for me?” He frowned, pulling his hand back quickly at the sight of Abby flinching and pulling her hand away when his goes to touch hers. “I won’t hurt you, baby girl. I’d never hurt you.”

You come back no later than 15 minutes. To her that’s still too long.

Abby didn’t move an inch or speak once the entire time you left to run her a bath. She was still sitting silently on the chair, not touching the food her Dad had plated for her, and left the glass of water in Its original spot. “Abby?”

Her head turned slightly, the most movement she’s done since she got home, and looked right at you. Her eyes looked dull, emotionless but stood up slowly when you held your hand out for her. Taking your hand, Abby doesn’t look back or spare a glance to anyone in the room as she leaves. It’s quiet, too quiet but no on can blame her, she’s been in a room for god knows how long, they understand that this is going to take some time to adjust.

By the time you made it into her bedroom, you’re quick to scoop up the fresh clothes in your free hand, the other still holding onto hers tightly as you guide her into the bathroom. The same bathroom that there’s a warm bath ready for her.

Placing the clean folded clothes on the toilet, you looked over at Abby, who still has yet to talk, was facing away from you, looking at the water. “There’s clean clothes here, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” You smiled. “I’ll give you some privacy, I’ll just be in your room— Abby?” Her hand reaches out for yours, grabbing you tightly and keeping you there when you turn around to leave. “Hey,”

“S..Stay,” Her voice cracked, but kept her grip firm. “S..Stay, please?”

“Okay, of course, m’not going anywhere,” You promised and cautiously stepped closer to her. “Let’s take this off, yeah? You’re probably not warm enough.” As you went to unzip the hoodie she was wearing, her hand stopped you again. “Sorry, habit,”

“It’s n..not the same,” A sob slipped out and she shook her head. “Not the same,”

“What’s not the same?”

“If I take it off, you’re g..going to find it disgusting,”

“I could never think that of you, Abs”

After a few minutes, Abby nodded reluctantly and let you unzip the jacket fully. It only took a few seconds for you to stop in your tracks and understand what she meant once the jacket was off and she was once again facing away from you. “Abby,” You gasped.

You remember the times you would spend laying on her bed, with her snuggled in your chest, and threading your fingers through her hair, braiding it, playing with you. It was all gone in an instant. Gone just like she had once been. This Abby was left fragile, so thin, pale and terrified. “I..I’m disgusting,”

Walking around her until you were face to face, you held back a frown and gently cupped her face between your hands, your heart shattering into pieces at her flinch. “Won’t hurt you,” You whispered, wiped away the tears that fell and kissed her cheek. “You’re here with me, you’re safe, and I’ll never hurt you,” Slowly, you brushed your finger across her cheek, and smiled when she carefully leaned into your touch. “You’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful.”

Abby doesn’t believe you, you can tell by the way she shakes her head, cries harder and holds onto your arms tightly. “M’scared, m’so scared.”

“I know, Love, I know, but I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise, I promise I won’t.”

By the time Abby managed to get into the bath, with the help from you, she cried at every touch, rubbing her eyes harshly each time you rubbed the shampoo into her hair, mumbled about being sorry that she couldn’t stop squirming and with every reassurance from you that it was okay, it made her chest heave and cries louder. You didn’t ask her what happened, you know that when she was ready to talk about it, you would be there to listen. Guide and help her when needed.

Rinsing the final suds of shampoo from her hair, or what Mandy left of it, you smiled softly when her eyes fluttered open and found you. “Hi,” You pressed your forehead against hers and brushed your thumb over the side of her neck slowly. “You’re getting warmer.” You murmured. “We’re almost done.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Love.”

Abby was clad in some of your old clothes, curled up in your side on her bed 15 minutes later. Her hand gripped the back of your jumper tightly, face buried deeply in your chest as you drew random patterns along her skin beneath your clothes. “M’glad you’re here,” You whispered against her forehead. “I never stopped looking for you, I hope you know that. You can tell me what happened when you’re ready, m’never gonna rush you to talk about it, but know that we’re here for you, and we just want to keep you safe. We’re ready to talk when you’re ready.”

All Abby could do was nod.

The door squeaked and opened to reveal Ellie, clothes dirty and hair slightly ruffled, as she stepped into the room with a fresh plate of food in one hand, and a drink in the other. “Hey, Abs.” She smiled, placing both on the nightstand before sliding onto the bed beside her. “I know you might not be hungry but, I brought you some food, Jerry practically rushed me to bring it to you.”

Abby curled more into you and buried her face in your chest with a smile tugging at her lips. “How is she?”

“What did you do?” You asked, ignoring her question and noticing the red stains on her shirt instead.

“I took care of it, she won’t hurt Abby or anyone else again.” Ellies eyes didn’t leave Abby as she spoke. “Stop, I took care of it, like we promised. We keep each other safe.” She sighed once she noticed your look. “Abby?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I cuddle you?”

Turning her head slowly, Abby looks up at Ellie for a couple of seconds before nodding. Lying down on the bed further, the Brunette carefully places her arm over Abby’s waist and cuddles up to her back, while Abby places her head against your chest again. “M’sorry it took so long,” She mumbled into Abby’s back. “M’so sorry.” She kissed her head and held her tighter.

Leaning your head down, you pressed your lips against Abby’s forehead, stroked her arm comfortingly and smiled when she held onto you a little tighter. “You can sleep now, we’ll always keep you safe, Baby.”

One secret revealed, another buried and hidden.

578 notes · View notes

haologram · 8 months ago

Text

araneae 🕸️ k.sy

🕸️ synopsis: when you realize your friend (with benefits) actually has feelings for you, a tangled web of lies and avoidance ensues.

🕸️ genre: friends with benefits au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers because it's the only trope ever ; ta x student dynamics ; fluff, angst & smut (surprise?)

🕸️ pairing: zoology ta!kwon soonyoung x marine biology major!reader | side pairings: joshua hong x sana minatozaki ; vernon chwe x roh jisun (fromis_9) ; lee chan x jung haerim (weki meki) | mentions of: reader x yuta nakamoto (nct) ; reader x lee sangyeon (the boyz); hoshi x lee luda (wsjn) ; hoshi x choi yujin (kep1er/clc)

🕸️ word count: 18.9k (WE GOT IT UNDER 20K LETS GOOOOOO!)

🕸️ rating: 18+. minors do not interact i beg.

🕸️ warnings: this definitely more of their dynamic/relationship than him being her ta… ; mentions of knife play (none involved), alcohol, pink whitney gets its own warning as does everclear, mentions of un/protected sex (dw it'll get freaky later), mentions of cum, loss of virginity talk, mentions of marijuana (stoner!hoshi be off the honeypacks!!), mentions of STD testing (GET TESTED YOU FREAKS!) [smut warnings: multiple scenes ; mostly hoshi using sex as an apology ; oral (f. receiving) ; unprotected sex (hoshi x reader only) ; face sitting ; hoshi is a hopeless romantic and loves missionary ; they fuck mostly in their respective homes (read: he eats her out in a closet)] i think that’s it! lmk if i missed anything!

🕸️ what to listen to: good kisser - usher ; magic stick - lil' kim ; lie - bts ; spider - hoshi ; home - seventeen.

🕸️ author’s note: just an fyi, the smut is AWFUL and i'm not entirely happy with this🤩 but anyway, it’s finally here, the final installment of the seventeen ta collab!! special thanks to @camandemstudios for allowing me to be a part of this wonderful success, and i hope to be involved in more collabs in the future (also thank you so much for your patience, i know waiting for me to be able to post was infuriating.) enjoy stoner!hoshi…loser!hoshi? loverboy!hoshi…also somewhat bitchless!hoshi.

LAST YEAR – Sunday, October 23.

You were never opposed to a nice Halloween party. Lots of thematic drinks, stupid boys dressed as Ghostface trying to explore knife kinks, and girls going all out with their glitter make-up and tinsel in their hair for the optimal fairy costume.

You loved a good Halloween party, music blasting out of the speakers that were stolen from the AV Club by the softer version of the Beta Tau Omega brothers. Dancing with strangers in sweat-soaked facades, and waking up with smeared face paint all over your neck and shoulders from whatever disguised hook-up you'd taken home that night.

Last night's rager had to have been one for the books, because you have no idea how you ended up in this absolute mess of a bedroom – owned by none other than your close friend, Kwon Soonyoung. The same Kwon Soonyoung who also happens to TA the class you've put off taking for the last two years, and are set to start taking the upcoming spring semester.

The same Kwon Soonyoung that was related to the wife of the Dean, and the same Kwon Soonyoung that showed up everywhere stoned or ready to get stoned. The very same Kwon Soonyoung that made infused pre-rolls and edibles for nearly the entire campus…for free. Even you could see that was a horrible business call, and you were a Science major.

Soonyoung who helped people sneak kittens into their dorm rooms and make homes for them under lofted beds. Soonyoung, who taught a dance class and self-defense class back to back, so he was never free until after nine at night. Soonyoung who made hanging out seem like he was trying to get into your pants because he was just naturally flirtatious (and somehow, still absolutely bitchless.)

Soonyoung who you've kissed twice since meeting him two years ago, both times at Halloween parties hosted by his stupid fraternity. Soonyoung, who has had his hand up your skirt twice before someone interrupts you by asking if he has any weed at hand. He always does, and it's always in his car or his bedroom. He always goes, and a part of you, no matter how into it you may be, knows it's for the best.

He keeps his circle small, of friends that is. You were added to the mix sometime after your first Halloween party (and first kiss together) your freshman year, when he slammed into you in the middle of the economics hallway, breaking your laptop in the process. He'd felt so bad he took you to Best Buy that same night and shelled out two grand for a new one and even invited you out to lunch the next day.

He did not remember making out at all. To be fair, neither did you until the digital photos came back and he texted you a picture of the two of you kissing against the Beta Tau Omega insignia on the wall. You were so embarrassed you avoided him for a week after, but he quickly forced you out of your dorm for a movie night. The two of you became fast friends, bonding over silly little things and enjoying each other's company – but it didn't stop the rumors from flying that you were a freshman stealing a guy from the sophomores.

You remember that he adamantly denied any and every dating rumor flung your way, and even went as far as distancing himself from you for a bit – but when you tried to pull the same move he had earlier that year, he said maybe it was best for the two of you to remain friends from a distance. You didn't speak to him for the rest of the year, choosing to spend your time with friends your age and even dating a transfer student named Yuta Nakamoto, who was also in Soonyoung's year.

When word got around, Soonyoung was pissed – but didn't attempt to rekindle your friendship. He still followed you on Instagram, and still felt a bit of anger puddle in his stomach as he liked photo after photo of the two of you together, biting his tongue at the empty smile you held by his side.

This continued well into summer, and he saw the two of you take a trip to Jeju Island together, before breaking up the following week. Soonyoung heard from your friend, Nagyung, that he was transferring back and neither of you wanted to try long-distance.

The following school year, he watched as you got recruited by sorority after sorority – eventually joining his frat's sister sorority, Alpha Sigma Delta. You hardly had to rush, the girls actively pushing you to pledge and you were far too nice to say no.

You saw him again for the first time at the Halloween party planning, when you and your fellow pledges were tasked with helping the frat pledges in hauling in liquor. You weren't very happy about it, but Soonyoung whisked you away without a word from you, telling everyone that he needed your help with a certain task.

That task?

"Can we talk?"

And you did. You talked, and talked, and talked. He even left at one point to get drinks for the two of you, returning to you fishing through his bag of pre-rolls for the ones infused with lemon balm. He smiled, telling you they were in his car, and you rolled your eyes at it.

You kissed at that party, too. It went further this time – the two of you on Seungcheol's balcony. The idea had been to go up to the roof and get crossed, but it seems a rather tipsy Soonyoung had other ideas. You didn't mind it, in fact you encouraged it – you slipped his hand up your latex dress, you let him slip your panties down your legs.

"Hey, Hoshi! Do you have any pre-rolls?!"

Just as he'd started undoing his pants.

"Fuck, I'm sorry baby."

"It's fine."

You passed out in his bedroom that time, too tired to go back to the sorority house with your sisters. You got out of clean-up, and Soonyoung left you a kimbap roll and an electrolyte drink on his nightstand, with a note asking how you got there 'haha.'

It hadn't been fine. Again, neither of you remembered this happening until digitals were printed. And it was freshman year all over again – except this time, Soonyoung stuck around. Soonyoung defended you tooth and nail, and even dropped a few of his friends that bad-mouthed you. When you asked him about it, he shrugged, "Nothing wrong with kissing your friends every once in a while."

So, here you are. Again.

The third year in a row you and your stupid friend have made out, and somehow, you're in his bed. There's no other explanation as for why your underwear is across the room, hanging off his lamp and why his head is gently laying on your chest. There's literally no other explanation.

"Soonyoung." You rasp, patting his cheek. He doesn't stir, but pouts into your bare breast. "Soonyoung." You speak louder, shaking him slightly as he peels open one of his eyes.

"Yeah?"

It takes him a moment to realize that it's you, sprinkled with glitter from his eye look last night and practically doused in his saliva.

"Oh, fuck." He just furrows his brows, rolling off your chest with a groan. He sits up at the edge of the bed, surveying the room before realizing he's got no pants on. "Son of a bitch. Did we…Yup. Yup, it's right there."

His painted fingernails point at the discarded condom atop his dresser, flung hastily in a half-asleep attempt, most likely. You sigh, letting your head fall back on your pillow with a hmph. He does the same, his fingers only reaching up slightly to close the blinds with a jerk of the liftcord.

"You think it was good?" You ask with a small smile, and he snorts. "It was with you, I doubt it would've been bad."

Silence permeates the air again, before he sees your bare bottom half also covered in glitter. You have a tattoo on your hip that you didn't have when you first met. It's a stick-and-poke kitten. "Nice tattoo."

"Thanks, I got it on Jeju Island."

"When you and Yuta went?"

"Yup."

"Cool."

He sits up, peering down at you with tired eyes. "What'd you see in that guy, anyway?"

"Hm?"

"Yuta."

"Oh. You want the truth?"

It's like being nude in front of each other isn't a big deal. It's like having slept together after years of being in limbo means nothing. It's all so normal, the way you allow him to practically eye fuck you.

"I was sad you stopped being my friend."

He blinks at you, watching the way you carefully pick at a thread loose in his comforter. You pull it out, discarding it behind you with a soft smile. "Does that answer your question?"

"You fucked another guy because I stopped being your friend?" He asks incredulously, and you shrug. "Not just, but it was a large reason."

"You lost your virginity to him." His eyes are wide, and you shrug once more, nodding your head.

"Yup."

"Did he make you cum?"

"Soonyoung-"

"Did he?"

You sigh, patting his comforter. "Not the first couple of times, no. He got better at it, though. It was decent."

Nodding, he clears his throat.

"Do you think I-"

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't remember much, just the Pink Whitney Mingyu gave me."

"Mingyu does love his Pink Whitney."

You flip onto your back again, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. Tucking your hands behind your head, you speak again. "Do you think I went down on you?"

"There's lipstick on my tip."

"What color?"

"Uhh…wine red."

You wipe a finger across your bottom lip, the small amount of residue a bloody, Cabernet red.

"Hm. Checks out."

The air feels…comfortable.

"Wanna shower?"

"Yeah."

"Can I shower with you?"

"Yeah, Soonie."

The two of you stretch simultaneously, before rolling to the side of the bed and standing up. He grabs the discarded condom off the dresser, holding it like a used tissue and taking it to the bin. You dig through his dresser for a towel, and he fishes out something for you to wear.

"Boxers okay?"

"Hm, I prefer briefs."

"On me or on you?"

"Your underwear choices are your business."

He holds up a pair of Spiderman briefs. You bite back your laugh and nod silently, extending your hand for them.

He disappears into his bathroom, flickering lights on and turning the shower head on. "Hot?"

"Boiling."

"Got it."

The both of you get in, and you close your eyes as the water pelts your back. Soonyoung says nothing as he moves your hair off your shoulders and away from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You should've asked me." He mumbles, reaching for the shampoo in the caddy behind you. Peeling your eyes open, you look up at him with a confused stare. "Asked you for what?"

He shrugs, holding the shampoo bottle upside down over his hand and squirting some out. "I would've made you cum the first time."

You snort, shoving his chest lightly. "Yeah, well…you didn't. It's fine."

"This isn't weird to you?"

"What? Showering together?"

"After fucking, yeah."

"Could be worse."

"How?"

"I could be that girl you've been flirting with since last year, wondering when you're going to text her back."

"Who? Yujin?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not flirting with her, what made you think that?"

"Stolen glances, flirty touches, you give her pre-rolls all the time."

He rolls his eyes as he cards his fingers through your hair, his dull nails scrubbing your scalp gently. Your eyes flutter shut, and he huffs. "I give everyone pre-rolls."

"Because you're a horrible business magnate."

"No, because I'm nice."

You smile without opening your eyes, your hands reaching out to touch his chest. His body feels good under your fingertips, you realize. "Are you mad you don't remember any of it?"

"Furious." He mutters, gently tilting your head back to wash the soap out. You can't see the way he's looking at the sweet slope of your neck, just barely making out small nips of his teeth across your throat. Your necklace hangs nicely.

The rest of the shower remains silent, as he carefully washes you before himself. His attention to detail is insane, the way his fingers hold the washcloth taut so he can feel every inch of you. He has to commit this to memory.

After, you're drying your hair with a random t-shirt he gave you. He remembers you told him that towels can be too rough for your hair texture sometimes. It's only when you're brushing your teeth with a brand new toothbrush he pulled from his cabinets that he speaks.

"Let me change my bedsheets."

"Don't wanna lay in the sin of fucking your friend, do ya?"

The navy blue sheets are quickly replaced by ones with light grey ditsy floral print, and his comforter is shoved off and replaced by a few throw blankets. He watches as you change his pillowcases, only looking away when he hears his phone ping.

Msg From: Cheol

[9:32am] hosh

[9:32am] who is the girl in ur room and is she missing a pair of cat ears

"What was your costume last night?" He asks, and you snort. "I was a sexy witch."

He smiles to himself as he picks up his phone.

Msg To: Cheol

[9:33am] not missing a pair of cat ears

[9:34am] and it's y/n

Your head snaps up when you hear a pair of feet thundering up the stairs, followed by silence. You give him an odd look, only to hear excited giggles down the hall and the pitter-patter of two adult men coming towards Soonyoung's room. You cross your arms as you hear the door creak open, an expectant look on your face as Jeonghan and Seungcheol's noses appear through the crack.

"Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Jeonghan remarks sweetly, and you just roll your eyes.

"He wasn't bluffing." He whispers to Seungcheol, receiving an annoyed huff from Soonyoung. "If you're done intruding on my personal business, I'd appreciate it if you left. The pledges still need to clean up last night's mess."

Jeonghan gives you a wry look. "Can I say something and you don't get upset?"

"If it's about sex, I will punch you in that pretty face of yours." You say pointedly, fluffing the pillow in your hand before throwing it onto his bed. Jeonghan purses his lips, nodding before sliding out from under Seungcheol. He nods his head, a satisfied look on his face. "Have a good…don't fuck too loud, okay?"

Soonyoung barely misses Seungcheol's face with the charger he throws across the room, his giggle being heard in the hallway as he barrels down the stairs.

"Idiots." He huffs, running a hand through his damp hair as you flop onto the bed. "You don't mind if I stay here a bit? My head's killing me."

He lays down next to you, a sigh escaping his lips.

"You okay, Soonie?"

Turning only his head, he scans your face. Tired eyes lined with thick lashes, plump lips covered by the Aquaphor in his bathroom. Slightly unkempt brows and your shoulder tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt on your frame.

"Kitty?"

You grimace at the pet name, one he christened you with when the two of you met. He'd been dressed up as a cowboy, and dancing with a skeleton that was stolen from the comparative anatomy students (with the help of Junhui, of course.) He also had a lit joint between his fingers, one that sprinkled ash over your newly healed shoulder tattoo and made you yelp in pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry, kitty." He quickly put it out in a nearby ashtray, dusting your shoulder of any ash residue. "It's fine, it's fine. Just…can I get a hit?"

"Yeah?"

He sits up, leaning against his bed frame before looking down at you.

"Would it be weird if I asked to try again?"

You glance up at him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "Try what again, exactly?"

He clears his throat, a beet red blush coating his cheeks. "You said Yuta didn't make you cum. And we don't know if I made you cum. So…can I have a redemption round?"

You've sat up at this point, a small laugh falling from your lips as you push your hair back, "You want to fuck me?"

"I can just go down on you, if, uh…if that's what you'd prefer." He stutters, mentally cursing himself. You glance at him, eyes scanning his face. "And we're still friends after this? You won't dump me?"

"I won't. I promise. Cross my heart, kitty." He holds his pinky finger out, insinuating you link yours. Sighing, you do just that. "Fine. Hop to, I want breakfast."

He moves to kiss you, but you give him yet another amused look. "What are you doing, Soonie?"

"...Kissing you?" He gives you a confused look, and you scoff out a laugh. "You said nothing about kissing, Kwon."

He gapes at you, "How am I supposed to connect our auras if we don't kiss? I can't get hard if I don't get kissed, you know. I can't properly engage with… her, if you don't let me kiss you." He sits back on his haunches, explaining each point to you. You bite back your laughter, nodding along.

"Sculptors start from scratch, Soonyoung. I am art, awaiting your expert touch." You shrug as he finishes his spiel, and he furrows his brows. "Fine."

Sinking down to his stomach in front of you, ringed fingers palming at your thighs. You sigh, sucking your teeth as he noses at your skin, placing kisses on your stomach.

You scoot back slightly, resting your back against his headboard. He looks up at you as you roll your eyes, beckoning him forward with your hand as you shimmy out of the stupid Spiderman briefs. "Make it fast."

"Won't take me that long, anyway." He mumbles, pushing his hair out of his face before placing a chaste kiss on your exposed slit. "How do you like it? Just tongue? Messy?"

"Whatever you want, though I'm not super into fingering at the same time." You shrug, your own carding through his shaggy locks and holding him in place. He smirks against your skin, "Don't need them."

His tongue swirls carefully around your clit, the motion far too practiced to be out of the ordinary for him. He leans into your soft gasp, the gentle buck of your hips enough to help him bury his face into your wet heat. "Spit on it." You whisper, and he does just as you ask.

The taste is tart and heady, spreading around his tongue and chin as he expertly sucks on your swollen bundle of nerves. His eyes are closed as he sloppily collects your arousal, your whines growing frustrated as he holds your hips down. "F-Faster, Soonie."

He rolls his eyes, annoyed at your inability to relax as he obnoxiously moans against you, the vibrations making you squirm. "You're so mean." You pout, feeling him smile into you. He shrugs, closing his eyes before returning to his ministrations.

He feels you shift, peeling open an eye to see your hand under your shirt, rolling your nipple through your fingers with your lip tucked between your teeth. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, using your ankle to pull you down to his level. Your eyes shoot open the moment his hands are on the hem of your (his) shirt, tugging it over your head. You're pliant, agreeing with whatever he wants to do when you feel him grab your face gently, "Can I kiss you?"

You can't bite back your smile, making him roll his eyes as he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You feel your stomach buzz a bit, feeling his half-hard cock through his boxers pressed against you. You cant your hips up softly, earning a hiss as he nips at your bottom lip.

"Thought you said you can't get hard without kissing, Soonie. Tsk, tsk." You mock him, before your fingers reach for the waistband of his boxers, snapping the elastic against his skin.

"Take them off."

He snaps his head up to look at you, eyes wide as your hand dips below the waistband, gently wrapping around his length. He sighs at your touch, before pushing the underwear down his legs with his free hand. He reaches for the nightstand, digging out the box of condoms – empty.

"Fuck." He mutters, and you turn to see the empty box being flicked across the room. "Are you clean?" You ask with a click of your tongue, and he reaches in the same drawer and pulls out a folded piece of paper, handing it to you with a blush across his cheeks.

"A week ago." He whispers, and you shrug, tossing the results – all of which were negative – to the floor and smiling up at him. "Well, go on. You have a task to complete, Kwon."

"Are you sure?" He's talking to himself, dragging the tip of his cock through your wet folds, a soft whine from your lips as he circles your clit with his thumb. "Hurry up before I change my mind and tell everyone you can't make a girl cum."

Your threat is empty, he knows – but you see the way he rolls his eyes, easing the head of his cock into your aching hole. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, your fingernails digging into his back as he slowly bottoms out.

"Fuck." He mutters into your shoulder, before sinking his teeth into your skin and giving a slow thrust. A choked moan from your lips is his reward, as he sets a slow pace and drags his teeth across your chest. Your nails drag down his back gently as his tongue swirls around your nipple, making you whimper.

"Soonie.." Your whine is cut off by his hand across your mouth. "Don't, I'll cum." He admits against your chest, making you snort slightly. Your hand wraps around his wrist, pulling it off your mouth as you lean up to capture his lips in yours. It's sloppy but you don't care, feeling him roll his hips into yours slowly as your tongue slips into his mouth.

His whine into your mouth is nothing if not pitiful (read: hot.) Your laugh slips out as he readjusts his hold on you, folding your legs to your chest and fucking into you deeper. The new angle makes you let out a choked moan, his lips dragging along your jawline as he bullies his cock into you.

It's almost like you can feel pride seeping through his pores as you whine into his skin, feeling his lips curl into a smile against your shoulder as he bites down softly. You're sure he's determined to ruin you for anyone else, his hand slipping between the two of you to toy with your clit. The mix of sounds in his bedroom is obscene, but nothing is more embarrassing than the two of you jumping simultaneously when someone bangs on his door. Your hand flies over your mouth as they shout for you two to keep it down, making Soonyoung laugh, the tips of his ears turning pink as you clench around him. Your tummy starts to fill with warmth, the band threatening to snap as he peels your hand off your mouth for a searing kiss.

It's enough for the two of you to whimper, your fingers moving to curl into his hair, feeling the white-hot heat of your orgasm coursing through your body. He groans into your lips, and you can feel him fighting himself as he pulls out, his cum painting the stupid kitty tattoo on your hip.

The two of you are silent as you regain your composure, the room filled with soft pants as you brush your hair off your face. He clears his throat, and you almost instinctively roll your eyes as his question breaks the tension.

"On a scale of one to ten–" "I am not rating your stroke game, this is not RateMyDick.com."

His face buries into your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he scoffs out a laugh. Your fingernails trail lightly along his neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulders before he pushes off you.

"Pancakes?" He tilts his head, making you snort. "Are you paying?" "Fuck no, we can make Cheol buy." He scoffs, and you laugh fully this time. "Do you think Cheol feels like buying me the greasiest patty melt he can find?" "Whatever you want, kitty." He kisses the tip of your nose, making you scrunch it while pushing his head away. "That tickles, stop. Now get off me, I feel the need to spend Cheol's trustfund on food that will knock me out." He just smiles as he lifts himself off you, sliding off the bed in the direction of his bathroom. You can't help but feel a bit of anxiety pool in your lower belly, hearing the faucet running slowly before he reappears. You quickly smile, "You okay?" "Are you?" He echoes, his hand reaches for your thigh as he wipes you down gently with a damp washcloth. "Yeah, m'fine." He doesn't look convinced, giving you a raise of his brows as he tosses the washcloth to the side, offering his hand to help you sit up. When you do, he grabs the shirt you'd been wearing and carefully pulls it over your head – and if he feels the willful stare of your eyes on him, he says nothing about it.

"Are you having regrets?" He murmurs, reaching for the underwear he let you borrow. You sigh inwardly, shaking your head. "No. Just…it's silly."

"It's not silly, whatever it is you're feeling. We're friends, kitty. You can tell me." He shrugs, helping you up off the bed and leading you to the bathroom. "You're not gonna watch me pee, are you?" You tease, and he snorts.

"Do you want me to?" "Get out." He does. He shuts the door behind him, leaving the briefs on the sink. You sigh quietly, willing the negative thoughts away. You don't regret it, no – but it feels like your slight game of cat-and-mouse has ended. He's caught you, sunk his teeth into you and now you're dead.

You reach for the briefs, pulling them over your ankles and up to your knees while you sit. You hear him rustling around, before hearing the door to his room open and shut. A wave of sadness flows over you, and you wonder if he really meant it. That he wouldn't leave this time – he hadn't last year, after he took your underwear off in Seungcheol's room (and stuffed the pair of pink panties in his pocket – something you never heard the end of when Jeonghan found out they were yours.) Sighing once more, you finish your business, tossing the toilet paper in the can and amp yourself up as you wash your hands. "No big deal, Y/N. Friends fuck all the time. Right?" You hear the door to his room open again, and you turn the water off, shaking the excess water off your hands as you open the bathroom door. He glances up at you, holding a tray with a pitcher of water and electrolyte packets.

"You like watermelon, right? It's the only flavor we have left." He says, and you nod quietly. "Yeah, that's fine."

Flopping back onto his bed, you cover your bottom half with one of the throw blankets as he portions out the electrolytes. You reach over and open his nightstand drawer, fishing through for his Advil.

"Bottoms up." He hands you your glass, and you pop open the cap. "Yum, ibuprofen electrolyte cocktail." You mutter, shoving two in his hand before popping your own in your mouth.

The two of you clink glasses before chugging, mirroring each other's grimaces as you finish the liquid. He scrunches his nose, sliding the glass on the nightstand before laying back and moving like a worm to slide in next to you.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, grabbing his phone from in between the blankets and opening the Doordash app. You don't respond, opting to pull the blanket a little higher as you rest your head on his shoulder. He scrolls through mindlessly, before finding your favorite breakfast spot. The two of you found it during the summer, when neither of you went home and decided to take summer classes. You wound up taking Seungcheol's room while he went home with his girlfriend.

You don't like the wave of sadness you feel suddenly.

He's your friend. One could even say he's one of your best friends. What if this was a mistake?

You feel tears prick at your eyes.

"Can you hold me?" You murmur, and he doesn't even stop to think as he shuts his phone off and pulls you into him, his hand curling into the nape of your neck. His fingernails are lightly scratching at your scalp as he wraps himself around you, allowing you to snuggle into his chest. "I'm scared, Hosh."

You can't hold back the sniffle at that, but you can feel him tuck you further into his embrace. "I won't leave. I promise, I promise you I won't leave." He whispers, and you can hear the waver in his voice. He tries to mask it, pressing soft kisses to your hairline.

"What if this ruins our friendship?" You ask thickly, and you can feel him shake his head above you. "It won't. I won't let it. We can't let it."

He pulls back, his thumb coming to wipe under your eyes carefully. "I don't think I ever told you what I did when we stopped talking that year." "No," You laugh softly, reaching up to wipe his own face. "You didn't." "I slept with like six people that year." He scrunches his nose, before his eyes go wide. "No, five and a half."

"Half?" You question, and he nods. "Does it count? Like, if she went down on me but then her roommate walked in on us and she was too embarrassed to keep going?" "I think so?" "Okay, so six." "You're a slut." "Sue me, I was filling a void." He scoffs, and you just shake your head at him. "You could've just talked to me."

If he’s aware of your hypocrisy, he says nothing. "I am a flawed man, kitty. I have too much pride to admit my mistakes." He sighs, pushing your hair out of your face. "Yet here we are." You say pointedly, making him roll his eyes.

"Anyway, I don't regret this…us." He gestures between the two of you, before clearing his throat. "But, we don't have to speak about it, like, ever again if you do. It'll be like it never happened." Sighing, you roll onto your back, still pressed tightly against his torso. "That never works. I mean, Cheol and Hannie know, now, too." You scrunch your nose a bit at the idea of your friends' relentless teasing awaiting, but he shrugs.

"Cheol owes me for that time I helped him replace his bed frame after Sowon broke it. I still can't believe they're dating, but it makes their chaos like, ten times worse." He groans, and you snicker. "Are we sure it wasn't Seungcheol who broke it? Last I heard, he's a freak." "He probably did, he had a bit of bruising around his wrists and there were cuffs attached to the bedposts." He says pointedly, before the two of you glance at each other quickly.

"No." He tongues his cheek to stop himself from smiling. "I didn't say anything." "You're thinking about it, Soonyoung. Stop it." "You literally let me cum on you."

You grimace up at him, and he snorts. “Sorry.”

“Just order the food, my stomach is about to start eating itself.” You roll your eyes, smacking him when you both feel his phone buzz. He grabs it, and you once more feel your stomach sink.

Msg From: choi yujin [10:49am] hey hoshi…r u busy? can i come over?

“Yikes.” He mutters, and you push the covers off. “I can go—”

“Shut up. Lay down.” He yanks your arm, making you fall back onto the pillows as he messages her back with one hand.

Msg From: choi yujin [10:50am] i am yeah [10:51am] let’s set a date to talk

“What if she wants to dump you?” You ponder aloud, watching as he reopens the Doordash app and adds your food to the cart. He shrugs, selecting an order of french toast. “Then she dumps me. I should care, right?”

You just snort, making him smile inwardly as he wraps his arm around you.

The two of you let your eyes eat, ordering little things and ignoring messages from Yujin. You feel bad, really, because Yujin is a sweet girl and your friend is a bit of an airhead at times.

“I’ll go get it when it’s here.” He yawns, stretching slightly and rebounding to wrap himself around you. “Or, we can bribe Mingyu with that order of eggs benedict we did not need to order.”

“Ha, true.” He nods, shooting a text to the man before tossing his phone behind him. “And kitty?”

“Yes, Soonie?”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

You glance down at him, noting the way his eyes are slightly heavy. You hold in your sigh — carding your fingers through blond locks. “Any time, Soonie.”

PRESENT DAY — November 4th.

Unfortunately (for your achey, breaky heart) — Soonyoung took ‘any time’ literally.

You’d gone home later that afternoon, reluctantly prying yourself from Soonyoung’s arms and wiping a bit of syrup from his french toast off your lip. Not at all put there from him kissing you.

No way.

The two of you had fallen into a bit of a lockstep — he’d decided to add another semester to his schedule, admitting he felt overwhelmed by his classes. You were just happy you’d have your friend around for a bit longer, and most of the other frat brothers felt the same.

However, with great sacrifice comes great responsibility — Soonyoung had a lot of free time, and you were only taking four classes a semester as it was. He would come over to your room at the sorority house, bring you dinner and help you study, and somehow the two of you would end up on your bed with his tongue between your legs. Or with his dick in your throat. Or, a fancier third option — turning the stereo on and fucking like rabbits.

Your housemates learned to hate Novacane by Frank Ocean.

But without fail, this happened at least once a week. Neither of you mentioned it after, with him leaving the next morning with a chaste kiss to your lips and a murmured have a good day, kitty.

Your sorority sisters grew curious, and you admitted to them that the two of you were just fucking around. When word of this got around — because humans love to gossip — Soonyoung came over and the two of you sat down to discuss the dynamics of your…situationship.

And nothing changed.

The two of you admitted to each other that it was odd to behave like this. You were the first to confess that it helped you get your mind off things when you were stressed, to which he agreed. It ended with the two of you agreeing to resort to these meetups once or twice a week — and with him fucking his dick into you so slowly, you cried.

Granted, these meetups did not stop over the summer. Neither of you went home, once more opting to stay on campus for summer courses. This time, though — most of the brothers had gone home, and the two of you could not keep your hands off each other. You reminded yourself to still have to apologize to Chan for fucking in his room.

Not that Soonyoung didn’t already take the brunt of Chan’s wrath, but it was beyond you now.

This being said, your tradition of fucking around on Halloween had been upheld this year — but to the point where when you arrived, Mingyu did not offer you his bottle of Pink Whitney because Soonyoung had gotten you your own. You’d laughed, and Mingyu pouted as the two of you drank together.

Soonyoung found you a little after midnight, and you were barely tipsy when he whispered in your ear, asking if you wanted to go up to the roof. You nodded, putting your cowgirl hat on a rather mopey Mingyu — linking your pinkies with Soonyoung’s as he pulled you upstairs.

The two of you hadn’t seen each other much that week, because you had midterms. He offered you a hit of his joint before grabbing your jaw gently and using it as leverage to kiss you.

That night felt different — he took a bit longer to take your clothes off, he kissed you all over. Not that he didn’t normally do that, but it seemed as though he was trying to absorb you fully. You blamed it on the weed, but let him worship you on the roof of his frat house.

You’d been on top for most of it — he doesn’t usually prefer it that way, Soonyoung was a missionary man through and through. You had noticed his glassy eyes as he ran his hands all over your body, and you asked him twice if he was okay. He nodded, kissing you both times before flipping you onto your back. He’d carried you back down to his room after you finished, locking his door behind him and running a shower for the two of you.

It gave you déjà vu.

That was a week ago. You hadn’t seen Soonyoung since, but a part of you didn’t mind the space. You’d felt a bit more that night, but you just blamed it on the Pink Whitney.

“Hey, pretty.” You look up, seeing Minghao walking towards you with a bag in his hand. The two of you had this study session in the back corner of the library every few days, but neither of you cared to admit that it was just an excuse to gossip together and watch America’s Next Top Model.

“Hey, Hao. How’re you?” You ask coolly, before making a show of opening your laptop and opening Hulu, pressing on ANTM and lowering the volume to mute. He snorts, opening the bag and sliding your portion on the table. “I’m good, pretty. However, I do have some intel from a little bird.”

He looks at you pointedly, and you scoff as you open your food. Inhaling deeply, you sigh before stabbing your fork into the pasta. You shrug, “Okay. What’s your intel?”

“That you and Hoshi fucked on the roof, and there’s photos of you making out.” He bites into a breadstick, and you roll your eyes. “There have been photos of us making out every year. This is nothing new.”

“I’m just saying. None of the photos in years past have had his hands under your shirt so shamelessly.” He shrugs, and you furrow your brow. “Hands under my shirt??”

You had worn a latex halter top. You’d never taken it off, and he’d only moved it aside when the two of you were on the roof to get a full view. “Yeah, you were a sexy cop, right? It’s all over the stupid underground site.”

You glance at him, wiping cream sauce off your lip. “I was a cowgirl, Minghao. I even put my hat on Mingyu.”

His eyes are wide as he chews, before his brows furrow and he gestures at the laptop.

You pause the muted show, shoving your fork into your plate before typing in the website. BetaTOU.com had been a domain purchased by the frat president from twelve years ago so they could share photos without being bitched at by the university. It was also a forum for complaints and suggestions. Everything was neatly kept and tagged with dates to stay organized, and if you wanted any photos taken down they were removed within the hour.

You scroll carefully, eyeing every photo of the frat brothers posted from last week. Mingyu wearing your hat is amongst the first few, and a back shot of you and Soonyoung with your pinkies linked walking up the stairs is right after it. You know it’s you, you can see the bracelet he gave you for your birthday dangling on your wrist.

You keep scrolling — Minghao doing a keg stand, Chan and Seokmin playing beer pong (and Chan getting Iced by Jihoon), and Vernon making out with two girls at once. Slut.

You begin to nibble on your fingernails as you scroll further, finally landing on a photo of Soonyoung and Yujin making out in front of one of the bathrooms at the Beta Tau house. You scoff out a laugh, her hat on his head and his hands, yup, under her shirt.

“Sexy cop, meet a big, fat liar.” You scowl, closing the laptop and jerking back in your chair, pulling your knees up to balance your takeout plate on. Minghao peers at you, watching as you angrily shovel pasta into your mouth. “Slow down, pretty. You’ll choke and I don’t know first aid.”

Shaking your head, “We literally fucked that night, Hao. That had to have happened before, because I literally showered and spent the night in his room.”

If he notes the hurt in your voice, he doesn’t mention it. He sighs instead, shaking his head before his hand finds your limp one in your lap. “Are you guys exclusive?”

“No.” You answer quickly, trying to shrug it off as he squeezes your hand lightly. “Don’t do that, obviously you have feelings for him, Y/N.”

“I do not.” You refute. “And even if I did, there are too many negative factors to being in a relationship with him.”

“Like what?” Minghao rolls his eyes, making you scoff.

“Like the fact that he hasn’t spoken to me all week? Like the fact that he’s a whore?” You say all of this like it’s common knowledge, and Minghao gives you an amused look.

“Not as much as Vernon.”

“Not relevant, Hao.”

Minghao shrugs, sitting back as he tears another piece of his breadstick off. You pout, letting go of his hand the moment you hear your phone buzz on the table. Reaching for it, you hand it to Minghao without a second glance.

“It’s Hoshi.”

“Read it and let me know if I should answer.”

Msg From: Soonyoung 🐯🩷

[4:32pm] kitty [4:34pm] please don’t be upset [4:35pm] can we talk? i can swing by the house tonight?

You roll your eyes, hating the way your nose burns as tears gather in your eyes.

Okay. You weren’t dumb.

You knew you’d catch feelings eventually. It was inevitable — Soonyoung was a good fuck, of course, but…something was different. He was sweet, he was doting and attentive. He soon learned your favorite flavor of electrolytes were never ones the frat kept in stock because Mingyu finished them all, so he bought you your own stash for his bedroom. He invited you to the dance class he taught, urging you to go and watch him dance to Fergalicious with the older women who lived in your college town.

Grimacing at your inner monologue, you reach for your phone from Minghao.

Msg To: Soonyoung 🐯🩷 [4:38pm] why would i be upset [4:39pm] and no, i’ve got things i need to do tonight. sorry.

“The guy is definitely gonna agonize over this tonight.” Minghao mentions, making a smoking motion with his fingers. It makes you crack a smile, and you turn your phone on silent before opening the laptop again, switching back to your show and pressing play.

The two of you avoid your Advanced Calculus work on the table, watching as students file in and out of the library — most of them eyeing your plates of takeout before finding a seat.

You can’t help but think about the photo of Soonyoung and Yujin. You’d never had anything against Yujin, and you never would — it made no sense to resent her when Soonyoung is the one who owed you loyalty.

Not that he actually did, anyway — the two of you were not exclusive. You’d been the one to bring it up. He simply set that in place, sending you his STD panel results every few weeks.

You didn’t have to do the same. You didn’t fuck anyone but him.

Minghao walks you home, the two of you filling the air with chatter of missing Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua. The three had graduated, but had come to the Beta Tau Halloween party to visit. All in tow with their girlfriends, of which Joshua’s was still a student at the University and a part of your sorority — Sana Minatozaki.

“Can we do Thai next week? I know your birthday is on Thursday, and I’m sure you don’t wanna spend it with me.” You snort as you reach the front of the house, seeing Momo and Yerin sitting on the steps with ice cream in their hands. They wave at Minghao, who waves back.

“Nonsense, pretty. It’s a Thursday and I’m tired of parties.” He yawns, stretching slightly. You snicker, giving him a one-armed hug as you bid your goodbye. He doesn’t leave as you trek up the stairs, greeting your sorority sisters as you yank open the front door.

Sighing, you let a bit of emotion take over as a few tears trickle down your face. You jog up the stairs, slipping your sweater off and hanging it on the coat rack by the handrail on the third floor. You wipe at your face, annoyed at the sinking feeling of your heart as you toe your shoes off, shoving them on the shelf by the coat rack.

“Shower. That’s what I need.” You murmur, heading down the hallway to your room. Your door is slightly ajar, but you figure one of your sisters must’ve gone in to borrow something. You get closer, flinging the door open when you reach it and seeing Soonyoung sitting at the foot of your bed with a bag in his hands.

You blink at him, noting the redness in his ears as he takes you in. Neither of you speak, and he watches as you slide your bag into your desk chair, unpacking your belongings onto your desk where they usually go. He stares as you take a sip from your water bottle, before leaning against your desk, arms crossed.

“I can explain.” He starts, and you tongue your cheek. “Explain what? Maybe why you’re in my bedroom? I did say I was busy, Soonyoung.”

“Don’t do that, don’t be mad.” He whines at the sound of his name, and you furrow your brows. “I’m not mad, dude. What are you on?”

“It was a mistake, okay? I was looking for you and she—” You cut him off with a hand in the air, the words you know he hates to hear slipping from your lips.

“We’re not exclusive, Soonyoung. You can kiss whoever you want, you can fuck whoever you want. As long as you keep getting tested and it comes back clean, I don’t care.” You lie through your teeth, and he stands, putting the bag on your desk. You see his hands clench slightly around nothing as they reach his sides.

“I’m still sorry.” He murmurs, and you roll your eyes. Shaking your head, you begin to slip your shirt over your head. “I’m gonna shower. Feel free to stay, or go. I don’t care.”

“Okay.” He flops back on your bed, and you walk into your bathroom silently. Turning the water on, you strip and step inside, basking in the heat of the steam.

What were the two of you really doing? He was going to be the teacher’s assistant in your Zoology class next semester. You couldn’t really risk people thinking you were fucking him for your grades — it would put both of you at risk.

Professor Kwon was also a notoriously absent teacher, with her TAs from the past saying she was rarely in class. However, complaints resulted in simply receiving a large sum of money from her at the end of the year — and you found out through Soonyoung that Professor Kwon was married to the Dean.

And how does Soonyoung know that?

Professor Kwon is his aunt. She trusted that Soonyoung would be able to take over the class because he wasn’t particularly squeamish, and she knew all about his bad habit of sneaking stray kittens into dorm rooms. And his bad habit of being high as fuck — not that she was any better, though her vice was vacations, not weed.

He was smart, Soonyoung. You knew he was — his transcript was full of advanced math and science classes, and you saw one B in the extensive packet. Yes, a packet.

He took Zoology last year, even if it wasn’t part of his major. When you think of it, you don’t even really know what his major is — he just does whatever for the sake of it. It’s like he’s only really here to be entertained — and you don’t blame him.

Your passion for animals is also something that brought you and Soonyoung together. While he cared about the ones in the more vegetative biodomes — savannahs, tropical rainforests…the like. You, on the other hand, were one with the water — you loved fish, cephalopods, crustaceans. You had a small angelfish tattoo on your ankle, one Soonyoung constantly kissed if you were in missionary.

The two of you bonded over documentaries, even if the night ended with the two of you fooling around. You remember the night you watched Aliens of The Deep — you tied him to your radiator because he wouldn’t stop grinding his dick against your ass. You fucked him after, sure, but James Cameron deserved to have his documentary cherished.

Wringing your hair out of excess water, you step out of the shower, grabbing your towel off the rack and wrapping it around yourself. Opening the door, you see Soonyoung lying on your bed with his eyes closed, earphones plugged into his phone. As you lean closer, you hear a song reminiscent of Fergie’s Big Girls Don’t Cry.

Snorting, you nudge his leg with your foot, making him peel his eyes open. He pulls out one of the earphones, “Yes?”

“What are you doing? Why are you listening to Fergie?” You ask, moving past him to rummage your dresser for underwear. He sighs, “Because I feel bad.”

“Soonyoung, you kissed Yujin. It’s not the end of the world.” You say pointedly, feeling him get up and crowd your space. You feel his lips press to your damp shoulder, “You say that, but I feel like I betrayed you or something.”

Scoffing, you turn, tucking the corner of your towel under your armpit. “You fuck plenty of other girls. Why is kissing Yujin any different?”

“I only kiss you.” He says, making you roll your eyes. “I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Yes. I only kiss you when we fuck. I only kiss you in general. I don’t kiss the other girls, not that there have been many since this started.” He states matter-of-factly, and you struggle not to roll your eyes again. “You send me your STD results every few weeks, Soonyoung. That means there are other girls.”

“There hasn’t been for a few months. I just get tested regularly because it’s a habit. And they give me free condoms and lube so I save money.” He shrugs, making you scoff out a laugh.

“Soonyoung—”

“Stop, I don’t like it when you call me that.”

You eye him, “That’s your name.”

He shakes his head, “Not to you, it’s not. You only call me that when you’re mad.” His fingers push your hair off your face, and it takes all your willpower not to lean into his touch. He notices your internal struggle, curling his fingers around the shell of your ear, playing with your piercings carefully.

“I don’t want you to see other people.” He blurts, making your eyes go wide before you furrow your brows. Crossing your arms across your chest, you frown. “You see other people.”

“Then punish me for it. I’ll even let you tie me to the radiator again.” He’s flushing beet red, his hand now toying with a loose thread on your towel. It’s oddly reminiscent of your first (or…second) time together. “I’ll even leave you alone for a few weeks, if you want. I won’t fuck anyone else, either.”

You feel a bit taken aback at his offers, knowing that Soonyoung wouldn’t bring any of it up if he didn’t truly feel as though he’d wronged you. “Soonyoung, I really mean it. I’m not upset.”

You’re lying, but you also know his form of apologizing is just way too sincere. You can’t, in good faith, let him simmer in the guilt any longer. Probably why he didn’t speak to you for a week.

He doesn’t reply, opting to glance at the corner of your towel. He reaches for it, his eyes meeting yours as if asking for permission. You blink in response, untucking the towel on your own accord. He hesitates as his knuckles brush the skin of your hips, making you shiver. The towel drops as he leans in to kiss you, and you notice you don’t mind the slightly chapped lips.

He kisses you deeply, like he wants you to know his innermost feelings. His arm circles around your waist, pulling you flush to him as his other hand holds your face gingerly. “I’m sorry, kitty.” He murmurs against your lips, not bothering to allow you to respond as he reconnects your lips, walking backwards towards your bed.

His knees hit the edge of the bed, and he sits, pulling you onto his lap. The soft material of his sweatpants tented up around his cock, brushing against your center as you lean the two of you back, his back hitting your comforter. He maneuvers the two of you fully onto the bed, his head resting against your pillows as you lick into his mouth. His fingers circle your upper thighs, urging you to lift yourself up.

“What’s wrong?” You scan his eyes, feeling him push you further, your hands now on either side of his head. “I wanna show you how sorry I am. Sit on my face, suffocate me.”

You hadn’t done this yet. He’d asked in sessions past, but you’d been a bit hesitant. “What about you, though? I don’t—”

“Don’t worry about me.” He kisses you softly again, fingers tapping the backs of your thighs to urge you higher. “Are you sure?”

“If I die, I die happy.” He shrugs, and you sigh as you inch up, before grabbing your headboard for moral support. You sink down slowly, feeling his nose bump your clit slightly. You hover for a moment, hearing him sigh before pulling you down the rest of the way.

His tongue is flat against your pussy, making you shiver and clench around nothing. He licks at you with precision, gathering your arousal before wrapping his lips around your clit with a soft suck. You bite back a whine, your hips grinding against his face involuntarily. He moans against you, digging his dull nails into your hips.

You continue rocking against him, soft moans from your lips as he eagerly takes whatever you give him. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging gently as you feel the heat start to pool in your belly. His hand wanders up, skilled fingers rolling your nipple between them at the same pace of your clit being swirled by his tongue.

“Soonie—” You whimper, canting your hips a little faster as he runs his hands all over your body, groaning against your pussy. Your thighs clench around his head as you cum, feeling slightly overstimulated as his tongue fucks into you slowly. You try to get up, but your shaky legs betray you as Soonyoung pulls you back down, the slurping sound from his mouth obscene as you twitch in his hold. “S’too much…”

Pushing his head back, you pry yourself out of his hold, shakily settling yourself next to him. You take a glance at him, his eyes closed as the back of his hand wipes his mouth. “Am I forgiven?”

“You were never in trouble, Soonie.” You roll your eyes, flopping your head against his shoulder. He scoffs, “You’re my best friend. I’m pretty sure I can tell when you’re upset with me.”

Hearing you huff, he knows he’s right. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t need to finish?” You murmur, eyeing the strain of his cock against his sweatpants.

He shakes his head, “I don’t deserve it right now. I hurt you, and that was shitty of me.”

You sigh. “So what does this mean?”

“It means I want to be exclusive. You’re the only girl I hang out with, anyway.” He shrugs, a pained look on his face as adjusts himself in his pants. You feel some guilt settle in your stomach at this, and you shake your head. “I don’t think we should keep doing this, actually.”

He glances down at you, before you sit up and slide off your bed. You move back to your dresser, digging out random clothes and pulling them on as he stares.

“What?”

“I want to focus on school.” You wince as the sentence slips past your lips. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to — but it was also because he’d be your TA next semester. Better to cut the cord now than continue to put yourselves at risk of being found out.

“So you’re…what? Are we still friends?”

You look over at him, an obviously hurt expression on his face as he brings his knees to his chest. “Of course we’re still friends, Soonie.”

He nods, tonguing his cheek as he stands up. “Sure thing. I’m sorry if my expectations made you uncomfortable.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he grabs his shoes at the door, and you blink at him.

“You’re not…You’re leaving?” You gape, and he gives you a quizzical look. “What, did you want to cuddle?”

It doesn’t have any malice behind it. His tone is level, it’s friendly. But you can’t help and feel a bit small at his words. He gives you a curt nod. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

And he closes the door behind him. You scoff out a breath, feeling a tear spill down your cheek as you run your hands through your hair. It’s still damp at the roots, and you just shake your head to yourself as you remember the bag he set on your desk.

You click your tongue at it, before ripping it open. It’s a Jellycat octopus in blue and a handmade card. It has doodles of fish all over it in colored pencil, and an angelfish holding a badly drawn tiger in the corner. You open it to see his handwriting messily scrawled across the cardstock.

Hi, Kitty.

I assume by this point you’ve seen the photos on BTOU, and I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you all week. I saw them on Wednesday morning right when I was going to leave to ask if you wanted to get breakfast with me, so I made the dumbass decision to just ghost entirely. It was an asshole move and I’m sorry.

I did want to talk to you, though. And it’s totally fine if you don’t agree, I just figured I’d give it a shot?

The two of us are…relatively close. I mean, I can’t think of anyone I trust more than you…you’ve seen me in various stages of my life. Uhm, I’m not ready for a relationship but I’m also unsure if we’re on the same page about that, so I wanted to ask if we could, for the rest of the year, make this an exclusive…situation? I don’t see other people and neither do you?

I guess that’s like dating. We can talk about it more in person, if you want. Maybe we can come to a consensus and I don’t know. But you get me, right? You always get me.

Anyway. I’m sorry. And I hope you’ll accept this card and the little octopus guy as a token of my sincere appreciation for you. I named him Inky Minaj, but feel free to change it.

Yours (hopefully),

Hoshi ♡🐯

You don’t realize you’re crying until you see a tear drop right onto his doodle of a tiger next to his name. The octopus stares back at you, and you sniffle as you put it on your bed.

This is for the best. It has to be. Kwon Soonyoung cannot like you and you cannot like him.

January 13th.

“Hello, everyone! I am Professor Kwon, and this is Zoology!”

The dreaded class was finally here.

You and Soonyoung were a bit awkward at first — sure, the initial sting of rejection made him distance himself a bit, but he got over it pretty quickly. He came over to the house often, bringing takeout with him and new documentaries he’d rented from the university’s library. He always stayed at least a foot away from you — in early December, he’d accidentally kissed you in greeting, leading the rest of the hangout to be full of unresolved tension.

So much so that he left early.

Aside from that incident, it was like the two of you had never seen each other naked. You both scrunched your noses at your friends’ jabs, leaving them with confused looks. Minghao was the one to tell the frat brothers the news that the two of you were no longer sleeping together.

Minghao also knew that you had a raging heart boner for Soonyoung. He was all you’d talked about in the passing weeks — Minghao even subjected his family to your babble about Soonyoung when he answered your FaceTime calls over winter break. He sighed as you droned on about the man, but allowed it anyway.

“This is my Teacher’s Assistant, Kwon Soonyoung. You will be seeing more of him than of me this year, I have a very crammed schedule. This being said, Soonyoung will go through the syllabus with you and the first lesson of the semester. I will be here on Wednesday, so don’t fret! You still get to have one-on-one time with me.” Professor Kwon smiles, and you glance at Soonyoung, who is already looking at you. You raise your brows, and he shrugs, making a smoking motion.

He’s stoned.

Professor Kwon bids her goodbyes, leaving a very stoned Soonyoung to take over her class. A few girls in the front (that you don’t recognize) are giggling as he passes out the paper syllabus.

“Kitty.” He murmurs with a soft smirk as he slides your paper on your desk, and you scowl. “Shut up.”

He just smiles as he starts walking around and talking about the syllabus — how you can only miss six classes this semester but if you’re nice, he’ll count you present anyway. How his favorite lesson is the one about the three-spined stickleback fish, and how it’s refreshed at least three or four times throughout the course. He talks about how he fully believes that the Bubonic Plague was an experiment made by the government to kill innocent rodents and that his office hours are generally whenever, just shoot me an email.

The class wraps up rather quickly, with Soonyoung assigning reading based on the ethology of geese. You snort at it, hiking your bag over your shoulder as everyone starts to file out. He grabs your elbow as you walk past him, earning a few looks from the girls who had been giggling earlier — and drapes his arm over your shoulders as the two of you saunter out together.

“What the fuck was that for?” You ask as he walks the both of you towards your place, and he shrugs. “They were staring a little hard.”

“What, so I’m your saving grace?” You roll your eyes, but don’t push him away as he tucks you further into his chest. Soonyoung had always been touchy, so you didn’t care. “Of course. I don’t want to deal with a bunch of sophomores hitting on me.”

“Oh, because Kwon Soonyoung, frat boy and resident weed dealer is sooo desirable.” You mock, and he snorts. “I mean, you fucked me for a year, I would hope I’m desirable.”

You elbow him right in the ribs, making him let out a pained noise as he smacks your arm lightly. “What’d you do that for?! I’m not wrong!”

“Whatever! Anyway, are you going to the stoplight party this weekend? We’re hosting.” You ask, fishing your phone out of your pocket to send him the invite. “Oh, I’m not sure. I'm gonna take Seungkwan out for dinner on Thursday, and I’m probably hanging out with Luda on Saturday.”

He stretches, and you feel your stomach sink.

Lee Luda was what the campus referred to as a frat sweetheart. Her family had a huge legacy of going to SNU, and her father actually owned the property where the Alpha Psi Delta fraternity house was built. She was very close with the entire fraternity and had been involved in their charity and party planning since she was a freshman, her ex-boyfriend being a junior and her brother a senior when she was elected.

She was very sweet, very smart and extremely pretty. You'd gotten to know her a bit last year, she was a Biology major and you shared a lot of the same courses.

“Oh. They’re throwing a birthday party for Juyeon, right?” You nod as he does the same, before looping your arms together. “Come on, I’ll treat you to lunch and you can tell me how good I did on my first day as your TA.”

“What is it with you and ratings?”

He just laughs, pulling you closer again. You pretend your cheeks don’t burn at the proximity and the soft scent of his cologne.

January 18th.

It seemed the first week back from holidays really did a number on the student body — nearly everyone who came to the stoplight party hosted by your sorority was white-girl wasted. Seungkwan profusely cried over the little cupcake you presented him, apologizing for his birthday being on a Thursday. He took it and you later found him with strawberry frosting all over his chin and mouth.

It was well past two in the morning, and the party was still going pretty strong. You, Momo and Yerin were running around topping off drinks and manning stations, and you had sent Chan and Minghao to get more liquor from the store down the road. They were the only sober ones amongst the Beta Tau brothers, and Mingyu was dancing on the coffee table with Wonwoo and Jun — all of them wasted off Pink Whitney.

That damn Pink Whitney.

You roll your eyes as you clean up, humming along to Kid Cudi when you sense a disturbance in the force.

“Hey!” You hear someone shout over the music, and you turn to see Soonyoung, Luda and Juyeon next to you. Soonyoung and Luda have grabbed yellow cups, and Juyeon has a red one. You see a few more of the Delta brothers stroll in behind them, helping themselves to the alcohol on your table.

“Hey! What’re you guys doing here? I thought you were celebrating Juyeon!” You shout back, and Luda shrugs. “Yeah, well Sangyeon and Hyunjae said you guys were having a stoplight! You don’t mind, right? Hyunjae said you were cool!”

You shake your head, gesturing to the bottles. “Not at all! Help yourselves, but Minghao and Chan should be back soon with more Malibu and Svedka.”

Luda gives you a cheery smile and grabs for the Everclear, and you bid the men behind her a quick goodbye as you continue into the kitchen to clean up. You grimace at the sight of vomit in the corner by your pantry, and you open your fridge to get out some baking soda when you see Soonyoung’s feet in front of you.

You glance up at him, seeing a quizzical look as you grab the baking soda. “What’s up, Hosh?” You ask, before squatting by the vomit to sprinkle the baking soda on it.

“You’re wearing red!” He says, gesturing to your red dress. You look down at the dress you were wearing — you’d bought it last year, and wore it to his birthday dinner. He’d stared at you the entire evening before dragging you out to his car and fucking you in the parking lot.

Safe to say that neither of you went back into the restaurant.

“Oh, this? I just don’t feel like flirting tonight.” You shrug, and he leans against the counter when you speak again. “You have a yellow cup! Why?”

“Seeing someone here and there.” He shrugs, and you nod, choosing to swallow your questions. When the fuck did he even find the time?

“Nice!” You exclaim, putting the wet sign over the vomit and deciding to deal with it later. You stand, tugging your dress down your legs a bit more before giving him a curt nod and exiting the kitchen.

Minghao and Chan had arrived and helped Yerin and Momo haul in the liquor, stacking it across the table in the dining area. Hyunjae and Sangyeon had joined Vernon, Jihoon and Seokmin in playing beer pong on the second floor, and you hauled ass up the stairs to join in. Vernon is holding a lit joint between his fingers as he makes the bitch cup, a scowl on his face as Sangyeon chuckles.

“Hey, Vern. Can I take a hit?” You tap his shoulder, and he hands it to you before ruffling your hair. “Hey, pretty. Why’re you here? Not having fun downstairs?”

“Shut up and drink your bitch cup.” You roll your eyes, and he smirks as he downs the cup. He rearranges his cups into a different shape, and Sangyeon sinks a few as you finish off Vernon’s spliff.

“Damn, what’s got you so stressed out?” He asks, taking what's left and popping it between his lips. “Ugh, nothing. I’m just annoyed.” You roll your eyes as their game ends, and you grab a few beer cans to start a new one.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone, Y/N!” You hear Hyunjae call from the end of the table, and you just smile and shake your head. “I’m not! I just don’t feel like dry humping a stranger tonight.”

“I’m not a stranger.” Sangyeon says, and you look up at him. He’s peering at you over his cup, the green reflecting off his silver watch. “You’re right.” You shrug, and finish pouring the cups.

“Way to be subtle.” Vernon rolls his eyes, and you smirk. “Don’t worry, Nonnie. You’ll find someone tonight.” Pinching his cheek, you shove him with your hip and settle between him and Jihoon, who steadies you with his hand ghosting over your back. Seokmin makes the first shot for the other team, the ball bouncing into the first cup.

You play for a bit, grimacing every time you down the cups of beer. Eventually, you decide it’s time to just chill in the lounge, and Sangyeon, Jihoon and Hyunjae agree. Seokmin and Vernon admit they’re probably going to raid the fridge for snacks, and you give them a go-ahead as the other men follow you up to the lounge on the third floor.

You see a few of your sisters there, including Jennie and one of the graduated Beta Tau Sigma brothers, Taehyung. They’re canoodling on one of the beanbags, and she glances up at you as you flop onto the couch on the other side of the room.

“Hey, Y/N.” She calls gently, and you look up to see her holding her thumb up, moving it down to see how you’re feeling. You hold a thumbs up, and she nods, returning to her boyfriend. The guys that came with you are sprawled across the floor, with Sangyeon being the only one on the couch with you.

“The room is spinning.” Hyunjae pouts, and you let out a laugh when you hear the door open, looking up to see Vernon and Seokmin with their hands full of snacks, and Soonyoung in after them. He holds up a bag of pre-rolls, and you hold your hand out.

“Is that how you ask, kitty?” Soonyoung rolls his eyes, fishing one out as you kneel on the couch, pushing the window behind you open. He tugs your skirt down a bit, and you turn back around to see him lighting the joint for you. “It’s lemon balm. I know you like those the best.”

“Thanks, Kwon.” You nod, taking it between your fingers as he sits on the floor, moving his head to be cradled by your knees. Your heels dig into his chest, and he peels off your shoes and tossed them to the side. Jennie and Taehyung slip out, with Jennie giving you a thumbs up once more. Once you mirror it, she’s out.

The group is quiet, seemingly trying to come down from their drunkenness when Sangyeon speaks. “Why kitty?”

“Huh?” Soonyoung looks up, and Sangyeon takes a sip from his cup. “You called Y/N kitty. Why?”

“Oh. I was a cat at the Halloween party we met at.” You shrug, and you notice Soonyoung’s brows furrow a bit. “That, and she has a kitty tattooed on her hip.”

You swat his shoulder, making him giggle when Sangyeon nods with wide eyes. “And how do you know that?”

“They used to fuck.” Vernon speaks up, popping a cheese curl into his mouth with the utmost nonchalant shrug. You gape at him, and he shoots you a wink. “Thanks, Hansol. Air out my business, why don’t you?”

“Okay. She also-”

Jihoon claps his hand over Vernon’s mouth, and you roll your eyes as you offer the joint around the group. Hyunjae declines, handing it to Sangyeon. He gives you a glance, seeing you’re already looking at him.

"Isn't Hoshi the Zoology TA? Can't you guys get in some kind of trouble for that?" Hyunjae calls from the floor, making Soonyoung roll his eyes and Sangyeon clears his throat next to you. You glance at him, a stoney look on your face as you gesture to the lit joint in his hand. You're sure they want an answer – but if Soonyoung doesn't say anything, you sure as shit won't.

Taking the hit, Sangyeon passes it back to you and blows the smoke up and out. “That’s really smooth. Do you make these yourself, Hosh?”

“Yeah. It’s just a hobby.” He shrugs, lighting his own up and holding it between his lips. You roll your eyes, “This is also the same guy who rescues kittens for freshmen, teaches a dance class from seven to eight and a self-defense class from eight to nine every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Oh, that’s actually pretty cool. How much do you sell for?” Sangyeon asks, his eyes a little lower as he looks at you instead of Soonyoung, who is glaring. “I don’t, it’s free.”

“I tell him that he’s a horrible business magnate, Mr. President.” You tilt your own joint at him, and he smiles. “Mr. President?”

“Yeah! Aren’t you the Alpha Psi Delta President? I thought I heard about that from Luda last year.” You rest your head on the couch cushion, and notice the way he bites his lip as his eyes trail your body, before he meets your eyes with a nod.

You’re not the only one who notices.

Clearing his throat, Vernon tries to cut the weird tension in the air. “How about we play a game? Truth or dare, or something?”

“I’m the only girl up here, you better not make me do weird shit or your ass is grass.” You threaten, making him smile widely. “Why, I’d never—”

“Shut up, you were the same one who dared her to streak last year.” Seokmin shoves Vernon, and the group hears the door open — Luda, Minghao and Chan trail in with Yerin and Momo in tow.

“Hey, guys!” Luda greets, and you feel Soonyoung nearly rip himself away from you to greet her. “Hey, Lu.”

“What’re we doing up here?” She asks, taking a seat next to Soonyoung. You grimace inwardly, before feeling Sangyeon’s hand on your knee. He gives you a look that says fix your face, and you inch closer to him now that Soonyoung is literally feet away from you.

“We were gonna do a round of truth or dare.” Jihoon pipes up from the floor, and you smile as the guy covers his eyes. Luda grins, “I’m in! Who’s gonna start?”

You wait until everyone settles, but you catch Minghao’s eyes. He gives you a confused look, his gaze darting to Sangyeon’s hand on your lap. You give him a hard look, and he just shakes his head as Hyunjae sits up to start the game.

“Okay, Luda.” He clears his throat, and she sits up at the sound of her name. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Boring!” Momo pipes up, and a soft giggle spreads through the group. Sangyeon inches a little closer to you, his thigh now touching yours as he rests his hand a little higher on your leg. It’s subtle enough. “What’s your body count?”

She snorts. “Four. Isn’t yours in the double digits?” She teases Hyunjae, who scoffs. “Uh, not that it’s any of your business, but my body count is three.”

The group laughs again, and you find yourself leaning your head against Sangyeon, who props his arm behind you. “Okay, uhm…Y/N!”

You hear Luda call your name, and you give her a wiggle of your brows. “Hit me.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Let’s go…truth. I’ll play it safe.” You shrug, and she smiles. Almost like a cheshire cat, like she knows all your secrets. “Would you sleep with anyone in this room?”

You look around, getting a suggestive brow wiggle from Seokmin and bursting into laughter. “Yeah. I mean, I have. It wouldn’t be weird, I think.”

“Oh, really? Who?” She probes, and you shake your finger at her. “It’s Truth or Dare, not Truth and Explain Yourself.”

She laughs, and you look around the room for your target. “Vernon, truth or dare?”

“I’ll bite, give me a dare.” He pops another cheese curl in his mouth, and you feel your lips tug up at the corners. “I dare you to text Jisun and tell her your feelings for her.”

“Is this payback for last year? It was either that or skinny dipping.” He says pointedly, and you only shrug. “Text her or you’re a wimp.”

“It’s like, twenty degrees outside, Y/N. What if I just streak and risk getting pneumonia?” He feigns distress, and you feel Sangyeon’s fingers gently caressing your shoulder. Is this foreplay?

“Alright, we can do a dare for a dare. Give me something to do, and if I chicken out, you don’t have to text her.” You take a hit of your joint, leaning forward and feeling Sangyeon’s arm fall down your back, fingers now holding your hip lightly. Vernon sees this, clicking his tongue. “Fine. I dare you to makeout with Sangyeon.”

You blink at Vernon, hearing the group collectively ooooh. You scoff, “That’s it? That’s tame as hell, Hansol.”

“You can’t fuck him.” He states, and you smile. “I’m only a woman, Vernon. I have needs.”

“Is anyone going to ask Sangyeon if he’s okay with that?” Luda interjects, and you can sense a bit of a bite in her tone. Sangyeon shrugs, “If Y/N’s cool then I’m cool.”

“How will we even know if they made out? They could lie.” She tries, and you smile at her. “I’m not shy, if you want to watch or something.” You tease, watching her cheeks turn beet red. She shakes her head, and Vernon gives you a pointed look.

“So? What do you say, pipsqueak?”

“Prepare to admit your feelings to the love of your life, Chwe.”

You get up, tugging Sangyeon up with you. You feel a pair of eyes on you, but when you glance over your shoulder, you see Soonyoung glaring at the two of you as you open the door. “We’ll be back.”

You lead him to your bedroom down the hall, hearing him clear his throat as you push the door open and are met with darkness. You fumble with the lamp on your desk for mood lighting, and he smiles down at you.

“We don’t have to.” He murmurs, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. His fingers aren’t as soft as Soonyoung’s. You shake your head, “If you’re down, I’m down. It’s been a while.”

He just smiles, tilting your head to meet your lips halfway. His lips are softer…you kind of miss the chapped feeling. You sigh into the kiss, your hands moving to his waist as he moves the two of you towards your bed. His hands trail down your waist, cupping your ass as he falls back onto your bed, pulling you on top of him. He groans softly as you adjust in his lap, and you feel his hips cant up.

"Sorry, sorry." He mumbles, making you laugh. "Eagerness is never a bad thing." The kissing is fine. It's a little desperate, a little messy as you grind down on him, but it's not Soonyoung. You pull away, a pout on your lips as the heady feeling of him against your core fills your head. "Not into it, huh?" He asks, and a part of you thinks he's admitting to it, too.

"You like Luda, don't you?" You ask pointedly, and his eyes go wide. "How the fuck–" "Kind of hard not to notice when she's jumping the gun to save you from my grasp." You laugh, rolling off him to stare at your ceiling. Your arm brushes something soft, and you glance up to see the Jellycat octopus from Soonyoung, Inky Minaj.

"How long did you and Hoshi sleep together?" He asks, and you sigh. "About a year. We were playing some stupid game of cat and mouse for my first three years as a student here, then we fucked at the Halloween rager the frat holds every year. Neither of us remembered it, so we fucked the next morning and the rest is history."

He looks at you, and you peer at him through low eyes. "What?" "Nothing. Just kind of sounds like you like him." He says matter-of-factly, and you snort. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I kind of lied to myself for a while. I guess…I think once I realized that maybe he was starting to like me, I stopped it. I don't know. And him being my TA for Zoology definitely made me want to tread lightly."

He nods, shifting uncomfortably. "Luda slept with him a few weeks ago. Around my birthday, I think." You shoot up almost immediately, turning to face him. "Luda and Soonyoung slept together? When? When is your birthday?" His face contorts into one that speaks I fucked up. "You didn't know? I thought you guys were like, best friends?"

"When, Sangyeon?" You probe, slapping his knee as he grimaces. "I don't know, like the eighth of November? I was out of town." "That son of a bitch." You scoff, and stand up. "Well. Let's go. I need Vernon to hop off my dick about his feelings and hop on Jisun's about them." "Maybe we should wait until you're not upset, Y/N." He says gently, and you groan. "I'm not upset, Soonyoung can fuck whoever he wants, whenever he wants. I'm not his keeper." "But you want to be, don't you?" He says pointedly, and you huff in response. "Come on, Mr. President. I've got a point to prove, and it's that I don't need Kwon Soonyoung to get laid." "We all already know that, pretty." He rolls his eyes, allowing you to lead him out. He shuts your door, and makes it a big show of fixing your skirt and wiping his lips of your gloss as you open the door to the lounge. Soonyoung and Luda are draped across the couch, and you lock eyes with him the moment you step inside the room. Minghao, unable to read the room for the first time, turns and cheers.

"Woo! How was it?" He asks, taking a swig from the bottle of Pink Whitney that somehow made its way upstairs. "Pretty good." You admit shyly, feeling Sangyeon sit on the ground with you. He pulls you onto his lap, and you give Vernon a knowing look.

"You gotta do it, Chwe." "Oh, come on! You hate me!" "I don't hate you, but I sure am tired of hearing you mope about Jisun." "How are you even coherent right now? You had two spliffs and a shitload of beer." You smile, wiggling your fingers for his phone. "Give it here, Chwe." He groans, handing it over to you. You unlock it, not unable to shake Soonyoung's eyes off you. You know he's eyeing the man holding you, because he shifts under you and even brushes the hem of your dress. You smirk to yourself as you scroll to Vernon's conversation with Jisun, seeing a pre-drafted message sitting in the text box.

Msg To: Roh Jisun (the loml who doesn't know she's the loml yet)

[4:31am] hi jisun. i just wanted to say that uhh i've liked you for a while and i know it's late (or early….wtv you prefer) and i do not expect you to answer this at all (because i'm a wimp) but if it's not a bother, i'd like to take you out. to dinner, maybe, or whatever you'd like to do. i know you like making jewelry, though, i know this cool jeweler in the city who does like,,,classes. maybe? sorry this is so awkward i'm nervous.

You read over it, and look at Vernon. He's blushing deeply, and you smile softly. "Just send it, Nonnie." "What if she says no?" "What if she says yes?" Momo speaks up, and you see her also taking a sip from the bottle of Pink Whitney. The group echoes her, and Vernon sighs. "Okay, fine. Fine! I'll send it and if she says no I'll just…act normal." He turns the screen to face everyone, pressing send with his ring finger and fully launching the phone across the room. "Well! That's that!" He smiles, reaching for the bottle of Pink Whitney and taking a long drink.

"Who's next?"

February 7th.

Zoology with Soonyoung was not nearly as bad as you thought it was going to be. He stayed true to his word – if you were cool, he marked you present. If you were a douche, he marked you absent. His office hours were erratic, and you found it increasingly difficult to get a hold of him for the first few classes. He was always helping another classmate, or busy with his classes at the dance studio.

In other news, Sangyeon was avoiding you like the fucking plague. You'd waved at him a few days after the party, when you noticed a bruise blooming on his cheekbone. He greeted you quickly, before leaving you practically in the dust. Luda was also increasingly cold to you, but you just assumed it was over one of the boys – whether it was Soonyoung or Sangyeon was beyond you.

Vernon actually managed to woo Jisun. She was charmed by his general awkwardness, and when she texted you about it, you laughed and told her that it was the most outward emotion you'd seen him exude since you'd known the guy. She laughed and said he was sweet, and that she'd let you know how the date went. Vernon screamed in your messages about it and stated "I hope you get the best head in the world."

Speaking of getting the best head in the world, you finally caught Soonyoung in the hallway today, asking him if you could have an impromptu study session in the library later. He sighed, checking his watch and agreeing rather reluctantly. You grimaced, and told him you didn't have to ask him, you could very well just join the Zoology study group that met twice a week.

He apologized and said he'd book the study room for five, and that he'd meet you there.

Well, it's now six and the two of you have done nothing but bicker. You'd asked about Lorenz and what he meant about the transposibility of key stimuli, to which he'd just scoffed and said that you'd know all about key stimuli.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" You spit, and he just shook his head. "Whatever. Key stimuli is just something that can trigger specific sensory information in an animal's brain. So certain shapes, colors, sounds, even gestures and behaviors can trigger an animal to act in a certain manner." You sucked your teeth, jotting down his words before speaking. "Do you know what happened to Sangyeon?" He almost snaps his neck looking up at you, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. "No? Why does that even matter, aren't we supposed to be studying?" You raise a brow at him, "Why are you so defensive, dude? I'm just asking you if you know what happened. He and Luda have been avoiding me like I have lice." "Get a monkey." He shrugs, looking back down at his phone. He's scrolling mindlessly, and you huff as you put down your pen. "Alright. What's the problem, Soonyoung?" He winces slightly, before shaking his head. "Don't know what you mean. Do you understand now? Or do you still need to understand the difference between key stimuli and releasers? People have been asking all week about that." You frown, feeling your throat a bit tight as you sit up. "Why are you acting like this?" You murmur, and he must hear something in your voice that makes him look up. "Acting like what?" "Like you can't stand to be in the same room as me." "That's not true." He rolls his eyes, and you scoff. "It sure seems like it. I ask you a question about class, you're rude. I mention Sangyeon and Luda, you're annoyed and irritated. Did I do something? Are you upset with me?" It seems your prodding has been more of you poking the bear, because he sucks his teeth and slides his phone onto the table. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am upset with you. And you did do something." "Okay? So tell me what it is so we can fix it." You state, and he laughs dryly. "We? There is no we in you and Sangyeon making out like a pair of lovesick idiots at the stoplight party. He was practically eye fucking you the entire time you were together."

"I don't see what the hell that has to do with you, Soonyoung." You retort, and he shakes his head. "I just don't understand why you'd make me feel like there was something between us and then go and make out with some other guy. He likes Luda, you know, so it's not like it would have gone anywhere." His tone is bitter, and you can recognize he's saying all of this to hurt your feelings. Maybe because he's hurt, and he feels disappointed in his own choices. Nonetheless, it gets under your skin and hits just the right bullseye for you to explode.

"Where the fuck do you get off telling me what I can and can't do with my life, Soonyoung? You and I both agreed that this wasn't mutually exclusive, and Sangyeon and I just made out! You and I haven’t even fucked since we stopped last year, so I don't understand why your panties are in a twist!" You exclaim, and he scoffs out a breath of disbelief.

"You know what, maybe this entire thing was a fucking mistake. I should've never asked for there to even be an 'us', because if I knew I was going to feel this way knowing that you can just do whatever or whoever you want–" You cut him off before he can finish. "Is that what you think I'm doing? I've literally rejected so many people in just the past year because you were acting like you couldn't live without me! So what if I kissed Sangyeon? So what if I did? Forgive me for thinking that maybe you changed your mind about me and how you felt about me after you slept with Luda! You're not the only one who felt led on, you know?!" Your breathing is heavy as you finish yelling, with Soonyoung blinking at you, ears red. "You know about that?" His voice is almost ashamed. Almost.

"If you didn't want to make this an exclusive thing, or make the people around us think we were together, you should've stopped pulling me into random bedrooms to fuck and kissing me in the kitchen of the frat. Maybe don't buy me a Jellycat Octopus and say you want to be exclusive with me if you're just going to pull this sort of shit." You feel tears sting your eyes as you rip your bag off the chair in front of you, feeling your throat tighten as you grab your remaining things off the table. "Y/N-" "You know, it may be taking you five years to finish your degree, but I want to finish mine on time. Have a good life, Soonyoung. Don't call me." You spit, watching his jaw drop slightly before tightening. "I won't." "Good." "Great." "Fine."

He watches as you slam the door behind you, feeling his stomach sink damn near into the ground as he sees the sweater you were wearing still hanging across the back of your chair. "Fine."

February 14th.

It'd been a week since your fight with Soonyoung.

He'd unfollowed you on Instagram, and seemingly decided to pretend as though you didn't exist. He didn't acknowledge you if you were over at the frat for Minghao, and he certainly didn't speak to you. You'd asked him to pass you the salt when you'd gone over yesterday for a Valentine's dinner party with the brothers, and he just left the table without a word. It was embarrassing enough that you asked Minghao to walk you home.

What you didn't know was that the fellow girlfriends of his frat brothers spoke to him about his behavior. Sana and Jisun called Sowon over FaceTime and even had Seungcheol talk to him, and he stood there and took the scolding like a puppy with his tail between his legs. Seungcheol told him that his behavior towards you wasn't going to get you to forgive him, much less be with him and that he understood that Soonyoung felt negatively about your actions – but that Soonyoung cannot be upset about it because he had his chance and he blew it by making out with Yujin at the Halloween party.

Talk about key stimuli. Bad behavior does not get rewarded.

He'd been left with his own thoughts after that, and he stared at all the little trinkets he had that reminded him of you. The sweater you left in the library was hung over his desk chair, and it still smelled of your citrusy perfume. The piggy bank you got him for his birthday was sitting on his bookshelf, still stuffed full with new bills you put in before giving it to him. You'd also given him a few items of clothing that reminded you of him, one of which being an oversized black sweater with your initials embroidered in the sleeve. He frequently wore it unless he was sure he'd be seeing you.

He didn't know why. It just felt nice to…feel like he belonged to you.

"Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!" He's standing in front of the class, and the sophomore girls in the front of the room coo at his cheerfulness. You're sitting behind them, a sour expression on your face as he dims the lights, a baggy navy cardigan draped over your shoulders. You didn't like that one as much as the one you'd left in the library.

"In honor of this pseudo holiday, we're going to go over the most romantic of animals. Consider this a free class, because this is definitely not on the syllabus or in the curriculum, I just like to talk about it." He smiles, and the group of girls aww again, and you make a face as he turns the projector to the next slide.

"Naturally, you have the ones you've heard of the most. Penguins, seahorses, swans, and doves. Shit, even elephants are said to mate for life, and become extremely depressed if their lover suddenly passes or, in some cases, just up and leaves. But my favorite?"

He changes the slide, seeing your eyes widen as your favorite fish fills the screen.

"The French Angelfish mate for life. Monogamy isn't usually practiced amongst observed populations of fish, though. So much so that there is an analogy called the Fish Love Analogy. This is when your partner can meet all your needs, both emotional and physical, but ultimately only turns into an object of desire." You frown at this, but he changes the slide.

"French Angelfish are rarely seen alone, as once they've mated, they're inseparable. It's really quite beautiful and it proves that animals are sentient beings." He smiles slightly, looking around to see everyone jotting down notes.

"What about you, Soonyoung? Do you believe in that stuff?" One of the sophomore girls speaks up, and he shrugs. "I do, yes. I think it's a beautiful thing, to fall in love and have that person forever. I think as humans, though, we forget to cherish what we have. That's why the rate of divorce is so high." You roll your eyes.

"Do you think you've found your forever, Soonyoung?" Another one of the girls asks, and he sighs. "You know, I have. I have found her, but I'm also a human that doesn't know how to cherish good parts of life. Animals are just wired to operate in a certain way, but giving humans free will has truly affected us as a society." He scoffs, earning a laugh from the class.

You're not smiling, but he sees your lips twitch slightly.

"What if she's not your Angelfish, though?" Someone from behind you speaks up, and he purses his lips. His eyes find yours, and he can practically feel them pierce through him.

"I doubt that she's not."

He turns back to the slides, proceeding to talk about how humans have romanticized doves and swans to be representative of love. He finishes the slides quickly, bidding everyone a happy Valentine's day once more and earning echoes of the girls telling him they hope he and his Angelfish figure it out. He thanked them, hitching his backpack over his shoulder as he held the door open for them.

He looks over them, spotting you still gathering your materials. You glance up at him, a silent communication of please wait for me from your eyes. He does, he waits as you walk down the steps and tug your cardigan around you tightly. He remembers when you bought it, he was with you and you were actually wearing the same dress you have on now, the long skirt now paired with platform boots so it doesn't drag on the floor. You slip out in front of him, and wait a few feet away as he locks the door. You stare at the floor as he falls into pace next to you, albeit a few feet behind. You're leading the way to somewhere, he notes, because you're not headed towards the frat or your place. He follows silently, never closing the gap between you as you turn into the veterinary hallway.

The graduating class last year had raised enough money to install an aquarium for viewing pleasure. It had all sorts of fish – including angelfish. You stopped in front of it, with him lingering a few feet behind and watching from afar. You point silently, the fish swimming past your hand and joining another.

"Which one are you?" You mumble, and he steps closer to you, but not enough to touch you. "Probably the male one." You snort, backing up slightly, your knuckles brushing as you clasp your hands behind your back.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, and he shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry." "Let's just agree we're both sorry." You shrug, and he sighs. "You shouldn't have to be sorry, though. I've always come off so strong, and I'm sorry if you felt like I was projecting my feelings onto you. You don't ever have to reciprocate if you don't want to." "Do you want me to?" You ask gently, watching the fish swim in circles. He hesitates, before nodding. "I don't think there is anything I want more." He murmurs, and you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Careful, I won't get you a gift for your birthday this year." You joke, but you see him sink slightly, before he's kneeling on the floor. "Soonyoung?" "I'm sorry I've been such an asshole, I know I don't deserve to be with you in any form." He hugs your knees, and you feel your cheeks flame as someone walks by you. "Soonyoung, get up." "Not until you forgive me." He squeezes your legs tighter, and a couple of girls walk by, gaping at the sight. "I forgive you! Just get up!" You grit, tugging his arm up and hurrying away from the hallway.

His eyes are teary as you pull him into a janitor's closet, making you scoff out a laugh as you wipe his eyes. "Oh, don't cry. I don't like seeing you cry." You say gently, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. His lips jut out in a pout as his hands come up to your wrists.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, and you roll your eyes. "Really?"

“Is that a no?” “I should make you grovel, honestly.” “I’m not above begging, you should know this.” “Just kiss me, you idiot.”

He does.

He does, and it's the warmest you'd felt in a long time. His lips are just as chapped as the last time he'd kissed you, his fingers just as soft as they held your face gently. You feel him press himself against you as his tongue slowly licks into your mouth. You play along, your fingers curling into his hair and tugging softly. He whines against your lips, making you smirk as you pull him away.

"Still wanna get on your knees?" You murmur, and he nods quickly as he sinks to his knees in front of you, and you clear your throat as he pulls your leg over his shoulder, pushing your skirt up to your hips. His breath is warm against your skin as he gasps, peering up at you from behind the bunched fabric. "You're not–" "You're about to yap yourself out of some ass, shut up." You roll your eyes, making him frown as his eyes disappear under your skirt, feeling his teeth nip at your thigh. You flinch, no longer used to his biting habits. "Be gentle." "Yeah, yeah. I don't tell you how to kiss other guys, don't tell me how to eat your pussy." He grumbles, and you go to argue before you feel his tongue circle your clit slowly. You sigh, feeling his free hand snake up to lace his fingers with yours. You hold his fingers tightly as he buries his face into your cunt, eagerly soaking up whatever you'll give him.

You cover your mouth with your free hand, feeling a bit of anxiety pool in your stomach as you hear students walk past the closet. He pulls you even closer, slurping obscenely when you hear someone stop in front of the door, murmured whispers and soft kissing sounds when the doorknob jiggles. You see Soonyoung's hand shoot to grab it, attempting to hold the door tightly shut as they pull.

He doesn't pull away when they yank the door open, leaving you to nearly topple as you yank your skirt down, hiding him beneath it. You're faced with Lee Chan and his girlfriend,Jung Haerim, lipstick smeared all over his face and neck as your own burns in embarrassment. His jaw drops, and you find yourself squirming away from Soonyoung's tongue as you shove him away.

Soonyoung pouts as he exits your skirt, a deep frown on his glistening lips as he looks at Chan. "Really, man?" "You're the one stealing my closet! You know this is my spot!" Chan argues as Soonyoung stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, your orgasm ruined and humiliation levels on 10. "You know, getting fucked in a mop closet shouldn't be something you're proud of." Soonyoung scoffs as he grabs your hand once more, tugging you out as Chan and Haerim blink at the two of you. She opens her mouth, holding up her finger before closing it, pressing her lips together. "Can't we just go to my place?"

"Should've thought of that earlier!" Soonyoung yells over his shoulder, picking up his pace as he hears Chan start after the two of you. You feel the awkward tension start to dissipate as you both bolt down the hallway, and you feel him take a sharp turn towards the fraternity. You hear Chan start yelling curse words before his footsteps stop, and the two of you just giggle to yourselves as you keep running towards the house.

Seeing the house come into view, the two of you quickly make your way up the steps and nearly slam into Seungcheol, who had come to visit (without anyone's knowledge.) He barely moves out of the way as you and Soonyoung barrel up the stairs, not even acknowledging a rather stoned Vernon and Jisun on the second floor landing before sliding into his room. It seemed both of you were on the same page about finishing what was started.

The room is full of clattering as you both undress, and your books are thrown to the side as his hands pull you to him before you both topple onto his bed. His lips are instantly on yours, but it's too chaste – and you hear him murmur something before he presses his lips to yours again.

"I love you." You scoff out a laugh, before you see the seriousness in his eyes. Blinking, you sit up a bit, your fingers trembling as you gently stroke his cheek. He nibbles his lip, and you can feel another laugh bubble in your throat. His ears tinge pink as you laugh, pulling him back down to your level, nuzzling your nose against his softly.

"I love you, too."

His eyes widen, and you swear he stops breathing before you tap him gently. "Hosh? You there?" He blinks, his hand tightens reflexively around your hip. "Yeah…I'm here."

You smile at him, tilting your head as you run your fingers through his hair. "You mean it, right? Do you love me?" "Let me be struck by Zeus himself if I'm lying."

The two of you laugh after a moment, and he swallows carefully. Neither of you make a move to get down to business, instead staring at each other like this was the last time you'd ever see each other. "You okay?" You murmur, and he shakes his head. "You love me." "You know, I figured it would be pretty obvious that I'd liked you well before we ever slept together." You say pointedly. "I'm still not forgiving you, though. You'll have to work for that." He quirks his brow at you, before pushing off you and flopping onto his back. You look at him, and he clears his throat. "M'lady, your throne awaits." "You're an idiot." "Your idiot, now come on. I've got to prove myself to you."

May 9th.

"Y/L/N Y/N."

Cheers are heard around the auditorium as your name is called, but not even your parents are as loud as your boyfriend amongst your graduating class. "THAT'S MY BABY!"

You feel your cheeks heat as everyone aw's and ooh's, hearing his fraternity brothers blow kazoos like idiots in the stands. The ceremony quickly came to an end as the last few names were called, the security attempting to diffuse crowds of people exiting. You found yourself looking for your boyfriend, finding him being embraced by Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua as his eyes searched for you.

Your relationship with Soonyoung was not perfect by any means. You nearly failed Zoology because he kept interrupting your studying to kiss you, often leading to other things before you would crawl out of his bed to your laptop on the desk, before being lured back in by your siren of a boyfriend. The two of you kept it under wraps best as you could, seeing if Professor Kwon found out (or anyone else, really) you could both get in trouble.

But, everyone seemed to finally be satisfied with the outcome. You and Soonyoung were set to go to grad school together, and everyone congratulated the two of you as you made your relationship official – posting each other freely on social media almost everyday. Coffee dates photographed on your story turned into study (and sex) sessions, his Instagram story was full of you in cute workout sets as you finally let him drag you to his Tuesday dance class. Your dashboard was full of him posting you as much as he could, captions of "my girlfriend!!!" and "me n u…get it? menu…#lovestagram" under a photo of the two of you at a diner.

Your sorority and his fraternity came together to host a graduation party for all the graduates, and you and Soonyoung were going to arrive together. You stare at him from your position near the doors, waiting for him to spot you. You'd both worn a soft pink under your white gowns, and his eyes scan the entire area before finally landing on you. He fights his way out of his friends' arms, and you hear him exclaim to them that he needs to find his girlfriend.

As he approaches you, you think of the tangled web that had been your relationship. A bit of jealousy wrapped in emotional unavailability and insecurities from the both of you, like a cricket held down by a spider's thread. You think about the chase, the game of cat and mouse that the two of you played as you kissed eagerly, a mess of tongues and spit before he'd have to slip away. You think about the first time he smoked you out, and how he'd laughed and held you tightly when you told him you felt like you were about to fall off the Earth.

You think about his growth as a person, about his growth as a man and his growth as your person. The person you found yourself drawn to since you'd stepped foot in Beta Tau Omega four years ago. The same person who bought you a new laptop and then took you out to dinner, the same person who immediately glued himself to you once he found out how much you had in common.

The same person who left when he felt like everything was too much by your side, only to admit his wrongs a year later and beg for your forgiveness on a roof in the middle of autumn. The same person who then slowly lured you into his sticky and tangled web of emotions and unspoken confessions, of kisses full of I love you and embraces screaming I missed you. The same person who said you're his angelfish, his person, his forever. The same person who realizes his mistakes and pushes his pride aside to apologize, even if it means the two of you end up a mess of spit and cum and tears. The same person who tells you now, every night, that he loves you and has done everything he can to prove it day by day.

"Hey, kitty." His smile is warm and full of mischief as his hand gently brushes your hair away from your face, revealing the earrings he gave you a few weeks ago. He thumbs at them softly, before pulling you in closely for a chaste kiss. You smile at him, knowing that this tangled mess is only the beginning of your forever with him. "Let's get out of here."

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tacoguacamole · 14 days ago

Text

ANOTHER TIME | JJK - 5

Summary: All you wanted was time. Time to love your husband. Time to feel him love you back. To see his smile again, not shadowed by grief and resentment. Time to share laughter instead of silence, warmth instead of distance. To feel his arms around you, not the cold of where he used to be. Time to hear “I love you too” before it’s too late. Time should’ve been simple.

But somehow, it always slips through your fingers just when you need it most.

[Pairing: Creative Director!Jungkook x Ceo!Female Reader]

[Theme: Marriage AU. BF2L2S]

[Warnings: Major Angst, Multiple Flashbacks and Time Jumps, Mature Theme, Smut, Mature/Explicit Language, A lot of fluff, Romance, Slowburn]

[Older JK, Older OC, Older Bangtan, Lawyer Seokjin and Namjoon, Doctor Yoongi, Event Planner Hobi, Solo idol Jimin, Secretary Taehyung, Brief cameos of Seventeen Mingyu, GOT7 Mark, Kook's a jerk and mean for the earlier chapters]

[Status: Ongoing]

[Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Chapter Word Count: 7k+]

[Note: This part has 4 settings. Again, several time jumps. You can read it per setting if it's too overwhelming. Kook character development? Push and pull between our leads is still there. Angst will always be there. Sorry, I live with the pain. Let me know what you think. Keep dropping your comments and theories. Thank you everyone for reading so far. For the support💜

[MINORS DNI! 18+]

The air between you settles like a held breath — the kind of quiet that doesn’t rush to be filled. Somewhere nearby, a bird rustles in the hedges, then flits away.

You nod toward the basket by your side, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “You planning on trading pastries for labor?”

Jeongguk takes a step closer, a small smile forming. “Thought it was a fair trade.”

Without asking, he crouches beside you, setting the paper bag gently on the table nearby. His jeans brush the hem of your skirt as he reaches into the basket, picking up the stray sprigs you hadn’t noticed. His movements are quiet, almost careful — like he’s not sure where he fits, but wants to try anyway.

You glance sideways, brow lifting. “The weekends are yours.”

He shrugs, fingers brushing dirt from a stem. “Didn’t feel like staying in.”

You don’t ask why. The reasons are too quiet to name. Instead, you reach for the rosemary. “Well. If you’re here, might as well put you to work.”

He chuckles softly, the sound gentle in the quiet garden. “Bossy.”

“Efficient.”

You move together — your hands leading, his following with that calm focus he’s always had, even if his fingers fumble sometimes. Not because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But because he’s not always looking at the plants.

You feel it. The way his attention shifts. Pauses.

“Don’t mangle the sage,” you murmur, nudging his elbow. “She’s sensitive.”

“Sounds familiar.” He’s already looking at you, smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

You look away quick, as if that was going to do anything with your abnormally beating heart.

A soft breeze passes, tugging at your shirt. Pulls a few strands of hair loose. You’re about to say something — maybe thank him, maybe point out a spot he missed — when your sight shifts slightly. Not dizzy. Not anything big. Just… a little off.

Jeongguk’s hand is at your arm instantly, firm but gentle. “You okay?”

You blink once, shake your head like you can brush it off. “Yeah. Just—stood up too fast.”

His eyes search yours. “You’re flushed.”

“It’s warm.”

“It’s not that warm.”

You force a small smile. “I’m fine, Gguk.”

He doesn’t believe it — not fully — but he lets it go, for now. His hand lingers at your elbow for a moment longer before he leans back slightly, giving you space.

“So,” you say, nudging the paper bag on the table. “These croffles any good?”

He breathes out, a quiet laugh hidden in the sigh. “For dessert? Absolutely.”

Inside, the change is soft — no hurry, no words needed. The garden fades away as the house wraps around you both again, like it’s trying to remember how things used to be.

The kitchen is filled with warm, golden light from the late afternoon. It slides over the counters, making the marble look soft and pale. You put the basket of herbs by the sink, your fingertips lightly touching the edge before you return to the doorway.

Jeongguk is already in motion — his sleeves rolled up, his shoulders loose. As if no time has passed. As if his hands still know the drawers, the rhythm, the quiet feel of your mother’s kitchen. The soft scrape of the cutting board, the tap of a pan on the stove, the faint sound of water running.

You lean against the frame, arms loose over your chest, just watching.

From the fridge, he pulls out eggs, leftover rice, a few vegetables. The herbs you just picked sit by the sink, waiting. It’s simple. But the way he moves — calm, confident, slow — makes your chest feel heavy.

Once, you would’ve sat on the counter beside him, bare feet swinging, teasing him between mouthfuls of half-cooked vegetables. You’d remember Christmas years ago here at your mother's house, sunlight pouring into the kitchen as you both laughed over spilled flour and tea. Then you would’ve poked at the pan, earned a warning glare before he pulled you close anyway.

Now, you stay back — not quite distant, just unsure.

Jeongguk glances at you over his shoulder, a strand of hair slipping across his forehead. “You’re quiet.”

You blink, caught. A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m letting you concentrate.”

He huffs, low and amused. “Right. That’s new.”

You wander in, fingers brushing the back of a chair, and sink into your seat by the counter. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything — just keeps moving with quiet efficiency. A dash of soy sauce. The soft flick of his wrist. A sprinkle of herbs across the pan.

The rhythm calms something in the room — softens the tension and fills the stillness.

“So…” you start, lightly, “should I be worried you’re trying to impress me?”

His lips twitch, almost like a smile. “Would it work if I was?”

You smooth a wrinkle in the tablecloth, avoid his gaze. But the warmth’s already creeping into your face.

By the time the food is plated — warm rice, a golden omelet draped gently on top, herbs scattered like a finishing touch — something has shifted. Loosened.

Jeongguk slides a bowl in front of you. When your fingers brush, neither of you pulls away too quickly.

The first few bites are silent, filled only with the soft clink of chopsticks and the sound of the stove ticking as it cools. You glance up once — then again — catching him mid-look, or maybe just as he’s turning away.

“It’s good,” you murmur. “You haven’t forgotten.”

He leans back, eyes lingering on you. “Did you think I would?”

You twirl your chopsticks between your fingers, lost in thought. “People forget things when they stop doing them.” A small shrug. “When they stop being close.”

The fridge hums softly behind you. Somewhere in the distance, children’s laughter rings out, then fades.

Jeongguk’s voice is quieter when it comes. “I didn’t forget.”

There’s a softness and steadiness in his eyes. A spark of something familiar too – something you remember from before all the pain, the lies, before things changed. It’s something you’ve missed. Something you’d never say out loud anymore. The small tears of happiness you quickly brush away say it for you.

He notices. Doesn’t mention it.

And you don’t explain.

Instead, the conversation shifts — toward safer things, gentler ones. You tell him about the vendor in Paris who won’t answer emails, the two-shades-too-dark fabric that threw off an entire board. You mimic your assistant’s panicked voice notes, and Jeongguk chuckles, low and real, one that wrinkles his nose and makes his eyes squint.

The dishes are done, counters wiped clean. The clock ticks somewhere behind you, the kitchen dimming into quiet, late afternoon slowly dipping into evening. There’s no hurry to end it — not really.

It’s Jeongguk who glances first toward the living room, hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s not sure if he should ask but does anyway.

“Want to… put something on?”

You pause — not because you don’t want to, but because you do. And that terrifies you because you know it’s just a piece of paper making you see things, feel things from him. Or is it? You’re not sure anymore.

Still, you nod, brushing a damp curl from your cheek.

The couch sinks gently as you both settle in, the TV flickering on with its familiar glow. Jeongguk lets you choose — or maybe he already guessed — because when the Avengers theme plays, he lets out a quiet, surprised laugh.

“Seriously?” he groans, grinning as he sinks into the cushions. “Out of all the movies out there?”

“You love it,” you shoot back, pulling the blanket over your lap.

He huffs. “Do not. Only watching this under protest.”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a grin, snuggling down. “Tell that to your collectible shelf.”

Jeongguk doesn’t argue—just laughs quietly and nudges your knee. He disappears shortly, then comes back with a paper bag. “Almost forgot dessert,” he pulls out two warm, golden croffles dusted with sugar. Hands you one, pride barely hidden. “Got these all the way from across the city, you know.”

You take a bite, lips curving around a soft hum of approval. “Still warm.”

“Told you,” he mumbles through his own mouthful. “Best croffles ever.”

As the movie plays, the room feels softer. You both share quiet comments, half-whispers that barely rise above the sound. A few gentle jokes. A shared laugh when the Hulk breaks through a wall. And when Tony says his last lines, the weight in the room shifts.

Jeongguk fidgets. There’s a quiet sniff. Rubs his eyes like it’s nothing.

You look at him, a small smile on your lips.

“Don’t,” he warns, eyes on the screen. “It’s the… onions. From dinner.”

“Oh yeah?” you whisper. “The ones you chopped, like, three hours ago?”

He groans, dragging a throw pillow over his face. “Fine. It’s the weather. Very dry in here. Terrible humidity.”

“Right,” you grin. “And by ‘weather,’ you mean ‘Tony Stark.’”

His muffled voice replies, “He’s a hero, okay? You just don’t get it.”

But you do.

You remember the action figures lined up like trophies in your college dorm. The Iron Man pajamas he’d throw on when you dragged him out for late-night ramen breaks during finals week. The bright red and gold socks — his lucky charm — that he wore to his first big interview. The extra pair he got for you, still tucked in your drawer somewhere.

But of course, you don’t say any of that. Just smile at this version of him— softer around the edges, still a little boyish in the ways that matter.

The credits roll, silver light flickering over the room, the music fading into the soft quiet of evening. You stretch your toes under the blanket, feeling the stillness settle — warm, easy, familiar.

Jeongguk shifts beside you, his knee brushing yours as he leans forward to reach for the remote. Doesn’t press stop. Just lets the music play out, fingers tapping absently against the edge of the coffee table.

“You should…” You’re not sure what you meant to say. That he should head out? That you should call it a night? That things slip back to the list you’ve created?

You tug the blanket a little higher, as if it could help hide the thoughts burning in your head.

Jeongguk leans back, arm resting behind you, his thumb brushing lightly over the cushion near your shoulder — not quite touching, not quite distant.

“Long day,” he says softly.

You nod, eyes growing heavy, the warmth of the room tugging at your limbs. He doesn’t attempt to head out. You don’t remind him.

Time passes like that — slow, quiet, almost paused. Your head dips slightly toward the couch armrest. His fingers move softly closer to you, just barely touching your hair, as if he’s trying to remember how it feels.

You think you hear him breathe out — not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh, something in between. Or maybe it’s just the house settling around you both.

Neither of you says goodnight. Neither of you say anything else.

And when your eyes finally close, and your head tips just a little closer toward his shoulder, Jeongguk shifts — only slightly — until the space between you is nothing at all.

Sleep still holds your limbs, your cheek warm where it rested on the couch cushion. A quiet stillness hangs in the room — soft light shining through thin curtains, the air filled with the smell of fresh coffee and something lightly sweet, like butter and sugar left on the plates.

You hear him somewhere in the kitchen, the soft creak of a cabinet opening, the clink of a spoon. From where you are, you can see the curve of his back as he leans over the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs.

Padding barefoot toward him, the chill of the floor becomes a quick wake-up call.

Jeongguk notices you before you say anything, his head turning slightly over his shoulder. “Morning.” He sets one of the mugs down for you. It’s the way you like it — just a splash of almond milk, no sugar.

“You cooked again?” The stove looks like it’s just gone out with the light heat fading into the kitchen.

Jeongguk rubs the back of his neck. For a second, you see that boy in the middle of your old apartment, waiting to confess to the love of his life. But then again, you’re too sleepy to know what you’re seeing.

“It’s just eggs. And toast. Nothing fancy.”

You take a bite anyway when he plates it for you, fork scraping gently against the ceramic. The eggs are fluffy, the toast a little too crisp, burnt on the edges, but warm and buttery all the same – just the way you liked it.

The thoughts in your mind grow harder to hold back.

Jeongguk staying the night wasn’t part of the deal. Neither was cooking meals. Neither was this breakfast. Nor choosing to spend the weekend with you when the list clearly says weekends are his—the one sliver of freedom you allowed him, a gesture meant to prove you weren’t trying to keep him. As much as that would’ve been the outcome your heart would gladly accept, you knew the weight of reality. And this… this wasn’t reality.

A small part of you likes it. Hell, you’ve missed this. Him. But it’s terrifying you that things are starting to feel almost easy again, like maybe you could forget everything that’s about to come.

“This isn’t what we agreed on, you know?”

Jeongguk pauses mid-sip of his coffee, lifting a brow like you’ve just accused him of a crime. “What’d I do now?”

You point at the plate in front of you. “This. Breakfast. You cooking for me. You cooking at all. It’s not on the list.”

He sets his mug down, eyes widening with mock offense. “Excuse you, the list literally says breakfast. It doesn’t say how breakfast should appear. Could’ve been cereal. Could’ve been toast shaped like a heart. There weren’t specifics.”

You narrow your eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Jeongguk raises a brow, grins, crosses his arms over his chest. “Technically, this doesn’t break any rules.”

“No?”

“No.” He reasons out. “We’re having breakfast. Breakfast is on the paper. Nowhere does it say though how breakfast should be presented. Breakfast.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, trying not to smile as you take another bite.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says, pushing off the counter to rinse his mug. “Those eggs didn’t scramble themselves.”

“They were too fluffy.”

“Too fluffy?” He turns around, hand dramatically on his chest. “They’re exactly how you’ve had them since Uni.”

Letting it go with a sigh, you nod slowly, give him a soft warning. “Just…don’t make a habit of this.”

“Of cooking?” he teases, tilting his head. “Because I was thinking pancakes next.”

“Gguk.”

He holds up both hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. No habits. No rules broken. Just... eggs.”

Your gaze stays fixed on the plate. It’s just eggs. But you know it’s never just eggs. “You should probably get going. Monday’s not gonna wait.”

Jeongguk pulls off a small smile. “Right. See you later.” Grabs his keys from the counter, tossing them once in his hand like he’s stalling, then heads for the door without another word.

The studio hums like a beehive on the edge of collapse — steam hisses from a press table, fabric whispers beneath hurried fingers, heels tap over taped floors marking invisible runways. The sharp scent of dye and starch clings to the air like nerves. A model adjusts a loose strap in the mirror, her mouth tight, lashes unblinking. A stylist crouches beside a rack of silk gowns, threading a needle with shaking hands.

“Where’s the backup for Look Nine?” someone snaps behind a screen divider.

“We already rotated her out,” someone else replies. “Too pale under the LEDs.”

Mark paces near the mood board, phone pressed hard to his ear. His voice is low but clipped, half in English, half in French, Korean getting mixed up in between too – it makes you laugh for a second. Until one look at the board tells you everything — pinned shots of another line, swatches curled at the edges from overhandling, and a red marker line slashing across today’s schedule like an open wound.

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs like it hurts. His phone drops from his hand into his pocket, conversation ended. He turns toward the monitors just as you quietly take your place beside him.

“Still surviving, old man?”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You texted me. Said the final look samples came back two inches short.”

Mark drags a hand through his hair. “That was an update, not a plea for help.”

“You sent three angry emojis.”

“Wasn’t supposed to take that as encouragement. I’m telling Yoongi.”

“Like that’s going to stop me.” You’re already taking off your coat, passing it over to your assistant. Another staff hands you a garment bag. Someone else gives you your tablet. There’s no time for hellos, barely enough space to breathe.

He’s already giving in. “You’re staying out of Look Twelve,” he mutters. “Too many pins at the hip.”

You flash a grin over your shoulder. “Noted, partner.”

The day doesn’t get better. As much as you’ve tried working through it, one crisis comes after the other. Someone’s panicking about Look Six — one of the models missed her last fitting and now the bodice won’t zip. There’s talk of skipping it entirely.

You grab a handful of safety pins off a tray, offering it to the nearest stylist without slowing. “Use the veil to hide the back seam.”

At some point, the espresso machine shorts out. Kills the power briefly in the west wing. Night is almost here, everyone’s tired and, coffee is essential to keep the team going. No one has time to fix it, so the assistants take turns running to a nearby café.

The shoot hasn’t even started yet. You stare at the draft board, then the open camera rig — one staff experimenting how to set up angles, another trying to color match without lighting presets. No real-time feedback. No edits. No visual anchors. It’s all guesses and rushed fixes.

“What the fuck are they doing?” You ask Mark who’s already frantically texting. Doesn’t need to look at what you meant. Knows you’re referring to the sorry excuse of a visual team. Unspoken things you’ve both developed working together for years.

“They’re trying to make it work.”

“That’s not their job.”

“It’s got to be. Creative and Visuals just bailed.”

You pull your hair back with one hand. “Unbelievable.”

“Something about their equipment being stuck in cargo. Won’t get here till 9:00 PM, if at all.” He exhales. “They called two hours ago. I didn’t want to say anything till I figured out options.”

You’re on the verge of tears after holding yourself together for most of the day. Exhaustion is taking over your body. The tteokbokki you ate hours ago is long gone, along with the visuals and creative team that’s gone too. Then you feel it — a slow warmth under your nose. You wipe it away without thinking, expecting sweat or your makeup melting from the heat. But it’s red. Wet.

Mark’s voice fades mid-sentence. “—you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tilt your head back slightly, already reaching into your pocket for tissue. Nothing there.

“Here.” He’s already tearing one from a kit bag. You take it without looking at him. “We could hold off—”

“No. We can’t delay.” You press the tissue harder to your nose and move toward the monitor, resume work like always. “Let’s just shoot raw. We'll clean it in post.”

Mark watches you for long – his stare burning on the corner of your eye. “We don’t have the manpower. Can’t edit this by myself either.” Excuses you’re familiar with, drops in. You know he’s trying to stop the day.

You give him a look — sharp, tired, unwavering.

“Okay boss,” he mutters. “Figuring it out. I’ll try following up with them till then.”

The phone on the table vibrates against the wood. You grab it without looking. “What?”

A pause. Then, warm, low, “Oof, you don’t sound good.”

The chaos blurs, the noise softens, the pain in you eases. The corner of your mouth lifts before you can stop it. “Gguk.”

“Was wondering if we’re still on for dinner?” Jeongguk’s voice lilts with something close to a smile. “Or am I being stood up again?”

Your heart stumbles. Dinner. Right. “Damn it”

“Guess that’s a ‘no,’” he teases softly, his voice calm when yours isn’t. “Getting stood up twice. Karma, huh?”

“No! I—” Your eyes dart to Mark, who’s shoving his phone into his pocket, waving you over. His mouth forms the word ‘cancelled’.

Panic pricks at the back of your neck. “No, Mark, wait—Jeongguk, listen, I can’t—”

“Breathe, it’s okay.”

“The creative team vanished, the camera rig’s being handled by one of our staff who’s supposed to be working on shoes—photographers—they just—” Your fingers squeeze the phone, eyes locked on the cluster of stylists whispering urgently. “Gguk, I’m sorry, but I—Mark! No, not that rack! —I have to go.”

“Hey—”

You end the call, pressing the phone to the table, breath slipping out fast.

Mark approaches you with an "I have an idea," and the next moment you’re pulled back into motion, the room closing in again, the pulse of crisis thumping steady under your skin.

There’s a shift in the air you don’t have the time to dwell into. With the lights being tested even when it should’ve been done hours ago, gowns still being altered because some model got caught on one of the lighting cords, makeup brushes flying across the room, a model sneezing mid-lipstick, someone’s tugging on your arm, asking about earrings. Another assistant waves you over, frantic about the backdrop.

You’re one step closer to ripping your hair out.

Mark’s at your side again, too fast, too smooth. “We’re back on track,” he says, lips twitching like he’s trying not to grin. “Relax.”

You want to ask — how, who, what — but then you hear it.

“Watch the stand,” a voice calls out, deep, commanding. “It’s angled wrong — your entire left frame’s blown out.”

When you look up, Jeongguk is already there. His team already dispersing, taking their places like a familiar routine in your space.

You forget the clipboard in your hands, the half-formed instructions on your tongue. Jeongguk meets your eyes, gives you a small lift of his brows — nothing big, nothing showy. Just a quiet hey.

Mark gives you a look across the room — equal parts guilt and triumph.

Anger should’ve been the right feeling. But instead, peace drapes over you like a heavy, unexpected exhale.

You worked through the rest of the evening, staying away from Jeongguk as much as you could. Letting him focus. Distracting yourself with the sudden change in chaos. Outfits suddenly fitting right, pins no longer needed, a new set of makeup brushes appearing from the luggage — as if the universe had finally decided to give you a moment of calm.

Between tasks, you steal quick glances – when he bends beside the rig, gestures to one of the panels, adjusts the stand himself when no one else moves. He’s changed since this morning — black slacks, a navy shirt rolled at the sleeves, his guest pass clipped on the loop of his belt. Professional. Composed.

Your throat tightens. You don’t remember him looking this sure of himself since his old shoots — back when you were the one in front of the lens and he was still figuring out his light. Practicing, fidgeting with settings he was still learning. Back when you were all the subject he’s focused on.

Jeongguk’s halfway through reviewing a frame with his crew when his eyes track you from across the room, softening, mouth twitching like he wants to say something but won’t in front of everyone. He tips his head once, barely a nod.

You step toward him, heels quiet against the studio floor.

He looks up from the light meter, catches your gaze mid-calculation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, just low enough for no one else to hear. “I’m not owing you anything.”

Jeongguk tilts his head, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Just so you know, I’m getting paid,” he says easily. “Think I’m doing this for free?”

Questions rush through your mind like a landslide, but only a simple, “What?” slips out.

He shrugs, adjusts reflector, keeps his eyes on you. “Seora pays well. I remember this CEO who once made me shoot a full pre-launch campaign in forty-eight hours with a half-dead printer and three cups of instant ramen. But when the rush ended, my team and I got a check—enough to stay jobless for six months.”

You blink. “That was years ago.”

“Yeah,” he says, a little quieter now, a little warmer. “Your first collection after you took over. Half the board didn’t believe in you, the investors were circling, and you had one shot to convince them Seora wasn’t going to sink.”

You don’t say anything. But you remember — the weight of it, the way the silence in those boardrooms used to press against your chest.

“I still have those shots,” he adds. “You didn’t sleep for three days. Made me retouch a belt loop for six hours.”

You huff, almost smiling. “You said the belt loop was crooked.”

“It was,” he says, mock-offended. “But six hours?”

“Buzz off.”

He places a light stand into place; tone breezy but eyes sharp. “Anyway, just because you’re my Mrs. Jeon doesn’t mean I don’t get my cut.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“What?” His voice lilts. “Mrs. Jeon? That’s still your legal name, no?”

You glare, still, a small smile breaks out. “Get back to work. Don’t waste my money.”

“Yes ma’am.” Someone calls his name — camera test’s ready. Jeongguk brushes past you with a light touch to your arm. Quick, grounding.

You don’t say anything when he steps away. Just watch the slow but certain way he pulls the chaos back into order — not loud, not commanding, just efficient. People listen when he speaks. They adjust when he gestures. And without meaning to, the tension in your shoulders begins to ease.

And then you find yourself stepping back. Not out of the room, but just far enough to watch. You hover near the monitors, arms crossed loosely, watching as Jeongguk moves through the chaos like he’s done years ago.

Near the backdrop, he crouches low, one hand gently tilting the model’s chin, thumb barely brushing her jaw as he adjusts her toward the light. She lets out a soft laugh — maybe at a quiet joke or just the moment itself — her lashes lowering before she meets his eyes again.

Jeongguk’s mouth curves into a quick, polite and easy smile, before he’s already shifting his focus back to the camera, adjusting the settings with steady hands.

Suddenly, the cuffs of your sleeves look more interesting. Why hadn’t you noticed the ugly button that didn’t compliment the color of the cuffs before? The shoot notes in your hand look like they need revisions again — though you’ve read through them twice and already think they’re perfect.

“Easy there, boss,” Mark sidles up beside you, a knowing hum under his breath. “You’re gonna set the poor girl on fire.”

“Was just watching,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck.

Mark leans back on his heels, smirking. “Think I should pull her away before you cost us a model.”

“Perfect timing that you’re here,” you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “Why’d you call him? You don’t exactly seem thrilled about having him near me.”

His grin fades. “Don’t have to like the guy. But when it comes to you, he’s the only one I’m sure would drop everything and show up.”

An argument gets caught in your throat. You want to remind Mark it’s not like that anymore. You know it hasn’t been for years. When it comes to Jeongguk’s planner, it’s like the pen ran out of ink just as your name was about to be written down. You shouldn’t even be on his list of things to do, but that’s the reality that’s been hanging over the last three years. It’s the reality you’ve made now.

Mark shrugs, looking at the busy set. “Sometimes, you have to put personal feelings aside and see that things have changed. You’re running out of options. He knows our work. Has done them before. Jeongguk’s the one guy I, sadly, know who won’t let you down.“

“You seem confident.” The words come out almost like a whisper.

“Takes one to know one.” He turns away before you can answer. You watch him disappear into the set, the weight of his words pressing down on you, making you question what you thought you knew.

Lights dim one by one when the night finally wraps up, casting long shadows across the scattered equipment. You stand near the table piled with untouched snacks, absently twirling the scrunchie on your wrist as you watch Mark wave goodnight, and leave with the last of the crew.

It’s just you now. Or so you think.

“Didn’t peg you for the type to hide by the snack table,” Jeongguk’s there, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, camera bag slung casually over the other. “Usually upfront putting on a whole mukbang show.”

You lean against the table, crossing your arms. “Didn’t feel like the snack choices for today.”

“How about carbonara from Benny’s?”

“They deliver this late?”

“They do if you know the owner,” he says, smug as he sets his bag down. “Should be here in ten.”

You try to hide the way that lands — like a knock you weren’t ready for. “Didn’t think you’d remember Benny’s.”

“Hard to forget when you cried that time they took the truffle fries off the menu.”

You sigh, sinking onto one of the stools. The set is quiet now, shadows stretching where there was once heat and motion. Everything softens around the edges.

“Didn’t eat dinner,” you murmur. “Could eat a whole buffet.”

“Figured,” Jeongguk takes the seat beside you. “Always forget when you’re in charge of too many things.”

The food arrives not long after — warm boxes, the faint scent of cream and parmesan and baked garlic butter curling into the air. You eat beside each other like no time has passed. No tension. No pretense. Just two people winding down after too long a day, like they used to — back when things were simpler, or maybe just when you didn’t know how complicated things would get.

The soft clink of glasses and quiet talks fill the dim hotel lounge. Plush armchairs and velvet sofas gather around small tables, warm amber light casting gentle shadows.

Jeongguk’s call had been brief, almost formal. ‘Prints are ready. Can I give them in person?’

No explanations. No questions. Just followed by another separate voicemail from him with the address of the hotel. You didn’t ask why he had prints made. Understood he’s always been old school, preferred things done the way he started – something tangible, something real, instead of digital things that could be forgotten or ignored.

You just couldn’t grasp why he had to pull you out of a random Wednesday afternoon when you were going to meet for dinner anyway. The time between mornings and evenings, you’ve clearly stated, should be meant for yourselves.

Jeongguk stands as his client finishes speaking. Quick handshakes are exchanged before he settles back into the velvet armchair. A glass of neat whiskey waits on the table. Quietly making your way over, you take a seat across from him.

He offers a small, easy smile and slides the stack of prints across the table. “Thought you might want to see these.”

You pick up the top print, eyes scanning the sharp lines of the model’s posture — poised, confident, every angle meticulously captured. The lighting cuts clean shadows, highlighting the structure of the garment and the texture of the fabric. Another print shows a tight close-up of the intricate embroidery, every stitch crisp against the muted background. A few shots frame the collection as a whole, lined up beneath the glow of the studio lights — structured, clean, cohesive. It looks less like a trial and more like a beginning. Something ready. Something already on its way to Paris.

“Think Mark’s going to want to fly to Paris tomorrow once he sees these.” You say softly. “Thank you Gguk.”

Jeongguk leans back, a quiet satisfaction shining in his eyes. “He’ll want to — and probably sooner than that.”

“You didn’t have to rush it, though. We gave you a few more weeks to work on it. Everything was short notice.”

“Wasn’t doing much else, honestly.”

“The Calvin campaign?”

He shrugs, that familiar confidence settling around him. “Not on my Wednesday agenda.”

“But asking me to meet you this afternoon is?”

The soft click of polished heels breaks the ambient hush of the lounge. Your eyes flicker across the room as a familiar figure approaches — graceful, poised, carrying that quiet warmth that has always set her apart. Her gaze lands on Jeongguk first, fond and steady.

You both rise from your seats in surprise. You’re thankful he’s the first to speak. “Eomma? What are you doing here?”

She waves a hand, brushing off the formality, gestures for you both to sit again, already settling herself across from you with ease. “I stopped by your office to check in. Taehyung said you’d stepped out.” Her eyes shift to you, softening even further. “It’s nice to see you together again, sweetheart.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the endearment. The way she says it — warm, familiar, unfiltered — stirs something old and tender in you. Still, you gather yourself quickly, wanting to clear things up before any assumptions settle in.

“We were just talking about work, Eomma-nim. That’s all.”

Her smile deepens, and the corners of her eyes crinkle. “That’s lovely to know. You two have always been inseparable — even when it was all about work. Your dynamic… it’s always been something special. I’m glad to see it back.”

You glance at Jeongguk, silently begging him to cut in, to say something that might redirect the course of the conversation. But he’s no help — only a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Sit together, you two. Why are you across from her?” she says with a light scold, motioning for Jeongguk to move beside you. He follows far too easily, sliding into the seat next to yours with a faint grin still playing on his lips.

You take the opportunity to not-so-gently step on his shoe under the table.

He swallows a grunt, his jaw tightening as he barely holds in a sound, which earns a small snort from you. You hope she missed it.

“Ah, my beautiful children,” she says, clasping her hands together with a content sigh. “It’s been too long. Was it Chuseok when we last saw each other? A year ago?” Her gaze lingers on you, fond and a little wistful.

“Yes, Eomma-nim,” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“Where my little Ggukie wasn’t there.” Her eyes soften, not angry, but full of quiet sadness. “This is the perfect timing for you to attend another family celebration, together this time.”

Jeongguk straightens slightly, his brows drawing in. “What’s the occasion?”

She gives him a look — not quite scolding, not quite hurt, just enough disappointment to make him pause. “Jeon Jeongguk, you can’t possibly be that busy to forget your own mother’s birthday.”

He hesitates, fingers brushing the rim of his glass before he suddenly lifts it and knocks back the rest of the whiskey in one clean go — too quick to be casual. “Ah… no, I didn’t forget,” eyes flicker toward you after – the list you wrote lingers between a shared look.

“Thought you were celebrating next weekend?” he tries pointing out as if that was the plan all along. “I was going to drop by then.”

You appreciate his effort but Mrs. Jeon has always been hard to get by. It’s why you struggled with her the most when it came to coming up with excuses for your missing husband, her son, over the past few years. It used to come by easy until you’ve used up every reason in your book.

His mother raises a brow. “No, that’s when your brother’s in Jeju. I told you it’s tonight.”

Jeongguk nods slowly, his jaw tightening just a little. Silence threads between the three of you. You wait for him – no, you expect him – to come up with excuses like he’s always did. Before, he would’ve dodged this easily – out of town trips, client dinners, shoots he couldn’t move. But now, you don’t understand why he’s stumbling, why he’s acting like you have for all these years.

Guilt hits you. You never meant to put him in this spot. You don’t even know why he’s struggling with something that should’ve been easy.

“It won’t run late,” his mother cuts through the silence brightly. “Just a small party with some business partners and family. And your favorite cheesecake you two introduced me to – it’s my favorite now too. Made sure to get it from the same place you did.”

You want to tell Mrs. Jeon that it’s no longer her son’s favorite. She should know that. Your families aren’t being kept from the truth anymore. Her change in behavior digs a deeper grave for confusion.

With hands tied, you nod once, quiet and clear. Jeongguk answers shortly after, low and sure. “We’ll stop by, Eomma.”

Mrs. Jeon clasps her hands together, absolutely delighted. “Ah, that’s all I needed to hear. I’m going to set an extra seat for the two of you – together this time. No last-minute work emergencies, understood? Sweetheart, tell your mother to come as well if she’s not too busy still enjoying her retirement.”

The two of you nod in agreement. Your mother-in-law finally says her goodbye. The moment she’s finally disappeared out of the lounge, you both let out quiet breaths you didn’t know you were holding.

You don’t look at him when you speak. “What does your mother know?”

“She misses you.”

“Not what I asked, Gguk.”

He sighs. “Our parents know what they know. The rest of the family doesn’t. It’s better if you skip tonight. It’s on your list anyway.” The edge in his voice catches you off guard. You can’t pin point what exactly so you push further.

“If that’s the case, why is Eomma acting like everything’s fine? What have you been telling her?”

“Nothing!” Jeongguk’s answer comes to quick, too loud. Earns a few stares from the tables nearby. “She probably thinks if she acts like it, say things out loud, it’ll become true.”

You finally look at him. Tried to search for answers in his eyes, answers you obviously couldn’t get from his mouth. But he avoids you – stares at the empty glass on the table instead. You desperately want to know what he means. Want to know if he’s still talking about his mother.

“Does she know it doesn’t work like that?”

Jeongguk doesn’t answer. Just drifts the conversation. “You don’t have to go. I’ll come up with an excuse. If Eomma gets mad, I’ll take the blow. About time I did.”

You don’t say anything. Just quietly gather the prints from the table, slipping them into your bag. Then a soft ‘bye’ leaves your lips before you walk out of the lounge—carrying more questions your mind can handle.

Jeongguk straightens his cuffs as he stands in front of the mirror, making sure he’s all set as if he hasn’t done that for the past two hours. A dark button-up, slacks pressed clean — simple, neat, just the way his mother likes. He breathes slowly and reaches for the gift on the table, a delicate ribbon tied around the box of hand cream sets she’d mentioned offhandedly weeks ago.

The watch on his wrist tells he’s stalled long enough.

He slips into his shoes and heads out.

The drive to his parents’ house in Hannam passes in a blur — streets familiar, traffic slow and predictable. It’s not like their family home in Busan, but it’s where memories have settled when his family first moved, where holidays are still celebrated, where his mother has redecorated the walls enough times to finally call it their home.

The sky’s turned a dusky gold, the city softening into evening. His parents’ house glow in welcome, lanterns already strung across the backyard, fairy lights peeking through the dining room curtains. He parks, steps out. The front door is already cracked open, the soft sound of music filtering through.

The house buzzes with soft chatter and laughter. A handful of guests are scattered through the living and dining areas — cousins catching up, a few family friends sharing drinks, and business partners politely exchanging small talk.

Jeongguk spots his brother near the bar, already enjoying a glass of whiskey.

“About time you showed up,” his brother calls out with a grin. “Eomma’s birthday party can officially start.”

Jeongguk offers a tired smile. “Sorry. Made it though.”

Their father joins them, hands him a drink, which he downs in one go, hoping to wash down the nerves he knows won’t leave him tonight. “If you plan on driving, go easy.”

“Unless you’re staying over?” his brother chimes in, raising a brow.

“No. Got work tomorrow,” Jeongguk answers simply, even though he’s taken a few days off. Doesn’t say it. Just knows he can’t stay at his parents’ house where too many memories and disappointments weigh on him the moment he’s stepped in.

“Jeongguk,” his mother’s already approaching him, with a radiant and calm smile. “I was starting to think you’d come up with another excuse.”

“Save the scolding for later, Eomma. It’s your birthday—don’t stress.”

“You're the one who gives me stress, Gguk-ah.” She tuts, lightly pinching his cheek before looking around. Her smile falters just a little. “She’s not with you?”

Jeongguk forces a smile, hoping it’s enough to pass. “She’s just running late. Caught up with work.”

She hums. Lets it go to greet a group of business partners, his father following close behind.

“She’s not coming, is she?” His brother pours him another drink, like he already knows the answer.

Is proven right when Jeongguk drowns the drink again, eyes lingering on the front door as if it was going to change anything.

Soft classical music hums from the corner speaker, blending with the quiet clinking of wine glasses and the murmur of conversation. Warm overhead lights cast a glow over the carefully set table — a tasteful spread of small bites, flowers, wine bottles already halfway down.

Jeongguk moves through the crowd slowly, a drink in hand, nodding and smiling as he’s pulled into brief conversations.

A few chuckles. His cousin nudges him, raising a brow. ”You haven’t aged a day, Jeongguk-ah. What’s your secret?”

He shakes his head. “Work keeps me young.”

The dining area had started to fill — his aunts chatting while pouring makgeolli, his uncle already halfway into a debate with his brother about stocks. Plates passed from hand to hand, laughter rolled from room to room

But as Jeongguk nears his seat, his eyes land on the chair next to his, reserved for you. He hovers for a second. Debates whether to pull it out or ignore it altogether. Ends up not touching it.

Instead, he took his own seat, quietly smoothing down the napkin on his lap as the conversations carried on around him. Someone nudged a dish of banchan toward him.

His mother moved through the room with practiced ease, checking that everyone had enough to eat, calling across the table to nieces and nephews she hadn’t seen in months, refilling drinks for guests with a proud, glowing energy only birthdays could bring.

“She really went all out this year,” his brother said under his breath, leaning toward him. “Even got those fancy floating candles again.”

Jeongguk smiled faintly. “She deserves it.”

Someone raised a toast midway through the first round of soup. “To the most youthful and sharpest woman in the room!”

Glasses clinked. Cheers followed.

The evening moves along. Small conversations continue to float between bites of food. Jeongguk tries to stay present. Nods when needed. Answers when spoken to. But his focus keeps slipping. It’s not because of his fifth glass of whiskey. That’s never been a problem. His tolerance is strong.

He just feels drained. Like the night is stretching longer than it should.

Jeongguk knows tonight is about his mother. It’s her special day. He’s missed a few of her birthdays over the years. But he’ll make it up to her – like he always does. Some other time. Some other way.

But he just wants to go home. Sure, that place is quiet too – filled with worst nightmares lately that he has to face – but at least there, he doesn’t have to pretend. Doesn’t have to smile when he’s not sure how.

For now, he just needs to get through the evening without breaking.

Another toast had just ended when the doorbell chimed.

It barely cut through the noise at first — just a polite sound beneath the hum of conversation and clatter of cutlery. Jeongguk’s mother glanced toward the entryway, brows rising. "Ah, that must be another colleague," she’s already making her way toward the door with a practiced hostess smile.

He pays no attention. Just finishes his food. Reaches for his glass. Stops halfway when his mother returns with someone familiar beside her.

The hallway light spills behind you. Simple but elegant. A cream-toned dress that hit just below the knee, delicate at the shoulders, hugging your shape in a way that wasn’t loud—but enough to make the room fall quieter for a second. Hair loosely done, a soft gloss on your lips.

Jeongguk’s grip around his glass tightened before he realized.

His mother beamed, hand gently on your back as she ushered you in. “She made it,” she announced with far too much joy to mask.

Conversations resumed. A few new faces looked toward you with curious smiles, someone whispered your name. You offer a polite bow to the guests, some family members you’ve seen from previous gatherings, your eyes only briefly scanning the room before they stopped on him.

There was the smallest pause.

And then you walked toward a seat – the one beside him.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #bts fanfiction #fanfic #bts jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

288 notes · View notes

stxary · 22 days ago

Text

Touch || 01

❤︎‬ pairing : jungkook x fem!reader

‪‪❤︎‬ genre : non idol au, college au, brothers best friend au, childhood enemies to lovers, love triangle, smut / angst / fluff

‪‪❤︎‬ word count : 2k

‪‪❤︎‬ warnings : reader is 20, jk is 22. reader n jk are both health majors ( reader- nursing, jk- medicine ) jk is an asshole, reader hates him. bickering (lots more to come..) umm that's it for this chapter lmk if I missed anything !

❤︎‬ a/n : hi :) im back after almost two months.. wow.. i hope this series im starting helps make up for inactivity !! ive had this idea on my mind for a while tbh, i just didnt know how to execute it but i finally had motivation yay ! i think ill probably keep this short, maximum 10 chapters just in case i disappear again.. ill probably keep the word count on the lower side just so its not a hassle to read too. anyways enough of my yapping, i hope you enjoy !! ^_^

“I’d like you to be my teacher’s aide.”

See, now those weren’t the words you were expecting to hear when your professor told you he wanted to speak with you after class.

You thought that he was going to speak to you about your grades. Maybe you didn’t do well on the last research paper you turned in. Or maybe he found out you helped that girl cheat on her test that one at the beginning of the year.

So hearing your professor ask you to be his teacher’s aide caught you off guard.

You weren’t completely opposed to the idea. God knew you could use the money.

You just weren’t sure you wanted to deal with the students that would come up to you blaming you for their bad grades, when they didn’t even do the work. But then again, the money was nice. You didn’t have time for a real job, and your lifestyle was rather expensive. Your brother Namjoon was getting fed up with paying for almost all of your stuff.

That’s the only reason you accepted the job, because you thought about how said brother Namjoon would be on your ass and give you one of his lectures about how he wasn’t your father and you were perfectly capable of providing for yourself.

When you accepted the job though, you thought you would just have to grade papers, maybe help make lesson plans and PowerPoints. You didn’t know you would have actually to tutor students.

Right now, you wanted to hit your professor for not telling you who you had to tutor. Not just once, like with the other kids. No, he said you would probably have to tutor this guy for the whole semester.

It would’ve been fine, if it was literally any other person. But no, of course the person you had to tutor was Jeon fucking Jungkook.

You really didn’t like Jungkook. You haven’t since you were kids. You guys were complete opposites. As a kid, you were more on the quiet side. You only focused on school, the thing you were interested in the moment, and your few friends. While Jungkook was everything you hated. He was loud, arrogant. He was the type of kid you would beg your teacher to move if you got sat next to him.

You tried to like him, but he made it near impossible. From the fights you had in elementary school, to the pranks he would play in middle school, to the way he would bicker with you just to get a rise out of you in high school. He was one of the most insufferable people you knew.

The only reason why you dealt with Jungkook for so long is because he was Namjoon’s best friend. For the longest time you wondered how Namjoon could even tolerate him. Yet, they were inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

As you got older, Jungkook (mostly) grew out of his antics. Now that you were in college, you barely talked. You tried to avoid him as much as you could. But in the few times you did interact with him, he would just make teasing remarks and small comments about little things.

Which is exactly what he was doing right now.

“And there.. Jungkook, can you please focus so we can get this over with?” you huffed out, setting your pen down.

He was slouched in his chair, paying attention to everything but what you were trying to teach him. He was impossible. It was like trying to teach Algebra to a baby.

He groaned, sitting up to finally look at the page. He skims over the picture, which was an x-ray of a body highlighting the skeletal system. “Fine.” he said reluctantly.

You pointed back at the page, hoping that when you spoke your irritation wasn’t evident. You knew he was acting dumb just to get a rise out of you, and fuck him, because it was working.

“Okay, what are the different types of bone cells and what do they do?” you asked, glancing at his face. His eyes were squinted, as if he was deep in thought. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was actually in thought. Before he gave the stupid ass answer he did.

“…are all cells in your body not the same? I thought animal cells were the same.”

You had to run a hand over your face and take a deep breath to prevent yourself from screaming at him in this quiet library. “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” you asked.

The thing is, Jungkook wasn’t dumb. No, he was actually really smart. It was just the fact that he never did work. Or even attended the classes. He skipped his classes often, going to do god knows what. (Most of the time it was to meet up with and sleep with girls.)

He smiled at you, that damn cocky smile that always made you want to strangle him. “Because I like seeing how angry you get. You’re cute when you’re mad, angel.”

You glared at him. You were used to his flirty comments, because you knew he never meant them. He only said them to get a rise out of you, so you never showed a reaction.

“I told you not to call me that.” you muttered, your voice snappier than before.

He tilted his head, his smile growing bigger. “I know. But I’m still gonna call you it.”

The nickname probably wouldn’t bug you so much if it wasn’t for the fact that he only used it in a teasing way. Ever since middle school, he would jab at the fact that you were this perfect child. He would call you angel, mary, probably ten other nicknames that you couldn’t even remember.

You took a deep breath, trying not to cause a scene. You did not want to get kicked out of the library just because Jungkook was acting like a baby.

“Let’s try this again.” you spoke, your voice calculated, slow. “What do osteoblasts do?”

He ran a hand through his hair, blinking at you. “I have no idea what those are.”

Your eye twitched. You knew you shouldn’t have been expecting more from him, considering he never went to class, but this was just outrageous.

“Do you not.. ask people what happens in class after the fact? Jungkook, how the hell do you expect to pass this class when you don’t even show up?”

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. “Hey, I don’t need a lecture from you, missy.”

“No, you need to get your shit together. You wanna get your degree and get the hell up out of here, don’t you?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated, letting out a hum. “Hm, I dunno. I kinda like being able to have all the girls I want. You know, most of them aren’t uptight bitches like you-“

“Okay, you know what? We’re done here. Bye.” you said abruptly, having enough of him for the day. Right about then you were remembering why you hated him so much when you were younger.

He sat his chair down on all four legs and whined. “Oh, come on, angel. Don’t be like that. Don’t you get paid per session?”

You ignored him, continuing to pack your things before storming out of the private study room. You seriously could not deal with that man. And you had to tutor him for the rest of the semester. Yeah, fuck your life.

“Jungkook told me you’re his new tutor, said that you flipped out and ran away earlier.”

Namjoon’s voice came from the front door as he brought in the bags of food you ordered.

“Whatever. I didn’t flip out, I left because I think I would have punched him in the face if I listened to him talk for one more minute.” you corrected, getting up from the couch to help him bring in the bags.

He snorted, starting to take boxes out of the bags. The smell of the food, both sweet and savory filled the kitchen, making your stomach growl.

“I can’t believe I have to tutor him for the rest of the damn semester. Can you believe he’s already failed the class once? What an idiot!!” you ranted, shaking your head as you slammed your hand down on the counter.

“He can be smart. When he wants to be. And when he actually goes to class.” Namjoon replies.

“I know. That’s what pisses me off. How is he always skipping class to meet girls? Then he acts clueless, and he only does it because he wants to see me angry. He said it’s cute!! He doesn’t even take me seriously!” you grumbled, snatching your box of food before plopping back onto the couch. Namjoon followed, watching your outburst in slight amusement. He had always thought you and Jungkook’s rivalry was funny.

“You know you’ve gotta get along with him to get the money. I already told you-“

“I know.” you groaned, shutting him up. “Ugh, but can’t you just keep buying me everything? I liked it when it was like that?” you whined.

“No. Because you ask me for stupid shit.”

“What? No I don’t!”

“Yes you do.”

“Name one stupid thing I’ve made you buy.”

Namjoon pauses, staring at you, before beginning to list things. “Those birria bombs off Tiktok shop, that skincare off of Temu that you never even got, a pair of headphones when you already had one-“

“Okay, that’s enough! I can justify all of those!!” you lift your hands up in a defensive gesture. Namjoon narrows his eyes at you, urging you to continue.”

“Cmon, I really couldn’t turn down the birria bombs. They were on sale! You can’t even deny that dinner was good for 3 nights when we got them.” you pointed at him, and he just stared back at you.

“Then the skincare.. it was a full set. I really had to get it. It was supposed to come with pimple patches and all! Fuck Temu. And-and the headphones.. I needed a backup. Then a backup for the backup.”

“You have a spending addiction.” Namjoon said, after just blankly staring at you for a few long moments.

“No I don’t.” you denied, taking a bite of your chicken.

“Please get yourself a boyfriend. Preferably a really rich one, so he can waste his money on buying you pointless shit instead of me. I can’t remember the last time my wallet hasn’t been crying for a break.” he says, fake sorrow in his voice.

“Ugh, fuck you.” you pout.

Namjoon laughed, reverting the conversation back to the original topic. “Seriously ___, you’ve gotta get along with him. You can’t back out of it. The semester only goes by faster when you don’t completely hate him.”

You sighed heavily. He was right. You were never going to get through this semester if you didn’t find a way to get on good terms with Jungkook.

“Really, he’s nice-“

“No he’s not!!” you interrupt, sitting up straight on the couch. “He’s an asshole!”

“Because you’ve been an asshole to him.” Namjoon deadpans. You furrow your brows. Of course you’ve been an asshole to him! He’s been one to you since you were kids!

“Because he’s been one to me!!” you say defensively, and Namjoon just gives you a look.

“So do you see the cycle?” he asks, calmly. A complete contrast to your tone. But you were always like this when you complained about Jungkook. He irked a nerve in you that nobody else could. It honestly was a talent.

Namjoon did have a point. If you continued down this road, you were just going to go in circles with Jungkook like you’ve been doing your whole life. You slouched down, not even responding to Namjoon’s question. He knew you were defeated when you just took another bite of your chicken.

He took a sip of his drink, before speaking again. In that same, calm tone. It always amazed you how calm he could be when you were on the verge of going insane.

“Talk to him. Have a normal conversation with him. He can be nice if you can be nice.” You turned your head to look at him, giving him a pleading look. When he just stared back at you, you let out a big sigh.

“Fine.”

Fuck Jungkook. You were getting through this semester. Whether he wanted to cooperate or not. You were tutoring him, and you were getting that damn money. So if that meant attempting to be nice to him, you could do that. Even if it felt like it would be the death of you.

#jungkook fanfic #stxary #bts #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut

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niningtori · 9 months ago

Text

mad about you | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you, delusions of kang taehyun x you

summary: beomgyu is not only a spoiled, rich asshole whose whole life has been served to him on a silver platter, but he's also your student council vice president. things finally come to a head on your final trip as college students, but not in the way you would expect. or, beomgyu catches you, the student council president, smoking weed and tries to blackmail you for it

genre: romance, angst (only a tiny bit...? shocking i know), fluff (kinda...? shocking i know), SMUT (MDNI!!!), sub!idol, beomgyu enemies to lovers

warnings: bad writing, not proofread at all, smut (MDNI!!!), sub!gyu LMAOOOO, marijuana, dirty talk, praise, handjobs, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 7.1k

notes: please... this took MONTHS for me to write i fear i am the worst request taker on moablr. this was really difficult for me to complete but alas... it is done. if you hate it, my fault! just please don't bully me i've got enough shit going on in my life rn 💀 i hate it too but that's okay!

being a straight-a student is hard. being the student government president? even harder. being both? hell on earth. but now, in your senior year of college, you’ve finally managed to get it down to a science. things run relatively smoothly, which is due in no small part to the blood, sweat, and tears you’ve put in to make the student body happy, never mind the lengths you've gone to for the faculty. you can confidently say you can cope with nearly every trial and tribulation that comes your way with a smile on your face. well, except for one recurring disaster: beomgyu.

at first, he was nothing more to you than a pest buzzing around for no real purpose other than to mildly annoy you. it was strange because he seemed normal at first, but then he would pick on your looks, every time you made a mistake in class, and even how you happened to wear your hair that day. this was annoying and, well, hurtful. still, it was of no real consequence, so you were able to ignore him when that was the case, but now you know better than to underestimate just how disastrous beomgyu’s presence can be. as the student government vice president, he should be your first and most trusted ally, but he’s nothing short of, for lack of a better term, a major asshole deadset on making your life even more difficult than it already is for reasons unknown to you.

you think it may be because you would have probably beaten him for the actual president’s chair, which led him to run for vice president, instead. you don’t know why he minds this, though, because he couldn’t seem to care less about the council, not to mention school in general. it’s not that he gets bad grades, because he doesn’t. in fact, when he gets called on in class, he always gets the answer right even when he clearly wasn’t paying any attention. still, you work twice as hard as anyone else and yet your grades are only rivaled by his own. even taehyun, your (probably unrequited) crush, can’t help but be beaten by beomgyu as if the hand of god itself smacks down on everyone else every time you all take a test.

getting good grades should be an admirable thing, right? it helps with potential internships and jobs and all that, but the thing is: beomgyu doesn't need any of it. even if he fails all of his classes, he's set for life as the son of a formidable CEO of a company whose profits are more than you could ever dream of attaining. there is absolutely no doubt that beomgyu will succeed him, and there is even less doubt that he'll undeniably be very, very good at it. what’s worse is that even if he failed to meet expectations, he’d still get the position, anyway.

that, in comparison with your family’s laughable financial circumstances, would be enough to make you secretly hate the boy just on principle; but jealousy is ugly, no doubt, so you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. you would have fallen into a pit of self-loathing and guilt had beomgyu actually been kind, and you may have even grown to like him if that were the case, but no. beomgyu is not kind. he’s a total prick. you see it in his smug little smile when the test papers get handed back and he annihilates everyone — other than you — in class, especially taehyun. you see it in the smirks he sends you when you catch him making out with whoever his new girlfriend of the week happens to be, and in the way he openly mocks you by calling you a prude in front of the entire student population. and most importantly, you see it in the way he watches you struggle to stay afloat while he cruises on by without a care in the world.

honestly? beomgyu knows better than to bully the girl he has a crush on just because he wants her attention, but who told you to make it so damn hard on him? it’s not like he didn’t consider being nice at first, but your aloofness to his charms only caused him to believe that he was nearly invisible to you, and he simply wouldn't stand for that. naturally, the best course of action was to get you to hate him — at least that means you’re actually paying attention to him. that’s what he tells himself as he’s sticking one of his spindly legs out as you walk past him, effectively tripping you in the process and making the entire class erupt into laughter. your nostrils flare as your head whips up to meet his condescending gaze. once again, your eyes are completely on him. check and mate.

that's what it feels like, at least, until you’re hurriedly pulled up by a concerned taehyun and he’s frantically asking if you’re alright while fixing up your (now) fucked up hair. your eyes, which were just brimming with anger and contempt for him, are now overflowing with lovesickness and infatuation for the other boy. well, never mind about the whole “checkmate” thing, it’s like beomgyu doesn’t even exist in the same world as you anymore.

“you need to relax,” taehyun says, gently closing the notebook in front of you and sliding over a few of your favorite snacks.

“th-thank you, tyun,” you reply, shyly. he grins when he sees he’s succeeded in distracting you.

“no problem, we wouldn’t want that pretty little head of yours to break from thinking too much, now would we?” he teases. you feel heat rushing to your cheeks at his words. he doesn’t really mean them, he never does, but that doesn’t stop your heart from racing when he says things like this to you.

having a crush on taehyun is only natural. that’s what you tell yourself, but the way you have a shrine dedicated to notes he’s passed you and polaroids you’ve taken together sitting prettily in your room is most definitely unnatural. he doesn’t need to know about that, though.

“my head’s not going to break,” you huff with a playful roll of your eyes. “i just need to finish outlining the major stops on the trip and i’ll be done, i promise.”

it’s true that all you have to do is outline where you’re going to stop on the council’s senior trip, which doesn’t sound like a big deal in theory, but in actuality, you have to clear each stop with the faculty and make sure you stay within the budget in spite of beomgyu’s insufferable attempts to exceed it. he’s made light of the finances and talked up special events to the rest of the council members, even taehyun. you tried to snuff out these suggestions with realistic arguments about how expensive it will be, but his response was to call you a killjoy. simple and straightforward, but effective, nonetheless. everyone, even taehyun, was so excited to try everything he hyped up, so how could you say no when taehyun turned to you, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and practically begged you to relent? you, unfortunately, didn’t and don’t have the heart to deny him, so you caved, and now you’re stuck trying to figure it all out.

“you promise?” taehyun asks, snapping you out of your spiral, with his cute cat-like fangs showing ever so slightly.

“i promise,” you nod and he cheers triumphantly. again, you can’t help but feel your cheeks warm, and you’d bask in the moment if your gaze didn’t happen to catch beomgyu’s scrutinizing one at this very moment. he looks at you like he’s watching a monkey putting on a show, and your happiness is instantly replaced with a sense of embarrassment. you’ve never told a single soul about your feelings for taehyun, but eerily enough, beomgyu seems to know something the rest of the world does not. he seems well aware of your deepest secret. why he doesn’t just expose you in order to humiliate you, you have no idea, but you do know you don't like how much he knows.

you really, really shouldn’t be doing this. and certainly not here, of all places, but you just can’t help it. smoking weed is terrible for you, and you of all people should know, seeing as how you led a presentation on its ill effects in front of the entire student body in your freshman year. but it’s hard to truly care when you’re wound so tightly you feel like you’re about to burst.

beomgyu is getting his way again, as always, and you’re worried about having to make yet another last minute change to your trip’s itinerary for tomorrow because he called today’s stop boring, which led to the rest of the council silently agreeing. so here you sit on the top of the hotel building as the rest of the group are out sightseeing, taking a long, lung-scorching drag from the blunt in between your fingers.

“didn’t take you for the smoking type, madame president,” a voice cuts in from out of nowhere. beomgyu. fuck.

you try to keep your cool, but you end up choking on the smoke as you hurriedly go to flick the blunt away, but beomgyu’s hand grabs your wrist before you can quite make it there. his touch feels like a brand searing itself into your skin, but you’re too overstimulated to notice.

“i didn’t tell you you had to stop,” he muses condescendingly as you rip your wrist away from his grasp. he winces. you don't catch it. instead, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the presumption that he has the power to tell you to do anything.

“i’m not one of your little minions,” you snap in spite of yourself. “quit acting like you can boss me around.”

“is that so?” he questions, not without an air of smugness. alarm bells blare in your ears as you try to sniff out where his confidence is coming from. sure, he caught you smoking, but it’s your word against his. that’s right, there’s no need to be scared. if he says anything at all, you can just feign innocence and say you were the one who caught him sneaking out to smoke.

“yep,” you answer with a grin at your new plan, popping the “p” with the same obnoxiousness he usually terrorizes you with. you’re no match for him in terms of popularity, but you will never lose to him when it comes to credibility.

“you’re not afraid that i’ll snitch on you? you’re not scared of me telling everyone how little-miss-perfect spends her alone time?”

“you can try,” you reply with a shrug. he’s silent for a few moments, as if he’s in deep thought.

“you know what? you’re right,” he concedes with a sigh, and shockingly so. the beomgyu you know and loathe would never give up that easily. “you don’t have to listen to what i say. nobody would believe me over you, right?”

you eye him suspiciously before giving a slight nod.

“and most times, you would be absolutely right. like, just imagine if i told them you faked being sick and flaking on everyone else just so you could get high. nobody would believe me. i wouldn’t even believe me,” he continues. you have no idea why he’s going on and on about this, but you don’t like it.

“what the hell are you playing at?” you ask through clenched teeth.

“i mean, i’m just saying that nobody would believe me. not unless i showed them something like, i don’t know, this?” he says with a grin, holding up his phone and showing you an alarmingly high resolution photo of you taking a hit of your blunt. your eyes widen in sheer horror and you immediately jump to try to retrieve his phone from his hands, but beomgyu is quicker. he tauntingly holds it up in the air with one arm and stops you from coming any closer with the other. you try to jump to reach it, but you’re no match for his stature and long limbs. damn him for being so fucking tall.

“delete it!” you shriek, but all he does is click his tongue and shake his head like the insufferable asshole he is.

“oh, sure,” he says nonchalantly. your eyes widen even further as he lowers his phone and fiddles with the screen, still keeping you at arm’s length so you’re helpless to grab it for yourself.

“r-really?” you ask incredulously, sincerely taken aback by his compliance. stupid, stupid you. he tuts in response.

“you don’t really think i’ll make it that easy, do you?”

“fine,” you relent, jaw tense and eyebrows furrowed in an almost comically exaggerated way. “what the hell do you want from me?”

“nothing much, just lemme smoke with you,” he answers with a lopsided grin, showcasing a dimple in his cheek you had never noticed until now.

“w-what?” you ask dazedly.

“god, you’re slow,” he tells you with a roll of his eyes. “smoke with me and i’ll delete the picture. i won’t even mention it again.”

“are you being serious?” you whisper.

“dead serious,” he smirks.

“... fine,” you find yourself relenting, yet again. you don’t know if you necessarily trust him to actually follow through with his words, but what choice do you have? why he wants to smoke with you, you have no idea, but if it gets him to keep his mouth shut, then you really can’t ask for much more than that.

you sigh and take a seat, walking over near the entrance of the rooftop and propping yourself up against the concrete wall behind you. surprisingly, he stays planted in the same spot as if he didn’t hear you. you pat the ground next to you impatiently in light of his hesitation. he snaps out of his daze as he sits next to you so tentatively it’s like you’re a stray cat he’s afraid to scare off. well, good. it’s best for him not to get too comfortable around you. you hate the guy, after all.

you take another deep inhale and he watches you with a gaze that can only be described as lovesick, but you’re too preoccupied to pick up on it. when you exhale, you find yourself starting to pass the blunt over to beomgyu before thinking better of it.

“wait,” you say, pulling your hand back before he can grip the blunt.

“what?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“am i gonna catch something from you if we share this?”

“oh, fuck you,” he grunts, effectively snatching the blunt back and putting it to his lips.

“it’s a real question! i’ve seen the girls you mess around with, and i’m not trying to catch anything from you!”

“i’m careful,” he argues with a roll of his eyes. “a lot more careful than you think.” you pout at his reaction, but for some reason, you believe his words.

“if i catch anything, it's on you,” you reply, hackles still raised. shockingly, he doesn't press the matter any more than that.

“... so,” he says after exhaling a deep drag.

“so what?” you ask.

“so why are you out here smoking instead of going out with everyone else?”

“do you seriously think you have the right to ask me that?” you scoff. there’s no way in hell beomgyu is trying to get you to be vulnerable right now.

on beomgyu’s end, he can’t help but feel slighted, even though your reaction is definitely his fault on account of how he essentially antagonizes you at every given opportunity.

“i’m just saying that it’s weird how you’re here instead of, you know, actually enjoying the trip.”

“oh, please. as if there was gonna be any possible way for me to have fun on this fucking thing,” you bitterly reply.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks without any malice, but with genuine curiosity.

truly, honestly, sincerely, you do not know why you say your next words. maybe it’s because you’re high, or maybe it’s because you need to tell someone — anyone — how you really feel, for once. all you really know is: you can’t stop yourself.

“i mean, how could i possibly enjoy myself when i’m left to figure everything out on my own? everyone only cares about having fun with no actual idea how we’ll do it while realistically staying within the budget and our timeline, and my vice president is deadweight, so it’s not like he’ll help,” you complain, taking a jab at beomgyu in light of your waning self control. you’re prepared to verbally spar with him after that last comment, but he surprises you.

“is that how you really feel?” he asks.

“yeah, it is,” you tell him. “that’s how i always feel,” you can’t help but add, more to yourself and less to him, but he hears you, anyway.

“i’m sorry.” you whip your head around to make sure you’re not having some sort of auditory hallucination. did beomgyu just apologize to you? it can’t be. there’s no earthly way.

“i’m sorry. i really am,” he repeats. your whole world feels like it’s thrown off of its axis when you see how somber and genuinely apologetic he looks.

“it’s… it’s fine,” is all you can really muster up the words to say.

“no, it’s not. i’ll help you as much as i can, i swear,” he earnestly insists. you nod in bewilderment at his earnestness — feeling too awkward to do much else.

things are quiet for the next few minutes while you two are passing the blunt back and forth. beomgyu can feel the high finally hitting him in full force, and it takes every brain cell within his clouded mind (as well as every ounce of his courage) to finally get out his next sentence.

“why him?” he mumbles so lowly, you don’t quite catch his words.

“what?” you lazily ask.

“why taehyun?” once again, you find yourself choking on the smoke. god, you’ve really got to get a grip and stop letting beomgyu surprise you — your lungs would thank you for it.

“w-what do you mean?” well, you always knew that beomgyu knows about your feelings for taehyun, but hearing him directly ask about them is enough to throw you off.

“i mean, why do you like him?” he asks, devoid of all the confidence he usually oozes.

“what’s not to like?” you say offhandedly. if you cared enough to pay attention to his reaction, you’d see how he withers at your words. even more so when you continue.

“he’s really, really funny. plus, he’s handsome. not to mention smart and —”

“so what? i’m all of those things,” beomgyu interrupts, irritation bitterly lacing every edge of his words. “and if you call him smart, anybody can be.” oh hell no. you’re so indignant at him calling taehyun stupid, you don’t even catch beomgyu’s childlike envy towards him, let alone why he feels it.

“just because his grades don’t compare to yours, doesn’t mean he’s stupid,” you argue.

“then what does it mean?” he asks with a roll of his eyes at your obvious bias for the other boy.

“it… it just means that he’s —”

“a real genius. yeah, i’m sure you think so,” he snarks.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” you snap, despite your better judgment to just let it roll off of your back. if he were talking about you, you may very well have done so, but this is taehyun he’s talking about. your taehyun.

“it means he can’t compare to me,” he says, more as means to convince himself rather than convince you, but you’re so angry, you don’t even notice.

“and what makes you think you’re so goddamn special?” you ask, sarcasm absolutely dripping out of your voice.

“i’m funnier, hotter, smarter, richer. how can he compare to me?” he snorts. if someone were to ask you why you feel so defensive at this moment, you would be unable to say why, but if you had to guess, you’d say it’s because taehyun is so good it’s impossible to see him any other way. your frustration builds up, hotter and hotter in your chest until you’re on the brink of exploding.

“you say that, but he will always be something you’re not,” you spit.

“and what, pray tell, might that be?” he cockily challenges.

“nice,” you say with conviction, and it may be cheesy, but you mean it. “he is really, really fucking nice and considerate. that’s why i like him.” well, that one went straight to his gut.

“i can be nice!” he exclaims. “i tried to be nice, but you just didn’t care! it was like i was invisible to you!” all you can do is stare, but he’s not finished. “you act like you’re some fucking angel, but i saw the way you looked at me like i’m some stupid, rich asshole who isn’t worth a damn.”

finally, you realize that something is wrong.

“beomgyu, why do you even care about what i think about you?” he doesn’t give a fuck about what you have to say in any other context, today’s example being only the latest in the litany of times where he’s shown you that exact sentiment.

at this, he’s silent, which you truly did not anticipate in lieu of his tirade mere moments ago. you take a good look at the boy, and you finally register that the tips of his ears are a bright red under the fluorescence of the lone light shining next to the doorway.

“i just… i always care about what you think,” he mumbles, face growing redder and redder under your scrutinizing stare as he breaks eye contact with you.

“you could’ve fooled me,” you snort. “you’re always undermining everything i say and do. it’s almost like you’re doing it on… purpose…” you trail off, puzzle pieces finally fitting together in a way you would never suspect.

“beomgyu?” you ask.

“mm?” he murmurs, still refusing to make eye contact.

“do you… do you like me?” and the question sounds so silly you can’t believe you even asked it. this guy fucking hates you, you’re sure of it, but you grow less and less sure of this sentiment with every moment he hesitates to answer.

“... yeah. yeah, i do. but so what? you don’t even care,” he mopes, and just like that, everything makes sense. his teasing, his contrarian nature, and his obnoxiousness are just part of his ruse. he’s just like a child begging for attention by acting out, but to what end? just so you’ll pay attention to him? well, he was on the money when he said you didn’t like him even when he tried to be kind, so maybe, in his own sick little way, he was right.

but that doesn’t mean you don't feel completely blindsided by this revelation.

“what the hell?” is all you can manage to say.

“shut up!” he demands with no real heat to it, just embarrassment.

“i… i can’t believe your solution was to be an asshole,” you say incredulously. “if you had just been nice, or even just normal, i would have warmed up to you. i know i was being childish, but goddamn, you’re worse.”

if he was blushing before, and he was, he’s absolutely blood red now.

“i-it’s your fault for being so judgmental!” he sputters, but even you know he’s just grasping at straws. it all makes the worst kind of sense to you now, and you’re very much shocked at how oblivious you were mere moments ago.

“i can't believe this,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to your temples in an effort to straighten everything out in your muddled head. “you hate me.”

“you’re so dramatic,” he huffs with a roll of his eyes, which would convincingly come across as disdainful, if only his words weren’t so shaky and unsure.

you take a good look at him now, and he can feel it. he’s a very handsome guy, and he knows it, but he can’t help but feel vulnerable. he clears his throat and straightens up his posture when he thinks that you may be comparing him to taehyun... you are not.

none of his actions escape you, which is a far cry from what usually happens, but now that you've discovered his true feelings, it’s almost impossible not to catch his tells; you even wonder how you missed them. his awkward handling of the situation is endearing, in a way. you like watching him squirm, which you realize must be the way he felt about you all those times he teased you. it just makes you wanna push him more.

you’re not exactly known for your impulsivity. in fact, you’re known for the exact opposite. you take things slowly, steadily. you plan every minute detail in consideration of every possible outcome, but as for right now? right now, as you sit and watch beomgyu pout, you just want to let go and do what you really want, and what you really want is to watch him break.

you grab his face with your hands and turn it towards you, and he scowls for just a moment before blinking his big, reddened eyes in curiosity at your unreadable gaze.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, too exhilarated by your touch to think about batting you away.

this is a bad idea — a horrible one, even — but that does nothing to deter you. how can it when his skin on your palms makes it feel like there's pure electricity thrumming through your bones? fuck it, might as well.

you don’t realize it yourself, but you look incredibly focused as you pull him in, his lips meeting yours. you’d think with the shock he must feel that he’d be taken aback for a second, but beomgyu, as always, does not abide by your rules. he immediately grabs your face and presses his lips even harder against yours. you’re surprised at how much heat is behind it — how much frustration.

it’s incredibly interesting to watch his reactions as you kiss him, which would be weird, but he’s far too engrossed in this newfound pleasure to notice your stare. his eyes are shut, but they tremble with every passing second, making his long eyelashes quiver. you never noticed how long they are before now. you chalk up the swiping of your tongue against his chapped lips to sheerly wanting to study his reaction, and oh man, it does not disappoint. he whines against your mouth, eyebrows furrowed like he’s pleading for something. you want to find out what that something is. cruelly, you take his bottom lip between your teeth and lightly bite. he whines even louder, his eyes fluttering open, and he pulls away and says his next words in a tinny voice.

“c-can i touch you?” he pants, forehead pressed against yours, lips cherry red.

“no,” you say with a smile against his mouth. he would whine again if he could, but he can’t quite do it at the moment, not when your hands have moved from his cheeks in order to explore the rest of him. you curiously run your fingers through his long, silky hair, and he can’t help but moan when you experimentally tug at it. it’s breathy and light, and you’re intrigued, to say the very least.

you don’t have the most experience in the world when it comes to the, uh, matters between men and women, but you are a fast learner by nature, so it takes no time at all to figure out where he likes to be touched. his lips, obviously, and his hair. his ears, so flushed and pink and cute, must be particularly sensitive, and you test this hypothesis by dragging your teeth along his earlobe. he lets out a loud, broken moan when you do, and anyone else in the world would have been embarrassed by making such a noise, but not beomgyu. he’s so pretty and pliable underneath your touch, which feels so tantalizing that all shame escapes him.

“do you like that, beomie?” you whisper teasingly, employing a nickname you’ve heard from a few of his ex-flings, and another strangled cry leaves his pouty lips when he feels your breath touch his ear.

“mhmm, i like it! like it so much, princess,” he babbles, eyes screwed shut as you trail your lips from his ear to his unblemished neck.

“princess?” you can’t help but question. “where’d that come from?”

“think about calling you that all the time,” he moans as you suck on a previously unmarred patch of skin on his neck. “think about you all the time.”

“and what do you think, beomie?” you whisper encouragingly, as if he’s a stupid boy squirming under your thumb.

“th-think about how much i wanna fuck you,” he admits. “h-how much i want to fill you up, make you m-mine.” honest to god, your panties were already feeling a little sticky just from teasing him alone, but his words make your core heat up tenfold. you shift your legs while trying to make yourself more comfortable, but you fail miserably.

“you’re delusional,” you snort, as you pull away from him, but his lips try to chase yours before you lightly push him away.

“i’m not! i-i jus’ wanna make you feel good,” he slurs, and oh god, you simply can’t be saved.

“well, wanna make your delusions reality?” you can’t help but ask before you can think better of it, but when you see how his eyes light up in hope and pure, primal lust, you realize you don’t regret it.

the walk to his hotel room is silent, so unbearably silent that you can’t help but second-guess yourself. are you really gonna do this with beomgyu of all people? but it’s been so long since you’ve let go, who will it hurt just to have fun for once? maybe you, probably you, but who cares? it can't be any worse than it is now. besides, you're graduating soon. if things go as badly as you’re pretty sure they will, you’ll never have to see beomgyu again after the fact. plus, things really can’t seem to get any more embarrassing than the humiliation ritual you put yourself through every day that you spend pining after taehyun.

and so, you enter his hotel room, which is easily double the size of yours (sans a roommate, no less) with a look of determination. beomgyu completely misses it, though, as he shuts the door behind you and immediately tugs you towards his bed, quick to rekindle the atmosphere you two had on the rooftop. surprisingly, it’s not hard to do so when he’s back to kissing you so desperately it’s like you’re his lifeline.

he impatiently swipes his tongue across your lips, mirroring what you did earlier, silently asking for entry. you oblige. he groans at the feeling of your warm tongue brushing against his own, savoring the way you taste, which yes, does have notes of weed, but there’s something sweet in there, too. something he’s only ever fantasized about with his hand down his pants.

one of your hands is currently tangled in his hair, just the way he likes it, while the other one exploratorily finds its way down his lithe body. you’ve never done what you do next before, but he seems so incredibly sensitive, it feels like a matter of course to put your hand up his shirt and tweak one of his hardened nipples. he lets out a strangled cry, which only makes you certain that you’ve done the right thing.

“is it good, beomie? is it everything you wanted it to be?” you tease. he nods like an idiot.

“y-yes, even better,” he moans. “feels s-so good.”

in the dim lighting of his hotel room, you can see that he means it as the tent in his pants gets harder and harder to ignore. the poor thing is so wound up by your caresses that he may just cum untouched, anyway, but what fun would that be? so, before you can think too much about it, you palm him through his jeans.

“ah!” he cries, eyebrows furrowed. you palm him again, rougher this time, and just like clockwork, he cries even louder.

“want me to keep going?” you ask, studying and soaking up every reaction of his. all he can do is nod.

he unzips his pants and he’s all too willing to help you slide them off of him, tossing them on the floor before hurriedly grabbing one of your hands to meet his barely clothed bulge. it’s big, because it’s beomgyu and of fucking course it is. as if he needed another reason to be conceited.

it doesn’t seem like he’s very conceited, though, as he moans like a whore at you hooking your fingers under his waistband and tugging his boxers off of him. his cock is very obviously leaking, and it’s as bright red as his ears were earlier, completely flushed with beads of precum drooling off of it. there are angry veins running up the sides of it, which sounds gross, in theory, but you can’t help but feel like they make it even prettier. you gulp when you imagine how they’ll feel when they’re dragging in and out of your pussy.

“don’t stare!” he says, breaking you out of your reverie. honestly? he knows it’s pretty, just like every other part of him, but he feels incredibly scrutinized under your gaze. you don’t listen, still very much staring as you take your thumb and experimentally swipe it over his thick, reddened tip. then again. then again.

“s-stop teasing me, please,” he whimpers, but you’re so enamored with his reactions you can’t help yourself. you spit on your hand and grab the base of his cock, which is no small feat considering how thick it is, and you give it a harsh tug. he bites his bottom lip to try to stifle his moans as you start to jerk him off, applying pressure exactly where he needs it most, but he quickly gives up on being quiet when you bend over and lick his tip. he tastes salty, but not unbearably so, and in a way, he’s almost sweet. that could just be your imagination, though.

beomgyu is no longer trying to bite back his moans, but he's stuck in another dilemma: he can't seem to unscrew his eyes for long enough to fully appreciate the sight before him. one of your hands is gripping the muscle of his thigh as leverage while the other aids in squeezing and pulling the parts of him you can’t quite fit in your mouth. you’re not looking at him, which would normally be disappointing, but it’s impossible to be anything less than satisfied when you’re hollowing out your cheeks to suck on him even harder. you take your hand from his dick and ghost your fingers over his balls, and he has to push you off of him so he doesn’t blow his load right then and there.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, wiping some spit and precum off of your lips. he’s enchanted by the way your lips are swollen from sucking on him, so much so that he almost forgets to answer.

“‘m gonna c-cum,” he says shyly.

“and?”

“i don’t want to yet. i wanna make you feel good, too,” he argues petulantly.

“oh? is that what you do in your dreams? you make me feel good? i’m surprised, i figured you’d like me to do all the work and —”

“shut up!” he hisses, and you can’t help but laugh.

“let me eat you out,” he offers, trying to distract you from his evident embarrassment. it’s tempting, very tempting, indeed, but you’re so hot and bothered that you kind of just want to get to the main event. especially since you just know it’ll feel good to finally have him inside of you. it’s been so long since you’ve been with somebody, after all.

“no, thanks. do you have a condom?” you ask, ignoring his suggestion, and he’d be humiliated if only your question weren't so damn exciting.

“n-no…” he stammers. your face falls for a second before he rushes to get out his next words. “b-but i can pull out!”

“sorry, this was fun and all, but i’m not letting you fuck me without protection.”

“please?” he begs. “i’m clean, i swear! i told you i’m more careful than you think. i really don’t sleep around that much, honestly,” he admits.

“what?” you ask, genuinely bewildered before calling his bluff. “bullshit. i see you with a new girl all the fucking time. quit lying.”

“i’m not! i promise — i promise — i don’t sleep around a lot. i only act like i do ‘cause of you!”

“because of me?” and it actually makes sense when you think about it. he acts out, bullies you, and pretends he’s involved with a lot more girls than he actually is just to try to get you to look his way. oh man, what are you gonna do with him?

“you’re so pathetic,” you sneer before hiking up your skirt and mounting him.

“w-what are you —”

“shut up before i change my mind,” you spit. and just like magic, his mouth is snapped shut.

you start by rubbing your clothed pussy against his bare cock. your slick has already ruined the fabric beyond salvation, so you don’t really mind ruining it some more. beomgyu is absolutely in awe at your actions, rutting against you feverishly. he’s greedy, if nothing else, so he impatiently moves your soaked panties to the side and tries to seek relief in your warm hole. you let him grab your hips as he tries to ease himself into you, but he’s stunned at the resistance he’s met with as he tries to push himself in.

“s-so tight,” he groans as his fat cock breaches the tight rim of your pussy. the muscles contract as they stretch to accommodate his widened tip.

you were right about how good you anticipated the feeling of his veins scraping against your insides would be, and you revel in the feeling as you sink down inch by scorching inch. beomgyu, on his end, looks absolutely devastated as you slowly take him in. his mouth is twisted open in a silent scream, and his eyes are watery, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. when your ass finally meets his hips, you can feel his length pulsating all the way up to your cervix. it’s a snug fit, too, and it takes everything in him not to hump you like a fucking dog.

slowly, you raise yourself up again, almost completely off of him, before slamming yourself back down. then again. then again. he whimpers when you do it, grabbing your hips to help steady you as you ride him for everything that he’s worth. he’s enraptured as your breasts bounce with each movement, and he can’t help himself now — he begins to thrust into you wildly, matching your rhythm and making you cry out. if you were in your right state of mind, you’d feel sorry for the poor souls who are on the same floor as him.

“pussy so f-fucking good,” he grunts as he feels you squeezing around him, and you’re about to smirk before he pushes you onto the bed then turns you on your side so you’re facing away from him. he tries to slide back into your needy cunt, but the new position makes you feel even tighter. still, with the combination of his slick and yours, he’s able to push himself in again before rutting into you. he presses one of his big hands against your stomach while the other one hastily grabs one of your tits, and suddenly he's back to fucking you like a wild animal.

you've never in your life felt so wanted, so needed, but beomgyu needs you in a way so carnal it makes you feel even more turned on. he nips your ear, mimicking your actions from earlier, and begs for your praise.

“a-are you feeling good? you’re feeling good, right?” he chokes out as he hits a particularly deep part of your pussy.

“so good, beomie,” you moan. “you’re fucking me so good.” those words would normally never leave your lips, but he seems desperate for your validation, and you know he’s too far gone to mock you.

“oh god, this is w-what i dreamed about,” he babbles as he takes the hand that was pressing on your stomach and uses it to massage your clit, earning a strangled scream from you. “th-this is what i’ve always wanted.” and if you could see his face, you’d notice how his eyes roll backwards in sheer ecstasy.

“i’m gonna cum!” you cry, all self-restraint gone.

“m-me too, princess,” he moans. “c-can i cum inside?” it’s a pipe dream if he’s ever had one, and you can believe that he’s had one, but your response floors him.

“yes, yes, yes! do it inside, i want it!” and that’s enough. he spits out a curse as he hammers himself into you, making you almost sob as you come undone with him inside of you. the feeling of your pussy sucking him in even more as it wildly contracts around him pulls him over the edge, so he paints your walls with his seed and fucks you through both of your highs.

he stays there until he goes soft, slowly pulling out and watching in awe as the cum spills out of your hole. he pulls you flush against his body and sighs as he tenderly fixes up your hair.

“i really, really like you,” he earnestly whispers into your hair.

“i —”

“it’s okay if you don’t like me yet,” he interrupts. “i can wait.” you’re glad you’re not facing him, because you actually feel a little awkward at his sincere words, but you can’t deny that it makes your heart flutter to hear them.

“okay,” you say.

“okay?” he asks, just to be sure he heard you correctly.

“yes, i-it’s okay. you can wait.” he’s so excited that he throws himself on top of you and turns you to face him, lips greedily meeting yours, putting every ounce of yearning into the kiss.

honestly? with the way things are going right now, he probably won’t have to wait very long at all.

notes pt. 2: yeah... i'm so sorry that this is bad i'm just used to writing angst angst angst and this def veered more into cute territory but whatever just don't bully me

permanent taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @milkandoranges @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00

mad about you taglist: @m00gyu @bambammtori @yelsuki @denleave1088 @hyewka

join my taglist here!

#niningtori #mad about you #sub!idol #sub!beomgyu #beomgyu angst #beomgyu fic #txt angst #txt fic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #txt x you #nini's hard hours #txt hard hours #beomgyu hard hours #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff

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kitten4sannie · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: ex! san x fem! reader feat. wingman seonghwa and instigator mingi

genres: omg actual plot ??, exes to lovers, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff, an attempt at humor, smut finale

summary: during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with choi san, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.

w.c: 8.2k

tags: features the unholy trinity: misunderstandings/miscommunication/messiness, drama (i bring drama-ma-ma-ma~), alcohol use, mutual jealousy, mutual pining, lots of banter, third parties, poor sannie and reader are just two big dummies with even bigger hearts </3,, like 20 flashbacks (okay it’s like 2 but i like being dramatic sue me), too many winter analogies, insecurities, confessions, l bombs, tears, all that jazz

warnings: soft dom! san (literally the softest dom to ever exist IM SICK), subby! reader, pussydrunk san and cockdrunk reader (like these mfs are so desperate for each other it’s actually disgusting), dirty talk, pet names, praise, possessiveness, kissing, a lot of spit (leave me alone!!!), tit play, grinding, body worship, oral (receiving), passionate condomless lovemaking by the fire baybeeeee, breeding kink, bulge kink, creampies

a/n: so i listen to last christmas religiously every year and while i was jamming my hamster brain was like “WRITE WRITE WRITE” so i diddd and yeahh this happened??? lmao but fr this was the most fun i’ve ever had writing since feb filth fest…. like wtf. i gotta write plot forward fics more often this shit’s like a drug man. anyways i hope you enjoy my dear lovelies <33

*shoutout to my sweetheart bunbun @cottoncandy-girl for beta reading and hyping this fic up during the writing process. i would’ve second guessed myself twice as much if not for you. you’re a lifesaver!! mwah mwah ~~

song rec for the general vibe: last christmas by wham obv <3, fool by frankie cosmos, snowfall (slowed and reverb) by oneheart, know me by gemini, easily by bruno major, flowers and chocolate by eyedress

angst: pleaser by the wallows, do me right by gemini, homesick by wave to earth, cherie by hojean

smut: mice city by hotel ugly, between your thighs by jimmy brown, lock me in by hojean, touch by keshi, your love by brb

Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”

With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”

“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.

She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”

You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”

“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.

Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that fixed me actually. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.

Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers, your lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”

“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”

She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”

“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.

Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”

You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”

Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.

Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.

“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.

“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”

You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”

San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”

Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”

San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.

And then your door opened.

“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”

“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.

“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just stabbed him directly in the heart, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”

You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”

“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like you had been waiting all this time for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”

San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”

You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”

Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?

“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.

His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I–”

Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen– Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”

You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.

Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.

You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you gasped dramatically, grasping at your chest.

“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried back, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.

San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.

“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”

You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”

Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.

You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.

By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”

Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.

“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”

“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”

Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”

“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.

You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.

“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.

San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”

After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.

You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.

❆ ❆ ❆

You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”

“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?

“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.

San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.

You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”

San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”

You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual Christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.

He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.

You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.

“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.

You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”

“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”

“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”

She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.

“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.

“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”

You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.

You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.

❆ ❆ ❆

“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of Christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.

“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”

The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.

“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.

“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“

You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying ass pick-me like that.”

“But you picked…him.”

“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”

You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”

“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.

“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.

“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.

Your bitter, frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”

San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and walking away from him.

Your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare, before you stormed out. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering “Do something,” encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright.

“San, listen to me.”

San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”

Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”

San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”

Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”

San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”

Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”

A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been sitting inside and collecting dust for the entire year. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.

❆ ❆ ❆

With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.

Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.

“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.

San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.

San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”

“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.

“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.

San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

San stroked his hair with a shaky hand in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.

“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.

“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”

“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”

San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”

The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth the risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.

Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”

“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”

“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”

You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”

San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.

You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.

❆ ❆ ❆

San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.

“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.

“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”

You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.

“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”

Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”

“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.

“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”

“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.

San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.

“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.

“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”

A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in glowing, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.

“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”

San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”

San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.

“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”

Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.

“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.

“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”

“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”

San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”

You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.

Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”

“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.

“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.

You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.

“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby…mine to eat, mine to fuck….mine to fill, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.

San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pulsing hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.

“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”

“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”

Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.

San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”

“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”

“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins growing more visible when he gripped your thighs tightly. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”

“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.

Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Again?”

“Again.”

San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.

“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Need to show you my love.”

“Show me, baby,” you sighed affectionately, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.

The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the remaining pieces of firewood still crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.

You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the cozy blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and spiced cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.

“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.

You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”

San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”

You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.

San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”

San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt safe. Whole. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”

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