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paarksunghoon · 2 months ago

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walk the line | jongseong

SUMMARY: park jongseong has one regret and he's spent his entire life atoning for the pain he caused you. when you walk into office under the premise of working together, he's only got one shot to make things right before it's too late.

WORD COUNT: 33.1K

NOTES: this story was originally posted on my other blog, @pprodsuga. I will be transferring some work in due time and this is the first one! if it looks familiar, no need to panic or think I’m plagiarizing.

WARNINGS: contains smut.

PLAYLIST + MASTERLIST

***

When Jay was eleven years old, his father brought him a souvenir back from New York City when he traveled abroad for a week-long business trip. Jay has always been a big dreamer, too lost in his own reality to acknowledge the everyday life of grade school and all that came with it. It’s a tendency that his parents fostered and nurtured, instilling the belief that Jay could achieve anything he wanted in life if he dreamt hard enough.

The “I Heart NY” pin sits in the first drawer to the right of his desk. Besides his quick wit and intelligence, Jay would love to believe that pin is the reason why his desk on the fiftieth floor overlooks the city of Seoul.

Jay doesn’t make mistakes. He’s calculated and smart with his decisions based on cold, hard facts. He trusts his gut and prides himself in taking the high road when things get tough, letting losses go and holding his wins close to his heart. Practicing law isn’t for the weak, and Jay is not weak.

Yet walking into his office feels bleak on some days. The castle he serves doesn’t seem as golden as it once did in the early stages of his career. The gifts given to him by clients and admirers that sit around his office feel undeserved, no matter how many hours he put into making them happy. His only sense of comfort is the large vinyl collection he has that sits between shelf upon shelf for no one to touch but him.

Jay is meticulous in his work, rarely letting anyone into his inner circle without proving themselves first. It’s what makes him a great lawyer and what gave him a respectable name to his firm and others alike—Jay takes calculated risks and trusts no one, other than himself, completely.

Still, his days wane between fulfilling and empty.

He’s one of the first people to arrive at the office with a briefcase in hand and hair slicked back with expensive gel, wearing suits tailored at a few grand apiece. Jay doesn’t leave early either. He watches associates under him file out of the office one by one as the hour goes by until there’s no one left but him. It’s only then will Jay cap his pen or queue an email to send in the morning to make it appear as if he hadn’t spent all night in his office.

Jay loves his job. It gives him a sense of self fulfillment and it brings him joy to win cases for his clients, who range from high-paid celebrities to private equity firms. While the high salary and other liquid assets are perks of his profession, Jay puts his entire faith into his work and lets his winning streak do the talking for him.

He has to, or else law school wouldn’t have been worth it.

For three years, Jay studied from dusk until dawn for the chance to work in the career he’s been dreaming about since he received that ‘I Heart NY’ pin from his father all those years ago. Opening a particularly long chapter that was difficult to analyze never felt like a burden to Jay, not when his life would eventually amount to working at one of the big three law firms in Korea as Senior Partner.

Jay holds more ownership than he once did and manages his own associate now. He’s no longer at the entrance phase of his career. Jay’s responsible for more finances and harder cases the firm encounters, and he knows his boss and the Managing Partner, Lee Heeseung, expects the best from him.

Perhaps it’s why he feels compelled to put on his best smile and work until he feels exhausted because he knows he’ll be proud of it down the line. It’s what Jay assumes; all of the early mornings and late nights will prove to be worth it once he’s able to sit back and look down his long, successful career. People don’t admire him for nothing.

Nothing beats watching the sunset over the horizon as he ends his workday. The golden hues on the sun cascading down the city skyline fills the atmosphere of the office, signaling the end of the day. It’s when Jay feels his happiness. He’ll let the associates go home to catch up on rest and see their friends and families before it approaches a late hour.

Jay, however, stays behind to finish up on projects before his eyes grow weak and when he can’t keep his yawns at bay anymore. He’s already had his moments to leave at an appropriate time when he was a mere associate. Now, Jay has more responsibilities that he needs to maintain in order to feel like he really earned the title of Senior Partner. So he stays an hour after everybody goes home.

Jay is pulled out of his thoughts when he hears the sound of knuckles on his glass door.

“Knock knock.” Jake Sim’s voice echoes through the large office, bringing Jay back to reality. He clears his throat and turns around to see the younger man standing before him with a blue manila folder in his hands. “I come bearing gifts.”

“You’re a bit too late. Christmas was four months ago.”

“Ha-ha,” Jake laughs dryly. “Consider this an early birthday present, then.”

Jake presents the folder to his colleague, who opens the file and sifts through the papers at his fingertips. Jay’s eyebrow quirks with interest as he looks between the documents and the man standing before him. It’s something he’s been waiting on for weeks. Something that’ll make or break a case he’s been anxiously thinking about and what’s been making him stay behind until the clock ticks is the only audible sound on the entire floor.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Jay begins. He points at Jake with the folder. “You’re the man.”

“I’m always the man, you just don’t want to admit it.”

The pair smile at each other after a beat. Jay puts the file on his desk and invites Jake to take a seat on the couch by his vinyl collection, one that the man knows not to touch.

“I heard you’re almost done with the Yeon-Choi merger,” Jake says. “Heeseung mentioned it this morning.”

“I’m waiting on a fax from them, actually.” Jay takes his specks off of his face and places it nearly on his desk. “Sunoo’s on the lookout for the document. Speaking of which.”

Jake looks behind him to see Sunoo enter the office space as Jay waves him in. He hands over the stack of documents, freshly printed with the paper still warm to the touch.

“Ms. Kang just faxed it over,” says Kim Sunoo, a first year associate. “Thank you,” Jay says as he receives the document. He looks at Jake. “Now I’m done with the Yeon-Choi merger.”

“You’d think two global giants in the world of finance would be at odds with merging given their competitive streak in the past few years, but they’ve just signed a document that lists a communal agreement to share assets.” Jake watches Sunoo leave and waves goodbye before he walks out the door. “Managing this client was an insane move, even for you.”

“Choi Analytics is nothing if not determined,” Jay informs. “So am I, Sim. You should know that by now.”

“I think you bit off more than you could chew. You only secured that win with two days to spare.”

“I have you, don’t I?” Jay teases with the tilt of his head. “Who was it that told you to talk to Yang Nari and convinced her to take that settlement before we could agree to the terms of the merger?”

Jake laughs. “You, Park Jongseong.”

“It’s all about working smarter, not harder. Remember that.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Jake says with a mock salute.

“Please don’t ever call me that again.”

“Whatever you say, captain.”

Jay’s mouth quirks. “Go back to the bullpen and finish up the reports. Wouldn’t want you to pull another all nighter.” Jake leaves with a laugh and disappears around the corner.

The large office with glass doors and windows feels like a familiar set up. His workspace, with his name and title underneath it, feels more like a trophy case than a managerial place of work. His walk to his office from the elevator takes him past the associate bullpen, situated right next to Heeseung’s. This space is his sanctuary and he’d like to believe he performs best under pressure. It’s why he doesn’t mind people peering into his office whenever he’s sitting at his desk.

The days are long and the work is hard, but it’s the kind of job that makes Jay feel like he’s accomplished something in his life. Coming in as the sun rises and leaving just after it sets doesn’t feel like a sacrifice, nor does it feel like he’s losing out on opportunities when he’s got a bank account filled with zeroes and a penthouse apartment with the same view as his office. If anyone were to ask Jay about his life, he’d tell them he’s pretty damn happy.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Every morning is spent repeating mantras in his head about how far he’s come with the hard work and diligence that came with law school. The late nights and busy weeks spent memorizing cases and writing essays led to his employment as Lee & Associates, where he managed to acquire promotion after promotion through diligent work.

His newest title itself makes people look at Jay with respect, the kind of attitude he used to strive for when he was a humble law student. His early childhood was spent hearing his father talk about winning in court and the importance of believing in yourself when it comes time to face tough decisions. Jay’s father always advised him to do what he thinks is right, or else he’ll live with a regretful consequence for the rest of his life without the chance of rectifying it.

Jay’s loyalty and integrity is what makes people revere him. He stands tall and proud, walking into every room like he built the place with his bare hands. There’s never a hair out of place and his wardrobe reflects his luxurious tastes, always a suit from abroad and accessories to match.

He’s built a good life for himself. His father is still a practicing lawyer while his mother is considering retiring from her wildly successful jewelry business. Jay comes home for the holidays and visits them a few times a month for dinner when he has the time, and he does his best to keep the people around him happy.

After all, that’s what Jay does best.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

It’s Thursday morning and Jay’s week has gone by without a hitch. His clients aren’t giving him a hard time and he hasn’t had a reason to step into the courthouse at all. In addition, he hasn’t heard any of the associates complain about the workload given to them nor has Jake needed help with a problem for Jay to amend.

It feels odd to be as calm as he is. Jay wants to welcome it with open arms and sink into his seat until he feels like he’s vulnerable enough to sleep, but he knows that’s not in his job description. Instead, Jay needs to sleep with one eye open.

“Park,” Heeseung says as he pokes his head into Jay’s offices. “Can you spare a few minutes and meet me in my office? I need to call an impromptu meeting.”

“Sure,” Jay says as he puts a file in his cabinet. “What’s it for?”

“It’s better if we talk behind closed doors. Jake and Sunghoon are already waiting for us.”

Jay anxiously walks behind Heeseung and fixes his tie, patting it to his chest and smoothing it over in an attempt to distract himself from Heeseung’s cryptic words. He sees Sunghoon and Jake in the office and takes a seat on the armrest of Heeseung’s couch.

“What’s so important that you need to discuss this in your office with the door closed?” Park Sunghoon, a fellow senior partner, asks. “We didn’t lose a billion dollars overnight, did we?”

“No, but I know you would’ve caught that before that would’ve happened,” Heeseung quips back. “You aren’t our financial expert for nothing.”

“Damn straight.”

“What did you bring us in for, Heeseung?” Jake asks. Heeseung takes a moment to gather himself, eyes darting around the office before speaking.

“It’s about the Hybe Records case.”

“They’re holding a tight leash on people they sign on their main label or subsidiaries,” Jay nods. “Won't settle for a penny less than the recoupment.”

“Which is why a portion of people signed with Hybe came to us to help them rewrite the contracts from here on out,” Sunghoon adds. “Hybe came to us with a bullshit settlement offer and we declined. We’re still working on finding a chink in the armor.”

“Right,” Heeseung says. “What else do we know about the case?”

“Hybe acts as the bank and their musicians take out a loan to make an album,” Jake says, pacing in Heeseung’s office with his arms outstretched for emphasis. “The artist can use that money however they like and the sales made go right back to the label before they can make a profit.”

“Exactly,” Jay nods, “which is why the label has been terminating their contractual agreement before they can produce the agreed amount of records.”

“Hybe has more than enough money for a buyout.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s fucked up.”

“The label keeps the catalog and the money while the musician gets nothing.” Jay frowns.

“We all know it’s why musicians and idols pick up endorsements or pick up acting,” Heeseung mentions. “I mean, the money they get from other ventures supplements their income that they don’t get from music. But because that’s normal practice and it doesn’t help our sob story angle, I don’t know where else to turn to.”

“We’ve been fighting this day and night for weeks. You’re not telling me you’re dropping this, are you?” Sunghoon asks.

“Between Jay’s regular clients, Jake’s assisting, my workload, and your cases, we don’t have the bandwidth to fight this. Quite frankly, I don’t trust anyone to work on this but you three.”

“Is there something we should know about?” Jay inquires. “Did Hybe threaten us?”

“No, nothing like that.” Heeseung sighs. “Look, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m burnt out. Hybe isn’t making this easy on us and we’re running out of time. What I’m trying to say is I’ve consulted with another firm and have hired outside help. We need fresh eyes on this case.”

Jay nervously runs his hand through his hair.

Heeseung’s right, this lawsuit is eating up most of his hours and consumes his thoughts when he’s off the clock. The people being affected are anywhere between starving artists and people who can afford to pay him his billables without question. But the greater good is what Jay thinks about and realistically, he knows it would hurt him to see so many people lose their avenue to pursue their passions.

Hearing stories from clients makes his heart lurch. Each deposition to discuss what happened behind closed doors with label executives makes Jay’s pursuit that much stronger. To know he has the privilege of obtaining a law degree and being able to work in his dream career without much of a hitch makes him feel guilty when he knows the very people sitting in front of him are putting their passions on the line. It makes him work harder.

He’s no longer the law student that slaved away writing essays and pulling all-nighters to accomplish a task that wouldn’t matter in the long run. Now, all of Jay’s efforts matter. His work will be impacted for years to come and he can’t afford to misstep when handling clients. It’s why he feels so strongly about this case and why it’s hard for him to stop thinking about it when he gets home. A penthouse overlooking the city means nothing if he can’t help the people who got him there.

Jay knows Sunghoon and Jake feel the same way, too. Sunghoon, who came from a similar background to Jay, has always struggled with finding his voice in the business of law. Now as a senior partner with more at stake, he knows his friend will stand his ground if that means his clients walk away with everything they asked for. Jake, a first year associate having graduated law school after taking a few years off from college, is arguably the most sensitive of the three. He loves his work and finds passion in the people he helps represent. It’s why Jay trusts him and why he chose Jake to be his associate in the first place.

To take action on behalf of his clients means to succeed. Jay knows he comes from wealth and privilege, and he’d likely be just fine if he chose a career that wasn’t law. But his foot is in the door because his father was able to give him a legacy standard at law school, and it would be a shame to let that go to waste as if he didn’t have anything to prove. Jay knows he does.

“As we already know,” Heeseung begins to say, “we need all the help we can get on the Hybe Records case. They’re the most powerful label in all of Asia and they’ve got their teeth sunk in every Asian market.”

“They’ve got a dozen smaller labels beneath them and they’re always looking to convince independent labels to give up their ownership,” Jay says. “It’ll be hard to reach a settlement for all of them.”

“I know,” Heeseung sighs. He leans on the front of his desk. “I know you guys can handle it. Between the four of us, we can try to win this thing but it’ll take more time than they’re giving us.”

“Kid genius could probably read up on their files by tomorrow morning,” Sunghoon snorts as Jake elbows his rib cage.

“Don’t be silly, Sunghoon. I couldn’t possibly do that in a single night.” Jake smirks. “Give me two days.”

“Show off,” Sunghoon mutters with a hidden grin.

“Even so, it won’t be enough to fight them. Hybe has hired a plethora of lawyers to back them up and block us out.” Heeseung crosses his arm and is sure to maintain eye contact with the three boys in front of him. “It’s important to keep our clientele, but imagine how much business this would bring if we won.”

“You think that many musicians would hire us?” Jake asks.

“I think that many musicians care about owning their own music and not having to pay back a recoupment.”

“The amount an artist has to pay back before they keep their earnings,” Jake says with pursed lips. “Right. That’s really unfair.”

“That’s the music industry for you.”

“Labels are greedy as shit,” Sunghoon says with bitterness in his tone. “They make a promise to up and coming musicians and swear they’ll be successful by the end of the year, but they don’t really care about that. They’ll give money to make albums but won’t care if these people live or die if they don’t see a late profit.”

“It’s sickening,” Jake adds. “It should be illegal for musicians having to take endorsements and sponsorships just to pay the bills. They look like sellouts.”

“I don’t like it any less than you guys do,” Heeseung responds. “But that’s the way it works. We just need to find a good enough reason for them to settle with us. We aren’t budging on the recoupment.”

“Well, I’m glad we all agree that musicians shouldn’t have to pay back their loan.”

“I’m confident in you all,” Heeseung tells them. “Jay, you’re one of my best guys. You close deals and negotiate settlements like no one I’ve ever seen before. Sunghoon, you’ve been an incredible lawyer since the moment we hired you and you’re the only person I don’t have to keep my eye on.” Heeseung turns to take. “And Jake, you’re a gifted associate with a knack for getting people to tell you the truth. I’ve never met anyone quite like you either.”

“He makes depositions seem like fun,” Sunghoon laughs.

Jake smiles dramatically. “Nobody can lie to this beautiful face.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Heeseung interjects, “is that you’re all incredible lawyers and I’ve never regretted hiring you.”

“There’s always a but,” Jay comments. Heeseung nods.

“But, our best isn’t enough. Our best doesn’t account for the numerous legal and financial attacks Hybe Records will bestow on us. We’ve been thinking big but we need to think bigger. We need to think outside the box.”

“What do you propose?” Jay asks. “We’ve already gotten a first meeting with Hybe and God knows they’ll pressure us to give them an answer soon. I know that they know we won’t budge and are probably working with a counter move as we speak.”

“We’re bringing in someone from an outside firm.”

“What?” Sunghoon says. “Which one?”

“Tang-Young,” replies Heeseung. “They’re a powerful firm, as we know, and were one of the few who declined to represent Hybe.”

“We trust them, right?” Jake asks.

“We do, yes,” Heeseung confirms with a single nod. “Tang-Young have been kind to us and I’d like to believe we’ve been the same to them. We’ve been invited to consult on cases before and they’ve helped us out in the past, albeit it’s been a while. But we need all the help we can get and they were enthusiastic about assisting us.”

“I don’t know,” Jay says. “Catching someone else up to speed while we’re this far down the line? That seems like busy work. Unless we have another Jake who can read and memorize documents as quickly as he can, I don’t know how much help they’ll be.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be pleased with our colleague,” Heeseung says cryptically. Jay looks at him with confusion. “You guys trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” says Sunghoon. “I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t.”

“Then I’ll need you to trust me when I say the partner working with us is the best in the business. She’s an old friend and someone I confide in, which if you know me, is hard to do unless you work at this firm.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Jake asks.

Heeseung sighs. “I’m saying this now because I didn’t have time to discuss the partnership prior to today because of deadlines and we need all the help we can get. A friend from law school, Kazuha, was willing to help us out since we assisted on that auto lawsuit a few months back.”

“We don’t need to worry,” Sunghoon says. “This is the best law firm in Korea and we have a history of having the highest rate in cases closed successfully. You’re our leader, Heeseung. We know you wouldn’t go behind our backs unless it was important.”

“We need a miracle for this one,” says Heeseung. “Jay’s already running point on this case but he alone can’t handle the burden.”

A sinking feeling festers in Jay’s chest. He knows that name–Kazuha–from when he was in law school and knew her family to have built Asia’s largest corporate law firm from the ground up. They’re respectable, highly profitable, and a company Jay would rather not think about because hearing that name reminds him of his deepest regrets.

His week is offset by Heeseung’s sudden news. Jay has never doubted his elder, especially since Heeseung was a mentor to Jay in his early years of his career, but the hairs on the back of his neck perk up at the sight of Heeseung periodically looking at Jay. He doesn’t think Sunghoon or Jake notices the awkward tension in the room either, too engrossed with talking strategy plans on how to make sure the new, mysterious partner is up-to-date.

Jay fiddles with the rings adorned on his fingers. The expensive jewelry, some of which are presents to himself and others gifts from his parents, provide a temporary distraction for him. They’re warm to the touch with how often he twists them for every word Heeseung speaks. Jay’s throat suddenly feels too dry.

“We’ll be fine,” Sunghoon tells Jake, forcing Jay to tune back into the conversation. “I think we’re all on edge because this is by far the biggest case we’ve handled in the past few years.”

“There are dozens of clients who are filing a lawsuit against Hybe but it isn’t considered class action yet,” Heeseung replies. “We could very well set a precedent if we manage to win this thing.”

“That would put the firm on the map!” Jake exclaims. “Just think about it. If we manage to settle in our favor so that these musicians don’t have to pay the label back, we could set an example so other major labels follow through with no recoupment.”

“This is why everything’s been kept under wraps and why I’ve had to act before consulting you three.” Heeseung finds a pen from his desk and twirls it in between his fingers. “I love this company. I became managing partner not too long ago and my predecessor took his name off of the door and added mine because he thought I could do something with the firm. You three are people I trust more than anyone else and I wouldn’t have agreed to let you work on it if I didn’t believe we could succeed.”

Jay can sense the nervousness and anxiety in Heeseung’s tone. In all of his years working with him, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man as on edge as he is now. Heeseung cannot manage to sit still and the pen his fingers are distracting him almost like Jay’s rings are. It’s no wonder they work so well together.

“We can do it, Heeseung,” Sunghoon says in an attempt to quell the atmosphere. “It’s hard and tedious, but what case isn’t?”

“Besides, we have Jay. He is the best closer in Seoul,” Jake vouches, a coy smirk sitting on the edge of his lips as Heeseung merely smiles and shrugs in casual agreement.

The sounds of knuckles rapping on Heeseung’s glass door interrupts their conversation. The image of you standing before him knocks the air out of his lungs.

He’s brought back to when he was a second year law student, struggling in his criminal law class before meeting you for the first time. Your timid and quiet demeanor is nothing compared to the confidence you exude in the present day. Right now, you look put together with your all-black attire and red bottom heels to match. The way you’ve styled your hair allows your face to be seen instead of using it as a tool to hide yourself. Even with all of your perceived shortcomings, Jay remembers you as timid but headstrong. Now, it looks like he’s staring at someone he doesn’t recognize.

Jay feels innocent again, traveling back to a time before work became the sole focus of his life and before the guilt of what he did to you ate him alive. It feels almost unnatural for him to see you in a professional setting. Sitting in the campus library with opened books or looking at you from across the table of a cheap ramen restaurant is where Jay’s used to seeing you.

Heeseung’s office is the last place he’d ever expect to run into you.

The last Jay heard, you were off practicing law in Busan before heading to New York for a few years to consult on Korean-American affairs until your visa expired. He never had the opportunity to see you in court before, not since law school.

There was a time when Jay couldn’t step into a courthouse without wondering if you were inside with him. With every corner turned and every door opened, Jay would anticipate seeing that same beautiful and innocent face locking eyes with him as he stepped into the room. Jay would picture you in those long floral dresses you loved so much staring at him with anger in your eyes, wearing an expression caused by actions he’d never be able to atone for.

Guilt used to eat him from the inside out. The moment his alarm clock woke him up was when the guilt would settle deep within his chest. For a while, this feeling towards the way things ended with you was the reason why he pushed himself to stay in the office after everybody else left, back when he was a first year associate. Guilt led Jay to work three times as hard as everyone else and why he will never leave a stone unturned.

While that culpability subdued with the time that has passed, none of that matters now. Seeing you in Heeseung’s office with a friendly smile on your face makes that sense of wrongdoing resurface all at once.

The woman he sees before him is not the woman he remembers. Jay still has the same overly confident, hardworking attitude he exhibited when he knew you back in law school. He’s still the same person who gets tongue-tied when he looks at you and he’s still the same person who regrets never calling you after you both graduated.

Unlike the disheveled mess Jay remembers from when he last saw you, you’ve become polished. He sees that you’ve grown into yourself with your shoulders held back and head looking straight in front of you instead of casting your gaze to the floor. Your eyes meet everyone in the room, his included. You wear a big smile on your face and take a step forward before bowing towards him and his colleagues.

Jay doesn’t think he deserves that respect from you.

“Jay’s the second best,” you comment. Even your speech has matured. “I happen to be the first.”

“Everyone, meet Kim Y/N.” Heeseung takes a step forward to return your bow and shake your hand, welcoming you into his office.

“Y-Y/N?” Jay stutters, eyes widened in shock when he spots you next to Heeseung.

The reaction is unwarranted and even he can’t believe his words came out like that. Jay pays no attention to Sunghoon and Jake, who look at him with quizzical expressions. Jay can only focus on you, with the way your pantsuit hugs your body and the way your high heels make you stand taller than he remembers you. You’re very confident. Jay wonders what must have changed in the time he last saw you until now.

“In the flesh, Park. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Y/N’s the best chance we got to win this against the biggest record label in Korea,” Heeseung interrupts, forcing Jay to push his thoughts aside. “I don’t need to remind you that our clients are high profile names trying to make a case for musicians who can’t afford to pay back the recoupment. If we lose this, we lose their business. It won’t look good for the company if we don’t secure a public win.”

“A public win means a public loss,” you chime in. “Hybe’s settlement deal is bullshit and we all know it.”

“Exactly.” Heeseung points at everyone in the room before landing on you. “I know we don’t ask for outside help but we need Y/N. I trust everyone to make her feel welcomed and to give her anything she needs.”

“It would be an honor,” Jake says before stepping in front of you to bow with his body perpendicular to the floor below him. “Sim Jayeun, but feel free to call me Jake. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He outstretches his hand to you for good measure and is pleased when you reciprocate. His kindness brings a smile to your face.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jake. I look forward to working together.” The aforementioned nearly falters in his movements as he takes a step back, hearing Sunghoon snickering behind him before you turn your attention to him. “You must be Park Sunghoon. I’ve kept up with your work for a while now. Your work with Kim Mingyu against General Motors was impressive.”

“All in a day’s work,” Sunghoon says as he brushes his shoulders for dramatic effect. “I’m honored that you know about it.”

“You saved Mingyu’s reputation for being a whistleblower and forced the company’s hand to not only change their flawed design, but to pay out the victims. You bled that company dry in the process to compensate for the casualties. That’s something worth talking about,” you tell him. “It’s impressive to me.”

Jay swears he sees Sunghoon blush.

“Thank you,” says the latter, clearing his throat. “It means a lot that you said that.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been either.”

Your eyes move towards Jay and he expects to see nothing short of a scowl painted on your lips because the last time he saw you, he remembers Jung Iseul asked him if he loved you in front of thirty of your classmates.

Jay said no.

He regrets how he handled it. He wishes he could turn back time and tell Iseul and her friends to leave you alone, and tell her the way she acted was nothing short of childish. Jay would like to believe he’d pull you away from wandering eyes and hold you until your eyes were dry if he was able to turn back time and relive that awful moment, but he can’t. The memory of you looking at him with betrayal in your eyes is what keeps him up at night.

Jay thought of his own needs before yours, selfishly acting to protect himself from the embarrassment of a public confession instead of thinking about how humiliating it must’ve been for you. Your classmates were never the nicest and often commented on your quiet and shy demeanor. Jay always tried to do his best to encourage you to be the best version of yourself, growing silently frustrated that you’d allow people to say harsh things about your skill sets instead of proving them wrong. What he failed to realize is that you’d grow into yourself at your own time.

You're not the timid girl you used to be. Jay sees the fruits of your labor standing in front of him.

When you look at him, Jay’s breath catches in his throat. It’s been years since he last saw you in person and he can only imagine what you must be thinking. Are you seething? Are you angry? Are you here for revenge? Do you still think about that night as frequently as he does?

Any thoughts of you being spiteful are thrown out the window when he hears you speak in that same, soft tone you always reserved for him.

“Hi, Jay.”

He’s quiet for a second too long because he sees Heeseung glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

“Hey.” Jay says pathetically, shifting from one foot to another. “Long time no see.”

“Woah, wait. Do you two know each other?” Jake asks, pointing between the two of you.

“We shared a few classes in law school,” you explain. “We even graduated in the same year.”

“Oh, wow.”

You tilt your head as you look at him. “You seem surprised.” “I’m just shocked that you two know each other,” Jake says. “You have the highest closing rate in all of Seoul and you’re telling me you went to law school with my boss?”

“I’m trying not to take offense to that,” says Jay, who furrows his eyebrows. The atmosphere is too much for his liking and suddenly he feels as if his tie is too tight around his neck.

“We knew each other a long time ago, but it’s always nice to see a familiar face.” You smile at Jay before turning to Heeseung. “When do I start?”

“Whenever you’d like, but knowing you, you’ve already begun drafting strategies.”

You grin. “You know me very well, Heeseung.”

“Y/N will be working from our office a few times a week for the next few months to make things easier. She’ll still be handling cases from her firm with an emphasis on the Hybe lawsuit.”

“Thank you for welcoming me,” you tell everyone before looking at Heeseung. “Care to show me to my temporary office?”

He smiles. “Right this way.”

“It was lovely meeting you all,” you say before turning to leave. You pause and turn to face Jay. “It really is nice to see you again.”

He stands in his spot at a loss for words. It feels as if his feet are planted on the ground with no way to make him move. His mouth might as well be hung open with the way he stares at you and merely nods. Speaking makes him feel like he’s going to choke and say the wrong thing, so he opts to say nothing.

You exit behind Heeseung without sparing him a second glance and he watches as your figure disappears around the corner, listening until he can’t hear the sound of your voice speaking with Heeseung. His hands are planted firmly in his pocket, the fabric of his suit providing a distraction from the sudden notion of seeing you after all these years.

He feels Jake and Sunghoon looking at him from the side. Sunghoon merely walks past Jay and offers a pat on the shoulder while Jake enthusiastically stands from his seat and bounces with excitement.

“You know Kim Y/N? The Kim Y/N?”

“It was a long time ago,” Jay says with a small voice. “We used to be study partners.”

“No fucking way,” Jake swears with his hands on his hips. “How come you never told me? She’s like, one of the most respected lawyers in all of Asia. Did you hear about her work on that Cheong-Smith case back in New York? God knows how tedious working between America and Korea must’ve been. She’s so fucking cool, Jongseong. A badass is what she is. I want to be her one day.”

Jay’s mouth quirks in a half smile. He knows you’ve built a reputation but refuses to read about you in the newspaper or listen to conversation where your name has been brought up. It brings painful memories and no matter how much he chastises himself for being in the wrong, part of him can’t help but hurt and yearn for you.

If Jake notices Jay’s quiet demeanor, he doesn’t acknowledge it. The former is pacing in Heeeung’s office with his hands rubbing his face as if he’s won the lottery. Jay’s envious of Jake’s ignorance, in a way. He wishes he could forget that night and re-do his friendship with you. Jay wishes he could meet the person you are now if that means rejecting you in front of your classmates never happened.

“Y/N’s a great lawyer,” Jay finally says. “I’m glad she’ll be working with us.”

“So fucking cool,” Jake whispers in disbelief. He turns to Jay. “I can show her around the office and, you know, show her the ropes.”

“Don’t try anything.”

Jake puts his arms up in mock surrender. “Hey man, I won’t. Y/N’s someone I view as a mentor. I don’t have weird, unresolved romantic feelings like you do.”

Jay opens his mouth in disbelief as Jake winks at him before walking out of Heeseung’s office. He sits with his thoughts and wonders if this meeting was a figment of his imagination and if he’d wake up with you halfway across the world and his life being as normal as it can be.

But he sees you enter your own private space when he walks to the break room and tries not to stare at you too long. It wouldn't be good for his health.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

“This office is pretty nice.”

Your jaw nearly drops at the sight before you. The tall windows overlooking the city boasts a beautiful skyline with pedestrians barely visible from where you stand. The carpeted floor is plush against the click of your heels and the temperature in the room is just warm enough for you to set your suit jacket atop the armrest of the brown leather couch.

“It used to be mine before I became the managing partner,” Heeseung tells you.

“I see. That must be why I like the interior design.”

Coming back to Seoul six months ago wasn’t your idea. But your visa in America had expired and there was no legitimate reason for you to extend your time abroad. With a heavy heart, you packed your bags and returned to the city with unfavorable memories you hoped to put behind you.

However, it seems that life finds a way to throw you a curveball and make you face your fears. Returning to Seoul wasn’t for the faint of heart. The familiar sounds of people walking and talking in the street and the scent of street food vendors warmed your heart as best as it could. The memories of your childhood summers spent frolicking in the city because your parents were too busy pursuing their dreams to entertain yours will forever remain a tasteless memory. The sound of squeaky wheels on vendor carts is bittersweet.

Upon returning, you’d taken a couple of weeks to settle into a new apartment just a few towns outside of the city. The modest apartment is nothing like the penthouse you rented in New York. The amenities were appealing at first, with the tall ceilings and marble statues adorning each room. The affluent neighborhood you lived in felt familiar from your childhood days, although feeling at home wasn’t something you think you could ever do if you lived in a house made of glass.

The mental images of running inside your parents’ gargantuan household with them nowhere to be seen is imprinted in your mind when you close your eyes. Your mother’s office door that always remained closed and uninviting to anyone but your father and older brother felt demoralizing, as did your father’s study, which was never to be entered. The large house felt more like a fortress than a home. The empty hallways with no one to converse with felt like a prison with your bedroom being your only sanctuary.

The two bedroom apartment in a modest neighborhood outside of Seoul feels like home to you. The neighbors who garden when it’s warm out and retreat on rainy days feel like friends rather than people you live next to. The children on their way to school wave at you before work and make you promise not to work too late, which is likely why you leave your office at a reasonable hour. If you bring your work home with you and hide behind your curtains as you pretend to watch TV, that’s nobody’s business but your own.

You jumped at the idea of leaving Seoul as you approached your second year in your law career. The idea of exploring a new country in a language you half-spoke felt more exciting than horrifying. Knowing your mentor had recommended you for the apprenticeship served as the encouragement you needed to pack your belongings and say goodbye to your friends, family, and life as you knew it.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you were running away from your childhood and the wound Jay had opened when he left you alone in front of your classmates.

That hurtful memory reopened itself when Kazuha pitched the idea of working with Lee & Associates on this case. The both of you know you’re her top choice to fight this battle given your brother’s notable status and area of expertise. Your relation to your sibling is a secret you keep close to yourself with only a select few people in your life knowing, preferring to keep yourself out of the limelight as best as you can.

Yet the idea of working with Jay made these unresolved feelings bloom at the surface when you thought you had locked them in a box and threw the key away. The sleepless nights were just shy of affecting your work. Day after day, you’d stare at the Hybe Records file to see what information had been gathered, glossing over Jay’s name on each document and each email that was forwarded to your inbox. It hurt over and over again, just like it did when he left you standing alone, never to return.

But life never works out the way you want it to. Coming back to Seoul was for the best and facing old enemies and seeing old friends is part of your path. Having the grace to prepare yourself makes you reflect on how much you’ve grown in the years you spent away from Korea and that you’re ready to move past the hurdle that’s been keeping you tied down for so long. Or so you tell yourself.

Heeseung knocks his shoulders with yours. “You don’t seem as shocked to see Jay as I thought you’d be.”

“I had a few weeks to prepare,” you tell him as the two of you face the scenery in front. “When Kazuha told me I was her first choice to work this lawsuit, I saw Jay’s name sitting at the top of the file.”

“It’s his case, technically. But we all know you’ll outshine him in one way or another.”

You shake your head. “I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes, Heeseung. I’m just here to do my job.”

“And see an old friend, I’d assume.” This time, you knock your shoulders against his.

“Oh, you know it’s always good to see you when I’m on this side of town.”

Heeseung smiles, pleased. “I know it’s been a while since the two of you have seen each other and I hope you know that you weren’t picked for any dubious reasons.”

“I know, Hee.” The man looks at you, tilting his head to assess the true intentions behind your words. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“This company would have benefitted from your work,” he replies. “Still, I’m sorry for how things worked out.”

“That was ages ago,” you wave off. “You really don’t need to apologize for it. I appreciate you fighting to hire me, but Jay has done a wonderful job and you can’t deny that.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, I really can’t. He’s one of my best. One of the best lawyers in Korea, I’d argue.”

“What does that make me?” you joke.

“It makes you the best in the universe.”

You throw a fond smile Heeseung’s way. “It really is nice to see you again.”

“I meant it when I said you could reach out for anything.

“Most days, I just need a friend.”

Heeseung quirks an eyebrow. “Is that why you text me photos of you baking at three in the morning?”

“Precisely. What else would I text you about?”

The man laughs. “I love the ones where your cat sits on the counter to watch. I love Gerry.”

“For the love of God, Heeseung. Her name is Miso.”

“Yeah, but your cat is orange like a tangerine and in my head, Gerry, is a cute nickname for tangerine.”

“You need to re-evaluate your definition of cute.”

Heeseung smiles at you fondly and tilts his head. He knows he’s looking at a version of you no one in Seoul has seen before. The new person standing before him is confident in herself and her capabilities, no longer shying away from the spotlight. The person you are now could look him in the eye and call him an equal, unlike when you were an emerging teenager dealing with peer pressure and hormonal acne.

“Your mom calls mine from time to time, you know,” Heeseung says after a short pause.

You snort. “Oh God. Please don’t tell me Lee Jiwoo cares about what my mother, of all people, has to say.”

He shrugs. “She doesn’t, but they were neighbors for forty years before my parents moved. I think your mom has some weird attachment to the past.”

“You’re telling me,” you say as you roll your eyes. “I remember as kids, she’d force me to go over to your house with the hopes that we’d fall in love and get married someday.”

Heeseung laughs. “God, you were so hung up on Lee Seokmin that you barely paid attention to me.”

“If I recall correctly, you were head over heels with Kang Ara and that made you a lovesick fool. Who knew you were into older women?”

“She was nice enough to help me with my homework, okay?” Heeseung defends himself as he laughs.

Recounting childhood memories with you feels warm. When you’d left Seoul in pursuit of a career in America, Heeseung knew you were running away from your problems rather than facing them. He grew up seeing the harsh reality that was strict parents who placed too high of a standard on you whereas your older brother remained unharmed by their lashings and expectations.

Heeseung always chided the way his friends would tease him when he walked you home from school or offered to make room for you in his house when your parents were home. He’d witnessed the volatile relationship between the three of you and offered his household as a sanctuary for as long as he could. Heeseung’s parents offered the kind of hospitality he wished you could receive from your own parents.

Still, it feels warm to know you chose to return. Seeing you in your element makes Heeseung think he must’ve done something right all those years ago, even if you briefly lost touch when you moved overseas.

“I’m really grateful for you, Hee.” You lean your head on his shoulder and cross your arms in front of your chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for being so nice to me when we were kids. You were always so popular with the girls and every guy wanted to be you. I know people made fun of me when we’d walk home from school together. Knowing you defended me and made me feel like a normal person despite my relationship with my parents makes me feel happy.”

“I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?” Heeseung asks. He feels you nod against him. “It killed me to see you fight with your parents and I didn’t care that Han Bora got jealous of you or that Choi Youngchul made fun of me for having a girl around. You were more than that to me.”

“I love my brother, I really do.” You bite your lip to keep a sigh at bay. “But he’ll never understand how my parents treated me. I know he loves me and I know he did everything he could to protect me when we were younger, but he still reaped the benefits from our parents.”

“No apology from them can outdo everything you went through,” Heeseung says. He leans his head on top of yours. “You were my best friend, even if I didn’t say that to you. Everyone at school wanted to be my friend because I went puberty faster than everyone else but you always treated me as the same kid who got a bloody nose after falling face first on the pavement.”

Heeseung smiles when he hears you laugh. “I told you to tie your shoe laces.”

“SInce when do I listen to what you say?”

You pull yourself from him. “Thanks for always being there for me, Hee. I hope you know I’ll work my hardest to win this case.”

A knock at the door brings both of your attention behind you. Jake stands politely and bows his head as he enters when Heeseung beckons him inside.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Jake says carefully.

“Not at all,” Heeseung assures. “Is there something you need?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could give Y/N a tour of the office. I’d love to show her around so she feels more comfortable and familiar.”

“That’s a great idea, Jake.” Heeseung turns to you. “Why don’t you settle in and make yourself at home for an hour, yeah? Let Jake take you to the cafe that’s across the street and use my company card to pay for it.”

“I’ll never say no to you paying.” Heeseung rolls his eyes at your playful banter but hands you his credit card regardless. Seeing you this open with him warms his heart.

“We won’t be long,” Jake assures.

Jay approaches where the three of you are standing and busies himself in the bullpen when he notices you and Jake walking out of the office. Pretending to be intensely reading a document about finance, Jay prays you don’t see him and waits until the two of you are out of sight to walk towards Heeseung.

His footsteps feel heavy as he enters what is to be assumed, your office.

“I already know what you’re thinking,” says Heeseung with his hands in his pockets.

“Then you know I’m going to ask you what the hell is going on.”

Jay has seen his fair share of hard moments from the man standing in front of him, whether in court or behind closed doors. He knows Heeseung to be someone that mentors by giving tough love and credit where it’s due, playing the role of a fair judge in the name of building a strong career. Jay is no stranger to people being upset with him, least of all Heeseung.

“Do I need to remind you that I'm the managing partner and that I don’t need to consult you on my decisions?”

“You don’t,” Jay begins, “but you know the history I have with Y/N. A little heads up would’ve been nice.”

“We don’t always get a heads up when the stakes are high, Jay. You know that. I tried to be as forthcoming as best as I could but we only heard confirmation a few days ago and you were out of the office preparing for your briefing.”

Jay breathes deeply. “You of all people know we left on bad terms.”

“So you should know that Y/N is like my sister,” Heeseung retorts. Jay can hear the slight venom in his elder’s tone. “I’m able to set aside my differences because it’s my job to do so and because I like you.”

“Heeseung–”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that you’re the only person making this awkward?” Heeseung asks, looking at Jay directly into his eyes. “Nobody else seems to be having any problems with Y/N joining this lawsuit.

“You are one of the best lawyers Korea has ever had the privilege of seeing, Jay. Hell, this company owes you a lot. But you can’t tell me that Y/N being here has affected you this much to the point of coming to talk to me about it in my office.”

Jay remains silent knowing Heeseung’s right, even if his pride refuses to quell.

“You made your choice all those years ago and from the looks of it, Y/N seems to have moved on.” Jay nearly chokes at Heeseung’s words. “You need to move on as well, Jay. Do whatever it is you have to do to get your head straight.”

Jay shuts his eyes for a brief second. “It’s really hard, Heeseung. It’s hard to forget.”

Heeseung’s expression softens. “She’s not seeing anyone.”

Jay abruptly opens his eyes.

“That is not what I meant.”

Heeseung smirks. “Sure it wasn’t.”

“I’m serious, Lee. I just regret how it all went down and I regret not reaching out after graduation. My parents took me abroad for the summer to celebrate. I was so caught up that I didn’t make time for Y/N.”

“You can still make time for her now.”

Jay shakes his head. “It’s too late. I’d bet anything to know she hates me.”

“Well, I know for a fact that she doesn’t. If we’re talking about the same Y/N you and I both knew all of those years ago, then you know she doesn’t hold grudges.”

“But we know she can.” Jay sighs. “You know about her parents.”

“Two people bringing her into this world just to treat her like nothing is far different than a boy not calling her back.” Jay tries to not take his comment to heart no matter how much it stings. “The difference between you and them is that you have the chance to make this right and correct your wrongs.

“But let me make myself clear. You are to work with Y/N and make her feel welcomed during her time on this case. I don’t care how you do it as long as your head is clear and you can work beside her without letting your feelings get in the way.”

“Understood.”

Heeseung’s expression softens. “You know I care about you, man. I wouldn’t have agreed to be your mentor if I didn’t think you were worth it.”

Jay nods. “I know. I just forgot that you two knew each other as well.”

“You should’ve seen Y/N back when she was in middle school. Still as timid as she was in law school but still the kindhearted person we know.”

Jay tries to picture what you were like as a child. He’s seen photos of you from preschool until the day you graduated college and wonders if you were the same shy, timid girl he knew you to be before the two of you parted ways. Would you two have been friends in elementary school? What kind of foods did you like to eat? Did you have a happy childhood?

He knows the answer is complicated. Jay’s assumption is that your parents, who happen to manage the biggest law firm in Korea through defending oil companies, did not value you as much as they valued your older brother. He, who was their prized possession, often tried to pull you into the spotlight with him. Jay remembers you talking about him fondly like he hung the moon in your night sky. It brought him a sense of peace to know there was someone always looking out for you when you were younger.

After all, your brother was the only form of family who came to your graduation during law school.

Jay remembers him standing tall, clad in a mask and clothing that made him unrecognizable. He blended in with the crowd and made himself seem smaller than he actually was in order to remain undetectable by people who weren’t you. Jay always wondered why you were hellbent on keeping your brother’s identity a secret and why you refused to share photos of him despite having shown him other pictures of you in your youth, but it made sense once Jay saw him pull the mask down and smile for a picture.

He knows he doesn’t deserve to ask you how your brother has been or what you’ve been up to since he last saw you all those years ago. Jay feels a lump grow in his throat when he thinks about working with you and having to talk to you about the case against Hybe. He wants to, and he wants to build a relationship with you that doesn’t result in him panicking when you look into his eyes, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Heeseung advises when he notices Jay growing quiet. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jay says with a sigh. “You weren’t the one who broke her heart.”

“Y/N’s resilient. You and I both know the lengths she went through as a kid and how successful she is now. She wouldn’t have taken this case if she wasn’t willing to work with you. That should be a sign in itself.”

Jay takes Heeseung’s words into consideration, but it goes through one ear and then out the other. His heart won’t stop beating at a rapid pace and he can’t help but feel like there’s no hope for him at all.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung seems to know you too well.

The cafe across the street speaks to your soul with their delicious drinks and delectable pastry menu. You buy something for Jake on Heeseung’s card too. He merely looks at you with wide eyes and stutters over his words when he asks if you’re allowed to do that, to which you wave him off and say you’ve known Heeseung far too long for him to care about another fifteen dollars missing from the company funds.

“How long have you known Heeseung?” Jake asks as he takes a sip of his drink. The two of you sit cross from one another, basking in the atmosphere of the lunch rush hour.

“Our whole lives, practically. I think his parents moved next to mine way before either of us were born. They always joked that we’d get married and have that fairytale ending.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Is that still happening?”

“God no,” you say, shaking your head. “Heeseung is like a brother to me. He’d walk me to and from school when we were younger and hung out with me, back when I was a timid mess.”

“I don’t think I could ever imagine you as shy.” Jake blushes when he realizes he’s speaking candidly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Pray tell.”

“W-Well,” Jake stutters, “it’s just that, people talk and I know you know that. I’ve heard people brag about what an amazing attorney you are and how you dominate the courtroom. Or, you know, even the opposite, when people would tell me sob stories about losing to you.”

You stifle a laugh. “I’d like to think I’ve come a long way since law school. I don’t know if Jay’s ever told you, but I used to be very quiet. I kept to myself a lot. I didn’t have enough confidence to talk in class and panicked every time I was picked for a cold answer.”

Jake shudders. “I hated that. I was somebody who always came prepared to class but being put on the spot made me feel like I didn’t read the material at all.”

“Confidence comes with practice,” you tell him. “This job has built my self esteem, especially when I moved to New York for a few years. I didn’t speak English very well, just bits and pieces from music I grew up listening to and because my brother is fluent as well.”

“Do your parents speak English?”

You shake your head. “Broken English. My brother’s a special case. He listened to a lot of rap music behind our parents’ backs and dedicated so much time into learning how to rap in English that he became fluent. He was obsessed with the show Friends, too. I picked up after him.”

“Your brother seems like a cool guy.”

You smile into your cup. “Yeah, he is. He’s part of the reason why I took this case against Hybe Records. It feels right to fight for the underdog, you know?”

“Jay says the same thing,” Jake tells you. It makes your heart twinge. “He’s been my mentor for the past year and I don’t think I could ever thank him for taking me under his wing. I’m sure you know–he’s the type of guy to be fair and just. I never feel like he’s looking down on me, even when I royally screw up and he has to fix my messes.”

“He used to be really good at talking me down a ledge in law school,” you laugh. “I used to get so hot headed and frustrated every time I couldn't understand a brief or when I’d read for too long. Jay was always the calmer one between the two of us. He’d tell me to take a breath–”

“–and take it easy,” Jake finishes with you. You smile.

“Yeah, that. I still think about him saying that to me when times get tough. Jay was a big reason why I even graduated law school in the first place.”

“I thought you graduated at the top of your class?”

“He and I held equal rank,” you explain. “But mostly, he helped me see the bigger picture, you know? Jay always put my goals into perspective and reminded me why I wanted to become a lawyer in the first place.”

“Why did you?”

You set your cup down. “It feels right to help other people in ways that can’t be seen. No one talks about financial burden or responsibility. I had more than enough privilege growing up and it’s unfair that the rest of the world will never experience that kind of safety. If I can provide some kind of comfort for people going through tough times, who am I to deny them that?”

Jake nods. “I understand. I didn’t grow up in a legacy family myself and it makes me feel better knowing there are good people like you who pursued law. I guess that’s also why I wanted to become an attorney. I want to help people and this is the best way I know how.”

“Does Heeseung still make you guys take on two pro bono cases every year?”

“Three now,” Jake corrects. “But I don’t mind it that much. I love meeting new people and it makes me happy when we secure a win for them.”

“This job has brought me out of my comfort zone and has made me feel more confident while doing it. I owe a lot of that to Jay and Heeseung.”

“I’d love to learn from you,” Jake says honestly. “Even if it’s watching you in depositions or preparing case files. I feel like I could learn a thing or two.”

“I’d love that, Jake.”

He smiles. “I still can’t believe you knew Jay in law school. What was he like? I’ll bet he still had the same, brooding glare when he’s focused.”

“I think that was part of his charm,” you say with a fond smile. “Girls loved him. I mean sure, he came from a powerful family, but I think people were digging the whole ‘I-Don’t-Want-To-Talk-To-You’ vibe.”

“So how did you two end up becoming friends?”

“We sat next to each other in our criminal law class and he was struggling with a few cases,” you explain. “I excelled in criminal law while he excelled in intellectual property, which was a subject I needed help in, and we formed a study partnership in our second year.

“I couldn’t really tell you how we got as close as we did, though. We met in the library a few times a week before realizing being in a quiet environment made us too tired to read. We’d find coffee shops all over town and would end our study sessions with a late night dinner before parting ways.”

“That does sound like the Jay I know,” Jake laughs. “I don’t think I’ve seen him go home before the sun goes down.”

“Everyone knew how diligent he was with his work. He was always so confident in class when answering questions from our professor. I’m pretty sure everyone was intrigued by him. Jay mostly kept to himself until he and I became friends.”

“I can totally imagine Jay being a lone wolf.”

You laugh. “He was, kind of. We started hanging out without the premise of studying shortly after. He was probably my closest friend at the time.”

Jake can see a lingering thought behind your eyes but chooses not to comment, instead checking his watch for the time.

“Oh, we should probably be getting back soon. I’ll show you around the floor so you can get situated before you work.”

“That would be great, Jake. Thank you for volunteering to do so.”

On the walk back to the office, your steps become heavier as the reality of your present sets in. Jay, a former crush and confidant, sits just out of arm’s reach.

You replay the night in your head when Iseul had cornered the two of you at the local dive bar with the rest of your classmates upon celebrating the last final days of law school before graduation. At that time, everyone had received final offers from recruiters and were placed in law firms across Korea, yourself included.

It hurt to know that there was competition with Jay to join Lee & Associates, and that he was the chosen candidate. It hurt more to know that Jay couldn’t bring himself to reject you in private.

Iseul’s smile burns in your memory when you recall the way Jay walked away from you. Her wicked grin has etched itself into your mind, especially when you close your eyes. Time and distance has been kind to you, especially knowing she had moved from firm to firm because of negligence on her part, but you reckon there will always be a part of you that will remain standing in that dive bar feeling like no one would be willing to catch you as you fell.

That sadness planted deep seeds of distrust within you. That melancholy feeling followed you throughout the summertime, especially when Jay didn’t make the effort to call you during the summer that followed graduation.

It felt beautiful to be wanted by someone as kind and generous as Jay. It felt just as wonderful to be wanted by someone who you considered to be sought after. The brooding, quiet boy everyone thought to be mysterious had an energetic, talkative personality if you got to know him well enough. It was no wonder that you developed a crush on him towards the end of your second year in law school together.

When you think about it now, it must’ve been sickening to watch you follow Jay around like a lost puppy. You certainly felt like it from time to time. The two of you only shared one class in your final year together but stuck by each other for study sessions nonetheless. Jay was always more popular out of the two of you, always knowing people who passed him by and waving at other law students. It made you feel like you had to live up to a certain expectation and to branch out in order to be seen with Jay, but he always made it a point to tell you that it didn’t matter how many friends you had. You were always going to be his favorite.

You’d always considered yourself as an awkward, stuttering mess when it came to making friends. Something about Jay quelled your fears about socializing and playing the part of an extrovert with his calm tone and soothing demeanor. On most days, Jay was the person who encouraged you to relax and let your thoughts run wild before making brash decisions. He was the first person to listen to you talk about the burdens your parents placed on your shoulders without insinuating you had to be grateful for the life that you were born into.

You were. You are. But you aren’t grateful for being neglected and being made to feel like being born was a mistake and a burden.

Jay has seen you at your worst, whether it be tearing up over a low test score or coming back from winter break after a couple of weeks with your family. You’d argue that you’ve been with him at his worst too, having seen Jay cry a few times throughout your friendship from frustration and stress. There was something about your bond that made you believe he trusted you with his heart and soul, and something that made you believe you could trust him too.

The weight of your parents’ actions, coupled in with Jay’s selfishness, made you numb for a while.

His silence and the lack of an apology felt like the ultimate betrayal. You deleted his phone number out of anger when you began your position as a first year associate. You kept your head down and used work to distract yourself from the hollow feeling inside of you, often wondering how Jay was doing at Lee & Associates. It hurt to know you didn’t have a relationship with him where you could tell him about your day and discuss the stress of cases within legal limits. It stung to know he likely didn’t care about you enough to repair the bond after not having called you all summer. Deleting his number, as well as all of the pictures and videos you had of him from your phone, felt like the last straw. Jay was no longer going to be in your life.

It was why choosing to relocate to New York was so easy for you. Physically leaving Jay behind meant running away from everyone who had ever hurt you to start anew in a city where no one knew your name; this was a fresh opportunity to become the confident, carefree person you always yearned to be, the type of person you knew you could be. Having to navigate a new environment in a language you barely spoke strengthened your self confidence and demonstrated your resilience. If you could overcome this, you could overcome anything.

Seeing Jay’s name in the original Hybe Records case file startled you, but it wasn’t as jarring as you thought it would be. You imagined what you would say to him if you ever got the chance to see him in person again. Would there be screaming? Would you cry? Would your throat close and feel like you were choking on your words if Jay were to have acknowledged you in any way?

Would Jay apologize for the night he left you?

The answer, you later found out, was none of the above. Instead, seeing the name ‘Park Jongseong’ caused a flurry of evocative memories to replay in your mind. After years of dealing with the torment of not feeling good enough to keep your loved ones around, the struggle to find who you were in an industry unkind to timid people like you dissipated with every hour spent working. The more you worked, the more you strategized about winning cases. The more cases you won, the more confident you got.

Taking on the case against Hybe records was already a no-brainer for you. Your brother is far too passionate about music to ever forgive you for passing up a case you know so much about. Not even Jay could have deterred you from working on it. Even so, you’re eternally grateful that seeing his name doesn’t bring up unpleasant feelings like it did once before.

Jake brings you out of your thoughts when he opens the front door for you. With a bright smile and your guest badge in your hand, you walk past security without a hitch and take a deep breath before following Jake into the elevator and back to the main floor.

“I think you’ll really like the associates and paralegals,” Jake says to make conversation on the long trip to the fiftieth floor. “Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki are my favorites, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Sunoo’s a first year associate and he’s brilliant,” Jake explains. “He’s quick on his feet and he’s quite bubbly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited to be awake at eight in the morning like he is. Jungwon’s our best parasocial as well. He’s incredibly smart and quick-thinking, and he’s thinking of studying to take the entrance exam to enter law school, actually.”

“Oh wow,” you say with a nod. “That’s incredible. His experience as a paralegal will definitely prepare him for that.”

“I think so too,” Jake agrees. “Riki’s our legal intern for the summer. He’s passionate about his work and really funny. He’s got a natural charm to him, even if his resting face makes him look unapproachable. You’ll like him.”

“If Heeseung trusts you, then I trust you,” you tell Jake, stepping out of the elevator.

“Speaking of Sunoo,” Jake mumbles as he expedites his pace to catch up with the brunette. “Sunoo, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Kim Y/N,” Sunoo says with a perpendicular bow. “An honor to meet you, truly. I’m Kim Sunoo”

You reciprocate. “I appreciate your kindness, Sunoo.”

“He’ll probably scream about you bowing to him in the break room,” Jake laughs. Sunoo swats his arm.

“Yah. Maybe if you were half as cool as Y/N, I’d scream about you in the break room.”

Jake pouts before smiling. “I was just telling Y/N how you’re one of my favorite first year associates.”

“He spoke quite highly of you. I heard that you’ll be assisting on the Hybe case with us?”

“If at all possible!” Sunoo exclaims. “I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

“Nonsense,” you say as you wave him off. “I’m sure Heeseung will talk to you about this sooner or later. I saw your name on the file when he and I spoke earlier. I have a feeling we’ll be working together quite often, Kim Sunoo.”

The aforementioned blushes. “That would be amazing.”

“We’ll see you later,” Jake says as the two of you wave goodbye. “See what I mean? He’s a ball of sunshine but his bite is definitely worse than his bark. Sunoo’s incredible when it comes to reading clients to absolute filth.”

“He seems sweet,” you say with a pout. “Who else am I meeting again?”

“Jungwon!” Jake shouts as he knocks on the glass door with the title ‘YANG JUNGWON | PARALEGAL.’

The boy looks up and rolls his eyes before registering you standing behind Jake. You hear him clear his throat and fix his posture before standing, beckoning the two of you into his office.

“Sorry,” Jungwon apologizes with a bow. “I’m sure that, by now, you know how loud Jake can be.”

Jake merely laughs. “It’s because I like you, Wonie.”

Jungwon faces you. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jungwon, your resident paralegal. Let me know if you ever need anything and I’d be happy to help!”

“Jungwon’s the best paralegal Lee & Associates,” Jake tells you. “It’s why he’s the only paralegal that has his own office.”

“Anyway,” Jungwon says, hiding a blush from Jake’s compliments, “this is my second year with the company and I know it like the back of my hand. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything.”

“That’s really sweet of you to say, Jungwon, thank you.”

“Anything for a friend of Jay and Heeseung!”

“We’ll probably come back to you before the day ends,” Jake says to the younger boy. “Is Riki still on his lunch break or is he in the bullpen?”

“He got back a few minutes ago.”

“Sweet,” Jake says. “Let’s go meet the rascal.”

Riki and Jake have a closer bond than you expected, with the younger boy greeting his elder with a bright smile and a handshake they seem to have perfected. He turns to you and listens as Jake introduces the two of you before he bows politely.

“Riki’s from Japan but chose to study here in Korea. He and Jungwon want to take the LSAT together,” says Jake.

“あなたは日本語を話していると思います？” you ask him. I assume you speak Japanese?

Riki’s face beams.

“はい、そうです,” he says. Yes, that’s right. ?どこで��れを話せるようになったのですか” Where did you learn to speak it?

“私は高校で学びました。しかし、もっと練習が必要です.” I learned back in high school. I need a more practice, though.

Riki smiles and shakes his head. “Your Japanese is perfect.”

“Ah, you flatter me too much.” “That was so fucking cool,” Jake says. “You speak Korean, English, and Japanese?”

“Add in a little bit of Spanish and we’re golden.”

“You’re officially the coolest person in this goddamn office.”

“I hope our paths cross before your work here is done,” Riki says with another bow. “I need to get back to work, unfortunately.”

“Please, don’t let me keep you!” Riki smiles at you once again before disappearing into another office. “You're right, I really do like him.”

Jake smiles and points across the room. “The break room is just around the corner and is always filled with coffee, tea, and other snacks. The secretaries at the front of the floor make sure it’s stocked to the brim but if anything is missing, just ask. They’re usually happy to replenish.”

“Good to know.”

“Do you need anything else from me or are you ready to win this goddamn case?”

You smile.

“Let’s win this goddamn case.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

In the two weeks that have passed by, Jay still hasn't mustered up the courage to speak to you.

Beyond a polite greeting when the two of you cross paths in the morning, Jay can barely smile at you without his heartbeat betraying him. His chest starts to tighten and his tie feels too tight around his neck when you look into his eyes. If you look deep enough, Jay is sure you see all of the regret he’s harbored for so many years.

Heeseung has had to tell him to get a grip twice already. Jay isn’t slacking at his job as much as he thought he would. But if his mentor and dear friend could notice how awkward he was acting around you, Jay was sure you could sense it too.

In truth, Jay doesn’t know how to talk to you. He’s never felt pain like this before. He yearns to hear your voice speaking to him and to converse like once before, but he doesn’t know how to. This obstacle causes pain within Jay, and he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to say more than a sentence to you before your time with him is over.

Watching you talk freely with his colleagues is foreign to him. Jay can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re much more confident than you were back when he knew you. The same girl who couldn’t go a few sentences without looking at her shoes is holding eye contact and smiling after she speaks. You don’t cower over your body in an attempt to make yourself look like you’re hiding in your shell. Now, you speak with assertion and hold your chin level with the floor as you hold conversation.

It’s jarring, but a large part of Jay can’t help but feel proud of you. If there’s one thing he knew you wished for back in law school, it was to grow your self esteem. Having parents who belittle your dreams and spoke pathetically about your life choices didn’t leave room for you to understand what liking yourself looked like. The accolades and achievements your parents were bestowed with felt unnatural when you knew it was only a matter of time before they had something negative to say. As attorneys themselves, defending oil companies who don’t care about oil spills in the ocean or bribing employees to keep a quiet mouth about misfortunes never felt like confidence to you. It was cowardice.

Seeing your parents in magazines with a perfect picture smile never made you want to emulate them in any capacity. They look like dolls, playing the role of hardworking attorneys and devoted parents until they cross the threshold of your home, letting the mask fall to the floor. Their confidence felt brazen. They didn’t deserve to be your role models.

Yet, here you are.

Jay doesn’t notice that he’s been staring at you from his office door until Sunghoon knocks his shoulder with his own.

“Quit staring unless you want to look like a creep.”

Jay clears his throat. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon smirks. “And I don’t handle the majority of our finances.” Jay rolls his eyes.

“I know what you’re gonna say and you don’t need to say it. I know I need to talk to Y/N.”

“You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I know, Hoon,” Jay says. He spares one more glance at you before looking away. “But it’s hard to try when I don’t think I deserve any respect or forgiveness.”

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but it’s obvious that something did happen by how tense you are when she’s around.”

“Am I really that bad?”

Sunghoon nods. “Y/N can tell. She keeps looking at you when you walk away.”

“Shit,” Jay curses.

“Whatever happened back then was a long time ago. I obviously don’t know her as well as you do, but she’s been a great asset to the team since she joined. She blends well with everybody and leaves her office door open most of the time. Y/N talks to the associates and interns when she’s taking breaks. She wouldn’t do all of that if she wasn’t willing to talk to you.”

Deep down, Jay knows his friend is right. But it’s hard to convince himself to talk to you when he pictured the agony on your face before he turned around and left you by yourself with the wolves. It makes his heart lurch from left to right. This feeling only quells when you’re out of sight and when he’s distracted with his work.

“Try,” Sunghoon says. “I know it’s scary, but the universe put her right back in your life for a season.”

“I know,” Jay says quietly. “Thanks, Sunghoon.”

“Anytime.”

Sunghoon leaves and Jay fixes his posture, pushing his shoulders back twice in a row. Jay still thinks you are the most beautiful and selfless person he’s ever seen. Looking at you makes him feel like a small volcano has ruptured within his heart and the cage that once kept his adoration for you hostage no longer keeps him in the dark. Jay isn’t the insecure young adult he was when he knew you. Even he is more sure of himself.

Jay thinks you look gorgeous now that you’re smiling more. He remembers all the times he used to take candid photos of you during impromptu moments and the squeals of discomfort you echoed when he would try to take a picture. You used to cover your mouth or shy away from the camera as if you were too embarrassed to be caught. But the way you’re smiling to his colleagues and how animated your conversations are seem to make his heart swell to see how far you’ve come.

Working alongside you in the time that he has makes Jay observant. He’s been in a room with you plenty of times, whether it be for an internal meeting or sessions where each attorney looks through files of documents. You’re still the diligent and hardworking person you were all those years ago. You still tap your pen quietly over the stack of papers and you still like to eat sweets when you’re in the thick of it. When he sees you like this, Jay begins to recall all of the nights spent in the library studying for an exam or rushing to finish an essay before the submit date. Seeing you harbor the same habits you did in law school makes his heart warm.

For as awkward as it is, Jay is glad that he gets to see you as successful as you are. He always pictured the two of you as lifelong friends back when he knew you for six months. You were reliable and honest, loyal to your core, and passionate about your work and hobbies. He loved to hear you talk because it demonstrated your confidence when the two of you were together. Jay would reckong that he’d fly a great distance if you asked him to have a conversation with him.

He loved seeing you switch on for him. One look at you and you were smiling with your eyes closed. Jay adored the way you’d laugh every time he said something mildly embarrassing or the way you would subtly blush whenever he got up early enough to buy you something from the cafe near his apartment. Jay knew he made you flustered from time to time and it brought him great joy to see you look at him like you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

When he made the executive decision not to call you three months after graduating, Jay wondered if it was cruel of him to revel in the way you reacted to him. His heart felt lighter when you smiled at him while making eye contact. He didn't mind carrying your purse when the two of you hung out or remaining the more sober of the two whenever he drank with you. It felt so natural to look after you like that despite not having many people in his life to do that for. It gave Jay a sense of purpose to do so, going as far as to seek for you when you weren’t with him.

He always felt selfish for teasing you with the purpose of seeing that shy smile and seeing you look away from him in an attempt to stop laughing. You looked so beautiful when you were bashful, so humble too. Jay prayed for borrowed time because seeing you between classes wasn’t enough. He always thought you were too cool to hang out with him no matter what other people said because you had a million passions and could talk his ear off about everything and nothing at the same time.

Realistically, Jay knows he can talk to you whenever he wants to. You’ve been mad at him before and have done days without talking to him, but when he took the time to reflect and apologize to you the way you deserved, you always let him back into your hold. Jay knows he has the opportunity to strike up a conversation since you both have been working together for a couple of weeks. He knows you won’t dismiss him.

But when he sees you laughing with Sunoo and Jungwon in the bullpen from his office, he can’t help but think about just how little he knows about you and how much you don’t know about him. Jay knows it’s his fault since he put the distance between the two of you. Yet here you are, talking to people he’s known for years like you’ve known them all your life.

Jay can talk to you, but it won’t be today.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Luck is (or isn’t) on his side when the two of you jump into each other while trying to open the door to the cafe across the street from the law office.

Regretfully, Jay wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking, as his nose was buried deep in an email he was reading as he motioned to pull the door open. It was then he realized he’d bumped into someone. It took him a few seconds to register he had humped into you.

“Oh,” you say, startled.

“Shit,” Jay curses. “I’m sorry. I, uh, wasn’t watching where I was going.” He pockets his phone. “I should really start doing that.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have coffee in my hands,” you say with a laugh. “It’s fine, Jay.”

You let him pull the door open for you after he corrects himself. With his head, he gestures for you to enter first and you give a polite smile as a silent thank you. Jay forces himself not to audibly sigh behind you, instead choosing to glance at the ceiling and pray he doesn’t say anything stupid.

He meets you at the cashier line and notices what you’re wearing. Your forest green dress hugs you in a respectable way, contouring to the ridges of your body. The color looks gorgeous against your skin tone, as does the color of your jewelry. Your coat is dangling from your arms and your hair is styled in a way that makes you look almost glamorous.

“You look stunning.”

To his horror, you look back and catch him looking at you.

“Thank you,” he hears you say after a long pause. Jay feels his cheeks reddening.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “That was weird, wasn’t it?”

He’s surprised when you shake your head.

“Not weird at all. I bought this dress and took the tag off prematurely. I wore it today so I could get use out of it since I’d spent so much money on it, so I’m glad someone likes it.”

That same, shy smile adorns your face. But this time, you aren’t looking away from him. That makes Jay’s heart flutter and for once, he feels like he’s got a shot at making things right with you.

“You really do look stunning,” Jay tells you as he looks you directly in the eye. He doesn’t dare let his gaze wander.

Before either of you can say anything, the cashier is waving you towards the counter. He doesn’t think twice about pulling his wallet out and hanging it to the employee behind the counter when you finish ordering, quickly saying his own order before smiling at you.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says with a meek smile. “But let me, yeah?”

You don’t fight him on it, namely because the employee has already used his card by the time you could even think about pulling your own out. Jay ushers you to the side where the waiting area is and puts his hands deep in his pockets.

The two of you are quiet for a while. It’s semi busy and the sound of chatter and steaming milk reverberates around the room. Jay looks at you through the corner of his eyes and sees you looking at your watch for the time. If he's to say anything, he needs to say it now.

“It’s good to see you again,” is what Jay settles with. You turn to look at him. “I didn’t realize you were the borrowed partner. It’s good to see that you achieved your dreams.”

You don’t know how to respond. You choose to respond honestly.

“It makes me happy knowing that we both made it,” you tell him. “Heeseung told me he promoted you to senior partner a few months ago. That’s incredible.”

“Not as incredible as being the youngest person to be named senior partner at Tang-Young.” Jay smiles at you. “That’s incredible.”

“It feels that way,” you tell him earnestly. “I used to think days like these were far-fetched, like I’d never be named senior partner or have my foot in the door. It feels crazy to feel put together for once.”

“I know the feeling,” Jay agrees. “I have my own place and haven’t had any help from my parents since I graduated law school. I’ve been on my own for a while now.”

The barista calls out your orders. Jay lets you pick up your beverage before he takes his.

“Do you ever think about when you were a first year associate? I think about sitting in the bullpen all the time. Sometimes it feels wrong to have my own office.” Jay opens the door for you and lets you walk outside first before he follows.

“I picture myself out there when I first joined the firm,” Jay confesses. “I was so young and naive…I didn’t have a clear picture of what I wanted to do with my career yet.”

“It’s insane how much time has passed,” you comment, looking both ways before crossing the street. Jay doesn’t think you say it as you do on purpose, but emotions tug on his heart strings. “I feel like I was just a first year associate only a few days ago.”

Jay swallows harshly. “A lot has changed. Some for the better…some for the worst.”

You finally look at him when the two of you reach the other side of the road. He doesn’t like talking in tongues or minding your language when he speaks to you because he wants to apologize. Jay has spent the last few weeks dreaming about what he’d say to you or what he’d do to make up for his shortcoming years prior but he doesn’t know how to start. He doesn’t know what he should do first or if you’d consider hearing him out.

Today is an indication that you might be, is the conclusion Jay comes to.

The cliches of time slowing down is what he feels when you stop to look at him. He feels like you’re staring through his soul, almost as if you’re inspecting him from head to toe. Jay doesn’t know what you’re thinking and he’s too afraid to ask. He can’t tell what’s going on in your head with your emotionless expression, rocking back and forth to keep his balance.

Did he say the wrong thing? Jay bites his tongue and wishes he could wake up from whatever dream he’s having. This doesn’t even feel real. He can barely hear the sound of taxis and people around him through the thumping of his own heart. Jay can’t see anyone else but you, so he reckons he could open his eyes and still be in his bed.

But he blinks and you’re still standing in front of him.

“Things might’ve changed and so do people. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

He watches you walk towards the entrance of the building and forces himself to jog until he’s walking next to you. Jay catches himself and tries not to bump into the people walking in the opposite direction as him. When the two of you are back on the fiftieth floor, you bow to the secretaries and greet Heeseung and Jake, who are standing next to one another.

“Oh good,” Heesueng says, “Y/N, you’re here. I know you have to appear in court in a few hours and I was wondering if you’d be willing to stop by Attorney Ahn’s office.”

“Ahn?” you ask him quizzically. “What for?”

“We secured an agreement for them to hand over the Hybe’s contracts. They didn’t want to disclose and Ahn tried hard to block this from being filed, but I think Judge Han allowed it to pass. Do you think you could grab the box from his office?”

“Sure thing,” you tell him with a nod. “I should be leaving in about an hour. No idea when I’ll be back, but I planned to put in some extra hours. Might as well get a head start by looking at those files.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Heeseung praises before walking back into his office.

“I’m kind of offended neither of you invited me to get coffee,” Jake says as he hands Jay a manila folder.

“Maybe if this file was on my desk yesterday, I would have,” Jay says with the quirk of his mouth.

Jake shakes his head dramatically. “Do you see what I have to deal with, Y/N? It’s like he wants to punish me.”

“Punishing you would be making you go to housing court three times a week, but I don’t,” Jay retorts. “Instead, you get to work with the big kids.”

“Atta boy,” Jake says as he elbows Jay’s side. “But seriously, I want an invite next time.”

“We ran into each other this morning but how about you and I go together tomorrow morning, say around eight?”

“I think you’re my favorite attorney!” Jake exclaims.

You turn to Jay. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Yes,” Jay accepts immediately. “Yeah, uh, I’d love to join.”

“Great.” You look between them with a pleasant smile. “Well if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to prepare for trial. See you this afternoon?”

“Count on it,” Jake says with a mock salute.

You leave the two of them and Jake watches as his mentor forces himself to pry his eyes off of you. In the duration that he’s gotten to see you and Jay work alongside one another, Jake has never seen his mentor at a loss for words before you started to work in the same office. The younger boy looks between the two of you before slipping back into Jay’s, waiting for him to follow suit.

Jake joined Lee & Associates as a first year associate. His designated spot in the bullpen felt scared to him, like it was the one place in the entire office that didn’t make him feel like a belittled mess. Law school was over and Jake couldn’t help but feel nervous about practicing law in the real world where the consequences would be more fatal than a bad test score.

Jay was in need of an associate at the time and there didn’t seem to be anybody who could step up to the plate and deal with Jay’s on-and-off personality, along with the fast pace he kept when working. Before getting to know him, Jay was someone unreadable to Jake. He felt untouchable even though his desk was right in front of the bullpen with the glass doors separating the two of them, mimicking something as dramatic as The Great Wall.

Yet he finds himself seeing Jay like a brother after the time spent together. Jake knows his mentor is anything but a stone cold, hardened attorney people make him out to be. Jay prefers to keep his emotions closer to himself rather than on his sleeve for people to notice at first glance. He loves loyalty and honesty, and will go to great lengths to award people who stand beside him through tough times.

It’s why Jake can see the conflict in Jay’s eyes when he sees him looking at you. Jay’s stare is far away, almost as if he’s looking at the spot you stood in to yearn for what he once had. It takes him a moment or two to collect himself and continue with his day.

Jay clears his throat when he realizes he’s been quiet.

“Do you have the briefing for the damage collection case?”

Jake stares at his friend. “I’ll give it to you if you tell me what’s going on between you and Y/N.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Jay sputters in an attempt to seem calm. His heart is beating twice as fast. Jake merely shakes his head.

“Nah, man. You look at Y/N like you’re seconds away from telling her you’re in love with her.”

“I am not in love with her,” Jay defends immediately. He sees Jake raise his eyebrow and disconnects eye contact. “We used to know each other in law school and now we aren’t as close anymore.”

“See, that’s the thing. I know that. Everyone else knows that too. But there’s something neither you nor Y/N are acknowledging and there’s tension in the air whenever you two are in the same room.”

“There’s no tension.”

Jake deadpans. “There’s so much tension. Even Riki can sense it.”

“Don’t bring interns into this.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into anything,” Jake replies. “It’s you and your weird mojo that needs to be fixed.”

“My mojo?”

“You’ve been off kilter for the past month,” says Jake. “I’m your right hand, you know? I’m with you for ninety percent of the week. I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

Jay sighs. “It’s complicated, Jake. I…did some things in the past that I wasn’t proud of and I can’t bring myself to talk to Y/N, especially knowing how it all went down.”

“You don’t have to be so cryptic about it,” Jake says sarcastically.

Take a seat,” Jay instructs. “You’ll want to sit down.”

Recounting the story to Jake makes Jay feel like he’s telling a juvenile story about two lovestruck teenagers who were too immature to know any better. He feels the guilt rising to the surface all over again, as if he were shaming his younger self for acting so selfishly.

Truthfully, Jay knew you didn’t deserve to be treated the way he treated you. He viewed you as the epitome of sunshine even if you didn’t believe him on most days. Your quiet demeanor hid a blooming flower. You deserved more than a coward who couldn’t own up to his feelings.

They stay in Jay’s office, foregoing the workday to discuss what happened the night he left you and what transpired in the summer that followed. Jay tells Jake that he and his parents hopped on a flight abroad a few days after graduation. He tells him how you were always at the forefront of his mind and how that sad look in your eye imprinted in his mind every time he closed his eyes.

“Shit,” Jake says, leaning back to clutch against Jay’s chair.

“Indeed.” Jay averts his attention to the city below his office from his window. “I don’t know how to act around her. She walks around like nothing happened between us but when I look at her, all I can picture is that look on her face when I walked away.”

“Have you ever considered that Y/N has moved on?”

Jay shakes his head. “Heeseung said the same thing but this isn’t something you get over, Jake.”

“You said it yourself, though. Y/N is a resilient person. You just told me what you admired about her most was that she could see the bigger picture and react accordingly.”

“I used to think she never had the guts to stand up for herself when people were meant to her,” Jay confesses. “I’d get so frustrated and we’d get into arguments because I’d tell her she doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. But Y/N would always tell me that some battles aren’t worth fighting. I never understood it then.”

“And now?”

Jay sighs. “Seeing her here, making friends with all of the associates and walking into Heeseung’s office like she owns the place, makes me realize she always knew what she was talking about. I mentioned she didn't have a great relationship with her parents, right? Well, I think part of me always forgot that since I had a great relationship with mine. I was more vocal than she was. I didn’t have a problem telling people off if they deserved it.

“But she was quieter. Maybe it was by nature or maybe it was because she didn’t like talking unless she had a reason to. I don’t know. But when I look at her now, I don’t see that angry, frustrated person anymore. I can’t begin to describe it. It’s like she broke out of her shell and became a completely different person. More confident, I’d say.”

Jake nods. “You know, she told me and Sunoo that she has a tattoo of a butterfly on her hip.”

“A butterfly?”

“A butterfly. A monarch, I think. Anyway, the type doesn’t matter. It’s just funny that you think she’s come out of her shell when butterflies start out as caterpillars and have to go through their metamorphosis period before becoming a butterfly.”

Jay bites his lip in contemplation. Jake continues.

“Monarch butterflies migrate to warm weather once a year because they can’t survive the cold. They fly in groups, hundreds of thousands at a time and build communities. Y/N did the same thing, if you think about it. She left Korea to find herself in New York and returned when she was ready.”

“I never thought about it like that,” Jay says. “I knew she was working from New York but I always thought it was to get away from me.”

“Maybe in the beginning,” Jake adds. “Maybe Y/N needed to get away from you, her parents, and her life as she knew it to find the person she was always supposed to be.”

“I will never forgive myself for not calling her after we graduated.”

“You don’t have to, but I think Y/N has.” Jake leans his elbows on Jay’s desk and looks the man in the eye. “Look, I know I haven’t known her for as long as you have, but in the month we’ve worked together, I’ve learned a lot from her. I’ve seen her talk to the opposing counsel in depositions and learned that she can get to the point without saying much. She’s really confident in herself and is almost always willing to help associates when they approach her.

“What I’m trying to say is, you need to let go of the person you once knew and the person you were back then. You and I both know how far you’ve come in your career and I’m sure Heeseung knows how much you’ve changed as a person since you graduated. But you can’t keep living in the past if you want to move forward.”

Jake’s right and Jay knows it. Every day, he wakes up and his first thought is the memory of you averting your eyes from him at the graduation ceremony. He thinks about his wrongdoings more often than he’d like to admit and can’t seem to move past this feeling of inadequacy when it comes to you. Jay contemplates on whether or not he deserves your respect or forgiveness, the unknown being the obstacle that prevented him from apologizing to you in the first place.

But he needs to let that go. He’s not the person who decides whether or not he deserves forgiveness. You are.

You are the person who dictates how you feel. Not Jay, not anyone else. For the past month, Jay has been overthinking about how to talk to you if it’s not related to the litigation. He can talk to you when it’s in conjunction about the Hyb case, but he can’t talk to you about anything else.

Jay needs to start trusting you and your judgment in a way he couldn’t before. But unlike now, Jay wasn’t in your crossfires all those years ago. The version of him during law school never gave you a reason to overcome the loss of a friendship. In order to understand you better, he needs to stop thinking about you the way you were back then. For right now, you’re a stranger he knows everything about.

“You’re right,” Jay nods. “I’ve been so caught up in dealing with this shock that I forgot Y/N’s had to deal with it longer. It makes sense that she isn’t as shaken up as I am.”

“She’s smart and way more perceptive than you give her credit for. I think Riki’s about to ask Y/N to adopt him because she keeps talking to him in Japanese.” Jake smiles. “Speaking of which.”

Jay quirks his eyebrow. “Speaking of what?”

“You so clearly still have feelings for Y/N.” Jay opens his mouth and immediately closes it.

“Lying to you would be useless, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m also more perceptive than you think. That, and you talk about her like she saved your cat from a tree, or something.”

“I can’t help it,” Jay sighs as he rubs his face. “Being around Y/N makes me feel the way I did all those years ago. I don’t think I ever got over her. She had this ability to keep people in her grasp, you know? Once you peeled back her layers and looked past her shy personality, there she was. Now, it’s like watching everyone else meet the Y/N i knew she always was, just more openly. It’s weird to see her talking to everyone but in a good way, you know? She’s not apologizing for who she is anymore.”

“Like I said,” Jake says, “Y/N’s a butterfly.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Later in the afternoon, Jay stops responding to emails when he feels his eyes getting tired from looking at his laptop. The conversation he had with Jake weighs on his mind with every passing hour and his leg bounces with anticipation for your arrival back to the office.

Throughout the entire day, he’s been reminding himself that he has also grown and matured since the last time you saw him. He’s no longer somebody who hates conflict and speaking his mind. His job has taught him the value of saying what you mean and sticking to an argument until the very end. Jay’s tendency to falter in himself has diminished over the years, especially since working at a legacy company such as Lee & Associates.

His success as an attorney plays a factor in his confidence, too. Seeing his father in the courtroom inspired him as a child to pursue a career in law so that he may one day fight on behalf of people who don’t have a voice themselves. Never in his wildest dreams did Jay ever think he alone could make a big difference in the lives of others but he sits behind his desk with a promotion just shy of having his own surname on the door in the main office.

Jay’s job means everything to him. It means working hard after spending countless days and nights stressing over cases and essays in law school. It means working with his colleagues to bring out the best in people and take down companies who value profit over people. It means making a difference in the lives of those who aren’t as fortunate as him. If Lee & Associates wasn’t as philanthropic and as morally-good as Jay would’ve hoped, he doesn’t know if he would’ve said yes to their offer when it was offered to him.

He decides to take a break and head over to the break room when he bumps into Sunghoon, who has a scowl etched on his face.

“Hoon,” Jay says, tugging on Sunghoon’s arm to force him to stop walking. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he mumbles.

Jay’s eyebrows contort in confusion. “What’s happening? Is there anything I can do? Talk to me.”

Sunghoon sighs. “It’s nothing you can fix, unfortunately. Remember when Heeseung asked Y/N to get the Hybe contract files from Ahn?”

“What about it?”

“Y/N met with him in his office and he sent her home with one box.”

“I don’t understand why that’s a bad thing.”

Sunghoon points behind Jay, who sees a room filled to the brim with boxes.

“He sent the rest here.”

The two men walk over to the office and see you standing next to Heeseung with both hands on your hips. You look just short of enraged. Jay swears he can see steam coming out of your ears.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jay says as his eyes scan the boxes piled on top of one another. “How could we possibly get through all of this?”

“Hybe’s burying us in paperwork so we look unprepared in our next meeting,” you say in disbelief. “I wish I could’ve slapped that smug look off of his face when he gave me only one of the damn boxes.”

“We might have to fight about who gets to do that.” Heeseung curses under his breath. “We’ve got two weeks before our next hearing to determine the next step in the settlement.”

“It looks like they’re gonna win,” Sunghoon grains from beside Jay. “They’re not giving up the recoupment clause.”

“The answer is in here somewhere,” Jay adds. “We just have to find it.”

“We’ll be up all night.” You look somewhere between defeated and determined, although Jay isn’t sure which is which.

“Not if we work together,” says Jungwon, who has Sunoo and Riki standing behind him. The five of you look behind you to see them standing in the doorway. “We want to help.”

“We can’t possibly ask you to do that,” Heeseung says. “I know the expectation is that you stay later than six in the evening, but this is too much to ask of you guys.”

“You aren’t asking,” Sunoo insists as he sits down in front of Heeseung. “Jay and Jake already have me working on a few of the case files. It makes sense to have another set of eyes that knows this case well.”

“I want the practice as well,” Riki agrees, taking a seat next to Sunoo. “Jungwon and Sunoo have been teaching me how to read these types of documents and pull relevant information out of them. I’d really appreciate the experience.”

“You’re sure about this?” Jay asks.

“We’re positive,” Sunoo confirms.

“Well, you guys can go home at any point,” Heeseung says. “This goes for everyone in the room. God only knows how much bullshit we’ll have to dig through.”

The sun starts to wane over the blue sky when Jay decides he needs a change of scenery. He’s been sitting in the same chair for a few hours at this point and desperately craves the sweet melodies of soft jazz from his vinyl collection. He excuses himself and lets everyone know he’ll be in his office if anybody needs anything.

You watch him stand up from where you’re seated and as he walks out of the room. You must admit, Jay still looks criminally handsome. That tendency to cower into yourself whenever he looks at you is still present today, especially when he makes room for you to speak during depositions and internal meetings.

For a while, you were hellbent on making an enemy out of Jay for what he did to you. The person you were before leaving Seoul was somebody who would likely paint Jay as a target and a villain for life. The friends you made in New York would entertain you in conversations about boys who have a tendency to break hearts and you always had a story to share.

Even so, time has been kind to you. The years spent focusing on your career and your loved ones has molded you into the kind of person who can see people for who they are, not what they’ve done and have atoned for. Jay has worked all his life to prove himself worthy of being somebody who can take care of himself and stand on his own two feet. In a way, you’ve done the same thing.

Half an hour goes by before you decide you need to stretch your legs. You make the bold decision to take your work with you and pay no mind to Heeseung, who winks at you on the way out.

Approaching Jay feels like a mix between normal and anxiety inducing. Seeing him hunched over his desk with a scowl on his face as he concentrates is nostalgic to you, and it makes you remember all the times you’d search for him after your classes ended just to find him in the library with a gargantuan book beneath his focus. His hair still falls as perfectly as you remember it and he still twirls his pen in his fingers like he used to.

It brings a set of uneasiness to your stomach. You’ve spent years trying to forget Jay before coming to the conclusion that you could never forget someone who once meant so much to you. All of the hatred you harbored for the man you held deep feelings for dissipated when you remembered that he too was growing and trying to find out who he was aside from all he once knew.

Gathering the courage to knock on his door, you force yourself to do it before you convince yourself to back out.

Jay looks up at you like you’re the last person he expected to see. It makes your stomach drop.

“Sorry,” you mutter when he doesn’t motion for you to enter. “I’ll go.”

“No!” Jay says immediately. He clears his throat and puts his pen down, waving you into his office. “Come in, please.” You walk inside and close the door behind you, the sound of soft jazz is reminiscent of the times you used to study with him in his apartment.

“I needed a break from sitting in the same spot,” you tell him, standing before his desk and looking at the decor around the room. “I see you still love collecting vinyls.”

“My collection has definitely grown,” he laughs. You feel his eyes watching you explore his office before you find your way to sit in the chair in front of him.

When the air settles around you, a sense of nervousness washes over your body. Suddenly, you can feel your entire weight on the chair you’re on top of. You can hear the clock that resides from just outside of his office and your mouth becomes too dry to handle.

You’re not sure why you’ve come to see Jay. You don’t know what you’d say to him. All of those nights you imagined a great big showdown where Jay would fall to his knees and apologize to you, just for you to refute his attempts, don’t matter anymore. You look back at yourself and think of it as silly even though that’s what you needed at a time. But part of growing up and learning about who you are is realizing your capabilities and strengths. Being able to reconcile with the past that hurt you without feeling pure anger towards the cause was arguably the hardest thing you’ve done.

You two are grown versions of your unsure, unconfident selves. The wall you spent your teenage years building has fallen down with time, knowledge, and grace. Two beings achieving a high clarity of peace is what’s left in this room.

It isn’t that you forgive and forget. Rather, taking the time to heal and forgive Jay for embarrassing you has made you realize there are worse things than a memory filled with people you aren’t in contact with anymore. Nobody in your life knew about what had happened because you hadn’t bothered to keep in touch with anyone, and no one did the same with you. The shame and burden you carried and blamed on everyone else was misdirected. It was your own insecure nature and unconfident persona that prevented you from healing.

Separating oneself from the pair of people who stripped away your confidence was the lowest you ever felt. The violent words echoing through your ears after a particularly bad test in high school broke your heart for the last time. You would no longer hold any room in your heart for another chance. The pieces of you that shattered onto the floor were swept away, never to be seen again.

You kept your head down for the years of the time you lived with them. There was no use to talk back and fight to be seen by them, even if it was to glare at you for misbehaving. It came to a point where even unloving attention from your parents was enough, settling with the notion that you wouldn’t get what you asked for as you wanted it.

But having realized sweet ignorance was bliss made you sick to your stomach. It made you ashamed to know you had spent so long wishing the people who brought you unto this Earth would look at you. The realization that changing everything about yourself would do nothing but damage in the end, taught you more than you could ever sum into words. It didn't matter if you were loud or quiet. They would never look at you the way they looked at your older brother.

It was hard to come to terms with it. Everyday was a battle against immense frustration and turmoil as you tried to navigate your way as a young adult without the opinions of your parents shoved down your throat. They’d already expected the best out of you, so perhaps being interested in law was the only thing you’ve ever done that made your parents feel as though you were worth celebrating.

Separating yourself post-high school and college was easier than ever before, especially when they hadn’t shown up to your law school graduation.

That final nail in the coffin is what solidifies what remained of the relationship. You wouldn’t see them save for holiday parties to save face, especially when your colleagues and mentors were good friends of theirs. The posed smiles and awkward conversations were part of your way to make connections and play the game before you ended up crying on your bathroom floor. Playing the part of an obedient daughter only to turn into a stranger to your parents was a role you were likely born to play.

“I was wondering if I could look through the paperwork with you.”

Jay’s eyes widen. “With me?”

“Only if you want to! I mean, it was always nice to work with you in the library all those years ago. I thought it might be a nice change of pace.”

Jay looks at you through his lashes and can’t believe the grace he’s been given to have you approach him before he got the chance to. The unexpected load of files put a dent in his plans. It seems, however, that somebody is looking out for him,

“I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Jay says. It’s as if the filter on his mouth has disappeared because he can’t stop talking about what he’s thinking about. “I didn’t know you were the person who was going to help us out on this case and seeing you for the first time in years made me think about when we were kids. I probably don’t have the right to say this, so forgive me, but I really missed you.”

That shy smile he always knew you to have adorned your lips.

“I missed you too,” you tell him. “There are a lot of things I’ve done that I wish I could have shared with you. Although I admit I had a few weeks to prepare seeing you before I officially said yes to helping with this case.”

“I used to think about what would happen if I ever saw you in court,” Jay confesses. “I’d like to believe I’d say hi, or something.”

“I probably would’ve done the same thing. Do you still play guitar?”

“Every chance I get,” Jay smiles. “I’ve added a few electric and acoustics editions to my collection. I have an entire music room back at home.”

“I always remembered you being so musically gifted. If you didn’t become a lawyer, you probably would’ve been a successful musician.”

“You always flattered me too much.”

“Why stop now?

Jay smiles at you. “Do you still want cats?”

“I have a cat called Miso. I’ve had her for a few months. She’s still such a small baby. Is it bad that I’m considering getting another one?”

“Not at all,” Jay agrees. “But three might make you a cat lady.”

You pretend to weigh your options. “I’ll think about it.”

“I can’t believe you lived in New York for a few years. I remember you loving the big city.”

“I think I’ve changed a bit,” you tell him. “I love the hustle and bustle, but living in Manhattan made me realize I miss living away from the noise. I like traveling into town and having the option to leave it, you know?”

“Definitely,” Jay nods. “My place is in a high rise so I don’t hear construction noises or birds chirping when I want it to be quiet. I got the chance to move in a few years after I started my job here.”

“I live just on the outskirts of Seoul. It’s a good sized neighborhood in a family town. I like that it’s so quiet. I usually hear children who live in the houses play on the streets on weekend mornings.”

“That sounds like quite a peaceful life.”

You smile at him like you know something he doesn’t.

“Yeah, it really is.”

“Do you ever think about how long ago law school was?” you ask. “Sometimes I pinch myself when I’m given big responsibilities. I pinched myself over and over again when I was named senior partner and nearly gave myself a bruise.”

“I see the associates in the bullpen everyday and think about how that was me ages ago,” Jay responds. By now, he’s turned his attention from the document to you. “I used to be an insecure prick who pretended to have everything under control. I was so desperate to prove myself. I’m sure you know how that feels. I don’t think I got a wink of sleep in the first four years of my career.”

“You and I both. I think my life got more stressful when I started my career. Law school did not prepare me mentally for what it was gonna be like.

“But it’s rewarding, right? I feel like I’m doing something good with my life. And you know Heeseung, you know he wouldn't sign off on clients who are morally corrupt.”

“It feels incredible, honestly. Being able to help people makes me feel like I’ve served a good purpose. I used to think about texting you all the dumb mistakes people made when I was a first year. It’s hilarious to know how many professionals can’t remain professional.”

Jay’s smile weakens as his guilt creeps back into his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly yet firmly.

You look at him. “I know. Let’s focus on the case, yeah?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Arriving at the office as the sun is peeking from the horizon is not a new phenomenon for you. Despite the crust that formed around your eye last night, indicating a good rest, you feel somewhat sluggish as you wait for Jake to finish ordering his coffee.

“Jay woke up late again,” he snickers as he pockets his phone. “He probably won’t be at the office until eight.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “We all need beauty sleep after yesterday.”

“Ahn can kiss my ass. I felt like I was knee deep in paperwork. My eyes were gonna fall out of their sockets.”

“You and me both,” you sigh, retrieving your beverage and pastry. The warmth lifts your mood. “I’ve seen my fair share of paperwork and dirty moves, but they never cease to surprise me.”

“The audacity of him to give you one box to leave with, too,” Jake says with venom in his tone. “I’ll punch him for you.”

“How about you hold him down while I do the punching?”

“I like your style.”

The office itself is still relatively quiet, save for the few first year associates milling around the bullpen and the break room. The coffee and espresso machine have seen better days, and you make a mental note to tell Heeseung to invest in new ones.

Jake raises his hand in a mock salute as you walk towards your office. The pretty skyline will always remain a marvel to you. To live a life of privilege and to neglect the beauty around you would be a disservice to all that has raised you and all what will be awarded to you. The streets below you begin to fill with people commuting to work. It feels much like New York, where the city never sleeps and the people never lose their dreams.

Working with Jay in his office felt normal. Sitting in front of him and getting to know his life as he built it wasn’t as hurtful as you once thought it would be. With each quip, it felt as if the two of you fell into old habits like there was never a time where the two of you spent any time apart.

You could tell Jay had more to say than he led on. But hearing a full confession or an apology in the office didn’t feel right. It’s why you shut him down. Hearing the sincerity in his voice when he came to apologize, but having a short conversation between looking through piles upon piles of documents, felt too colloquial. You’re owed the decency of no distractions, at least, even if you’ve done the work to grow and heal.

There was once a time you swore you’d never give Jay a second chance and that actions, at face value, mean more than any rectification. Back when you were blindsided by hurt and emotion, the realization that the person you cared about the most leaving you felt like a punch to the gut. If Jay had the audacity to leave you as you were, what good were you to anyone else?

The answer isn’t simple. It wasn’t until you realized running away from Korea and relocation to New York didn’t make you as happy as you thought it did.

You were lying to yourself when you’d smile and tell your friends that it was the best decision you ever made. You had fooled yourself into believing it as you said it, sipping on whatever alcoholic beverage was at hand at the time. But coming home to an empty loft made those unsavory thoughts ruminate in your mind until you fell asleep. Even so, you dreamt about what your life would be like if Jay had chosen to stay.

Years of running resulted in a sudden crash. It was like your life wasn’t as perfect as you made it out to be. You loved the part of you that made a life in New York and you loved the people and the work that was established, but a larger part of you missed your life in Seoul. You missed your friends, your old haunts, and the places you swore you’d never go but found yourself visiting when you came back home. You missed your family too, or whatever was left of it. In the years you spent overseas, you learned to come to terms with the notion that who you are is not a product of people who do not know you. Rather, who you are is an accumulation of your experiences and passions, and nothing else.

That realization made it easier to forgive Jay. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you’d ever see him again and the thought of what you would say if you came face-to-face with him, or what apologies you would’ve wanted to hear from him, didn’t matter. It became something you tossed at the bottom of your priority list because relying on the actions of other people became a dangerous habit of yours. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and slowly begin to like what you saw looking back at you.

To let go of the past feels like freedom. You could dwell on everyone who wronged you and remain spiteful at all of the times you were left to feel like an embarrassment and a burden, but none of that could have ever helped you arrive in the present day as tranquil as you are. Every happenstance, good and bad, happened for a reason, and it isn’t up to you to figure out why.

You’re brought out of your thoughts when Jungwon knocks on your door.

“Y/N?” he asks timidly.

“What’s up?”

“Do you have the time to go over these case files with me?” Jungwon asks. “I know you have a lunch meeting you need to prepare for, but none of the other attorneys are in the office right now and Heeseung needs these as soon as possible.”

You smile at him. “I’ll make time.”

The two of you sit in relative silence for the next twenty minutes, hearing the sounds of paper turning and pens scribbling in the margins. The city’s waking up and people are filing into the office one by one as the two of you remain in the vacated copy room just around the main office. Jungwon suggested relocating to the small corner for concentration purposes and you start to understand why he’s everybody’s favorite paralegal.

“This stuff is insane,” Jungwon comments. You look up at him to see a scowl etched on his face. “How can people willingly take advantage of people trying to pursue their dreams?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “It kills me to see greedy corporations treat people like they don’t matter.”

“It’s unfair,” Jungwon says. “If I had my way, I’d stick it to these music executives. Screw Ahn for burying us in paperwork.”

“Making the musician pay back a certain fee feels almost impossible, doesn’t it?” you ask Jungwon rhetorically. “It almost feels like the label is stealing talent and profiting off of it wherever and whenever they can.”

“These poor people are trying to make a living doing what they love. None of this is fair. It’s stupid for labels to require a certain number of albums to be made under contract.”

“Even more stupid when labels cut them loose because they can’t pay back the recoupment quickly.”

“If I had time in the courtroom with Attorney Ahn, I think I’d rip him a new one.”

You laugh. “How long have you been a paralegal, Jungwon?”

“A couple of years,” he tells you. “I’m thinking about other career options in the meantime, but I love my job and I love helping the associates when they ask me.”

“Why would you think of different career paths if this is what you love to do?”

He sighs. “I’m not good at testing. I mean, I took the bar and failed. It feels like it’s too late for me, you know?”

“Well, you could always take it again.”

He shakes his head. “It’s no use. I’m not good at practice tests but I could tell you about any case. I’ve been at this job long enough to discuss concepts and have them make sense, but it’s testing that gets me. I just get so anxious, you know? I second guess myself all the time and I hate that I do that.”

“Testing used to be my greatest enemy.”

“What changed?”

“Jay, honestly. He was always the better student when it came to that kind of stuff. I had really bad testing anxiety but he managed to help me study enough to the point where I knew I would ace them.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you guys used to be so close.”

“I’d say he was my closest friend in law school. It’s nice to see him again after all these years.”

Jungwon doesn’t press further, instead returning his attention to the documents below him.

“Ending the recoupment expectation means the artist can keep the profit from the moment it’s been released, right?”

“They’ll have to split their earnings with people who worked on the project based on copyright laws, but yes, essentially.”

Jungwon sits with his thoughts and stares at the documents before him. His hands sift through the folders as his eyes dart from page to page.

“This is what I love about my job,” he begins. “I love helping people because it’s what I feel like I was meant to do. I love solving problems and I love fixing them.”

“You owe it to yourself to try, you know,” you encourage. “Going to law school isn’t easy, but not many people can say they have your experience. You’ve got a few years of working with associates and partners under your belt. There’s no reason to be afraid of taking the LSAT.”

“I guess I’m just nervous that I won’t be good enough,” Jungwon confesses. “Every day, I’m surrounded by the smartest people I know who all graduated from the best law school in Korea. How could I ever compete with that?”

His doubt speaks to your younger self, the one who cowered in fear when your parents neglected to praise you for a job well done or turned a blind eye when you asked for advice. Jungwon’s worries speak to the part of you that wished for external validation when it came to your capabilities and strengths, because doing it yourself could only go so far.

His words remind you of moments when you felt small, like the world was too big and you’d never have enough time to discover all the wonders it could bring. You were meek back then, thriving off of whatever little validation they gave you just to have them knock it down. You don’t know why you spent so many years yearning for their approval, but never getting it felt too familiar.

Your acceptance at the most prestigious law school in Korea was met with apprehension. You recall the sinking feeling in your stomach the moment the idea about your worth was proposed; having your parents question your capabilities or how you’d fit in with your peers had you second guessing your career path, leaving you wondering if following your passion was worth the struggle and pain of convincing them to let you pursue it.

They agreed to let you go under the condition that they pay for the first year before you’d need to pay for the remaining two. It felt unfair and it still feels unfair. But what’s done is done and you managed to gain the courage to chase after that dream of yours that always seemed just too far out of reach, and it has paid off.

Now, you look at Jungwon as if he were a ghost of your former self.

“You say you’re worried about committing to a career path, but it seems like you’ve got your heart set on becoming a lawyer,” you tell him. “Don’t you think you should explore that?”

Jungwon smiles at you.

“I think I will.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Jay finds you in the break room laughing with Jungwon when he’s able to pull himself away from meetings. You look gorgeous when you laugh as freely as you are, like you aren’t shy about showing people what you look like when you smile. It warms his heart to hear that fluttering laugh of yours.

“You’re serious about helping me study for the LSAT?” he hears Jungwon ask you.

“Dead serious. It’ll take some time but the test comes around a few times a year. Take it easy, okay? There’s no need to rush.”

The younger boy sees Jay approach and nods his head. “I should get going. See you later, Y/N!”

“Jungwon’s taking the LSAT?” Jay asks when the former disappears.

“I’m trying to convince him. He told me earlier about why he’s hesitant to go to law school but I think Jungwon can do it if he really tries.”

“I think so too,” Jay agrees. “He’s the only person in this office who knows what’s going on. Might as well promote him to first year associate. We’ll definitely miss him around the office, though.”

“All the more reason to hire him when he graduates.”

Jay smiles. This kind of generosity is something he always thought of you.

“Anyway, I have a meeting in thirty minutes and I’m considering canceling if not for the free lunch.”

“Hot young finance wannabe taking you out to an expensive steakhouse?” he jokes.

“Try a sixty-year old former housewife afraid that her assets are in shambles when they haven’t been touched in years,” you laugh. “The restaurant is a dim sum place by my apartment and I will never say no to dim sum.”

“Bummer,” Jay says, biting back a smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee before the afternoon rush.”

“Can we rain check?” you ask eagerly. “I’d love to get coffee with you again.”

“I would love that. Are you going to be back in the office this afternoon, though? I’ll keep my door open for you.”

“I’ll be back around three,” you tell him with a shy smile. “I’ll be sure to knock.”

Jay shakes his head. “You can walk in. I’ll make an exception for you.”

The atmosphere around the office has changed when you come back and sit with him to work. It’s like the distance and wrongdoings have been erased when it’s just the two of you sitting in front of one another, almost as if time has transported the both of you back to law school.

You find that you’re able to get work done much faster without the impending doom of awkwardness lingering around the two of you. Jay’s tendency to skirt around you created a strange atmosphere during the first few weeks of you working in his domain, but sitting with him now makes you feel like things are going to be okay.

For Jay, it feels the same. His guilt has subsided, not because he feels absolved, but because he feels like he’s working towards a better version of himself with you back in his life. Jay has always sworn to rectify his mistakes if he was given the chance to and the universe granting him one last chance by allowing you back in his life feels like a second chance. He doesn't want to mess it up and make you feel the way you did once upon a time.

It isn’t until the sun goes down and you yawn that he registers just how late the two of you have been working. Conversations flow easily and it feels like time has moved too fast.

“Let’s get noodles before going home? For old time’s sake,” Jay asks you.

“It’s like you read my mind.”

He knows of a place not too far from away, a small hole-in-the-wall joint that boasts an array of soups that immediately smell like comfort in a bowl. The waitress leaves the two of you alone after putting your meal in front of you, and you waste no time before digging in.

“Woah, slow down before you choke on the soup,” Jay teases.

“Cut me some slack,” you whine. “This is definitely not the first time you’ve watched me inhale my food.”

Jay laughs. “I remember when you couldn’t stop eating the shumai from across my apartment. You must’ve thrown up twice? I think?”

“That night single handedly made me watch how much I ate in one sitting.” You recoil at the memory. “But I still love shumai. Just not as much.”

“Or that time you went through a phase where you couldn’t stop drinking fruit-flavored punch and got so nauseous that you almost skipped the last exam before winter break.”

“I made it, though! I think I got a ninety-one on that test? But who cares. Law school was forever ago.”

Jay’s eyes soften.

“I really am sorry,” he begins. “I’ve been thinking about when the best time to talk to you is, but everyday there’s something new between the Hybe case and other things that need our attention. So, I’m sorry if right now it seems like it’s coming out of the blue.

“It’s selfish of me to say it when you’re eating, I know. I just want you to know how sorry I am for being a coward and for leaving you standing.” Jay’s eyes falter and he looks back at his bowl of soup before forcing himself to look you in the eye. “I couldn’t tell you what my younger self was thinking back then. Every single day I think about how awful and selfish I was to put my emotions above yours.”

“Jay–”

“I don’t know if this counts for much, I’d like to think I’ve grown since then. I’ve learned to be empathetic and that I can’t run away from things just because it was too much or because I was scared about how I felt about you.” He swallows harshly. “I really, really liked you back then.”

You bite your lip. “I really liked you too.”

“Working with you for the past few months has made me realize how much of a fucking idiot I was to walk away like that. I should’ve told Iseul to shove it down her throat and walk out with you instead of leaving you alone. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.”

In your years imagining what this moment would look like, it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t in a small noodle stop sitting in an expensive dress. It wasn’t at the end of a long workday where your thoughts are all over the place. It certainly wasn’t with Jay sounding as honest and as sincere as he is now.

You prepared to leave in astonishment or throw a drink at him for his audacity. You envisioned yourself laughing in his face and walking away with your hair brushed behind your shoulders, only to peek over and see him fall to his knees in despair. You imagined Jay looking disheveled and helpless, catching his insincerity with a smug grin before telling him to leave you alone forever.

But the man in front of you looks like he’s waited a long time to apologize. He drops his eye contact with you in favor of moving his chopsticks around the bowl, moving the noodles as a way to fill the awkward silence from your lack of response. In truth, your heart is beating three times as fast as it normally does. It doesn’t help that your feelings for Jay never went away. It certainly doesn’t help that his apology feels like one crafted by a mature adult as opposed to throwaway words someone strings together to absolve themselves of guilt.

Jay’s guilty and he knows it. He’s willing to live with the consequences, but your silence is killing him.

Instead of speaking, you push your hand to reach for his and pry his fingers off of his chopsticks. Jay’s eyes snap to your hands touching his, afraid that if he moves, you’ll be gone quicker than he can register.

“You were never one for words,” you begin to say. Jay’s heart sinks to the bottom of his chest. “I remember you having the hardest time carrying a conversation because you were thinking too hard about what to say. I always thought I was the shy one, but getting to know you was a little hard when you said so little.

“I don’t know what changed, honestly. It was like you had a million and one different things you wanted to talk about. I learned that you trusted few people and I knew I was one of them the second you talked my ear off about how you probably would have pursued a career in music instead of law.”

Jay’s mouth quirks. “I remember that.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I know you’re being honest with me now. The fact that you said all of that in a noodle shop tells me more than you know.”

He chuckles. “It’s a little poetic, isn’t it?”

“Considering we spent maybe half of our time together eating ramen, I’d say so.”

He squeezes your hand. “The last thing I want you is for you to feel like I’m forcing you to say something you don’t want to, or even forgive me. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do something you aren’t ready to do.”

“One thing you should know about me is that I always do as I please.” You squeeze his hand back. “You’ll know how I feel, Jay. Right now, I feel very strongly about you.”

The two of you look at each other before the doorbell chimes. You two pull your hands apart as if you’re two teenagers caught holding hands. Jay laughs once he sees your mouth forming that same bashful smile he fell for all those years ago before clearing his throat and enjoying the rest of his dinner.

As for you, the warmth of the broth is almost as warm as your cheeks.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Nothing is going according to plan.

The Hybe case has taken all of your effort and resources, as well as your mental sanity. As the date for the next settlement hearing, and likely the final one, draws nearer, you feel the walls closing within you with no way to stop it.

It’s taken a toll on you. You’re sure everyone in the office can see it. Sunoo creeps quietly into your office with a polite bow every time he delivers what you ask for, ceasing to make small conversation when he can see how little sleep you’ve gotten. Riki and Jungwon are the same, waving to you from outside of your office because you’ve spent a majority of your time there.

Jay’s noticed it as well. He remembers the moments when you’d hole yourself in your apartment due to exam stress and when things with your family affected you. Back then he would try everything in his power to get you to come out of the cave you created, whether it be staying in his car until you were ready to see him or dropping off meals for you.

It’s not so different now, except this is occurring in the workplace. He sees the dark circles under your eyes and the way your shoulders slump when you’re working at your desk. Jay sees the way you shake your head to fight to stay awake and how unfocused you’ve become during meetings.

Everyone in the office is losing their hope about winning this case. Hybe has drained all of the resources every attorney has put into fighting it. Heeseung feels the pressure from the clients, which in turn has everyone else worrying about if this was a case they were going to lose. The hope everybody exhibited from the beginning of the case until now has dimmed. Nobody knows what went wrong or why team morale has changed for the worse.

It’s late on a Friday night when Jay catches you still in your office. Your coat is still hanging behind your chair and he can see the tissues around your garbage can. His heart lurches when he puts two and two together, and races all over the office until he finds you walking out of the bathroom.

You look at him with bloodshot eyes and tears at the brim. Jay’s tie feels tight against his collar and his suit jacket suddenly feels too warm on his body. Your nimble fingers tremble beside you as you catch your breath, halfway between embarrassed for being caught crying and fighting the urge to jump into Jay’s arms. He hates seeing you cry and he hates knowing that there’s nothing he can do to make you feel better.

Jay makes the decision for you. He wastes no time and tugs you closer to his chest.

He doesn’t pay any mind to your tears soaking his dress shirt, opting to put one hand behind your head. He strokes your hair and wraps his other arm around you to hold you securely within him, using what little momentum he has to rock your bodies from side to side. It feels right to have you in his arms like this. Jay has fantasized about the day you’d let him touch you like this, so intimately woven together as if the two of you were always meant to be together.

Your face feels hot against his chest. Jay feels you rest your cheek on his shoulder and he fights the urge to press a kiss to your head. The office is eerily quiet, with everyone else having left hours earlier. Jay was stuck in a late night meeting before heading back to the office to pick up his belongings for the night. He’s glad he came back.

“Sorry,” you croak, voice sore from holding your tears at bay. Jay lifts his hand to wipe the tears off of your cheek with this thumb.

“Don’t be,” he tells you. “God knows how many times I’ve cried in this bathroom.”

You smile. “You’ve cried in the women’s restroom?”

Jay pinches your arm. “You know what I mean.”

The two of you stay like that for another minute and bask in the silence. Half of the lights have turned off due to lack of movement and it feels liminal to be holding one another without the judgment or prying eyes of others. Jay coaxes you to your office and gently holds your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pulls you down on the couch. You don’t fight him, letting him pull your body down next to his until your feet are tucked underneath you with your head resting on his shoulder.

Jay doesn’t want to push his luck. He’s sure you can feel his heart beating from where you sit. But your head is within reach and experimentally places his cheek on top of you. When you won’t move away, he closes his eyes for a brief moment and thanks whoever is watching him for the opportunity to be this close to you again.

“Life is so hard,” you say, grabbing his hand and toying with the rings on his fingers. “I feel like nothing I’m doing is amounting to anything.”

“That’s not true,” Jay says to you. He fights the urge to smile when he sees you pick a ring off of his finger and place it on your own hand. “You’ve done a lot of good, you know that? You wouldn’t be here today if you didn’t.”

You return the ring back to Jay’s hand. “I know. This case is keeping me up at night. I get nightmares about Ahn’s stupid, smug grin after telling us we wasted our time trying to fight Hybe.”

“You and I both. Sometimes, our efforts feel futile when all we do is stare at paperwork and hold empty promises to our clients.”

You nod in agreement. “I just want to be at a place where I don’t feel like I’m fucking things up all the time. I spent so long trying to run away from everything but I got tired of doing that before I moved back to Korea. I want to rest.”

The two of you remain silent for a few peaceful moments. It doesn’t feel awkward and neither of you feel pressed to say anything. The comfort that you feel with Jay is something he’s been praying for. He’d reckon that the person he was when you first joined the office would almost doubt the fact that you're comfortable resting in his arms. To him, this is a sign that you’re starting to trust him again.

“Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?” He tries not to smile when you shake your head.

“Can you stay here with me?”

Eventually, he convinces you to go home after a tiring day. Jay calls a taxi for you and waits with you until it arrives. The smile you give him makes him feel like there’s nothing he can’t achieve, and it isn’t until you kiss his cheek that Jay feels as though he might melt into a puddle.

“Get home safe, okay?” you ask of him.

“Anything for you.”

He closes the door behind you and watches the taxi drive away until it’s out of sight. Jay pulls his phone out and begins to hover this thumb over a certain phone number he hasn’t called in a while, arguing back and forth with himself until he hastily presses the ‘call’ button and puts the phone to his ear.

One, two. Click.

“Hello?” comes the voice from the other line.

“Hey,” Jay says. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry to call you out of the blue. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I’m calling about Y/N.”

“Is she okay?”

“Relatively speaking.” Jay takes a deep breath before continuing. “We’re working on this case together. I’m sure she’s told you about it and I think it’s taking a toll on her. You know how she gets. She closes herself off because she doesn't want other people to worry about her or feel like a burden.”

“Sounds like classic Y/N if you ask me.”

Jay laughs. “I found her crying in the office tonight and we talked a little. I just sent her home in a cab. I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, but this is Y/N. Can you give her a call and make sure she’s alright?”

The voice on the other end is silent for a brief moment. Jay holds his breath and he swears he can feel his lungs constrict within him. If anything, he’s prepared to have his heart broken in two and for everything he knows to fall apart around him.

It doesn’t.

“I’m in Seoul, actually. Don’t tell anyone, though. I’ll visit Y/N.”

“Thank you,” Jay breathes.

“Of course. We both know she would have kept to herself until it’s too late.”

“That we do.” Jay swallows harshly. “I also just wanted to say…I’m sorry. For everything. I wasn’t the greatest friend, haven’t been the greatest friend, but I want to do everything I can to make things right. I’ve already apologized to Y/N but apologizing to you feels right.”

He hears a small chuckle from the other side. “You’re a good person, Jay, even if you make bad decisions every once in a while. The fact that you’re calling me after everything you’ve done tells me how much you’ve changed.”

“I…thank you. I don’t know what I’m looking for. But apologizing feels right.”

“It’s a good start. Thanks for calling, man.”

“Take care.”

The line ends and Jay walks back into the office with a happy heart.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

A knock comes at your apartment door and your heart starts to spike. It’s nine in the evening and you’re sitting on your couch in pajamas with an empty bag of chips on the coffee table. Your ears perk up at the sound and you clutch your phone in your hands until you see a notification come though.

Dearest Brother (Korean cell): Open up!

You lift the blanket off of you with record speed with Miso tailing behind you and open the front door without a second thought.

“Namjoon,” you breathe.

“In the flesh,” he says with that same boyish smile he gives you when he sees you after coming home from overseas. “Are you gonna let me in or are you gonna let me freeze to death?”

“With that attitude, you can starve too,” you say, angling your body away from the door for him to walk in. Namjoon takes his shoes off and slips his feet into the slippers you always keep for him. Miso nips at his ankles until he bends down to pick her up, cradling your beloved in his arms. “What the hell are you doing in Seoul?”

“The boys and I got back earlier this morning,” Namjoon tells you. “Promotions are over and we get two weeks to rest before we start preparing for the next tour.”

“God, I can’t believe you guys are going on tour again,” you say, patting the spot next to you on the couch for Namjoon to sit on. “It feels like you guys just started working on the album.”

“Seokjin said the same thing,” says Namjoon, who puts his feet on the coffee table before you chide him with a playful slap to the bicep. “The guys and I decided we weren’t gonna see each other until tour rehearsals. God knows we’ve spent too much time together in the past few months.”

“How are they?” you ask him. “I’ve only seen updates on those fan accounts that update your every move, which is somewhat creepy but every wholesome at the same time.”

Namjoon laughs. “The guys are fine. Taehyung and Hobi spent most of the promotions shopping and came home with two duffel bags each. Yoongi’s probably gonna sleep for the next two weeks. Jungkook got ripped, and I mean ripped.”

“I saw that, Jesus. He sent me a progress photo and all I could think about was how small he used to be before you guys debuted.”

“Jimin’s just…Jimin. He says he misses you and that the two of you should get together before it gets busy.”

“I would love that.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “I missed you guys a lot. More than I care to admit, probably.”

“See, I told you all our sibling rivalry would disappear when we got older.”

“Yah. Whatever you say. We’re still enemies at heart.” Miso purrs against Namjoon’s lap. “I think she likes you more than me.”

Namjoon smiles down at Miso. “Jay called me earlier tonight. He says you haven’t been feeling very well.”

“Jay is a tattletale.”

“Did he lie?”

You sigh. “No, he didn’t.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“So many things that I don’t even know where to begin. There’s the Hybe case, which has made me want to blow my brains out.”

Namjoon nods. “Ah, the Hybe case. It’s funny what a small label could do in ten years.”

“Seems as though your underground rapper dreams came true. Now you’re touring the world and forgetting to bring me back expensive gifts from abroad.” Namjoon chooses not to comment. “You know attorney Ahn, right? Well, he sent us dozens upon dozens of legal files for us to sort through before our next hearing. We’ve gone through eighty percent of them but it feels like we’re going nowhere. It feels useless”

“You’re doing more good than you know,” he tells you. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re giving a lot of hope to a lot of young musicians.”

You sigh. “I hope so. And then there’s the whole thing with Jay…I can’t remember what I last told you. I know I said that my feelings towards him have changed and that I’ve forgiven him, but spending as much time as I have has made me rethink a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether or not it’s stupid of me to give him a second chance or if I should feel ashamed for liking him in the first place.” Namjoon watches you frown. “All those years and my feelings for him never went away.”

“Well, we can’t control how we feel.”

“He hurt me, Joon.”

“I know,” says Namjoon, “but that was years ago. In the months you’ve worked with him, has Jay given you any reason to doubt his sincerity?”

You think about it. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Has he apologized for what he did and is he being respectful of you?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitating.

“There’s your answer. You can’t let the past dictate people. I’m sure there are parts of you that have outgrown your younger self.”

“You know, I can hear the voices of people I met back in New York telling me not to give Jay the time of day and that I should block his number when we finish working this case.”

“Your New York friends knew the person that was angry at him, though. You stopped talking about Jay two years before you moved.”

“I know. I don’t know what’s stopping me from going for it.”

“Have you ever considered that you’re afraid things will turn out the same way it did all those years ago?”

You roll your eyes. “All the time, Joon.”

“Okay, fair point. Have you considered that you’re the one in control of how you react to things?” You purse your lips and Namjoon takes it as a sign to keep talking. “You can think of a million different ways this plays out. Maybe you guys break up after a week. Maybe you get old and live together until you’re ninety. But all of those scenarios are just what-ifs. You’ll never know until you make a decision and stick with it, otherwise your fears hold you back from reaching your true potential.”

“But what if it fails? I’m scared of becoming the person I was back then.”

“Well I, for one, know you’re much stronger than that. Working in corporate law makes you tougher, not weaker. But to speak on your concern, you’re the only person who can control how you react to things. If the timing isn’t right and you feel it coming, then you let go.”

His words sit with you as the soft sounds of the television plays in the back of your mind. For a few months, you’d been worried that you jumped the gun and forgiven Jay in ways the you of the past would never understand. The deep seeded fears of being rejected and left behind creep into the forefront of your mind every so often, leaving you a paralyzed mess.

But Namjoon’s right. You can only control your reaction to what cards you’re dealt with. Any wrongdoing by the hands of others isn’t your fault nor are they your responsibilities.

“As for the Hybe case,” Namjoon says as he brings you out of your thoughts, “I think I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods once. “The guys and I have been talking about this for a while. We’ve known about other musicians suing Hybe longer than you’ve known about this case and we didn’t know how we could help. On one hand, Hybe gave us everything we have now, you know? They gave us the opportunity to become musicians. I don’t know what got lost in translation, but it seems that fewer and fewer artists are able to experience what we did.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“We’re going to make a statement. With your approval, of course.” Namjoon tells you. “I was going to call Heeseung on Monday to set up a meeting with you and surprise you at the office, but tonight seemed like a better time to drop by.”

“Wait.” You use the remote to pause the TV. “You guys are going to speak at the hearing?”

“All seven of us,” he confirms. “It’s not fair that everyone else has to work twice as hard because of Hybe’s standards. We’ve been given this platform and it’s only fair that we use it to help other people.”

“God, I could cry right now.” Namjoon chuckles at the tears that have formed at the corner of your eyes and picks up a tissue before handing it to you. “You don’t know what this means to me, Joon.”

“I always told you I’d be here for you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I thought that meant buying me gifts paying for my takeout,” you joke, swatting his arm, “not saving the biggest case of my career.”

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N. Not a lot of people are as resilient as you.” He smiles down at you. “Oh, and you should also know about Jay.”

“What about him?”

“He apologized to me too,” Namjoon says. “I know what people sound like when they want something from me or say things because they know it’s what I want to hear. But Jay didn’t sound like that. He didn’t have to say anything since he was calling about you, but that in itself lets me know how sorry he is.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to know. Besides, it’s a Friday night and you have the entire weekend before you see him. Let’s watch cartoons like old times, yeah?”

“Yeah, but you better not sleep in the middle of the second episode.”

Namjoon laughs. “You wound me.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

For the first time in a while, you don’t feel imminent doom as Monday approaches.

The sky is as sunny as you feel when you walk into the office. Sunoo and Jungwon seem rather pleased that you’re spending more time outside of your office and Heeseung makes several comments about how your mood has shifted from how it was last week.

“You’re telling me Namjoon stopped by and you didn’t tell me?” Heeseung chides. “I feel like chopped liver.”

“That’s because you are,” you tease. “The guys are resting for the next two weeks before tour preparations. Namjoon, Jimin, and I are going to get dinner one of these days if you’d like to join.”

“I’m taking you up on this invite, thank you very much. Did you know Joon was gonna be back in town?”

“I didn’t, actually.” A knock comes from behind you and the man of the hour appears. “Jay called him.”

“Am I in trouble?” Jay asks. You smile and shake your head.

“Just the opposite. Thanks for calling my brother. It meant a lot to me.”

“You looked like you needed him and I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he tells you sincerely.

“It’s great that you’re both here, actually.” You close the door behind your office. “Namjoon and I talked about a lot of things, one of them being the case. He told me how he and the guys have felt helpless in the past few months to see their labelmates suffer through corporate greed. He told me that they’re willing to testify and speak on our behalf against Hybe.”

“What?”

You nod. “I think they’re starting to understand how unfair the new recording contracts are and want to make a difference. I know Judge Han’s granddaughters are fans of Bangtan, so I think their presence could sway the decision.”

“You fight dirty,” Heeseung says, bumping his hip with yours. “I love it. Are they ready to go up against Ahn?”

You shake your head. “They’re gonna schedule a meeting with us sometime in the next week to prepare. It’s going to be a tight fit with their tour preparations and our hearing, but if all goes according to plan, Ahn should be willing to move the hearing date earlier.”

“This is fucking incredible,” Jay swears. “We owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing,” you tell him. “I love working with you two, honestly. Namjoon however…you might owe him a few.”

“I’ll pay for dinner under the company card and say it was a client business,” Heeseung says. “It’s a done deal. I’m gonna let the others know, if that’s okay?”

Heeseung leaves when you give in the greenlight, leaving you and Jay standing alone in your office.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Jay says. “I owe you one.”

“Seriously, Jay. You owe me nothing. It comes with the job.” He laughs and shakes his head.

“I’m bad at this.”

Jay bites his lip and reaches his hand out for yours, holding a loose grip in case you want to pull back. When you don’t, he takes the opportunity to push his fingers through yours.

“I’d love to take you out on a date,” he says. “As a thank you. But more so because I really like you and want to take you out like you deserve.”

You squeeze his hand. “If I said I wanted to stay indoors because this week will likely kick my ass, what would you do?”

Jay pretends to think. “In that case, I think I’ll cook us dinner while you watch with a glass of wine. If I recall correctly, that’s how most of our Friday nights looked like.”

You bite your lip. “You make a mean steak.”

“Whatever you want is what you'll get. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion that this was your way of asking me to cook for you.”

You look at him in faux surprise. “Whatever do you mean, Park Jongseong?” Jay chuckles and takes a step closer towards you.

“Silly girl. I'll cook for us once this case is over, yeah? How does that sound?”

“Sounds like you’re after my own heart.”

Jay learns until you feel his lips land on your cheek.

“That I am.”

He leaves your office without another word and you fight the heat creeping up your neck as you bite your lip. When you turn around, you’re met with Jake and Jungwon’s prying eyes from the bullpen, and watch as they high-five each other whilst giving you an array of thumbs ups and silent applause.

You struggle to get back to work.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

In an unsurprising turn of events, Ahn folds when Namjoon takes the stands. When all is said and done, you find yourself at an all too familiar position with Jay in the kitchen and you sitting behind the counter with a glass of wine in your hands.

He’s grown up, for one. Jay’s back muscles are more defined in his t-shirt as opposed to the dress shirts he wears everyday, giving you something else to look at as he cooks dinner for the both of you. The week wasn’t as bad as you anticipated it to be, but you’re sitting in his penthouse and patting yourself on the back for making the suggestion to stay indoors.

It’s oddly comforting to feel as relaxed as you are in his space, sans wine. The buzz hit you after he gave you a tour of his place and the Jay of the present is definitely not the Jay you used to know. His tastes are elevated and his collection of instruments has nearly tripled. The artwork adorning his walls speaks for his maturity, as does the furniture in his living room. It reminds you just how much the two of you have grown up since law school and how eager you are to explore sides of him you have yet to discover.

The steak is almost done cooking and Jay has spoon-fed you mashed potatoes until they’re to your liking, and you laugh when he celebrates your approval. The seasoned asparagus sits underneath warming lights while the rest of the meal is done cooking, and it wouldn’t feel right to have dinner with Jay without commenting about how much of a professional he looks from where you’re sitting.

You know it’s the wine in your system intensifying your emotions, but you can’t help but stare at Jay’s muscles as he moves throughout the kitchen. He works effortlessly and seamlessly, never neglecting any part of the meal he’s prepared for you. The level of care and precision he’s exemplifying through his cooking, while simultaneously entertaining you, has rendered you a blushing, giggling mess. You’re sure Jay can tell that you’re already buzzed after two glasses, but he promised to drive you home so you don’t have anything to worry about.

Jay looks criminally good in dark clothes. His laid back attire makes him look more attractive to you compared to the suit and tie he wears everyday. Something about seeing Jay like he used to be all those years ago stirs something within you. It makes you cross your legs in your seat and perch forward with your elbows on the counter below you as he puts the finishing touches to the meal.

You requested nothing fancy for tonight upon knowing Jay would drop everything for you to secure a date at the most expensive restaurant and pay the bill to back it up. That could be saved for another today. Tonight is less about wanting Jay to prove himself than wanting to feel comfortable around him, as this would be your first time hanging out with him in his space since law school.

When he’s finished cooking, Jay pulls the smaller dining table towards the tall window overlooking the city below and seats you in your chair opposite his. He tops you off with another glass of wine when you nod, pouring himself a glass as well.

Conversation flows like the two of you are out on a first date. You are, in a sense, but you’re also two long lost best friends who happen to have deep feelings for each other, finding yourselves once again. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s settled in your system with the headstart you had compared to Jay, or maybe it’s the soft look of adoration in Jay’s eyes when you laugh at his jokes, but tonight you feel as though you’re the only woman in his life who matters to him.

“I really missed you,” you tell him. Jay looks back at you from the kitchen as he clears the finished dinner plates. Too full to entertain dessert, he leaves it in the fridge until you’re ready to eat again. “I missed this too, you know? Coming over and doing nothing but talking to you, I mean.”

“I’m here if you’ll have me,” Jay says. You’ve followed him to the kitchen, albeit wobbling because of the wine. Jay reaches out and steadies you with his arms until you’re pushing yourself to hug his body with your arms around his middle.

“You’re so warm.” You turn your head to peck at his chest before letting your cheek rest against him. Jay closes his eyes and wraps his arms around your body too, his own lips finding the crown of your head.

“You’re even warmer, but I’ll bet it’s because you had half a bottle of wine.”

You playfully smack his arm. “Hey. You said you’d drive me home so I took that as a sign to get tipsy.”

Jay laughs. “I thought you might say something like that. Good thing I have a higher tolerance, isn’t it?”

You nod against him. “It’s the best.”

“Do you want to go home now?” Jay asks carefully when the two of you have stood in silence for a good minute or two. When you shake your head, he bites back a smile. “Do you want to watch a movie? You can pick something off of Netflix and we can watch it until you’re ready to go home.”

“Sounds like a perfect idea,” you say, sighing out of content.

Jay lets you change into one of his oversized shirts that covers you just enough and you walk out of the bathroom looking like sin. It takes everything in him not to comment because he doesn’t want to scare you away. Jay comes to the realization that you likely aren’t wearing shirts underneath because of how the fabric rode up your thigh as you sat on the couch beside him. He desperately tries not to pay any mind to it for the sake of your comfortability.

Truthfully, Jay wants to wrap you up in his arms and put the blanket he got from his closet over the both of you. But he’s letting you take the lead when it comes to physical contact, unsure of just how comfortable you are with him yet. He’s only just gotten you back in his life. He doesn’t want to scare you away any time soon.

The movie you picked is somewhat interesting, although Jay can’t say he’s too keen on paying attention. In the first ten minutes, you’ve shifted to rest your head on his shoulder and his arm is now resting behind you to accommodate your body. He feels you dip yourself lower as the movie progresses until you’re fully leaning on his chest, and Jay has a sneaking suspicion you’ve been slowly edging your way into this spot to not make him feel uncomfortable either.

He puts his free hand on your hip and squeezes your body to let you know he’s right with you. Jay watches you smile and try to hide it. He thinks it makes you look even more attractive than you already are.

Jay doesn’t know what happens next. Another thirty minutes pass by with easy conversation between the two of you. One thing leads to another and he feels you shifting in front of him, and his mind thinks you’re getting up to tell him you want to leave.

But you don’t. You shift to face him and push your body up until your face is right in front of his.

He can feel your breath on his lips. The scent of wine is long gone but your eyes look like they’re searching for something. Jay sees the way your throat constricts and he tries not to look down past where it isn’t appropriate.

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you?” you ask him just above a whisper.

Jay doesn’t say anything. He doesn't need to. Instead, he leans forward to push his lips against yours.

His lips touch your plush ones as his hands encircle your waist to hold you steady, like he’s afraid you’ll topple over on the couch. Your own hands immediately touch his chest and scrape the fabric like an experimental touch. Your lips feel so soft against his and the sounds of your lips smacking against one another become more audible than the soft volume of the television in the background.

Jay pulls back to see you suppress a grin, but he pinches your side to get you to smile for him.

“You’re a really good kisser,” you say. “Had any practice?”

“Just my pillow and a few posters,” he jokes. “I needed to practice so I could kiss you like you deserve.”

He watches you blush. “Don’t say that. I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

Jay pecks your lips and lingers for a few seconds. “Good. You make me feel like a teenager too.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, shifting yourself until you’re perched on his lap. Jay watches from beneath you as you steady your body by placing both hands on his shoulders and swinging your leg across his lap.

“Yeah,” he whispers just before you lean down to kiss him again.

Jay feels your hands wrap around his neck to hold him in front of you like you’re afraid he’s going to push you away again. To quell your fears, his own hands take hold of your wrists before he holds your fingers in his own and gives you a gentle squeeze. You seem to loosen up as you smile into the kiss, prompting Jay to do the same.

Holding you feels familiar. It feels like coming home after a long, tiring day at the office to the person he loves the most. Having you in his arms after all this time has Jay rethinking his future and where you fit in it. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s ready to risk all that he has if that means seeing you as happy as you are in this very moment.

You whine when Jay’s lips detach from yours but he smirks into your skin when he hears a soft moan coming from your own upon placing his just below your ear. He thinks how his younger self would’ve killed to hear the sounds you’re making right now and how lucky he is that this opportunity is being granted towards him. You sound like you’re enjoying yourself and that’s all Jay could ever ask of you.

Your hand creeps below his shirt until your nails are raking his abdomen and you moan when you feel the ridges on his body. He sighs against your neck and you’re left speechless at how his physique has changed since the last time you saw Jay shirtless. The ache in your belly leaves you wanting more and you arch your body until it feels as though you’re completely giving into him before pressing your palms against his body.

You two kiss with fervor as the minutes go by. Suddenly, Jay feels your body beginning to rock yourself on his lap as your lips find his own. He feels you tug on his shirt until you push it up his neck, breaking contact with him so that he can pull his shirt off completely.

Your lips feel like heaven against his own skin as you begin to explore every inch of him. He feels you peppering kisses along his jawline and closes his eyes to bask in the feeling of your body so close to his. Jay lets his hands roam around your waist and when you don’t move to push his hands off as his fingers dip beneath the shirt you’re wearing, he smiles to himself and lets his fingertips push the fabric upwards just slightly. The feeling of his hands on your body has you rocking forward until your chest is in front of Jay’s face. You gasp when you realize how hard he’s become underneath you.

“I’m sorry,” Jay begins to apologize. “You’re very attractive.”

You look down and tilt your head, experimentally pressing your lower half on his crotch. Jay emits a low moan, making your mouth quirk in excitement.

“You’re very attractive,” you tell him, slowly rocking your body backwards and forwards.

You move to push Jay’s hands closer to your body and he gets the hint. He uses the momentum to push and pull you into him at the pace you set, watching as your mouth opens in euphoria. Jay finds it incredibly attractive the way your eyebrows pinch in arousal every time the tip of his clothed cock bumps your covered core, and if what you’re wearing is anything to go by, he was correct in assuming you weren’t wearing shorts underneath his shirt.

Your pace quickens with every pass of his cock beneath you. He gets harder and harder, and you get wetter and wetter. Your own slick is rubbing against you from the fabric of your panties and it becomes almost too much to bear. Jay’s hands have found their way to your back as your own body pushes against his. He feels your tits pressing against his chest and the desperation in your hips as you gain momentum while he begins to take control from beneath you.

Jay bucks into you until you let out a particularly loud gasp. His strength surprises you, as does the force with which he thrusts into you. His clothed cock hits you at the most delicious angle while you’re fighting to stand upright against his lap, fighting to grip the couch and his body at the same time. Jay doesn’t let you breathe, however, until you’re pushing him away so that you can access his lips once again.

The kiss is wet and messy. It’s hot in the room and you’re pushing Jay’s hands until they cup your breasts. He pinches your nipples and watches in pleasure as you throw your head back.

“My baby likes that, doesn't she?” He pinches them again when you nod and it sends a shock straight down your spine and where you need him the most.

Jay lifts the shirt just enough to uncover your chest and brings your right bud into his mouth. He licks it with his tongue in an effort to tease you until you’re squirming in his lap. He does the same with the other nipple until you’re pushing yourself against his cock that he grunts and nips at the bud before sucking it with his mouth.

The pleasure is almost too good to form words. Your mouth stays at a permanent ‘O’ with every swipe of Jay’s tongue and he pushes your shirt until you take it off for him. He places his hands on your breasts and squeezes them in his palms as if getting to know your body better, almost like he wants to commit you to his memory.

But you’re impatient. After the long years of daydreaming about Jay, you want nothing more than to have him inside of you.

“Please let me have it,” you whisper against his lips, pushing your body down onto his. “I need it so bad, Jay.”

“We can’t,” he chokes. He doesn’t want to push his luck. “I-I need to drive you home.”

Not even he believes this pathetic excuse.

“I don’t care. Drive me home tomorrow.”

Jay doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He flexes his fingers to distract himself before giving in, placing his grip on your waist and pushing you down onto him. He hears you gasp at the sudden movement and chides himself for being so turned on by you when mere moments ago he was thinking logically.

“Just the tip,” you mutter against his mouth to convince him. “Please.”

“Just the tip,” Jay agrees, pushing his trousers just enough to free his cock. To the best of your ability, you take your panties off without moving from his lap and throw it behind him. He finally feels your pussy glide over him and throws his head back, feeling pure euphoria.

Jay’s cock is thick and long, and you feel it throbbing between your legs. The friction is too delicious to ignore, as is the wet sounds consisting of your arousal covering him. He lifts his head up to watch you bite your lip and look at him with desperation in your eyes. It’s the kind of expression he’s wanted to see from you for so long. Jay can only hope you know that this is how he looks at you.

It’s quiet in the room, save for wanton breaths and the sound of your own arousal mixing with his precum. It’s so erotic to see you as desperate for him as he is for you because he’s yearned for this moment for so long. Jay bites his lip with every pass as you hover above his tip and he tries his hardest not to buck his hips, instead allowing you to move at your own pace.

When you catch the tip of his cock inside of your pussy, the two of you let out an audible gasp at the sudden intrusion. His thick head breaches your fluttering hole as he grabs your waist to prevent you from moving when his tip is fully sheathed inside of you.

“Holy fuck,” you moan, balancing yourself on his hot tip. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Jay asks. “It does, doesn’t it?” You nod rapidly and Jay kisses the side of your mouth before moving to your neck.

You keep yourself steady by gripping his shoulders that are hot to the touch. He flexes when your nails dig into him, causing you to moan at the sight. Jay feels the movement of your throat as he kisses your neck and grunts when he feels your pussy clench around him.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes until your legs give out and you’re holding onto Jay’s neck as a silent plea for him to take over. He gets the hint, wrapping his arms around your body until you’ve fallen limp against his chest. Jay uses his leverage to slowly pull himself out of you before pushing the head of his cock back in.

The moan you emit against his ear makes him feel like the two of you are starring in your very own sextape. It causes Jay to jerk his hips unexpectedly and push another inch of himself into your pussy by accident. He’s about to apologize until he feels your pussy clenching around him at the sudden intrusion.

“You’re so big,” you whisper to him. “S-So big. So good.”

“You feel fucking amazing,” Jay praises. “Such a wet pussy and I’ve barely done anything to you.”

You whimper at his words while closing your eyes shut and move your head until your cheek rests comfortably on his shoulder. The angle allows you to press kisses to Jay’s jawline and you do so until you feel him begging to thrust into you once again.

The tempo he sets is slow and delicious. He feels every drag as your mixed arousal coats the rest of his cock and Jay feels as though he’s found pure euphoria on earth, the kind that men search for but never seem to find. The shallow thrusts cause his mouth to hang open and his fingers itching to touch your clit, but he doesn’t want to move unless you tell him to.

It isn’t until you’re pushing yourself down onto his length that he speaks again.

“Baby,” he warns. “I thought–”

“Changed my mind,” you tell him desperately. “Unless you don’t want to.”

Jay nods. “I want to. Fuck, I want to.”

You kiss him hard before pushing down on him. “I just want you.”

Jay’s body falls limp when he feels your body glide up and down his cock like you’ve trained your entire life for this very moment. He sees the sweat building between your brows and licks his lips at the way your tits bounce against your chest. It’s sensual the way you look on top of him. Jay brings one of your nipples in his mouth and makes a home there as your hips begin to work his own.

His body feels like it was made for you to use. The desperation at which his own hips chase yours should make him feel embarrassed, but he feels like a lovesick fool. In this moment, everything he’s ever wanted to say to you lies in the power of his thrusts and the way his lips move with yours. It makes him feel like there’s nothing in this world that could take you away from him.

He pushes himself up until you’re clinging onto his body for dear life. The sounds you make push him even harder against your body, drilling his hard cock within you until you’re moaning like somebody’s filming you. It’s all too much for Jay to handle, and he’s glad he feels you come undone before him.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you moan out, clenching against his cock as it works your body until completion.

Jay pulls out and finishes on your ass just after you’ve come down from your own high. You jolt when you feel his come on your skin but move to kiss him as the two of you come down from your respective highs and he feels your heartbeat against his chest, smiling into the kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he tells you between kisses. He tries to speak but you silence him with more pecks. “Let me clean you up, yeah?”

Your heart feels warm. You nod and let him pry your body off of his, carefully laying on your stomach so that the couch doesn’t see the mess Jay created. He comes back a moment later with a warm washcloth and his trousers zipped up before wiping you clean. The rag is tossed onto the floor as he pulls your body towards him, wrapping your legs around his torso, and pulling your lips to his once more.

“Stay the night?” he asks you.

“That was my plan, but I’m glad you brought it up before I did.”

Jay pinches your thigh and hears you laugh. He could die like this.

“Since it’s a weekend, I think you and I have a lot of catching up to do.” Jay kisses down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, gliding his lips along your stomach until they’ve reached just below your belly button.

“Oh? And what is it you’re promising, Park Jongseong?”

Jay smirks up at you from where he’s positioned.

“I have an idea in mind,” he says coyly, moving his mouth to press a chast kiss on your slit. “It has a lot to do with my mouth and my fingers.” Your body arches when Jay’s tongue licks a bold stripe up your slit.

“I like the sound of that. Would you let me return the favor?”

“Only if you cum on my tongue twice.”

You push his face into your core.

“Better get a head start.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

#enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #enhypen smut #jay smut #jongseong smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong fanfiction #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong angst #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fic: walk the line #jay #my writing*

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giuseppe-yuki · 7 months ago

Text

birthday celebration?

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: suggestive material, curse words, danica patrick (?), sassy and jimmy slander (sorry i love them irl i promise)

part of my money, money, money!universe

summary: yesterday was max's birthday. the press wants to know: you guys went all out to celebrate, right?

a/n: so yesterday was actually my birthday 🤭 i tried my best to post this before it hit 12 as a birthday treat for y'all, but it didn't really work out... consider this a late birthday post + max 4 wdc celebration :)

p.s. this is NOT the money, money, money spinoff that i promised- i'm working on that i swear🤞🥲

picture credits from pinterest :)

to say the driveway up to the gala building was crowded was an understatement. if you looked out the window of the very expensive rolls royce you were currently seated in, you could spot at least five rosso corsa ferraris and like, three jet black lamborghinis within a meter from you. to be honest, you had to give props to your private driver, daniil, because there was no way you could have strategically maneuvered the car onto the jam-packed road without causing a rather exorbitant pileup of supercars. next to you, on the plush leather seats, was your boyfriend in his freshly pressed, custom fitted suit that you had your assistant buy just for the event. he sits there politely with his hands folded together, wide blue eyes blinking at you innocently. he looked mighty handsome, and if you weren’t currently sitting in a car with a billion cars, paparazzi, and influential figures right outside, you certainly would have done some not-so-appropriate things to max right then and there.

instead of doing said things and traumatizing your poor private driver, you quickly glance at your phone.

a bold 5:10 flashes across the screen, in front of your lockscreen of max curled up in bed with jimmy and sassy.

shit.

you were scheduled to do some press stuff outside the event around 5:20, and had to be inside by 5:45. if the queue of cars of ahead of you didn’t hurry up, you would probably be late, and it wouldn’t be a good thing if the ceo of redbull herself was late to her own redbull gala.

max, like the sweet, observant boyfriend that he is, peers down at his own phone, notes the time, then tilts his head at you.

“do you want to just run up to the entrance?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “i’m sure it’s not too far, and i don’t want you to be late for your pr stuff!”

that didn’t sound like a bad idea.

after notifying daniil, you and max slip out of the vehicle, much to the surprise of the people in the cars around you. once you squeeze out of the crowd of exotic cars onto the sidewalk, max takes your hand and bolts his way towards the grandly decorated stairs of the gala in the distance.

unfortunately, you might have misjudged the distance to the entrance, because you both end up a little moist from sweat by the time your heeled feet reach the red carpet-lined stone stairs that lead up to open double doors- the entrance to the gala. lining the stairs are multiple cameras and interviewers, met-gala style. you are sure these are the pr interviews that your assistant was talking about, judging by the sprinkle of red-bull sponsored athletes chit-chatting to a few press members along the stairs and groups of photographers sending off bright flashes with their high-tech cameras. to your right, a man you recognize as sergio perez nods slowly as his interviewer animatedly gestures to a picture of sergio diving into what looks like a pool with a mexican flag wrapped around him. directly in front of you stands daniel ricciardo posing in different silly positions, much to the delight of the gossip magazine paparazzis that were probably having a field day photographing him. next to you, max ecstatically pulls on your dress and points to your left to the esports content creator, ludwig, who laughs loudly to your left as he banters with an excited looking man with a rather large microphone in hand. you haven’t really looked into ludwig’s content, but you often saw max watching his streams while you were in your online meetings, so if he liked ludwig, you guess you did too.

you attempt to quickly pull max towards the top of the stairs towards the entrance to the gala in an effort to completely avoid doing your media duties, but you are unfortunately stopped within the next twenty seconds by your own interviewer, a lady in the brightest pink outfit you had ever seen in your life.

“heLLO!” the lady says rather enthusiastically. “danica patrick, reporting for tmz!”

“er, hi!” you respond, a little less enthusiastically. max, half-hidden behind you, gives a light wave to the camera.

unperturbed, she flashes you both a toothy, unnaturally white smile at you both and places a microphone towards her glossy lips.

“so, miss redbull ceo! it’s so nice to meet you!” she remarks, “and you look absolutely flawless today!”

you give her and the camera a tight smile.

“thank you,” you respond, as if you didn’t have two drops of sweat going down your neck and a slightly dirt-dusted gown from the sprint from your car.

she nods, and then as if just realizing max’s presence, snatches him out from his half-hidden position behind you.

“and you!” she exclaims, looking max up and down. “you must be the boyfriend! max-” she checks her notes- “verstappen! yes, i’ve heard so much about you!”

your boyfriend blinks at her, nervously twiddling the redbull pin that was pinned to his lapel.

“okay,” he says after a beat of silence.

the lady nods, and scribbles something down in her notes as if max had something absolutely life-changing, before turning back to you.

“so, i’ve received the news that yesterday was max’s birthday,” she proclaims. “and i was just wondering what’d you guys did to celebrate! as a successful ceo, you must have went all out, huh?”

seriously? you think. what of question is this? you get to interview a ceo and this is the best thing you can come up with?

when you hesitate a second before answering, she probes, “rumor has it that you both went to bora bora yesterday...”

as if it knew that today was your boyfriend’s birthday, the bright rays of the monaco sun shined a golden beam of light straight onto max’s hair, lighting the blondish-brown strands into a little halo around his head. even if it feels like a creep to just stare at his peaceful face, you can’t help but gaze a little too long at his pouty lips, long eyelashes, and light stubble. from the corner of your eye, you can see one of his devilish cats balancing precariously on the bedframe. you clock it as sassy, who you knew, unfortunately from experience, loved to pounce on max’s face in the morning when she was feeling a little hungry. sassy meows at you innocently before proceeding to crouch in a position, ready to pounce. jimmy watches at the end of the bed, doing absolutely nothing as you fight for your life trying to wave sassy away without waking up max.

like the absolute devil sassy is, she leaps off the bedframe, claws extended, right at max. with your lightning quick reflexes that should earn you a seat in the redbull f1 team that your company sponsors, you snatch the bengal cat out of the air before she gets a chance to maul your boyfriend and send him to the emergency room on his birthday.

she hisses at you, teeth bared, and you just about catapult her out of the open window next to the bed.

instead, you take a deep breath. you deduce that max probably wouldn’t like to wake up finding out that his cat was a pancake on the streets below his apartment, probably ran over by someone’s ferrari pista. instead, you opt for a less extreme “fuck you,” that you hiss right back at sassy.

like he sensed someone threatening his baby, your boyfriend shifts around.

“whadyou say?” max mutters from the pillows behind you.

you whip back to face your boyfriend, simultaneously shoving sassy away from you.

max rubs his eyes sleepily and uses a hand to block the sun that now shines into his eyes. you try not to stare again at his eyes that light a warm whisky brown in the beams of sunlight that seep through his fingers. it cannot be legal to look this good.

“nothing,” you dismiss.

leaping forward, you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

a surprised look crosses his face, but he leans into your embrace anyways.

“do you know what day it is, maxie?” you ask, voice a little muffled from being pressed into the crook of his neck.

max takes a shockingly long time to respond.

“um… saturday?” he says slowly.

you give him a weird look.

“well yes…but it’s also your birthday!” you exclaim.

“oh!” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i totally forgot!”

“no way,” you say incredulously.

“yes way,” max replies, tucking you into his side with an arm around you.

leave it up to your boyfriend to forget his own birthday.

“well,” you state after a beat of silence of looking at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment. “good thing we still have, like, sixteen hours left to do whatever you want- and we basically have unlimited budget- so go crazy!”

“hmm,” he says.

“anywhere you’d like, really- bali, the hamptons, paris, dubai, maldives, bora bora,” you suggest helpfully. “or all of them?”

max thinks for second.

“how about monaco?”

you blink confusedly.

“so… right here?”

“yeah,” he responds.

you shrug.

“sure, that’s fine too!”

deborah, or danica, or whatever her name was, babbles on as you and max stand on the stairs awkwardly.

“an inside source has also relayed to us that you might have bought your boyfriend an abt audi rs6, legacy edition for his birthday- an insanely rare and expensive car which only has 200 made in the entire world!

an abt-legacy what? you can’t help but think, what the hell was that?

once you get dolled up with your 12-step get-ready process and max pulls on his usual clothes (white shirt + unfortunate-looking skinny jeans), you both hop in max’s trusty little yellow renault clio rs. of course, like the cat lover he was, max refused to accept any expensive material gifts from you, and instead requested to visit the cat shelter as a birthday “gift.” you guess you would probably have to return the tag heuer watch in your bedside drawer that you had gotten him plus the keys to that yacht that was currently sitting in the monaco bay that you thought he would like.

max whistles a cheerful tune as he types in the cat shelter address onto his phone’s navigation app as you try your best to think of the best way to approach your assistant and tell him to return the yacht that he might have spent the last week negotiating with some old rich prick to buy. his phone makes a small “ding” and prompts him to back out of the tiny garage underneath his apartment, which he does with surprising ease. the ride to the shelter is pretty smooth, except that tiny part where this dumb guy with an all-black ferrari with a red ‘16’ on the side runs the red light, almost t-bones your boyfriend, and then proceeds to stop diagonally in the middle of the road with the most rancid parking job.

your boyfriend walks into the cat shelter with you in tow. he passes right past the front desk, waves to the man playing sudoku on his phone, and then proceeds navigates the halls like he’s been there a million times. (actually, he might have) you pass row after row of cats in little kennels that your boyfriend somehow knows the names of, before coming to a stop in front of a young lady filling little formula bottles with milk. she has at least three cats worth of cat fur all over her paw-print sweater.

“max!” she remarks, looking a little too thrilled to see him. “how are you? i haven't seen you since, like, last tuesday!”

looking to you, her smile drops significantly.

“oh, and… who is this?”

“hi, i’m max’s girlfriend,” you articulate, answering her question. you reach your hand out to shake, but she pointedly ignores it.

“great…” she says fakely. “um, so how may i help you guys?”

max seems to not notice. instead, he has a wide smile pasted on his face.

“well, it’s actually my birthday today, and i would like to spread kindness by making a donation to my favorite cat shelter!” he announces.

ten minutes later, you find yourself signing a check that is made out for the ‘monaco meow manor.’

max twiddles his pen around his fingers.

“how much should i put it down as?” he asks, pen hovering above the empty line on the check.

you shrug.

“i don’t know, it’s your birthday, maxie. you choose.”

the lady who was obviously into max and the sudoku guy at the front eyes the both of you from their place at the front desk.

you watch as max writes down a 3300 on the piece of paper. he glances at you quickly. when you raise an eyebrow at him, he turns back and adds two more zeroes at the end. but, then he proceeds to place the commas all wrong.

“that says 3,300,00, max,” you say, pointing to the obviously misplaced commas.

“oh,” he says. “i can’t really erase it- it’s pen.”

the lady, whose scowl has disappeared, and the guy, who sudoku puzzle has long been abandoned, whips around after hearing this number, jaws dropped.

ignoring them, you take the pen from max’s hand.

“here,” you say, adding another neat zero to the end of max’s blocky numbers so it reads 3,300,000.

“okay, great, thanks!” your boyfriend says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

he then turns to the lady and hands her the check.

“here’s the check. i hope all the kitties in here can all live long healthy lives and get everything they ever need!”

the two people at the desk look like they are about to pass out.

the lady clutches at the check with a white-knuckled hand and profusely thanks the pair of you.

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. oh, now she pays attention to you.

max, oblivious, beams, before taking your hand and leading you back out to his little yellow car.

“helping the kitties- check!” he declares.

you can’t help but smile and pull max into a searing kiss in front of the little cat shelter that was about to become the best-funded feline sanctuary in monaco, and most likely france too.

you don’t even have a chance to respond to danica’s inquiry about the complicated-sounding car that you supposedly “bought” for max before she rambles on.

“i bet you bought your little boyfriend the most luxurious foods too!” she spouts. “wagyu beef, spaghetti with saffron, caviar- ooh! maybe a glass of moët?”

“i’m not telling youuuuu!” max trills, leaping around the tiny living room of his monaco apartment with his phone held high above his head.

you don’t know whether to start raging in annoyance from your place on the scraggly carpet or to laugh at your boyfriend twirling on the lumpy sofa, phone screen purposely held away from you. jimmy only aggravates the situation by butting his head directly at your shin.

“max! is it a crime to want know what we are going to eat for dinner??” you shout, exasperated.

max somehow does a perfect pirouette off of the sofa (???) and smiles at you.

“no, but it should be a crime to look so pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. you try and bat him away, but he is faster. he leaps up, cackling, and bolts away. his apartment isn’t that big, just his kitchen, living room, and his single bedroom, so you take your time hoisting yourself off the carpet. you resist the urge to punt jimmy away from your shin like a football, and instead gingerly step over him before sprinting over to max’s bedroom.

he awaits behind his bedroom door, and literally tackles you to his bed, pinning you underneath him.

its hard to stay mad at max when he’s giggling like a little kid and looking at you with those impossibly blue eyes that crinkled in the corners while he laughs.

“i hate you,” you say with no heat.

“mhm, i’m sure you do,” he says, all the sudden sobering up. he leans his head down and nips at your neck.

you both know where this always leads.

max’s white shirt disappears within seconds like the sight of a f1 car by the grandstands, and soon enough, yours does too.

before you can do anything, though, the doorbell rings.

your boyfriend pulls off of you, albeit hesitantly.

“foods here, i guess,” he says, pulling his shirt back on like he wasn’t about to whip off his pants two seconds ago.

you roll your eyes as max goes to fetch the food while you get presentable again.

when you pad into the kitchen, you genuinely expect to see the world’s best chef tossing vegetables a meter in the air, considering how secretive max was about the birthday dinner you both were having.

instead, max sits at the table with a ripped bag that displays a tell-tale green ubereats sticker, along with a few black plastic boxes that takes up half of the table space.

your boyfriend rips the lids off with a flourish, showing you the contents.

“my favoriteeeeeeee!” he chirps, gesturing to thin slices of beef carpaccio laid out prettily in the container, fragrant tomato soup in another plastic bowl, and two cupcakes.

it was kind of a weird combination, but hey, if max liked it, you weren’t gonna argue with it.

you grab utensils for the both of you, and dig in.

when the dregs of the tomato soup is all that's left in your bowl, the beef carpaccio is reduced to a few stray capers and lemon juice, and the wrapper is all that’s left of the cupcake, you lay back contently in your chair.

“you know, “ you state, “i could’ve flyed in the best beef carpaccio maker in the world, the best tomato soup chef ever, and like, gordon ramsey for the cupcakes and had them make this for you.”

“eh,” he says, also laying back in his seat, feeling full and happy, “ubereats from the restaurant three blocks down is honestly just as good too.”

danica was still not done.

“the parties must have been wild for max's birthday, too!” she raves. “with your influence, i bet all the celebs were there! kim k, rihanna, carlos alcaraz, oprah winfrey, lebron james, johnny depp, billie ellish- shall i go on?

no, you think to yourself. no, you shouldn’t.

feeling content, you flop onto max’s bed. your boyfriend slides onto the mattress next to you, allowing you to snuggle into his soft body. you inhale the smell of his cologne, and a feeling of content drapes over your body like a warm blanket.

“happy birthday, again, max,” you mutter, voice muffled in his chest. you slowly slide a hand suggestively into his shirt.

“thanks,” he says. he pauses a moment before getting up, effectively making your hand drop out. “i think i’d like to play a video game right now.”

“oh,” is all you can think to say. you loved your boyfriend very much, but sometimes he just could not understand context clues.

“are you sure?” you ask as he sets up his gaming system, loading in f123. “we could do something else…” you trail off slowly, seeing if he could pick up what you were putting down.

“yeah,” he says, eyes trained on the tv. he scrolls through a bunch of men in racing suits, and you spot a like, two with your company’s sign, big and bold, across their chest. huh, you kind of forgot your company sponsored f1. you squint your eyes at the white lettering displaying their names- sergio perez and daniel ricciardo. they seemed like pretty successful dudes, looking at their stats. max clicks on daniel’s profile, and jumps back onto the bed next to you as the loading screen pops up, still oblivious to your intentions.

you let him zoom through a track named mug jello or something like that for the better half of an hour before making another move, since it was his birthday, after all.

“do you want to watch netflix and... chill?” you suggest, nudging max.

“one second,” he responds, as the stopwatch thing at the side of the screen turns entirely purple. a checkered flag fills the screen, and the guy with the redbull racing suit appears, drinking champagne out of a shoe. “woohoo!” he says, beaming down at you, who has now draped yourself over his lap. “i won!”

you blink at him. how was being in his lap not obvious enough?

“oh, yeah, sure, we can watch a movie.” he says hurriedly, misjudging the seriously? look on your face.

max gently moves you out of his lap as he changes the tv channels to netflix.

when he turns back around, you have your shirt off, sitting suggestively on the bed.

your boyfriend laughs.

“is it really that hot in the room? i can turn on the ac if you want,” he offers helpfully.

reaching over, he opens his window, effectively blasting your semi-naked body with a blast of cold monaco wind that frequented the coast at night. you swear to god, if you get sick tomorrow-

you finally give up your attempts after max switches on a film called “crazy rich asians.” you snuggle into him innocently as the movie starts, and honestly, the beginning is kind of good.

you are right in the middle of the scene where the movie’s main character, rachel, is getting a makeover by her friend, peik lin, and her ridiculous family when you catch max staring at you.

“hey, baby,” he whisper-yells, nudging you.

“mmm?” you respond, fully intrigued as Rachel tries on dress after dress.

“do you want to..?”

you don’t really comprehend what he is saying as you are too focused on an intense emotional scene that pops up on the screen.

“huh?” you say distractedly.

max’s mouth latches to your neck.

you manage to tear your eyes away from the screen to realize what max is doing.

oh.

you notice are still shirtless and your boyfriends hands were now wandering to places that were not so family-friendly.

damn it, you curse silently, the movie was just getting good!

still, you can’t help to give in to max’s urges.

pretty soon, the screen glazes over in black. a prompt pops up: are you still watching?

the brunette interviewer beams at you and max, awaiting a response. the microphone that she holds is shoved a little too close to your face for comfort. seeing your silent form, her face drops into a scowl.

“no comment?” she sniffs in disdain.

turning to max, she prods the microphone towards his lips.

“you?” she snaps.

your boyfriend shrugs.

“all i can say is that my birthday yesterday was simply lovely.”

taglist: @sunny44 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @xjval @fellowwomenlover @ironmaiden1313

@phobiccneel @comicalivy @amz824 @gloriousartisanpastacroissant @mastermindbaby

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #f1 imagine #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #📝

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gh0stsp1d3r · 1 year ago

Text

𝒩ℯ𝓍𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ

3 sum, MDNI, smut, 18+, p in v, oral (m), I’m really bad at writing threesomes I guess,

yes this is Heavily inspired by challengers. I meant to queue this but I accidentally posted it…

It started with the three of you hanging out at your house, the others had left early. It was late, and the movie playing on your screen got boring.

You all sat on the couch, just talking. You don’t even know how it happened, but you do remember pope and jj tripping over themselves to simply follow you into your room.

—

It flowed smoothly, like you’ve all done this before. Their hands on each of your thighs, tongues on yours, and each others. You didn’t really know whose mouth was who’s anymore.

Your hands were on the back of their heads, and suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

A small smile making it onto your face, both of their eyes were closed as you slowly leaned back against the bed, your arms propped up as you watched the boys unkowingly make out with each other.

You rubbed your thighs together, smirk on your face. It took them a while to notice they were kissing each other and not you, until you finally spoke up.

“Okay.” You spoke. Both their eyes opened at the same time, their lips pursed as they stared at each other, turning to you at the same time.

“Fuck. Am I gay now?” JJ asked, his eyes going wide. You giggled.

“You weren’t before?” You snickered.

“If I was, would I be in your bed?”

“If you weren’t, why do you have a hard on right now?”

He looked down. “Shut up.” He grumbled out, looking back at Pope who raised an eyebrow at him. “Shut up!” He groaned again. Pope and you laughed at him, and then the room fell into silence again, before they both turned to you.

Eager, you pulled both boys by the collars of their shirts, they both yelped but didn’t complain as they fell onto the bed next to you.

Both boys attached their mouths to your neck and skin again.

“How do you want us?” JJ panted against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Do what you guys want.” You told them, turning to both boys with a smile.

“Oh, shit, seriously?” He said, giddy like a kid on Christmas morning. He looked at Pope with a smile, raising an eyebrow.

That’s how you ended up with Pope’s cock in your mouth, gagging and sobbing around his length, and JJ thrusting in and out of your wet pussy. Your hands dug into the sheets, fisting them.

“Doin’ so well for us, y/n.” Pope had told you sweetly.

Your moans around his length made him shudder, letting out a loud moan that was like music to your ears, egging you on.

JJ was the complete opposite, leaving harsh grunts and groans, slapping your ass.

“God, her mouth feel good, Pope? Cause I know this pussy does.” JJ snickered, hand moving to rub at your clit, his other one holding your waist.

“Yeah, man.” Pope nodded at the boy, giving him a small smile before turning his attention back to you.

“You close, baby?” JJ asked, feeling your walls spasm around him, he struggled to hold himself back any longer.

You attempted to nod, and JJ took notice, biting his bottom lip as he took in your face, watching Popes cock leave your mouth, your throat thoroughly bruised and your makeup ruined. You panted.

“Jayj!” You screamed out as you came around his cock, your body spasming, he came in you with a groan, your eyes were shut as Pope came on your face.

You panted, all of you breathing heavily, mixed in each others fluids.

“Dude, she fuckin’ squirted.” JJ told Pope, laughing at the realization.

“No way.” Pope said, shaking his head, but smiling as he went over to Jj. “Holy shit.” He laughed. “Nice job, dude.”

JJ raised his hand and the two high fived, watching your ruined body on the bed, leaning your head back and looking at the ceiling.

Both boys went into the bathroom, stumbling into their boxers, Pope starting a bath for you.

They both stood in there, air thick with tension.

“So, we’re never talking about this ever.” Pope spoke, interrupting the silence.

“Agreed.” JJ sighed.

“Like ever.” Pope spoke again.

It was silent for a little, nothing but the water flowing.

“But next time I wanna get to fuck her.”

JJ tilted his head. “Shit, It was fucking… mind blowing pussy.” He laughed.

“I can hear you!” You shouted from inside the room.

“Sorry!” They both shouted at the same time.

#jj maybank x pope heyward #pope heyward obx #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank #jj x y/n #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x you #pope heyward smut #pope heyward prompt #holy queue

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allthesethingswillendsoon · 4 months ago

Text

Long, long time

CHAPTER FIVE: There's a first time for everything

SUMMARY: Seventh grade marks some memorable firsts for the girls, both good and bad.

NOTE: Okay whoopsie this lowkey took me ages, but it's over double what I said it would be the other day, but it's not proofread, so if there are any mega plotholes just let me know. I don't mind this one, I think it could've been better but also it's like quite a memorable one for their plot development so like yeah. Also I'm thinking of also posting this on ao3 because I prefer reading on that platform so tell me if you think that's a good or bad idea. Okay, I hope everyone likes it and thinks it's semi-worth the wait.

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Warnings: Little bit of angst, Jealous Paige 6.6k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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20th of FEBRUARY, 2015

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

It was a normal, seemingly average Tuesday when it happened.

Paige woke up, she chucked on her clothes and went downstairs. She said a quick goodbye to her dad as he left for work and ate cereal at the kitchen counter. When the clock hit eight she grabbed her backpack and locked the front door. Azzi was waiting at the front gate as always.

They walked to school at a not too slow-not too fast pace, Azzi chattering about her crazy dream the night before - something about gingerbread men and a zombie apocalypse. From the moment they started walking to the moment they stopped, the dark-haired girl made a point to fill the air between them with consistent conversation, not that Paige minded, it was nice to just listen sometimes.

The first bell rang as they entered the school, and the best friends parted ways for their classes, Paige to Maths and Azzi to French. First period rolled into second period, which rolled into third period. Finally, after an agonizing three hours of education, it was time for lunch.

Tuesday was renowned for having the best lunch, mac and cheese. It was simply mind blowing that the lunch ladies -who were almost always one health code violation away from unemployment- were able to create such delicious food. Each bite was other-worldly, the perfect ratio of pasta to sauce. And after such a draining morning, every student at Oakridge Middle School was absolutely desperate for a taste of heaven.

Paige scoffed at the line of eager kids waiting for their bowl, amateur hour. If they were smart they would have known that you’re allowed to get two bowls, if Miss Amanda likes you that is. All Paige had to say on the matter was that Miss Amanda loved Azzi, arguably more than her own daughter. So, with a proud grin, Paige waltzed her way past the queue over to her lunch table.

Azzi and Paige had sat together at the same lunch table every day since they started middle school. They shared their table with a few other girls in their grade, who they were friendly with. It was a peaceful arrangement, and the cohabitation worked well for both groups.

As she neared the table, Paige felt her heart drop, something was very, very wrong. The state of the cafeteria could be described as pure pandemonium. Each pre-teen wolfing food into their mouths like their lives depended on it, and some of the most violent line-cutting techniques could be observed. Paige herself had been looking forward to their silent lunch break, expecting both her and her best friend to be fully focussing on their food as was normal on a Tuesday.

So, when her table came into sight, there was no doubt that something horrible had happened to Azzi Fudd. The scene was comparable to a renaissance painting, amongst all the chaos sat Azzi, two glorious bowls of mac and cheese in front of her, both of them perfectly untouched. She was staring ahead, eyebrows furrowed as if she was deep in thought.

There were many things Paige didn’t like about the world, but the thing she liked the least was seeing Azzi distressed. With a deep breath she walked over to the table, prepared to beat up whoever it was that had messed with her best friend.

“Hey Az!” Paige exclaimed as she sat down, her voice filled with so much enthusiasm it seemed almost fake.

“Hey Paige.” Azzi responded, glancing at her with that same pensieve look she’d had when she was sitting by herself.

Okay, now this was concerning. Not to be too full of herself or anything, but Paige was usually a fix-all for any of Azzi’s bad moods, so the fact her presence changed nothing, was definitely an issue.

“Everything good? You look a bit upset.”

“No, I'm not upset.” The younger girl answered, giving absolutely no sign of not being upset.

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear that.” Sure, she was glad to hear her best friend say she wasn’t upset, but that statement didn’t mean much when the best friend in question looked like she might drop dead from stress in the next minute.

Just before she was able to continue her investigation, Azzi took in a big breath, as if trying to breathe in all the courage she could, before she started, “Listen Paige, I need to tell you something.”

Oh god, what could it be? A death in the family? An illness? She didn’t even want to think, could she be… moving? No. No. That was not the time for spiralling. Paige took a moment to compose herself. Azzi was clearly upset by whatever was happening, and the last thing Paige wanted was to make her even more upset by reacting anxiously.

In the most calm tone she could muster, she asked, “Okay?”

“I’ve been keeping a secret from you.” Azzi said. She had clearly tried to sound confident, but the words came out sounding oh-so very sad.

“What? You’re a mob boss or something?” She joked, hoping to take away some of the tension that Azzi seemed to be drowning in.

“No, not that.” She deadpanned. Now, Paige was aware that it wasn’t her best joke, but she still thought it deserved a little laughter.

Normally Paige’s crappy dad jokes were enough to take Azzi’s mind off whatever was troubling her for at least a second, but nothing was cracking her shell. For a moment, Paige let her composure slip, “Just tell me Az, you’re really stressing me out.”

Then, Azzi’s stressed exterior slipped, giving way to a softer look, the one she saved for Paige, “Okay, so you know Aaron?”

Paige ran through a mental list of kids in their grade before she questioned, “Aaron B or Aaron W?”

“Aaron B.” Azzi replied. It was probably a trick of the light or something, but Paige swore that as her best friend answered the corner of her mouth flickered up into a smile.

“Yeah I know him. Didn’t he pee his pants sleepwalking at sixth grade camp or something?” Paige chuckled at the memory, there was nothing like the silly fun of a school camp.

“That was Aaron W, not Aaron B.” Azzi stated matter-of-factly.

Not laughing at the mob boss joke, sure Paige could get that. But not laughing at the thought of a twelve year old sleepwalking and sleep-peeing, simply unheard of.

Paige usually had pretty thick skin, but for some reason Azzi’s reaction mellowed her out, “Oh, right.”

For the second time, Azzi softened, her gaze meeting Paige’s almost apologetically, before she continued, “Anyways, so Aaron B?”

It was weird, the way she was acting. Her worried demeanour was a stark contrast to the urgency and statementness of her words. It seemed as if Azzi had been tasked with telling Paige this secret with as little personality as possible.

“What about him?” Paige questioned, deciding to help the younger girl move her explaining along.

“Well…” Azzi started, before suddenly developing the most intense interest in staring at literally anything other than the blonde girl sitting with her. A solid minute of silent waiting passed by, with Paige waiting to see what she had to say, and Azzi questioning if it was too late to back out.

Just when Paige thought she would never hear her best friend speak again, Azzi blurted, “He asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“What?! Paige near-yelled, she had almost stood up from the table in her outrage,“You said no, right?!”

Who did this chumbag think he was? Asking the Azzi Fudd to be his girlfriend?

God, it must have felt great for Azzi to put him in his place.

Nothing in the entire, ever-expanding universe could have prepared her for the words that came out of her best friend’s mouth, “I said yes.”

The words dropped like a bomb, waves of shock almost knocking Paige to the ground.

“What the fuck Az!? Why!?” This time Paige stood up from the table, hands slamming down, shaking the bowls of mac and cheese, before Azzi pulled her back down.

She got this shy look on her face as she spoke, her cheeks and ears burning, “I dunno. He’s cute, and he’s nice and funny.” For the first time during that lunch break, Azzi smiled. It was a different smile, one Paige hadn’t seen before. Once she saw it, she immediately wished she could unsee it. There was something about that smile, it held a different weight than her usual ones, like it meant something more, something deeper than when she smiled at Paige.

There was only one explanation, Azzi had gone crazy, and as her lifelong best friend, it was up to Paige to talk some sense into her, “Yeah, so what? I’m all of those things, doesn’t mean you’re gonna date me!”

Paige’s words settled in the air as Azzi returned her gaze to her. For the third time Azzi’s demeanor softened. She looked at her with such lightness, as if the weight of her vision would crack Paige’s skin open. Normally she liked it, but normal definitely did not include her best friend dating some random boy she barely knew,

Paige knew she was strong and she didn’t like to be babied, her exterior was tough and hard to break. The only people she ever really let loose around was her dad, and the Fudds. She knew none of the kids at school would ever be able to pick it, but she was a major dad’s girl. Not in the stereotypical, ‘pink princess’ way, but just in the way that her Dad was her hero, and Bob gave everything he had and more to Paige no matter what. With the Fudds, they were like the extended family she had never really had, being with them was great, she knew she was like a daughter to Katie and Tim, and like a sister to Jon and Jose. That being said, they were the people who saw her at her highs and lows, and they knew when to go hard or easy on her.

But with Azzi it was different. With Azzi she let herself go soft, let her guarded exterior turn mushy. Paige couldn’t count the amount of times she had cried over her mom, over life, tucked into the crook of Azzi’s neck. She would look at her with those soft eyes, and Paige knew it wasn’t patronising, she knew Azzi would never hold her moments of vulnerability against her. It was the only time she would ever let herself be unguarded.

But in that moment not even the look on Azzi’s face could make her feel better.

Yet, the whole situation was somehow made worse when Azzi spoke again, “It’s different Paige. Surely you’ve had a crush on someone before, it’s just different.”

With her words, some deep-seated anger arose from Paige. It was a weird feeling, being upset with Azzi - it had never happened before. Why would she say that, “It’s just different.”? Like their friendship meant nothing in comparison to her snapchat streak with a un-potty trained seventh grader.

“Yeah whatever Az.” Paige spat, her voice dripping with venom, “Why don’t you go and change his diaper or something?”

That time, Paige’s words were the ones to shock Azzi, “Why are you mad at me?!” Confusion was etched all across her face. “And also I told you that was Aaron W not B!”

“Same-same. Now if you don’t mind I have some Mac and cheese to eat.” Paige spoke dismissively, turning to give her full attention to her mac and cheese as she poked at it.

Paige avoided eye contact with Azzi like her life depended on it, not even daring to glance at her as she stared at her from across the table. It wasn’t until the second end-of-lunch bell rang that Azzi finally got up, leaving Paige to sit there with her thoughts.

And for the first time ever, Paige sat without Azzi at the table, and binned two, full bowls of mac and cheese.

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24th of FEBRUARY, 2015

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

Paige had never considered herself a violent, or mean person. But there was just something about seeing Azzi and Aaron together that made her want to scream and yell and throw things. There were just so many things to dislike about Aaron, it was really hard to pinpoint exactly what made him so horrible.

Objectively speaking, he wasn’t ugly per se, but he definitely wasn’t a looker either. He had a button nose, a sharp jawline, clear skin, and bright green eyes.

When she put it like that she knew that it sounded like he could be attractive - but he was not.

Looking at Aaron was a jarring experience. It had never occurred to Paige how creepy-looking he was until Azzi started dating him. Aaron had managed to ruin her brooding time, she couldn’t glare at her best friend without seeing his ugly face, or hearing his revolting voice - or worse, his laugh.

When she heard two girls in English talking about how lucky Azzi was to be his girlfriend she barely stopped herself from turning and strangling them both, and instead shut her mouth as tight as she could, and clenched her fists till her knuckles were pure white.

To take her mind off the situation, she imagined him as a child, coming home from yet another lonely, friendless day at school to find his mother hosting an afternoon tea with her friends. They would fawn over him, and say “You’re going to be such a heartbreaker!” as they pinched his cheeks. Of course, they all knew it wasn’t the truth, but that’s just what you say to unfortunate looking kids, who grow up to be unfortunate looking pre-teens that ask out girls way out of their league.

Maybe what irked her was the fact that Azzi had smiled when she spoke about him, that saying the things she liked about him broke her out of her broody trance. Or maybe it was the way her cheeks had tinted the prettiest pink. How the galaxies in her dark brown eyes lit up a thousand times brighter. How the dimple in her cheek popped when she hung out with him, how her laughter at his shitty jokes echoed through the halls, honey sweet and sing-songy.

It was only when she came upon that specific reason for not liking him that she realised that maybe that gnawing, sour feeling that had settled low in her belly was something more akin to jealousy. And then, in the same strand of thoughts she decided to stop thinking altogether about why she didn’t like him, and instead just double down on the fact that Aaron sucked and she absolutely hated him.

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27th of FEBRUARY, 2015

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

The final nail in the coffin came when Paige left her third period Spanish class.

It was a Tuesday, which meant the best mac and cheese in the world. But it also meant it had been a week since Paige and Azzi had last spoken.

If avoiding Azzi was an olympic sport, then Paige had become a twenty-time gold medalist.

For the first few days they weren’t talking, Paige made a point to stay in Azzi’s vision. She had decided that if she had to be reminded of the emptiness of Azzi in her life, then Azzi should be reminded of Paige. She made sure to be subtle with it, instead of standing directly in front of her, she’d ensure that Azzi would catch glimpses of her from her peripheral vision. Paige would watch as Azzi would spot her, then she would force herself to keep a straight face as she watched her best friend apologise to Aaron for forgetting what it was he had been saying.

That whole thing had been going perfectly, exactly to plan, but then it just started to make her really sad and really angry, and then, of course, her only option was to avoid Azzi, no matter what it took.

She thought it would be simple, she knew Azzi's entire timetable, she knew which hallways she walked down, she wouldn’t be surprised if she could estimate the amount of steps it took for her to get from point A to B. So in theory, it should’ve been smooth sailing to stay away from her, but nothing in her life had been easy, except Azzi - up until that point.

Aaron simply had to ruin, not only her friendship with her best friend, but also her ploy to never see her again. Obviously, because she wasn’t weird, she had absolutely zero idea about Aaron’s timetable, let alone his whereabouts, and in the past week the boyfriend-girlfriend duo had become attached at the hip, meaning it was nearly impossible to avoid them. The key word being nearly.

Paige had been working tirelessly to avoid the both of them, and somehow she had been able to manage it. Her genius strategy? Waiting till the second bell to leave for her next class. On the negative side, she had sprinted away from basically every hall monitor in the school multiple times. But on the positive, she had not seen Aaron and Azzi together in days, which was basically all she wanted.

As glad as she was to not see them together, it was the first time ever that Paige wasn’t on speaking terms with Azzi, and it made her really, really sad. Which was why she wasn’t thinking straight when she left third period Spanish and walked her usual route to the cafeteria - out the language corridor, round the gym, past Aaron and Azzi holding hands, then home-free into the cafeteria.

What. The. Actual. Fucking. Fuck.

Paige isn’t a squeamish person in the least, but the sight of Azzi’s soft hand encased in Aaron’s sweaty one nearly made her throw up. It was surreal, it felt like time had paused, like Paige was floating in time, stuck in place staring at them as they walked hand-in-hand down the hall.

She could have stayed in her trance all day, glued down in the centre of the hallway, but thanks to Mac and cheese Tuesday the hordes of smelly tweens are pushing her forward towards the cafeteria.

Just like the week before she walked past the lunch line and went straight to her table. Since Azzi had been sitting with Aaron and his little minions, Paige had been left to sit with the girls they shared their table with. There were four of them, and they were nice, something Paige had never cared to notice, too busy with Azzi to pay attention to the girls sitting two feet away from them.

They were nice in all the cliche ways, but what made their kindness stand out was the fact they had not mentioned Azzi once, and had simply invited Paige into their conversations. It was good for her to talk to other people, to get out of her head.

She was aware that she hadn’t been looking or acting her best since the previous Tuesday, but no one had said anything or shown a reaction to her disheveled appearance. It was only on that Tuesday, when Paige had stomped her way to the table that the girls had acknowledged her delicate state.

“Hey Paige!” Shania greeted, her friendly smile quickly growing concerned as she and the rest of the group took in her severely agitated condition, “Are you alright?”

“Wha- Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about here!” The table continued to stare at her worriedly, perhaps more so after her seemingly, self-assuring response.

“Oookay, cool.” Shania responded, voice filled with nothing but good-willed apprehension.

The table fell into silence, the girls trying to figure out how to deal with Paige’s nuclear state, and Paige trying to act as normal as she could after seeing her best friend of seven years holding hands with a grubby boy.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot to tell you about this Paige! There’s a party this Friday at Ryan’s, and you should totally come along!” Emma squealed at her excitedly.

“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.” Paige responded, trying her hardest to sound happy despite herself.

“Yay! I’ll text you the deets,” Emma said, passing Paige her phone, encased in pink diamontes, “Put your number in.”

Paige dutifully poked in her phone number before handing it back. The girls fell into conversation about the party, talking about drinks and other people that were going. Paige was content with letting it go in one ear and out the other, until she heard the name ‘Aaron B’ sandwiched in between the names of the other partygoers.

Aaron going to the party meant Azzi going to the party, that meant they were both going to the party that Paige was going to. Great. Just great. She would get front row seats to their love-fest, how exciting.

For some reason that knowledge didn’t make her cancel, instead it fueled her with reasons to go. She wanted to be there, and wanted to be the one to surprise Azzi with her presence. She wanted her to feel that same stomach dropping feeling she had felt all week, she wanted to be the one with the upper hand. Another, softer part of her, wanted her first, boy-girl, alcohol party to be the same as Azzi’s, even if they weren’t experiencing it together, together.

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2nd of MARCH, 2015

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

The school day had dragged on for so long Paige had accepted the fact that it would never end, meaning she nearly cried tears of joy when the end-of-school bell had rung out through the halls.

Ever since Tuesday she had been buzzing with both nerves and excitement. She was convinced that going to her first proper party would cause some cosmic shift within her universe, like the clouds would part and the angels would sing to her the second her hands touched the glass of a lukewarm berry cruiser.

With much more enthusiasm than necessary she had swiped her book into her backpack and power-walked out of school. That had become a prime part of the ‘avoiding Azzi’ plan, leaving way too early for school in the morning, and booking out of school the second it ended to make sure their paths didn’t cross.

As she walked into their street, a pang of guilt struck through her chest at the sight of the Fudd house. It had been killing her, not just the radio silence between her and Azzi, but the subsequent disconnect that had happened between her and the rest of Azzi’s family.

It was odd, she hadn’t felt the shoulder punches from Jon and Jose in over a week. Hadn’t been yelled at motherly by Katie in over a week. Hadn’t been pulled into a daughter and extra-daughter hug by Tim in over a week. They were things that were a part of her daily life that she had always taken for granted, assuming they’d always be there.

That wasn’t the only thing she had missed, mostly she had been missing Azzi. Paige missed her so much, she just missed everything about her. And she had officially decided that she would try to make up with Azzi, preferably as soon as possible. Her best case scenario had her hoping for a reconciliation at the party that night. All she had to do was pull her away from Aaron and she was golden, she was one hundred percent sure that Azzi would forgive her once she apologised, because she really was sorry.

The more and more she thought about the whole situation the more she realised how absolutely crazy she had been acting, from quite literally the moment Azzi told her. It was like a switch had flipped in her brain, and all rational thinking had been thrown out the window.

As she showered and got dressed for the party Paige was growing increasingly excited at the prospect of speaking to Azzi again after what felt like a lifetime of separation.

She got her dad to drop her off at seven-thirty at Ryan’s house. Her dad had given her a stern talking to about drugs and alcohol, and the dangers of them.

Unfortunately, Bob would have been severely disappointed to find out that Paige had accepted a cruiser immediately upon arrival. As excited as she was to talk to Azzi, she was also desperately nervous about going to her first party, and having to enter by herself. Although the cruiser didn’t reveal cosmic secrets to her, it did send the lightest buzz through her, and inspire her to go to the kitchen and concoct a wickedly bitter vodka-juice blend in a plastic red cup.

After a while of floating around, Paige spotted Shania and her friends in the corner, and quickly made her way towards them. As she does she scans the room for Azzi and/or Aaron. That still made her upset, that they were now always together, like Paige and Azzi usually were, but whatever, Paige was there to make up with Azzi, not trash on her stupid boyfriend.

She walked up to the girls and fell into the simple chatter that they constantly had going. It was nice, they were nice, the way the alcohol made her feel was nice. She was content, simply standing there huddled in a circle with them as they discussed something Paige really didn’t care about. It appeared they were going to stay like that, until someone yelled ‘Spin the bottle time!’.

Suddenly, everyone, including Paige, was shoved into the basement, a large, misshapen circle of people sat in the centre of the room. Scanning the room once again, Paige finally saw her.

Azzi was sitting in the circle, pressed up against Aaron on one side and some random cheerleader on the other. She was wearing a pink sweater and her nicest pair of jeans, her hair was out and her lips were glossed a soft mauve. To put it simply, she looked really pretty.

Paige was leaning against a wall, her third drink and second cruiser of the night held firmly in her hand. She had opted out of the game, not wanting to have to swap spit with some stupid boy in her grade if the bottle were to land on her.

It suddenly hit her that she was sitting out of the game because she didn’t want to kiss someone, and that Azzi was sitting in on the game because she did want to kiss someone. And that someone would obviously be her boyfriend.

The thought of Azzi kissing him made her shudder, but she pushed it to the side. Azzi was her best friend and it should not have mattered to Paige who she kissed, so she decided not to care.

For the amount of hype the game had received, it was actually quite boring. Someone would spin the bottle, the bottle would land on someone, they would kiss, then the process would repeat. It wasn’t until Kathy Libertman spun the bottle and it landed on Johnny Albertson that there were some oohs and aahs. The fact that Kathy had the world’s most massive crush on Johnny was as widely accepted as the fact that two plus two equals four.

As Paige chuckled at the spin she glanced towards Azzi, who looked up at her at that exact moment. Instead of looking away like she would have a few days ago she held her gaze, blue eyes on brown for the first time in too long, and smiled just a little. A look of confusion mixed with shock passed over Azzi’s face before the corner’s of her mouth flicked up.

God that felt good. The cruisers hadn’t changed her life, but seeing her best friend smile at her like that again made Paige think that maybe the universe was on her side.

After Johnny had adeptly swerved Kathy, a few more rounds passed. Then, it was Aaron’s turn. Azzi was trying to play it cool, but Paige knew every single one of her nervous tells, the clench of her jaw and the furrow of her brows softening for a second as Paige gave her an encouraging nod.

Aaron reached into the circle and spun the empty coke bottle. It spun and spun and spun before coming to a perfect stop between Azzi and the cheerleader next to her.

The chatter of the room dissipated immediately as everyone watched in anticipation. Azzi was visibly distressed, and even Paige was nervous as to where the situation was headed.

Aaron hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between his girlfriend, the strawberry-blonde girl next to her, and the coke bottle. With a big intake of air, he leant forward over Azzi and kissed the cheerleader. The room erupted in a mix of confusion and support.

Everyone in the room was watching as Aaron and the cheerleader kissed for what seemed like forever, but Paige had her eyes trained on Azzi, who looked like a deer in the headlights stuck between them. Pushing through the room, Paige reached a hand out to Azzi who gladly took it and let herself be pulled out of the room and onto the street.

They stood in companionable silence, there were things they needed to say, but not yet.

It was nearing eleven o’clock when Paige called her dad to pick them up. The night air was chilly but when Paige’s hand brushed against Azzi, her whole body heated up from her best friend’s warmth.

Paige didn’t know if Azzi had been drinking or not, but she knew when they got into her dad’s car that he would know that Paige had in fact been drinking, and hadn’t heeded her dad’s warning. She expected a lecture on the danger of drinking but instead was met with absolutely zero conversation directed towards her, instead, her dad was talking to Azzi, catching up with her about the past week and a half of their lives. It hadn’t occurred to her till then that Azzi was just as much a part of her family as Paige was a part of hers - she had missed Azzi in her life so much.

The two girls went straight to Paige’s room and Bob to his. Only when they were tucked safely into the gentle warmth of the bedroom did Paige speak, “Listen, I’m really sorry Az. I don’t know why I was being so crazy, he just made me so upset, like I knew you were way out of his league and I just knew that you deserved way, way better than him.”

After her rant Paige sort of expected Azzi to get mad at her and let out her anger at the whole situation, yet Azzi simply smiled, “Yeah you were being pretty crazy, but I’m sorry too”

Paige scoffed at that, earning a confused chuckle from Azzi, “What are you sorry for? You literally did nothing wrong.”

“Well I should’ve told you ages ago, we had been texting every night for two whole weeks before he asked me out, and I don’t really know why I didn’t tell you… It’s just that I was really worried you were gonna react… exactly like you reacted, y’know?” The curly-haired girl explained.

“Yeah, I get that, I did have like the worst reaction a person could have,” Paige confessed softly “I mean, I’m just so sorry Az, I wish I never got angry, I’ve missed you so much.”

Azzi pulled the blonde in for a hug, her head nestled in the crook of Azzi’s neck, the familiar, sweet aroma of her perfume filling her senses.

With a squeeze Azzi pulled away, before she flopped face-first onto Paige’s bed, “God that was so embarrassing.”

It was quite the situation, but it was definitely way more embarrassing for Aaron, like, fumbling the single-most pretty and smart and kind and funny girl in the whole school. She decided against saying that, and instead tried to lighten the situation, “Could’ve been worse, you saw what happened to Kathy.”

“Yeah, but Johnny’s not her boyfriend.” Azzi mumbled from her spot splayed out on Paige’s bed.

“That’s true I guess.” Paige responded thoughtfully, accepting defeat.

“Great. thanks Paigey.” She grumbled light-heartedly.

Right before Paige went to apologise Azzi sprang up into a sitting position on the bed, “It just sucks y’know?”

“Yeah I know.” Paige hummed in agreement. Their shoulders were pressed together again, and Paige could feel the touch and the alcohol mixing and making her brain short circuit a little

“Like I really thought I was gonna have my first kiss tonight” Azzi huffed in upset annoyance.

“Well look on the bright side, he’s a mega dick, so really you dodged a bullet.” Paige reassured her.

As much as she was glad that Azzi had found out what a douche he was, she wished even more that it had happened quietly, not in front of a big crowd of people.

“You’re actually quite right.” Azzi agreed after considering her statement for a moment.

Paige playfully shoved her with her shoulder, “Of course I am.”

Azzi went quiet for a second before she turned to look Paige in the eyes, “Yeah. I want my first kiss to mean something. To be with someone that really cares about me and stuff.”

The words came from her mouth before she could think about what she was saying, “I mean you still could.”

Paige didn’t know what it was that made her say that. Maybe it was the liquid courage from before. Or maybe it was the adrenaline from making up with her best friend. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way the streetlight glow filtering in through the windows was hitting Azzi’s cheekbones just right, how her lashes were long and her lips full. How Paige wasn’t sure she had ever truly appreciated Azzi’s beauty before the way it was meant to be.

“What do you mean?” Azzi asked. It seemed like a question, but with the way Azzi was batting her eyelashes at her, it started to seem more like a challenge.

Paige’s brain actually did short circuit for a split second that time, but then, mostly thanks to the liquor, she decided to just double down and speak with confidence.

“I think you know what I mean” She responded, her blue eyes flickering from Azzi’s doe-y brown ones to her soft lips.

Almost imperceptibly, Azzi shifted closer.

“Yeah.” She breathed out shakily, breaking eye contact to not so subtly look at Paige’s mouth.

“So can I?” Paige asked, moving her hand to rest on Azzi’s shoulder; confidence suddenly oozing out of her every pore.

“Yes.” Azzi responded quickly, her eyes trained only on her best friend’s mouth, before starting again, as if trying to regain some dignity, “Yeah. Yes please.”

Paige gave a soft smile before moving her hand up to cup Azzi’s jaw, the other settling feather-light on her waist. She watched as Azzi’s breath hitches, and her eyes flickered close. Paige followed suit, leaning in slowly. Azzi’s hands were hovering over both of her shoulders, as if unsure of what to do. Paige doesn’t mind though, if it weren’t for the alcohol that was running amok through her system they probably wouldn’t have even been in that situation in the first place.

After an eternity of leaning in, their lips touched in a soft peck. Only for a second, before they pulled away. Azzi tasted sweet, like canned lemonade and strawberry scented lip gloss. Her skin was warm under Paige’s hands.

Maybe it had been minutes or days or years since their kiss, neither were sure. All Paige knew was that she wanted to kiss Azzi again, and so she did. That time she let herself linger, let herself apply a little bit of pressure, and in return Azzi pressed in a little harder too. When Azzi made a little sound of contentment Paige thought she might explode. She wanted to keep going, but something told her to stop, to let it be good just as it was.

When she pulled away and opened her eyes, Azzi still had hers closed. And for a split second, Paige swore she caught a smile on her face, a kind of smile she had never given to Paige before.

Now that was it. That was the cosmic feeling Paige had been waiting for. Scratch the cruisers, scratch everything else, that was the feeling. The kind that people chase their whole lives, and Paige had just experienced it on a random Friday night in the quiet of her room.

Friendship really was magical.

Azzi was her best friend, of course it would be her, they were the closest of all platonic soulmates.

A few seconds later, Azzi opened her eyes, and smiled at her. Her hands were still on Paige’s shoulders and she decided that she wouldn’t mind holding onto each other like that forever.

Kicking off their shoes they surrendered to wearing their outside clothes to sleep. Paige had a double bed, which was the absolute perfect size for two people in Azzi’s opinion.

They tangled together in a mess of warm limbs under the blanket. Azzi had her head on Paige’s chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat.

“Thanks Paigey. I’m glad you were my first kiss” She whispered against her jumpered chest.

“I’m glad you were mine too Az, that’s what best friends are for, right?” Paige smiled good-naturedly, her chin coming to rest against Azzi’s head.

Azzi let out a little choked sound before she responded, “Yeah, best friends, totally.”

Paige ignored the weird way she was talking - it had been a long night - and pulled Azzi into her just a little tighter, prepared to let sleep take over.

Just when she thought she was about to fall asleep she heard Azzi’s whisper again, “Paige, you were right.”

“Yeah I usually am.” Paige smirked sleepily.

“So full of yourself, god.” Azzi said as she used her arm draped around Paige’s waist to poke her in the side.

Wincing slightly Paige gloated, “That’s like the second time you’ve said something like that to me tonight.”

“Yeah whatever you goof.” Azzi conceded, seemingly forgetting about whatever it was she had to say.

Paige wanted to sleep, but she wanted to know what it was that Azzi was going to tell her, “Wait, so what specifically was I right about?” she asked as she gave Azzi’s shoulder a soft squeeze.

“Oh right” Azzi spoke softly, “It was Aaron B.”

Azzi always got a little out of it when she was tired, but she always remembered to finish her sentences, “It was Aaron B, what?”

Paige thought she had fallen back asleep after Azzi had gone silent for so long, but after taking a quick inhale of breath Azzi answered quietly, “It was Aaron B that peed his pants on sixth grade camp.”

If it weren’t for the fact Paige was so determined to know what Azzi had said she would have missed the softly spoken words, but she didn’t and she was so glad she heard them.

Paige burst out laughing and Azzi followed along.

“You’re kidding me!” Paige wheezed between gasps.

But Azzi was too busy laughing so hard she could barely breathe, clutching onto Paige’s arm as her mouth opened wide in silent laughter.

That was how they fell asleep, tucked into one another as their heaving laughter gave way to shallow, sleeping breath.

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Feel free to send me asks or opinions and stuff in my inbox or DMs, responding to them is my favourite it's so much fun. As always, thanks for reading :)

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #uconn wbb #azzi fudd fic #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #uconnwbb #wcbb #lesbian #long long time

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nxlx96 · 5 months ago

Text

The Boy Saviour - Oscar Piastri x Reader (she/her)

Hi, this is my first time writing x reader, and the idea came to me at 3am a few nights ago while i was trying to sleep and hasn't left me live ever since. This is also my first time posting on tumblr so bear the simple format.

Trigger Warning: Non-consensual drug use, as in, reader gets roofied in a bar (Not by any named character nor any of the drivers, so rest assured on that sense). There is also recreational alcohol consumption and a bit of off-camera violence.

WC: 8381

Also, this is more of a pre-slash story rather than a romantic one. That's all I have to say, I'll shut up and let you read.

Please let me know what you think!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · 𖥸 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Post race driver parties are not an uncommon thing, although it is much more frequent in the European leg of the season; when everyone is in the same country or near enough they don’t care for a few hours of commute -Today's crowd was composed of Charles, Oscar, Max, Lando, Alex, George, Pierre, Carlos and as a star guest, Daniel-. These parties were often the perfect way to try and unwind from the pressure of the season and to smooth out whatever incidents happened on track. A few passive aggressive interchanges, three shots and everyone’s usually back to laughing and buzzing along.

Tonight they had followed Charles’ recommendation and gone to a club in the more residential area of Monaco, away from the yacht club and the casino. It was still tightly packed with people dancing on the dancefloor and the bar was busy as the drinks kept on coming, but the people there didn't care much for them and they were able to enjoy themselves without worrying about having too many eyes on them.

They had a booth in the second floor alcove, allowing them an almost full view of the dance floor if anyone cared to look down, but they were too busy roughhousing and laughing. She’d gotten used to it, of course, having grown as a girl in motorsports it’s simply part of the package. But sometimes she still needed a break when they were behaving like that, because while they recognise her as a proper rival, a true competitor despite gender bias, being drunk they sometimes forget they have size and strength to their favour while having their fun, and their brawling and heavy shoulder slaps felt a tiny bit too annoying while tipsy. Overwhelming.

So she excuses herself to the bar, shaking the glass that now only tinkers with half melted ice cubes. She gets a few nods and a stray thumbs up but the chatter continues like before.

The layout of the club had the bar as the centerpiece gemstone, the first thing you see when you come though the main entrance across from the massive dance floor. The dance floor’s design is full of different height platforms, similar to those at Jimmy Z. Their booth on the second floor has a perfect view of all the first floor, except for the public entrance, which is right underneath it.

Coming down the stairs, she followed the platforms' paths that led her to the bar once again, choosing a stool to sit and wait for the bartenders to take her order.

On the wall to her left, the DJ booth rises itself over all the platforms in its own little block, colored lights sprouting from the base towards the right of it, in the corner between the bar and the DJ there is the smaller door they were escorted through, directly from the parking lot behind the establishment. On the opposite wall there's a hallway that leads to what she assumes are the bathrooms, judging by the long queue of women she can see standing in the hallway.

A tap on the countertop brings her attention back. The bartender asks for her order in French, and her basic understanding of the language allows her to order a raspberry mojito without spluttering too much. A sweet enough concoction to help smooth out the straight Vodka shots they downed back at the table.

In no time, a new clear plastic cup was placed in front of her. A tall cup full to the brim with rum and sparkly water. A mix of raspberry puree, lemon and mint sitting at the bottom. She grabs the straw and starts mixing the cocktail, but the ice floating on top, and the decorative mint leaves that float at the top threaten to overflow the cup when she does, so she has to take another bitter sip of almost pure liquor before actually enjoying the sweetness.

She rested her elbow on the bartop and her chin in her hand, alternating between swaying to the music, looking at the bartenders preparing fancy and complicated cocktails and looking around the crowd dancing on the floor. It wasn’t exactly a quiet place, but it did provide respite from the boys’ rowdiness. Occasionally there would be people who sat in the barstools next to her. Some of them made some sort of small talk while waiting for their drinks to be ready, but no one lingered in her space for too long, allowing her to unwind on her own.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭

As a woman in life, you learn to know when to follow your instincts. Call it bad omen, gut feeling or sixth sense. Sometimes you subconsciously register danger before you see or hear something. In this case, she felt a tight coil in her stomach -looking back it might have been more of a natural reaction than not a bad omen-, her adrenaline spiked like she’d been in the car after miraculously avoiding a collision. Her hands trembled a bit as she sneakily tried to look around. There was a couple at the bar two seats to her right, too engrossed in each other to be the source of panic. As she swiped to the other side, her hand caught the straw of her cup, pulling it from inside. She tried to catch it but it rolled over the edge of the bartop, falling to the ground.

Fucking breathe!

Straw forgotten, she grabbed the cup and twisted around in her stool, swiping the room with her gaze. To her other side there was a group of friends rowdily chatting, no different from the drivers’ table upstairs. He made eye contact with one of them, a guy not participating in the conversation. He seemed embarrassed to have been caught staring as he turned red and avoided eye contact. Too shy, too far away, probably not that either. She started scanning the crowd on the dancefloor with her heart almost at her throat.

Without a straw, she was left to swirl the whole cup to stir its contents. No one in the vicinity was particularly close to her bubble, or paying special attention to her, but the sensation didn’t go away. Some movement from the group at her side made her tense up, but it was a small part of them that walked towards the dancefloor. Shy boy included. The ones left at the bar were immersed in conversation, crowding together to hear themselves over the music. So she relaxed again.

She’d been tilting the drink to her lips when she finally realised that her nearly melted ice cubes had sunk to the bottom of the cup, and the whole thing looked cloudy. Her heart stopped in her throat, closing her airways.

I’ve been drugged.

The realisation sinks in, but it feels unreal.

Is this really happening to me?

The glass is on her lips, and she tilts it back, but keeps her mouth sealed; knowing that whoever did it must be keeping an eye on her. Her jaw is clenched so hard it’s almost difficult to breathe. Her first instinct is to throw the whole thing on the ground, but it’s less than half full now. Whatever they put in it has been in her system for long enough. Her next thought is to notify the bartenders, but she hesitates before turning around. There had been no one near enough on her side of the bar to get close to her drink, and she’d kept her hand over it at all moments; but of course the rim was wide and there were gaps between her fingers where someone could have dumped something in. For now the bartenders are also suspicious. Twisting her arm, she sets the drink on the table behind her; uncaring now to leave it unsupervised.

The damage has already been done anyway. She figures.

Her heart rate does nothing to slow down, and her thoughts do not help at all. She is in imminent danger with no way out. She’d left her purse at the booth upstairs, and doesn’t have her phone at hand. She looks up in the direction of their table. Under the strobing lights she can see the crowd of drivers has dwindled down. She can distinguish Alex, George, Carlos, Max and Lando sitting up there; the rest of them might be somewhere in the dancefloor. The idea of trying to get the attention of the guys up there was also discarded, since it will alert her assailant too, and she has no guarantee it’ll get the guys’ attention. Trying to find the others in the crowd sounds just as impossible a task as to find a needle in a haystack.

Her hands shake. The safest alternative that comes to her mind is to run to the women’s bathroom. The crowd queuing in the halfway has reduced, and the hallway looks dark; but it’s her best shot.

Over the corner of her eye something catches her attention. A white button up shit that looks almost fluorescent under the black lights. The figure skirts around the dancefloor, following almost the same path she took to get to the bar, but it’s clear his destination is not the same, since he doesn’t slow down and seems to be aiming for the bathrooms instead.

“Oscar!” She yells before she realises. It might have sounded a bit too strangled, a bit too panicked, but it catches his attention. She’s reaching a hand out to him, and he extends his arm for her to grab as he gets close to her stool.

“Oh hey,” He looks sort of confused, and she doesn’t blame him. They do gravitate to the same groups, But they’re not particularly close friends, so her calling out feels awkward for both of them. “Didn’t realise you came here.” He gestures awkwardly to the bar, but she’s too relieved to have found a safe person she doesn’t even hear what he’s saying.

She jumps from the stool, holding onto his wrist. “Come dance with me!”

He hesitates “... You know I’m not-” She’s still not listening, she hesitates between abandoning her cup at the bar, but grabs it at the last second and turns back to him.

“Just one song, come on!”

“I was going to-” He tries again, but this time she digs her nails into his skin, and desperately tugs him with a trembling hand. He doesn’t put any more resistance, simply trailing behind her as she tries to find a pocket of space for them among the moving bodies. As she walks she feels her blood rushing to her head. She’s feeling too tipsy and woozy for the amount of alcohol she’s consumed; and whatever hopes the whole thing had been in her head crumble like sandcastles at the sensation of her bambi legs. But she has her way out caught in a deathgrip by the wrist, she can still get out unscathed.

As soon as she finds space for them, she stops and turns around to face him, getting close in his space to be heard over the loud music. She wraps Oscar’s arm she’d been tugging on, around her waist, in hopes he can hold her up in case her legs give out and wraps hers around his body too.

She can feel Oscar’s hand in her back, blindly trying to find a patch of fabric to settle on top of. His avoidance of the naked skin of her back settles a minute worry in her mind. Yes, he is a man. Yes, she would probably feel more comfortable coming to her own teammate for help. But Oscar is still safe, he won’t take advantage of her. He is safety.

“Are you sober?” Is the first thing that comes out of her mouth once they’ve settled their positions and start to loosely sway to the beat of whatever song is playing.

Oscar is looking more and more confused at the sudden serious tone of her voice and the way it contradicts the easy smile on her face. She’s still acting up like nothing’s wrong. “Uhh yeah, I came in my car.”

Oscar you blessed man.

“Great! I need you to take me to the hospital right now.” Oscar freezes completely and she tries to keep the easy smile on her face. “Someone put something in my drink and I think I’m going to pass out soon.” His face does something complicated, and one of his hands tries to go for the cup on her hand, but she moves it out of his path, tripping over her own heel in the process. He catches her before she can stumble.

“Why are you still-?” He looks tense in a way she hasn’t seen him many times, he instantly understood the seriousness the situation entails. She’s so glad he believed her, a worry she hadn’t even processed having.

Her confidence starts waving, there is not much time to explain and her voice shakes as she tries to fill him in. “You have to take it- I- I don’t know what they put in- The doctor can… I don’t know-” She feels like she's twelve again, trying to explain to her mother that she accidentally broke her favourite mirror and cut her hand. “They can analyse it or whatever,” she finishes lamely.

She can see it more clearly now, he’s not just tense, he’s angry. At her or on her behalf? She doesn’t know him well enough to be able to tell the difference.

“You’re so…” Careless. Irresponsible. Stupid. Her eyes fill with tears and he feels like a scolded child. “... smart.” He says instead, not following the script in her mind.

“I kno- Wait what?” He shakes his head, moving past the topic. His voice holds urgency now.

“Do you know who did it?” He’s looking past her, scanning the crowd behind her.

“No I- There was no one near except the bartenders… I-I didn’t know if they- A-and I didn’t know who to ask for help!” She sniffs, and clears her throat, swallowing around the tightness in her throat.

He notices her trying to maintain her composure, and smoothes out his expression. “It’s alright. You found me, and I will help you, okay?” In a very unlike-himself moment he wraps his arms closer to her, holding her in a loose hug. Maybe it’s the relief that comes from Oscar’s reassurance that makes her body relax, loosen up. She takes the moment to really get a deep breath, trying to regulate her heart rate, knowing an accelerated heartbeat will only speed the effect of the drug. The music is already hard to hear even with how the deep base thrums in her bones. She lets her head fall forward onto his shoulder and Oscar’s arms tighten around her like a vice, but when she stays standing up he relaxes. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” She’s pretty sure she just gave him a small heart attack, but she can’t really find the strength to apologize, so she simply takes another deep breath, this time taking in the smell of his cologne, and nods her head.

She steps back, trying to maintain balance on the small heels of her shoes, and allows Oscar to grab her arm to guide them through the crowd. It’s a bit scary, how fast she seems to be falling under the effects. What would she have done had Oscar not been there?

Oscar is aggressively polite as he makes a path for them towards the exit, loudly excusing them as he pushes through. She walks behind him, gaze set on his broad shoulders. They’re almost out of the crowd when she feels a hand closing in on her arm. She flinches and removes her arm before they can grasp her, and steps even closer to Oscar, almost stepping on his heels. “Oscar-” She manages in a squeaky voice, but he must hear her because he holds together and broathens his stride. The hands do not follow, only shoulder bumps as they make their way though.

They get out the doors in no time. The space outside is deserted, late enough that everyone is either at home asleep or inside the club. Oscar turns to her, scans her and points toward the side street that she assumes would lead them around the building towards the private parking lot. “My car’s this way.” She briefly looks back to the doors, but they stay closed so she nods. Maybe the hand was her imagination, or a simple accidental brush of a hand.

Her steps are still mostly steady but Oscar still keeps a hand on her left forearm, the warmth from his hand is a stark contrast to the cold air of the Monegasque night. The sweat that had layered over her body is cooling off rapidly as they round the building and by the time they’ve walked the length of the side street and caught sight of the actual parking lot, shivers have started to rack her up.

Oscar briefly lets go of her arm to fish the keys from his pocket and she instantly misses the warmth. Now untethered she slows her walking, paying a bit more attention to where she’s placing her feet. He clicks off the alarm and the navy blue McLaren Artura at the other end blinks its lights at them. “There’s our ride.” Oscar is smiling as he looks back, extending his arm for her again, but his eyes stray over her shoulder and the expression freezes in his face.

A hand wraps on the arm that Oscar hadn’t been holding and it feels nothing like the Australian's careful and grounding hold. It burns as it takes a bruising hold of her and tugs her to the side. She stumbles with the force of it, body already feeling too close to a ragdoll to comfort. Her voice is strong but not steady as she demands, “Let me go.” She tries to back away from the foreign body, but her ankle gives up and twists painfully. She stumbles but holds her stance and tries to push away from the nasal french voice speaking at her in a sultry voice. The arm that had been trying to push away from the tall man gets caught from the wrist. The drink sloshes and some of it spills over her fingers and onto her dress.

Just as he’s starting to use his weight against her, a body steps in between them. She collides with Oscar’s shoulder a bit, but her right arm is freed, and she pulls it back towards her. “Get your fucking hands off.” She has never heard him sound so angry. His accent has deepened like she’s never heard before. But he is still gentle as he wraps a hand firmly on her left arm. She can feel him pulling the guy’s hand and prying his fingers open to release her. She uses his back to support herself as she helps pull her arm free from those thick fingers.

Once freed she stumbles back again, but the Aussie has a firm hold on her and keeps her upright. The guy tries to go around Oscar to get her again, and over the driver’s shoulder she looks at his face for the first time as Oscar pushes firmly with his forearm to keep him away. Tan complexion, prince-y dark hair and a well groomed beard.

In any other circumstance she would have said he was attractive, but now she can only feel nauseous at the fake nonchalant smile the guy is sporting. With her muddled brain she half understands he’s trying to excuse this as a misunderstanding. He catches the words ‘friend’, ‘together’, ‘mine’ and ‘drunk’. She has no idea if Oscar even understands what the guy is saying, but he seems set on getting him away from her.

After a more forceful shove that makes the assailant stumble back, Oscar looks over his shoulder and lets go of her, pushing her towards the parking lot. “Get in the car.”

She nods dumbly as she turns in the direction where the lights flashed earlier. The parking lot is only mildly illuminated, but it’s enough for her to be able to locate the Artura among the other luxury cars parked there. There are more confrontation sounds coming from behind, and what sounds very much like a hit, but she doesn’t look back. All her attention and remaining brain power is going to try to reach the car at the end of the parking lot. Her right ankle throbs painfully with each step, and the uneven terrain makes it three times harder, because when the fuck did the pavement turn to gravel?

She leans on a pink Porshe 911 as her legs buckle, the McLaren is right there. There’s the sound of another car starting up, more yelling but she’s already rounding it from behind towards the passenger door. The sound of angry screeching tyres spinning out without traction in the gravel grinds her head and the pain in her ankle is too much; her right leg gives out completely, the other one follows shortly and she’s going down. She tries to drag her hand on the car to find a purchase on something but there’s nothing other than the squeak of her sweaty hand on the polished paint. Her knees take the brunt of the impact, and it stings.

The angry car has sped off, and she’s pretty sure she hears it clip the wall of the sidestreet. She takes a deep breath and lets herself fall seated against the car, knees to her chest, back to the door. Dumly, she notes that the cup still has some liquid on it, its red is just as dark in the low light as the small pinpricks of blood on her knees.

She registers footsteps getting closer to her, and for a second her heart rate speeds up again until she hears her name called by a worried Australian. She bangs her head against the door, willing herself to keep her eyes open as she answers back. Oscar’s footsteps speed up and in no time he’s kneeling in front of her, warm hands on her biceps as he looks over her body. He brings a hand to remove stray pieces of hair from her face and she can see a hint of blood on his knuckles.

“Are you okay?” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎

Oscar cannot believe his ears. “How am- Are you forreal?” An incredulous chuckle escapes him because this girl, shivering on the floor with scraped knees and blown out pupils, who almost got kidnapped by a stranger in a foreign country, is more worried about him than about herself. He shakes his head and wipes his knuckles, showing her the unbroken skin. “I’m alright, see?” Her eyes scan his hand for a second too long before nodding. Her head bobs in a sleepy manner, and he knows he has to hurry. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” She’s breathing heavily, but Oscar can’t be sure if it’s an after effect of whatever drug the asshole put in her drink or the exertion of the situation. “My ankle hurts,” He looks down at her feet, still clad in heeled slippers with a complicated ribbon. Neither of her feet looks particularly swollen or bruised for now. “I’m scared…” Her voice is much softer, almost a whisper, but in the emptiness of the parking lot at night, it almost seems to echo.

He grabs her arms again, rubbing up and down “It’s okay, it’s over now.” She keeps shivering under his arms and Oscar doesn’t know if it’s the cold or shock starting to settle in, “Can you walk?”

Her eyebrows furrow and she tilts her head in a terribly adorable gesture, “Walk where?”

“We need to get you into the car”

“But-” She slaps the back of her hand against the car, “I’m here”

Oscar can’t suppress the smile, “Yeah, but unless you’re planning on driving, we need to get you around the passenger side.”

“... Fuck.”

“Force of habit, yeah.” He grabs onto her forearms. Her skin feels cold and sticky with dried sweat. “Come on, let’s get you up.” She pulls alongside him, but as soon as her right foot is firm on the ground, she makes a face and he takes more of her weight as she falters, her other leg not cooperating much.

“Oscar” The slugginess in her voice makes the R in his name sound much breathier. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“Alright, well-” He bends down and swipes her legs off the floor, holding her in a princess's carry. She makes a strangled sound and her arms come to grab at his shoulders. The cup tilts dangerously but she rights it just in time. “Much easier this way.” He makes his way over to the passenger seat and bends his knees to open up the door, depositing her in the seat. “Ah look!” Wedged right in between the seat and the door, is a hoodie he’d abandoned maybe a few days ago. He pulls it and sets it on her lap, taking the cup from her hand. “Think you can get it on by yourself?”

“Mm-hm”

“‘kay, you do that while I figure out where to keep this.” He closes the door and rounds the car again to his seat, looking around the small space to find a safe place to place it without spilling what little liquid remains on it. As his companion wrestles with the fabric, she kicks an abandoned water bottle. “Bingo.” He leans down to grab it. A small shake reveals to still have stale water he poured out of the window before pouring in the remaining cocktail into it. He screws the lid back on and keeps the cup too, just in case. He drops both items in the footrest of the passenger before looking at the occupant. She’s relaxed into the seat, and her eyes are closed. Fear creeps in for a second, “Ready to go?”

thumbs-upHe gets a thumbs up in response. Still conscious it seems. He reaches over and pulls her seatbelt on, knowing he will ignore all speed limits to the hospital. After a second of consideration, he shakes her arm until she’s blinking up at him. “Try to stay awake, yeah?” He grabs his phone, to call Lando. It hasn’t been longer than 10 minutes since he left their table, but he needs someone to call the police on the guy, and let Lando know he needs to get a new ride. He looks at his companion, she’s looking at his phone as it rings in his lap. “If you feel like throwing up let me know, yeah?” He says as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“m’not throwing up.” Her angry eyebrows are back.

“Okay, then you can help me explain to Lando-” Just then, the Brit’s voice comes through the car speakers.

“Heeellooo? Mate did you get lost on your way back or what?” He’s half yelling to hear himself over the music. It’s a miracle he even heard his phone ring.

“No, I’m taking the Alpine princess to the hospital.” He sneaks a look at her as he accelerates down the narrow monaco streets. She’s still awake, biting her lip as Lando processes the words.

“You what! What happened!? The fuck Oscah?”

He’s about to start explaining, but she speaks up “Some guy spiked my drink, I found Oscar and he got me out.” He has to keep his eyes on the road, but he can see out of the corner of his eye how she cuddles up into the seat. “I’m alright… Pinky promise.”

“Lando, listen, I need you to get Charles to call the police.” The traffic light up ahead has turned yellow, but Oscar doesn’t slow down. It’s the middle of the night and there are no other cars around, so he floors it right as it turns red. “I’ll give you a description, and his license plate. I need you to report him to authorities.”

“Fuck.” He says, eloquently. “Yeah I-” There’s a bit of silence from him, but the music is still humming loudly in the background. “I think I see Charles upstairs, I’ll go get him now.” Oscar can hear him speaking to someone, but it’s muffled like he lowered the phone. Almost a full two minutes later he speaks up again. “Kay, got Charles and Pierre here. They want to know if you’re really okay, sprout?”

Oscar is slowing down for a curve. Because as much as he would love to go as fast as during the actual race, he doesn’t know these streets as well, so he has to be careful. The silence stretches for too long, and as he turns to look at her again, he finds her completely asleep.

“Shit, she passed out.” He presses harder on the gas pedal, Lando curses too. “He tried to grab her when we were getting to the parking lot. She twisted her ankle and scraped her knees, but other than that, she’s physically alright.” Streets and buildings blur as he speeds by. “Asshole was as tall as George or Alex. Lanky and tan. Dark hair, beard. I broke his nose, and probably his cheekbone before he ran away.” As he approaches a speed bump, he throws his hand over her chest to prevent her from flying around.

This time it’s a new voice, Charles “He took off running?”

“No, in a car. Porsche 911 Turbo S, Dark green.”

“Did you get the license plate?”

Of course I did, who do you think I am?

“M3T9. He busted a backlight as he drove off, if that helps.”

“I will get on it, do not worry he will not get away.” Despite the noise, Oscar can hear how dark Charles’ voice becomes, and he remembers that Charles is a very prominent figure here; the prince of Monaco who is friends with the actual prince of Monaco.

“I’ll leave you to take care of him, then.”

“Yes yes, I will get him. You just get the petite poupée to the doctors, yes?” He has no idea what that means but it sounds like an affectionate nickname.

Oscar nods to himself in the car, “We’re already here, she’ll be alright” He can see the URGENCES sign of the Centre Hospitalier Princesse Grace. He eases his foot off the pedal, as he turns into the mostly empty parking lot.

“Keep us updated!”

“Will do.”

The call disconnects and he’s left to pick a parking space that isn’t reserved for ambulances. Once he’s turned everything off, he turns to her and shakes her arm, calling her name to try and wake her up, but it’s futile. She’s breathing deeply, sound asleep. He rounds the car and opens her door. He leans over her legs to grab the bottle and scoop under her knees and in the process he discovers she did not manage to get both her arms though the sleeves of his hoodie, and that her right is still tangled inside. He almost huffs a laugh at that. Almost.

Picking her up again feels different than when he did it 10 minutes ago, because her body is too lax, too malleable. This time she makes no sound when he hoists her up, and her head lulls back, stretching her neck over the arm he has under her shoulders. She looks and feels like a ragdoll in his arms as he stands up and uses his elbow to drag the door down and closed; he quietly seethes at the thought of her being like this in the hands of such a vermin.

How anyone could find such an unresponsive body attractive is a question he doesn’t even want to think of. Instead he stops to adjust her neck, letting her head rest on his collarbone instead of the previous uncomfortable position and fixes the hood over her head to cover up her face. It is the middle of the night, but he has learnt that every wall has eyes and that everything can and will be posted online. He has nothing to hide his face with, but protecting her identity in a moment of such vulnerability is his only priority in his mind after getting her help.

He’s careful of pushing the doors with his shoulder. The reception is empty except for the receptionist behind the desk. He sighs inwardly at that. The woman looks up and stands up immediately upon his arrival at the desk, his French skills are nonexistent, so he wholeheartedly hopes she understands English. “We were at a club and someone put drugs in her drink.” The woman nods once, so Oscar takes that as a sign that she does and continues. “She passed out in the car while driving here, like five minutes ago.” He’s not as oblivious as to think he looks innocent holding a dead looking girl, and the face of the woman, carefully stoic, sets his nerves on fire.

“Did she say what was put in it or who did it?”

“No, but she asked me to bring what was left of the drink, because she said you could analyse it to treat her,” He sets the bottle on the counter and hikes her up in his arms. “She’d thought it was one of the bartenders, but as we were getting to the car the guy came and tried to take her by force.” He omits the part where he punched him and instead lets his trump card subtly show. “My friend Charles has already called the police to report the assault.” Despite how common it is, the name must register in her mind, because she makes a double take, between Oscar’s face and the face half hidden in his chest. “Please help her,”

“Of course we will help.” She shakes her head like the thought of them refusing attention was a personal offence. She presses a button behind the counter and rounds the desk to take a better look at the girl in his arms. She produces a penlight from a pocket and gestures towards her. Oscar twists to allow her to get closer. “How long ago did she consume the drink?”

“Uh…” The nurse opens one of her eyelids and flashes her light, studying pupil reaction. “I have no idea, she found me around 15 or 20 minutes ago, she’d already realised by then and didn’t drink the rest of it, but I don’t know how long it was.” He can hear footsteps from behind, another nurse is coming from the personal hallway. “She started shivering too, but I don't know if it was cold or shock. I gave her my hoodie and it has stopped now, at least.”

The woman nods, and as the new nurse comes closer, she starts -hopefully- translating what he’s said in rapid French. It’s like watching Charles, Pierre and Lance gossip during drivers’ parade. The bottle is handed too, and when the exchange ends, the new nurse takes a cursory look, stops at Oscar’s face and mumbles something back before continuing their path towards the next hallway.

“We will get a room set up for her, do you want me to bring a wheelchair in the meantime?”

“No, I’m alright.” She’s deadweight, but not as heavy as Oscar would have imagined, he’s also trained enough during his life, he can hold a few more minutes. The receptionist goes back around the desk and starts asking questions about her for what Oscar assumes is a registry sheet. A new concern sparks in his mind, and he accidentally interrupts one of her questions with his own request. “I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to stay with her, but could you at least make sure she doesn’t get a male doctor?”

Her serious and stoic facade falls at that, and for a second she reminds Oscar of his own mum. “I’ll make sure of that, and I do think you might be able to stay with her. It’ll help her to see a familiar face waking up.” She gives him a reluctant smile and resumes asking if he knows her blood type.

The other nurse comes back just as they’re finishing, and leads him to a room where they’ll be treating her. As he lowers her from his arm, he remembers to mention a detail he’d forgotten. “Hey, uh- Her ankle… She said it hurt, and might have twisted it.”

The nurse nods, and answers in a much more prominent accent. “We will take x-ray of it. Your hand is okay?”

Oscar looks back to his hand. There’s redness on his knuckles and a bruise is starting to form around the bones, but he flexes his fingers a couple of times and it only stings a bit. “No, I’m okay, thanks.”

“Okay, now you wait outside, I call when ready, yes?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

He closes the door behind him and walks to a nearby bench, using the time to update Lando via text. In return he gets told that Charles stormed off the bar, Pierre, Carlos and Daniel in tow. The rest of them are deciding how to carpool home; and that everyone will keep the situation under wraps, including whoever Charles has contacted. He says that Alex will be stopping by the hospital soon, to drop off her forgotten bag and phone and whatever else she’s left at their table.

The receptionist nurse passes by Oscar in the way to her room and lets him know they’ll take her for an x-ray; and that after that, he might wait inside her room if he wishes, in turn he lets her know he will jump out for a second because another friend will bring her stuff from the bar. The woman nods and gives him the number of the room they will take her after the x-ray for him to come back.

His phone rings just as they’re rolling her bed out. He only catches a glimpse of an IV line connected to her arm before they wheel her down the corridor, he too turns away.

Alex is waiting with his emergency lights on. When he sees him come out of the doors, he gives him a tired smile. Oscar leans against the door and they stay in silence for a while. It’s colder out now, or at least it feels like that now that adrenaline is no longer coursing through him. The light sweat he’d worked up earlier is drying cold against his back. He raps his knuckles against the blue paint of Alex’s car, bringing the Thai’s attention to his bruised hand.

“I heard you broke his nose?” Alex’s tone is teasing, if maybe a bit impressed.

“Got a couple hits, yeah.” Oscar closes his fist, the skin tightens over his bones. The memory of a bone cracking under them probably shouldn’t feel as satisfactory as it did. “Should’ve done more.”

It comes much more bitterly than he’d expected, and Alex places a hand over his wrist, patting him “You did more than any of us, don’t beat yourself up.” He reaches to the passenger seat and pulls a small handbag and Oscar spots a jacket hung behind the seat. “You cold?” Alex must have seen his eyes stray, and as he pulls it from its perch Oscar notices the Williams logo on it.

“Nah mate, I’d rather be cold.”

“Ah, come on I can’t let the boy saviour freeze tonight.”

“No, no, never in a million years you’ll catch me wearing Williams merch,” He grabs the handbag and steps away when Alex tries to push the jacket into his arms too. They’re both laughing as the jacket falls to the ground and Alex is left half hanging off his window to grab it. Oscar watches him struggle for a second or five before deciding to have mercy; so he grabs the jacket and stuffs it in Alex’s face, turns on his back and starts walking back to the doors so he can’t attempt to hand it to him again.

“Oscar!” Alex calls between fabric and laughter, and Oscar turns just in time to catch a juice bottle headed straight to his face. A second one follows right after, he fumbles with it since both his hands are occupied, but he manages not to drop it, Alex snaps his fingers in faux frustration at that. “Take care of her!” He says as he starts his car again.

“Will do, mate.” He watches as Alex drives away until his tailgate lights disappear behind a wall, just then he turns back into the hospital. As he makes his way back, he rearranges the stuff in his hands; he holds the purse under his arm since it doesn’t have any straps, and studies the bottles. Alex had gotten orange and apple.

Which one would she prefer?

He has no idea, really. He always sees her drinking either water, isotonic drinks, or energy drinks. Apples or oranges? There is a new receptionist at the desk, and when Oscar rattles the new room number, he is directed to the elevators with instructions to the second floor where lower grade emergencies are treated.

He only has to wait around 10 more minutes before she’s wheeled back in. The initial receptionist seems to be the one assigned to her, as she is the one that stays and explains to Oscar that there isn’t any fracture in the ankle. It seems like just her soft tissue was affected and she’ll get by with wearing a brace and sports tape for a few days. The lower half of her body is covered by the sheets while his hoodie covers the rest. One of the sleeves has been pushed up to make space for the IV, and Oscar can see that her foot is resting on a couple of pillows to keep it raised. Her shoes are in a little cubby under the bed, cubby to which he adds her purse.

He gets told there isn’t much they can do about the drug except keep her hydrated and let her body work it though, because it has already been absorbed by her bloodstream, along with the alcohol she’d consumed. But that the sample analysis revealed it to be non-threatening, it’ll just leave her with a nasty hangover. Despite the slight pessimistic tone, the information leaves him relieved, and he relaxes into the chair he’d sat to wait. He thanks the nurse and watches as a new person in different colored scrubs, carefully and efficiently wraps her ankle in neon blue sports tape.

Before long, he’s left alone with her, with instructions of pressing the call button if anything happens, but to try and rest because it could be hours before she wakes.

He tries to keep himself busy whilst keeping an eye on her. He messages Charles with the name of the drug that was put onto the drink, and the only answer he gets is a demon emoji, a fist emoji, hands clapping and another fist. Confused, he simply reacts with a thumbs up. He updates those who have messaged him to ask about her condition, but doesn’t go further than that. He settles on drinking the orange juice, and leaves the apple one in the bedside table next to her bed, scrolls through social media for a while and checks up on her again, but it has been a long and eventful day, and when his eyelids become too heavy, he doesn't fight them very hard.

🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎

Waking up feels like a heavy G crash. There's a pounding in her head that goes at the same tempo as her heart, and it takes conscious effort to take a deep breath. There's a slight throbbing on her bicep, on the wrist of the opposite arm and a sharper throb on her right foot.

She's laying sideways in a soft enough bed and there is little light from what she can see through her eyelids.

But it doesn't smell like her bed at all.

Instead there's the smell of a different laundry detergent, artificial minty eucalyptus shampoo and a herbal mix. It smells distinctly like men, and the unfamiliarity of it makes her heart race, worsening the pounding of her head.

There's a blank in her memory when she tries to remember the previous night. She knows she was going out with some of the Monaco based drivers, and that she'd abandoned the table at some point. That's where everything starts to get fuzzy.

There are flashes.

A body close to hers in the dancefloor. The cold air outside the club. Falling into the gravel. Hands roughly grabbing at her, and a french accent. Falling asleep in a car.

Panic really does settle in at this point, and tears blurry her vision when she opens her eyes; but the room is nothing like she expects it to be. She's in a single bed, and there is a heart monitor that is displaying her rabbiting heartbeat. A saline drip that is halfway empty connected to the back of her hand.

A hospital?

The light is warm and dimmed, seemingly coming from a lamp behind her. She looks down at herself and finds a hoodie that is not hers, and totally is the source of the smells; but looking under it’s collar reveals the same dress she wore last night.

She slowly turns her head, still wary of the raging headache. The overhead lights are off, and her foot is propped on a pillow under the blankets. She wiggles her toes and twists her ankle. A sharp pain sparks, but it's not unbearable.

The other side of the room is half hidden by the glare of the lamp that makes her blink before her eyes adjust to the light.

A figure is sitting in a chair, sound asleep and covered with a blanket identical to hers. Oscar’s arms are crossed across his chest and his neck looks like it will hurt when he wakes up.

More memories rush to her mind as she turns fully to that side; Lando's voice over the speakers of the car, Oscar's worried face in the dancefloor, his broad back as he pushed another man from her. The light is low, but she can see a bruise forming on the hand where Oscar is holding a half full bottle of juice.

Slowly, she registers the smell of stale car and something so uniquely Oscar that brings tears back to her eyes.

“Oscar?” Her voice is low, croaky and shaky, full of tears when she speaks. But the reaction is immediate, he's awake in a second. His head snaps back into the right orientation and he clutches the bottle in his hand. Maybe she should feel guilty for waking him up, but that is a too complicated emotion to think of right now, instead there is a pool of relief as he meets her eyes, and an immense amount of trust as he whispers her name and detangles himself from the blanket to get close.

“You're okay, you're okay.” It's obvious he doesn't know what to do about tears, his hands move around uselessly and he looks so constipated it's almost funny. “Are you hurt anywhere? I can- I can call a nurse?” His hand finally decides to hover over a call button at the side of her bed, but she claps hers over his instead, and attempts to dry her face with the other.

“No, it's okay. I'm- I'm okay,” She hiccups again, and his other hand comes to rub up and down her arm; an action that also feels familiar and warm. “Thank you, Oscar.” Her voice is still choked up, but very earnest. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes right back.

“You don't have to thank me,” She wipes her eyes again and looks back up at him, he's giving her a half smile that pushes a dimple into existence. It's such an adorable new discovery that she can't help the rush of emotions that comes. She lets go of his hand and sits up to pull him into a hug.

“The fuck you mean i don't have to thank you!?” It sounds half muffled against the fabric of his white shirt. “You saved my fucking life, Oscar” His hands come to wrap around her back and tears spring up again at the thought of what could have been. “He could've-”

“Shhh, let's not think about that, yeah? You're alright and that's what matters.” His hands rub circles between her shoulders, “Charles took care of everything else.”

“What’s that mean?” She sniffs, trying to keep the tears from soaking up his shirt.

“I have absolutely no idea, but he knows people who can hide his crimes, I'm not worried about him.” I'm worried about you, “How are you feeling?”

She takes another deep breath. The smell of eucalyptus and laundry detergent is stronger when it comes from the source. She lets go and wipes her face again with the sleeve of her -his- hoodie. “My head hurts and my ankle stings, but I'm alright,” Thanks to you. “I just feel very hungover.”

“Here,” She hears the shake of liquid, and upon removing her hands, Oscar's is offering an unopened bottle of apple juice. “Alex got us these.”

She grabs it and pouts at him, “It's my favourite. Thank you.” The last line comes out more charged than intended, but that's alright because she doesn't think she'll be able to stop thanking him anytime soon.

Oscar simply smiles like he knows, he lightly shakes his head and starts filling her in on what happened after she “fell asleep” as he says. She has no idea what time it is, but there is no rush right now, she's safe and in good hands, and when sleep starts lapping at her feet, she lets herself be swiped by the tide because she trusts Oscar to be there when she wakes up again.

The end.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · 𖥸 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

well, if you got here, i want to thank you for reading this the whole way through. as i said earlier, this came to me at 3 am and did not leave my head again, so i had to bring it to life. i hope you enjoyed despite the slightly dark topic.

from my research, i learned that not some drugs are undetectable to the naked eye, so always be aware of your drinks and who is close to you. i hope this story stays as a fictional thing and that none of you ever have to deal with something like that.

taka care and thank you again for reading!

Love,

Nini.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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lillaydee · 16 days ago

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Coulda

Asshole/Idiotic Joel Miller / F Reader

You found the perfect man. The man of your dreams. Unfortunately, you were not the only one who thought so.

WARNINGS: Angst, Jealousy, Heartbreak, bff, The Other Woman, Joel Miller is a blind idiot, Joel Miller is an asshole, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Miscarriage.

Tagging those who commented on the Wips I posted before - let me know if you want to be removed k?

@bergamote-catsandbooks @joelalorian @letsgobarbs @jessthebaker

MASTER LIST

You were a temp at the company he was building for, still going through college. He was just a small time contractor. Just starting out. It was him alone then, his brother not yet part of his company. He came to your window to collect his weekly payment. When he smiled at you, you felt as if you were struck by lightning. Your entire body lit up. You even looked around behind you to see if there was any gorgeous woman behind you that he was smiling at. But no, he was smiling at you.

There began the small talk, the subtle flirting, the lingering looks and smiles. He began letting others go ahead of him in the line, wanting to stay back to talk to you. He usually came in on Fridays, one of the three days you worked.

You had exams two Fridays in a row and did not go to work. You wondered if he looked for you, if he flirted with the girls who took over from you. You wondered if he asked them about you. If he thought about you at all.

The Friday you came back, you waited anxiously as the line of contractors walked in for their payments, butterflies filling your stomach as you looked forward to see his gorgeous face again. And then you saw him walk in, eyes down, a serious look on his face. He stood in the queue with a sourpuss on, not realizing you were back, and his face lit up like Christmas came early when he heard your voice greet him and realized it was you at the window, that you had come back.

“I thought I was never gonna see you again,” he had mumbled.

“Oh, I’m just a temp here. I had exams the last couple of weeks. So…”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. He took his cheque and said a soft good bye – there were people behind him waiting for their payments. So he didn’t linger. He did stop before leaving, as if contemplating, but he left, nonetheless.

You found him in the parking lot, waiting for you. You asked him if there was something he needed, if he had forgotten something? He said yes, he did forget something. He was flustered. Hands in pockets, shoulders up to his ears, head down, asking you if you would want to go out with him.

“Didn’t like not seeing you like that,” he said, a shy smile on his lips, his hand going the back of his neck, absent-mindedly scratching a non-existent itch. “I didn’t want to go weeks without seeing you again.”

God, you were flattered. He was extremely good looking. You knew the other ladies in the office had eyes on him. They all looked forward to Fridays, all clamouring to get your position at the window just to talk to him. They all gave you the evil eye when you came back to work this week. Apparently, both girls who took your spot the last two Fridays had told everyone that all he did beside signing his name on the form was ask if you were coming back.

He took you out for a drink that night. A movie the next night. Dinner the night after that.

He called you every single day when you went back to your hometown for the break. Drove all the way over to pick you up when your break was over a few weeks later.

When he kissed you for the first time, you saw stars.

And when he made love to you, you swore he took you to heaven and back.

My God, you were stupid in love, and there was nothing anyone could say to snap you out of it.

Your friends were jealous, yet extremely happy for you. His family loved you. His parents introduced you as their new daughter to their friends. His brother Tommy called you the sister he never had. The man himself spoiled the living shit out of you. You were his reason for living, he told you. He was head over heels in love with you. He wanted to marry you. Have babies with you. Grow old with you.

Oh, how blessed your life was.

About two years after the two of you started dating, he finally introduced you to her.

Her.

They had been friends forever. They were BFFs. Best friends forever. But as far as you were aware, they were never a couple. That much was made very clear. Apparently, he was not her kind of man. Her kind of man comes from a certain background, and he was not that kind of a man. He had never been and never will be.

You know, the old money kind.

His Mama worked for her family. The domestic. She used to bring him along back when they couldn’t afford daycare. They became friends. They went to different schools when school started, but he still went to her house when his Mama worked during the school holidays. The family took him and his Mama along on vacations, let him hang around at parties when his Mama worked, and the two just spent their time entertaining each other during those boring adult parties and vacations. Their lives were vastly different, but they were inseparable.

So they remained friends. He was always a shoulder for her to cry on. Her port in a storm. And boy oh boy was she caught in a slew of them throughout their friendship. Every single time those old money kinda men broke her heart, Joel was there to pick up the pieces and put her together again. And he would be her everything, until she found the next one who was her kind of man.

It was during her haze of being with one such man that he met you.

He introduced you to her when she came back for the holidays. It wasn’t due to his lack of trying that you had never met her, it was just logistics. She lived overseas with her suitor. They only came back for the holidays because they got engaged, so the holidays had a dual purpose.

She shrieked when she realized it was you, the woman her BFF had not been able to shut up about. She hugged you tight and called you sis. She dragged you around to introduce you to her family. Everyone was excited to meet you. So this was the woman who got Joel Miller down on his knees, they teased. Joel stood next to you, red in the face, his hand on yours, fingers entwined, happy that his second family was so accepting and approving of you.

Throughout her stay, she included you in her hangouts. Her friends were very nice, surprisingly not the hoity-toity rich kids you thought they would be at all. They were all married to their high school sweethearts, some of whom were Joel’s former classmates, all working and living a simple life away from their wealthy upbringing.

You were happy. You met the man of your dreams, his family loved you, his friends loved you, and most important of all, he loved you.

Your family adored him. Not only was he a gentleman, but he was also kind, loving, caring, and extremely respectful of your family. Your Mom couldn’t stop gushing about him. Your Dad was over the moon that you had brought home a good, hardworking man to introduce to him. He had no doubt Joel Miller would take good care of his little girl.

When your parents visited during your college graduation, his family invited your family around for dinner. You and Joel sat at the table and watched as your parents talked to each other as if they were lifelong friends, your Moms gossiping about the latest shared favourite soap opera drama at the table as if the characters were someone they both knew, practically squirming with anger at the antagonistic girl that had just spoiled the protagonist’s wedding day. Your Dads talked politics, both moaning about the state of the country, your brother and Tommy shaking their heads at the abysmal performance their favourite team had put forth so far.

Just before they left town, Joel took your Dad and brother out for a drink. They came home to your shared apartment drunk but happy, His Dad and Tommy winking at you as they dropped the three men off.

The morning your family were due to leave town, the two families came together for brunch. Instead of orange juice, you were served mimosas, and Joel got on his knee and asked you to marry him.

Oh, how perfect your life was.

When she was told, she called you, absolutely elated with happiness and excitement that her BFF was getting married. She had gone back to the country she was living in at that point and called you every other week to ask about wedding plans. You and Joel planned to marry soon, a small wedding, just close family and friends. Hers on the other hand was due to take place the year after, a huge celebration on an exotic island. Her fiancé was a prominent figure, small town weddings simply won’t do.

When the date was all set and looming, Joel received news that she had called off her engagement. Typical of a wealthy, good-looking man that her fiancé was, she found out he had other ladies. The ones he had at the ready at every single business locations he had been leaving her at home alone for over the years they had been together. She called your fiancé, her BFF, absolutely broken and shattered, crying into the phone for hours. He stayed online with her, consoling his best friend, telling her he was there for her, that she deserved better, that she could always come back home and start over.

She called you a week before your wedding to apologize for not being able to attend. She was too heartbroken, too sensitive, too fragile to attend an event where love was the centre of attention to go. She didn’t want to take away from your special day, would rather not attend only to take attention away from the beautiful bride by bursting into tears in the corner. To make up for it, she was sending you and Joel away on a dream honeymoon, all paid for, first class everything, only the best for her best friend and the woman of his dreams, she told you.

Joel was understandably disappointed that his best friend wouldn’t be attending his big day, but even he could understand how upsetting it would be for her to attend. You could too, how could one sit there and celebrate someone else’s love when your own had been shattered into smithereens?

The big day arrived. Everything was going perfectly. The ceremony went down without a hitch. Joel cried his eyes out when he saw you walk down the aisle. The two of you practically sobbed your way through the vows, both far too emotional and happy that this day had come.

And when the two of you kissed for the first time as husband and wife, you felt as if you were in a protective bubble, safe and sound, just the two of you, ready to take your next steps into the world as a couple, the start of your own little happy family.

The reception was a dream. The food was wonderful, the music was perfect. Everyone was just happy for the two of you. You couldn’t take your eyes off your new husband, and he, you. He didn’t let go of your hand all night, whispering naughty things to you, getting you all worked up and shy from his teasing, telling you the things he was going to do to you the moment the two of you were alone.

The two of you were lost in each other during the first dance, bodies together, cheek to cheek, both elated to have found each other. Everyone was standing around the dance floor, practically cooing at the sight of the two of you, happy and in love, the beautiful, loving couple.

And then the door to the hall opened with a dramatic bang. So loud the music stopped.

She was standing there, looking drop dead gorgeous, in a white dress.

And not just any white dress either.

Her beautiful, very-expensive, dripping-in-crystals-and-money, opulent, ballroom-style-wedding-gown, custom-made white dress.

She walked towards the dance floor, her Louboutin stilettos cracking like gunshots as she made her way to you and your new husband. She hugged you, whispering a teary congratulations, asking you if she could cut in.

It was as if you had floated out of your body, watching as your body in the simple white dress, the one that now looked like a worn out hospital gown compared to her grand, intricate, one-of-a-kind Vera Wang, step to the side, allowing her to take your place in your new husband’s arms.

And he, in return, pulled her close, told her how beautiful she looked, turned to the band and told them to continue.

You, along with the rest of your stunned guests and family, watched as he twirled her around the dance floor, on your wedding day, during what should have been your first dance, dancing to the music you had chosen to commemorate this happy occasion for you and him. But here you were, standing at the sideline as he swayed with her instead of you.

You could have said something, but your tongue was tied. You could have cut back in, but you didn’t want to make a scene. You could have walked out of there, but your feet were glued to the ground.

You coulda.

Woulda

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction

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rwshfordgirl · 2 months ago

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I saw that your requests are open. Could you please write a story of Pedri and tennis reader? Maybe they had crush on each other from face away and during the Olympics they meet each other and start low-key going out and end up hard launching their relationship when both of them win the gold medails (It would be great bonus of the reader is Spanish as well)

Olympics

all the images were taken from pinterest.

pairing: pedri x tennis player! reader

a/n: i swore he had participated in the olympics last year, i didn't remember seeing him during euro hahaha by the way i miss the olympics so much!!! I LOVE the Olympics, i remember when my city hosted it. i had to make a small change in the plot, i hope you don't mind and i apologize for the delay, thanks for the request, i'm loving writing fics for him <3 hope you like it.

import warning: i have the feeling that i've already seen a fic involving pedri and a tennis player, i could be wrong because i looked and didn't find it. i don't know if it's a similar story to mine, but in any case if the author of the fic sees this post and feels uncomfortable, she/him can talk to me, i can modify or remove it.

JULY, 2021

Three days after your arrival at the Olympic village, you finally discovered the quietest times for each meal of the day. Even if this involves limited food availability, having peace during meals is essential.

It's 8:30 p.m., the restaurant is really empty, there's you and a few other athletes from nations you can't identify. The members of your coaching staff eat dinner earlier than you, they prefer the commotion and your fitness coach has already warned you that it's best for you to have dinner and go to bed early.

In the village restaurant, there are areas with some typical foods from each country and you promised yourself that you would go through each one, trying everything as if you were on a trip around the world. But today you miss home, you needed something that reminded you of Barcelona.

You made your way towards the Spanish space, the only place with a line at that time, apparently the men's football team was also hungry for Spanish food.

The boys play, laugh and talk loudly in the queue, nothing that bothers you, since all you can think about is what you are going to order to eat. "Escalivada perhaps."

"Lo siento." The male voice of the boy in front of you returned you to reality, he had accidentally stepped on the tip of your foot and turned to apologize.

Your eyes passed over the man, someone you had known from afar, Pedri, he studied with your cousin during high school and his face was always spread throughout Barcelona in the advertisements of the team he played for. An unforgettable face.

Pedri also feels unable to forget your face, when he saw it was you, he promptly remembered the occasions when he met you. He liked it when your cousin organized parties and invited you.

"Hi." You said almost in a whisper, but with a slight smile on your face.

"Hi." He said in the same way you did.

But that was it, the Spanish national team's top brass called him for something. They said goodbye with a subtle wave.

That same night, when you were already at your accommodation, a notification made your cell phone vibrate. It was a notification from Instagram.

"Pedri started following you."

You smiled and promptly followed him back. The beginning of something.

JULY,2024

Tokyo was your first Olympics, and it will always be the most special of all. Besides being your first, it was thanks to the sporting event that you reconnected with Pedri.

Three years ago, right after the Spanish player started following you, things changed. You now attend Barcelona games, Pedri watches your tennis matches. Everything you didn't know you needed.

The results of the Tokyo Olympics were not the best, you left there in fourth place and Pedri won a silver medal after a final against Brazil.

You wanted, you really wanted to leave Paris with any medal. Pedri said, "Don't be too hard on yourself, my love, everything will be fine." Every time I saw you training hard for the upcoming Olympics.

But the combination of Pedri + hard training worked, today you can say that you will return to Barcelona with a medal in your hands. You reached the women's tennis final.

"Cariño, everything has already worked out. I'm rooting for you so much."

Pedri's message made your eyes water, he can't come to see you, he's in training with the national team. Pedri will also return home with a medal around his neck, the men's football team was in the final.

And you promised, if you both left Paris with medals, the rest of the world would know you were together. Something people suspected, photos of you two leaving markets together and walking through the streets of Barcelona, likes and comments on photos. People just didn't have confirmation.

But now they will, after an electrifying match against a Chinese athlete, you are a gold medalist. No words to describe it. You went from fourth place in Tokyo to the gold medal in Paris.

"I knew you could do it." Pedri's voice was muffled on the phone.

He was crying along with you on the video call.

The rest of his team were shouting your name from the back and congratulating you.

"Tomorrow is your turn."

And it really was, Spain won two golds in a row in less than 24 hours. A game as electrifying as theirs, but decided in extra time, as France was also desperate to win the gold at home.

"We are both medalists."

You said in Pedri's ear right after he spun you around on the field.

"Golden couple."

He said after giving you a little kiss.

"We're going to have to take a picture biting the medal."

"As you wish."

"You know that when we have our first child, we have to call her Olimpia." He joked.

"No way, let's leave that idea aside."

"Oh come on, it's a name that represents us."

"Pedri, I'll get that idea out of your head very soon." You smiled "Come on, let's take the pictures."

#football imagine #football x reader #football one shot #footballer imagine #football blurb #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez x reader

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soupcafe · 3 months ago

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I have written and rewritten this post so many times after taking time to really gather my thoughts and sit with everything that has transpired in the last two weeks. If I'm being honest.. what has transpired the last three years of running the FindRPs server. Under the cut if you want to read. Warning: it's really fucking long. Sorry about it.

God I don't even know where to start, okay.

I have always tried to do my best to remain neutral in most situations and show a face of calm collection when it came to matters in the server. As a leader there, I believed that being anything other than that would only show instability of myself and on the rest of the staff. I always tried to make it known that I was willing to hear people out, and ready to enact changes if it felt like the right thing to do for the collective.

I don't know if that was the right choice to make, but it certainly felt like it for me, so that's how I ran things.. that's how I encouraged the rest of staff to run things. I've already said this to the former staff, but I have nothing but the highest respect for the hard work they put into that server. All of us were running that place for free, but it felt like a full time job with the way people treated us both on the server and here on tumblr.

Our goal was to provide a space for various platforms to advertise their rp groups, post 1x1s, post their resources, ask for help from their community, and more. FindRPs all started because tumblr tags became notoriously unreliable, group rps weren't able to mass fill their queues, sideblogs were being shadowbanned and deleted left and right. Why not streamline it into one easy hub? Why not make a place for a community? I've seen it said a few times now that we should have learned our lesson and not had any general chat or allow conversation at all. How fucking sad is that? In a hobby where the whole purpose is writing a story together... collaborating.... and you all can't even handle or have the civility to have a general chat.

I don't claim to have made all the right decisions, or to have said the right thing in a moments time. But things could so very quickly go from zero to one hundred there. Within minutes people would be at each other's throats and god forbid anyone on staff have a real life and not take care of it within seconds. I can't count how many times I was at work, or a family function, or a doctors office, and I get the ping that something happened but I can't deal with it right then and there. The anxiety of knowing that it will be talked about in the tags, and that if I or another staff member isn't online to take care of it right that second, we will get shit for letting it happen.

Isn't that insane? That I couldn't go about my daily life and do normal things without thinking about you all having no decorum and going after one another like children?

I was getting anxiety from not looking at the server for more than an hour or two. I don't know how in the world I thought I was going to be able to handle having a newborn and focusing on something that is going to be one of the most amazing experiences of my life, knowing that all of this would be in the back of my mind. It wouldn't be fair to my kid... to my family. And yeah... maybe that's me taking it too seriously. But when you dedicate three years of your life to this, and have been in this community on tumblr for as long as I have.. you fear the loss of it.

Don't even get me started on the lack of communication. Any blog that decided to let anons and rumors come into play and pass judgement on us with lies or half the story over the course of the server's activity... you all are complicit. No one ever came to us with their opinions and issues — the first thing that was on anyone's mind was which rpt blog can I go to. So instead of handling things like adults, you all hid behind anon and let someone else post it for you.

Because why attempt to make an actual change by speaking to us when you can just judge and bully us instead? No one ever said maybe they need some help and I should offer to join the team. But why would you... when you could see how we were being treated. When you were the one treating us that way.

Anytime something happened in that server, my inbox would fill with anon messages of death threats or otherwise inflammatory and cruel statements against me. I always deleted them and gave them no merit because what is some fucking anon going to do to me in my real life? Nothing.

This time though.. I was simply done with it. I was looking at the server, at my own happiness, at my own life and where I was being led, and decided that it simply wasn't worth it to subject myself and the rest of the staff to it any longer. All of us were preparing major life changes and were having conversations about possibly stepping down and handing the server off. I'm sorry that a few people decided to ruin it for the rest of you who never did anything wrong. I would have loved to hand over the reins to someone else and let FindRPs live on as the needed resource it was, but you all can make your own servers as you've said many times that you want to do. You can spend three years growing it to nearly 3k members of all rp backgrounds and life backgrounds and you can make your rules exactly how you want them and to deal with things exactly how you want to deal with them... I sincerely hope it thrives for you.

I'm going to call out a few specific blogs from this situation because you are directly complicit in the spreading of this. JJ (galitzined), Nan (nanschman), Xan (jimiin), Jas (snoopdoggs), Veda (nosyrpt), and fluoresceins. All of you decided that it was okay to bully. Several of you decided to say that I was subjecting Hermie, a Palestinian mod, to coexisting with zionists knowingly.. when it has always been the case that if they made themselves known we would ban them and Hermie would be the one to do it. We realized too late that we missed one glaringly obvious one and Hermie got the satisfaction of banning them before FindRPs was deleted for good.

All of us in our real lives are putting in the work to make change, you know, where it matters the most. Personally for myself, I involve myself in local and state politics and actively ensure that I am voting for representatives that align with Palestine or at the very least is not interested in supporting Israel. I donate to fundraisers when I am able. Not that I ever owed any of you a list of what I am doing... but I have always stood with Palestine. I fucking hate JKR, and was a moderator who voted to ban it in the initial rule change. (Love that some of you are trying to say I've been extremely active in the HP RPC and have proof because.... bitch where?) But you know... you all will spin anything to fit your narrative.

I said it many times that everyone on staff, every single one of us, was part of a marginalized group one way or another. Half of us were trans, more than half were people of color, I think literally all of us are queer. So you all decided that the best thing to do was to hurt members of your own communities, hurt the people that you claim to stand up for... that's incredibly telling about the kind of people you are.

Mar made a post recently that I think all of you need to read and take to heart. Many of us are so disheartened by the lack of change that we are seeing in the real world that going hard within a small community like the one here is where you can get your satisfaction — because it seems simple in a smaller space where you can watch change happen in real time. Mar put it really well, better than I ever could, so here is a link for you to read it yourself.

We are actively driving people away from this community. Some of them are warranted, but a majority of it is over the most petty bullshit that could be solved if we weren't so catty and quick to jump to conclusions.

Shadow, I do want to apologize to you. You did not lead to the downfall of this server, it was a long time coming. And I agreed with all of the resources you gave, I agree with wanting to educate someone. What I failed to communicate effectively, and I do take responsibility for this, is that you didn't need to do it publicly. You could have DM'd Lumos and taken care of it outside of the server, which is really all we were trying to say in that statement we made: why in the world are we having these conversations in the general chat of a rp advertisement server when you can just... talk to the person directly. Or I don't know... use the block button. All of you need to learn how to use that more. And you did already apologize for necro-ing it... but I believe you knew what you were doing there. Even on a laptop you had to scroll up to see the interaction with Lumos and there was no way you missed the timestamps. It was not the first time you decided to use a public space in the server to be mean to someone, so, I don't believe that you didn't know what you were doing there. Regardless of being correct in the information you were spreading, you were an asshole. We gave you a warning that the behavior wouldn't be tolerated and yet you continued to harass Lumos so consequences of your actions were to be banned. Not because of what you said or how you went about it, but because you didn't know when to stop.

I don't think Lumos has tumblr to see all of this, and I literally deleted everything from the server — I have no logs of anything that happened anymore. But we did rail into them. We told them that what they were saying was fucked up and they should read into the resources. All of us were talking about banning them anyways, but we wanted to take the time to think things through, to step away and sit with it and decide. Once again, God Forbid we handle things like adults and have real lives and think before acting, especially with all of you shouting into the tags about how we were handling it. They were getting death threats, both in their dms and out in the open in the general chat. Like what the fuck. Who in their right mind thinks that's an okay thing to do?

Anyway, we tended to handle things there privately. We preferred it that way because no one needs their dirty laundry aired out in front of 3k people, and have them weigh in on it while we're trying to handle things. Just because you didn't see anything happening on your end, doesn't mean things weren't happening behind the scenes. And screenshots are always a thing; we have never feared someone taking them for their records. I sent the screenshots to JJ because Shadow left out an entire part of the conversation. I didn't send it to "make ourselves look better" as Nan so lovingly put it. I did it for transparency.

Maybe we could have been more transparent over certain things, I don't know. But also.. some situations are simply none of anyone's business.

Anyway. It's gone now. I mourn the loss of something that I truly put my heart, soul, and tears into. I helped to provide a resource for the community who does not deserve it for free for three years of my life. I met some of the most amazing writers in there that I never would have crossed paths with if not for the server.

It's time to move on from the greater rpc for me though. I don't know if I am going to continue to be on this blog. I really don't have a desire to at this time. I do know I will be writing with my rp group and continue keeping in touch with others on discord. That's really why I'm not afraid to post all of this and let you all pick it apart. I simply don't care anymore. I'm a week away from my due date, and ready to take the step into motherhood. I'm so excited for it. My blood pressure certainly thanks me.

I urge you all to take a good hard look at how you interact with this community. I want you all to take a look at the complaints that are made all the time and have been for years now — of groups not surviving, of no one writing, of people feeling hopeless, or judged. You actively create this space. You truly want to be the change? Do better for the rpc then. Be kind, and if you can't do that, block and move on. The people you don't like and you don't agree with are going to be around for as long as they want to be anyway.

Best, Maeve.

#rpt #rpc #findrps

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yuyusuyu · 2 years ago

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the princess treatment chronicles!

pairing. non idol! best friend! song mingi x non idol! fem! reader

synopsis. the five times you accidentally completed the steps that would make mingi swoon also known as the five times you accidentally gave him princess treatment and he kept falling harder for you each time

warnings. mentions of food, getting sick, fire (someone get mingi away from the grill), cursing (wooyoung naur)

genres. romance, fluff, comedy, best friends to something more

ft. non idol! ateez

wc. 3k

pt 2. here !

a/n. happy birthday to our lovely mingi :( (this was supposed to be posted in two days wtaf 😭 guys pls just ignore and pretend it was posted on his bday 😭 my queue os my biggest enemy now)

reblogs and comments are appreciated! helps with not getting shadowbanned!

MINGI has a list. it's a special list to him, one that speaks volumes about him.

speaks volumes about a step-by-step process on how to make him, song mingi, fall in love with someone.

now, this list is hidden in his notes app, and the physical copy of this is hidden in one of his math notebooks from high school. he is the only person to know about this list, other than his best friend, of course (only because yunho accidentally saw him writing it out instead of doing math homework with him).

yunho calls it 'a step-by-step guide to the princess treatment' but mingi likes to correct his friend, telling him that it's actually called 'the way to song mingi's heart.'

yunho likes to call it otherwise.

but what does that have to do with you? well, for starters, mingi met you through yunho. it was completely accidental. according to yunho, he was never going to introduce you because you're like a little sister to him and you might end up stealing mingi from him by being your lovable self. instead of that happening, you two had instantly clicked and the three of you became a little trio, one that somehow always managed to spend time with each other everyday.

crazy.

how mingi and yunho managed to keep the list a secret from you, they have no idea (and yunho has no idea why mingi doesn’t want you knowing. the three of you tell each other everything to the point that it can be seen as oversharing at times), how they’ve managed to keep this list hidden from you for so long—three years, to be exact.

until now, that is.

STEP ONE TO MAKE SONG MINGI FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU: RUN INTO A PUBLIC PLACE IN A DRAMATIC MANNER WITH SOMETHING OF IMPORTANCE TO MINGI ! (IT SHOWS THAT YOU CARE VERY MUCH ABOUT HIM TO THE POINT OF NOT CARING ABOUT HOW OTHER PEOPLE SEE YOU)

mingi frowns as he looks down at his phone, eyebrows furrowed when he looks up at yunho. “she’s ten minutes late.”

yunho nods, also frowning. “maybe something came up and that’s why she’s running late?”

slumping down in his seat, mingi sighs, grumbling, “yeah, but she would’ve texted us by now if something happened. you know how yn is…”

the bells of the café entrance chimes, signaling the appearance of a customer. mingi, at this point, has given up checking if every new customer that walks into the café is you. he folds his arms on the table, resting his head as he pouts.

“oh yn!”

and then he immediately perks up in his seat, excitedly turning around to face you. yunho gets up, giving you a hug before ushering you into the seat next to mingi’s.

“i’m so sorry,” you wheeze, “i was going to text the group chat but then my phone died.”

yunho tilts his head. “your phone died? you don’t usually use your phone while you have a shift at the restaurant.”

“i don’t,” you say, running a hand through your tousled hair. “but i forgot to charge my phone before i left my place, and then when i went to that doughnut place, the lines were ridiculously long but i was already in line so i decided to suck it up and—"

“woah,” laughs mingi. “slow down.”

“sorry,” you mumble, sighing and taking in a breath before continuing. “i went to the doughnut place that just opened up. i read on a forum that wednesday afternoons are usually the slowest, so i decided i’d stop by before coming over to the cafe to study with you guys. when i got there, there was already a line that was about to start wrapping around the store, so i had to beat this lady next to me that wanted to get in line.”

“a lady,” yunho repeats, chuckling.

you hum. “yeah. i beat her to it, by the way. anyway, i was checking the time and saw it was already nearing the time we decided on, so i was in the middle of sending a text when my phone died.” you take out your phone from your tote bag along with a box.

it’s then that cogs in mingi’s brain starts working when he eyes the cursive lettering on the box.

“oh, isn’t that the doughnut place mingi’s been wanting to try out?” yunho asks, hands stretching out to grab the box.

you slap his hands, earning a laugh from the taller male as he brings them back to his side. “yes,” you reply, side-eyeing yunho. “meaning this isn’t for you.”

grabbing the box, you sheepishly smile at mingi, handing it over to him. “i know you’ve been trying to find the time to go over and try their doughnuts, but since my workplace is closer… i mean, why not?”

“excuse us for a second,” mingi mumbles, leaving you confused as he grabs yunho’s arm and drags him over to a corner in the cafe. once you’re out of earshot, mingi clears his throat. “what the hell was that?”

“what was what?” whispers yunho, blinking as he watches mingi glance over at you. you’re in the middle of trying to tame down your wild hair.

“she just completed step one.”

yunho gasps, turning mingi around by his shoulders. “no way,” he says. “did you tell her about the list?”

“what? no!” he cries out. “how did she even do it? yunho, i swear if you told her—”

“that’s not my secret to tell!” yunho whisper-shouts. “listen, this was probably a one time thing. there’s no way she even knows about it. plus, maybe she was just feeling a little generous today towards you!”

mingi slowly nods. “yeah,” he mumbles. “yeah, you’re right. let’s head back before yn starts asking questions…”

yunho was not right.

STEP TWO: IN MINGI’S TIME OF NEED, DO WHATEVER YOU CAN IN ORDER TO MAKE HIM FEEL HAPPY (THIS IS TO SHOW THAT YOU WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM NO MATTER WHAT TIME IT IS OR WHAT YOU’RE DOING)

mingi grumbles as he kicks his shoes off and drops his things on the floor by the door, closing it and shuffling over to his room as he angrily sends a text to the group chat.

it’s already one in the morning. yunho is most likely gaming and you’re most likely already sleeping. regardless, mingi still sends a text and doesn’t bother waiting for an answer as he flops down into his bed face-first.

he barely manages to make out the sound of his phone ringing. he blindly searches for his phone until his hand finally finds it. grunting, he brings it to his face, his eyes squinting at the screen from the brightness in comparison to his dark room.

yn: you still have your spare key in the same place, right?

mingi: i thought you had my spare after last time?

he sees that you’re in the middle of typing, so he waits until you finally send another message.

yn: oh

yn: yeah, you’re right. just found it on my keychain

mingi: i’m always right

yn: mmmmmm i wouldn’t say that but sure…

mingi: bruh

again, the typing bubble pops up on his screen before it disappears. mingi’s a bit confused, he won’t lie. he thought you would already be sleeping, but you weren’t. he snorts. “she asked me about my spare key instead of what’s wrong…?”

he shakes his head, stuffing it into his pillow. “whatever,” he mumbles.

mingi swears he’d only closed his eyes for a brief moment when the sound of his door unlocking fills the air. he stiffens in his bed before scrambling off, fumbling to find something to protect himself. he unplugs the lamp by his nightstand and grips it tightly, quietly tiptoeing towards his door.

“mingi?”

“yn, what the hell?” mingi groans, stepping out of his room and walking into the living room area of his apartment.

you narrow your eyes in confusion, pointing at the lamp he’s still holding. “why do you have a lamp in your hand?”

“the real question here is why are you here?” he huffs, leaning down to put the lamp on the floor. mingi then crosses his arms over his chest, “and why aren’t you sleeping?”

“i was about to sleep,” you say, walking past mingi and into his room. he follows you, his mouth open in surprise. “but then you texted that you had a shit day, so here i am.” you drop the bag you’re holding onto his bed, turning around. “now why the hell did you have a lamp in your hand?”

mingi clears his throat. “i, uh, thought someone was breaking in…”

you snort, sitting on his bed and patting the space next to the bag. “that’s funny, mings. no one is going to break in if you’re a broke college student.”

huffing, he grumbles as he sits down on his bed, bringing his knees up to his chest. “shut up.”

“mhm,” you hum. “now tell me about why you had a shit day while we eat some of your favorites, yeah?” you stick your hand into the bag and take out one of his favorite snacks, opening the bag and handing it over to him while you shift around to face him.

he thinks his heart started beating a little too fast for his liking.

STEP THREE: WHEN MINGI IS STRUGGLING TO DO SOMETHING, JUST DO IT FOR HIM WITHOUT EVEN ASKING IF HE NEEDS ASSITANCE (THIS IS TO SHOW THAT YOU NOTICE WHEN HE IS STRUGGLING)

you look between yunho and mingi. yunho’s trying so hard not to laugh, but his smile gives him away. he obviously finds mingi struggling to light the grill amusing.

“c’mon,” you slap yunho’s arm, earning a whine from him. “don’t be a bully.”

“yeah, yunho,” mingi says, looking up for a brief second to glare at him before looking back at the box of matches in his hand. “don’t be a bully.”

you gently take the box away from mingi’s hands, taking out a match and striking it against the box, a flame appearing. you grab the lighter fluid and pour some on the charcoal before chucking the match into the grill, a fire immediately coming to life.

mingi gasps and hides behind you, startled. yunho laughs at the sight. “no way you’re hiding behind yn right now,” he says, wiping tears away from his eyes. “she’s literally so short compared to you.”

“shut up, jeong yunho.” you point at him. “or else i’ll change my netflix password.”

yunho gasps. “you wouldn’t dare!”

as you and yunho quarrel, mingi sighs, hiding his face in his hands when he feels the back of his neck grow unbearably hot.

you are doing a number on him.

and he’s a little scared.

because you’re his best friend.

and he can’t believe that his best friend, of all people, would be completing his five-step-guide in making him fall for someone.

he has to talk to yunho soon about this.

STEP FOUR: WHEN MINGI IS HURT, HELP AND CODDLE HIM (THIS IS TO SHOW THAT YOU CARE A LOT ABOUT HIM)

he never got the chance to talk to yunho about this.

after your impromptu bbq day at yunho’s place, mingi ended up getting sick. he didn’t tell anyone, not wanting to bother anyone and burden them with taking care of him. so here he is, laying in his bed, shivering and clutching onto his blankets for dear life.

he hears his front door clicking open, and he groans. “go away!” he croaks, sneezing afterwards. “i have nothing to offer you, you thief!”

you laugh. “seriously? you think i’m some robber again?”

at the sound of your voice, mingi’s heart skips a beat. he clears his throat. “no… what are you doing here? i seriously need to take my spare key away from you…”

“yeah, yeah,” you say, walking into his room and raising an eyebrow when you see the state he’s in. “why didn’t you tell yunho or i about this, mings? we would’ve come running to you.”

he sneezes. “i didn’t want to annoy anyone,” he says, lowering his blankets from his face just to see you.

you click your tongue and walk to the side of the bed, pressing your hand to the back of his forehead. “don’t be silly, mingi. you know we don’t find you annoying… at least i don’t find you annoying,” you mumble, straightening your back and walking out of the room. “i’m going to make you some soup, you weakling! don’t get up!”

mingi lets out a weak laugh, sneezing afterwards. “yes, ma’am…”

“what was that?”

“yes, ma’am!” he yells, his voice cracking. mingi hears you giggle to yourself.

he huffs, pulling his blankets over his head.

when you’re done making the soup, you carry a bowl and some cough medicine into his room and find that he’s asleep. you set the bowl on his nightstand, shaking him awake as gently as possible. “mingi,” you whisper. “mingi, i have the soup. i need you to wake up so that i can feed you.”

“feed me?” he asks, whispering.

you hum, opting to card your hand through his hair that’s been growing out recently. “yeah, i need to feed you.”

“feed… feed me?” mingi screeches, abruptly sitting up. you gasp, almost falling off the bed.

clearing your throat, you reach out to grab the bowl, placing it in your lap and grabbing a spoonful, blowing on it slightly before leaning away. “here…”

mingi stares at you, wide-eyed.

you purse your lips. “mingi, i need you to eat so that you can get better.”

“right!” he says, his voice an octave higher than usual as he moves to eat the soup. when he leans back, mingi sees you smiling at him.

his stomach does some summersaults.

STEP FIVE: TAKE CARE OF MINGI (THIS SHOWS THAT HE IS VERY IMPORTANT TO YOU)

mingi puffs his cheeks out, trying not to laugh as he takes out his keys.

“yunho, i need you to carry the cake… actually, never mind, jongho can you please carry the cake?”

yunho gasps. “yn, do you not believe in me and my capabilities to carry a cake?”

“...no, i don’t.”

“what the—”

hongjoong claps once. “stop fighting!” he says. “mingi’s going to be here any minute now—”

“actually,” pipes up seonghwa. “it says that he just arrived.”

“what the fuck!” wooyoung screams. “guys, hurry the fuck up! he’s coming!”

“wooyoung… stop screaming… you’re giving us away,” yeosang says.

“yeah, what my boyfriend said.” san says.

“san, dude, how many times do i have to tell you that i am not your boyfriend.”

mingi takes in a deep breath before shoving his keys into the lock, the noise going on on the other side immediately stopping. he can hear you all shuffling around until someone whisper-shouts at jongho to go shut the door.

“what the—but i’m carrying the cake?” jongho sounds baffled.

“give me the cake and go stop mingi from coming in! yunho hasn’t finished hanging the stupid banner!” you cry out.

mingi assumes jongho’s laying his weight on top of the door because he can’t push it open.

“did you just call me stupid, yn?”

“no, but i will if you don’t hurry up!”

“guys,” hongjoong sighs, and mingi can bet that he’s rubbing his temples. “i think mingi can hear you.”

he sure can.

“okay, jongho come back!”

mingi snorts, pushing the door open and flicking the lights on. yunho’s awkwardly holding the end of a birthday banner up while the other end is taped onto the wall. hongjoong and seonghwa both sigh in unison at how badly the surprise is coming along, and wooyoung and san are trying to push each other out of the way so that one of them can stand next to yeosang, who is rolling his eyes and trying to shuffle away from the two. jongho stands to your side, the only one who is actually smiling at him—oh, he’s lying.

you’re smiling at him while holding a birthday cake.

“suprise, mings!” you say.

everyone yells happy birthday to him, and somehow he finds himself getting shoved by wooyoung towards the small table he has by the kitchen. you’re standing next to him, laughing as you put the paper party hat on his head, making sure that the thin string is secured underneath his chin before moving to get the knife.

“let mingi cut the cake!” wooyoung yells.

“he could get himself cut, and the birthday boy shouldn’t have to do it unless he wants to,” you chide, glancing up at mingi through your eyelashes. “do you want to cut it, mings?”

he swallows the lump in his throat, shaking his head afterwards. “no,” he breathes out, licking his lips. “you can do it for me, if that’s okay.”

you grin at him, carefully cutting up the cake. you place the slices on plates, making sure that the biggest slice goes to mingi.

oh no, he thinks.

you’ve officially completed his five-step-guide to his heart.

“um, yn?” mingi leans down to whisper into your ear.

you hum in response.

“can we talk for a sec?”

nodding, you let yourself get dragged by mingi into his room. after closing the door, he looks at you and you notice that his ears are very red.

“are you okay?” you ask, pointing at your ears. “your ears are red.”

mingi whines, covering his face with his hand. “can you turn around real quick?”

“okay…”

mingi peeks through his fingers, sighing in relief when your back is facing him. he clears his throat and wipes the palms of his hands on his jeans. “i, uh… would you like to go out for dinner sometime this week?”

“as a date?” you ask, fighting the urge to turn around to look at him.

in a small voice, mingi replies. “yeah… as a date.”

“i’d like that.”

#꒰💌꒱ drea's drabbles !#yuyusuyu #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #song mingi x y/n #song mingi x you #mingi fluff #mingi imagines #mingi scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #mingi fanfic

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bronzepascal · 9 days ago

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father figure - pedro pascal

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader warnings: physical anxiety, panic attacks, alcohol, long distance, relationship establishing, the reader is her late 20s, pedro is 50. no proof reading done. author’s note: please note that i’m dyslexic & non-native english speaker - i make mistakes! feedback is very welcomed! enjoy! you can also buy me a coffee here to support my work & help me with my medications. word count: 7k!!! NO MINORS! 18+ READERS ONLY!

It had been a year since you found out the truth—not through confession, not through closure, but through an Instagram message from one of your closest friends. A direct message that changed everything: a single grainy photo, forwarded without warning, along with a message that read, “I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you should see this.”

You were back in your home country at the time, visiting family—reconnecting with people you hadn't seen for months, catching your breath after a long period of work and city noise. The visit was meant to be restorative and a time of relaxation. A kind of a reset from everything. You had even FaceTimed your now ex-boyfriend the night before, his face pixelated and warm on your screen, telling you to enjoy yourself and not to worry about anything back in the UK. But his messages started to dry out and became very short, to the point where he did not even take the time to answer your messages.

And yet, there he was in the photo your friend had sent. Blurry but unmistakable, taken in a crowded bar somewhere in Nottingham city centre, leaning in close to a woman with curled hair and red lipstick. His hand rested low on her back. Too familiar and way too intimate. The timestamp on the story said it had been posted just hours ago—while you were asleep under your parents’ roof, thousands of miles away, still trusting him.

Your stomach had dropped before your mind could even make sense of what you were seeing. The smile on his face was the one you used to think was yours. The kind that used to say, I want you here.

You didn’t cry at first. You didn’t throw your phone or rage against the walls. Instead, you felt an eerie kind of stillness—like your body had gone completely quiet to protect you from something it wasn’t ready to process. You just sat there, phone slack in your hand, staring out the window of your childhood bedroom while the world outside remained oblivious.

The betrayal was worse because you had trusted him across the North and Baltic Sea. You had believed in time zones, phone calls and the space between visits. You had believed in the loyalty of someone who kissed your forehead in airport terminals and promised he’d wait. You had believed him.

But he hadn't waited. And worse—he hadn’t even hidden it that well. It was way too transparent. A wicked action.

When you returned to the UK, nothing felt the same. Your flat in Nottingham, which had once been full of warmth and morning light and his toothbrush in the bathroom, felt like someone else’s life. You had thrown away his stuff to the bin so you would not feel any of his presence in your small flat. You barely unpacked after arriving back. You barely slept as the thought of being cheated on was flowing through your mind . Panic began to seep into your skin, creeping up on you in the most mundane moments—waiting in queues, crossing the street, standing under hot water in the shower. It was becoming quite obvious that you sometimes forgot how to breathe without trying. Every photo, every object, every café held a ghost.

So, three months later, you left Nottingham. Without notifying even your closest members in your circle - you could not just stay in that city anymore.

You packed up your life and moved to the buzzing and bustling city of London. Not for adventure and not with excitement. You just needed space and distance from the city that you had created for yourself and defined it as home. You also never thought in your life that you would ever move to London but here you were now. It had to be somewhere the thought of him could never catch you again, somewhere the echoes of him did not ring in your head.

The panic attacks started in Nottingham, long before you even knew what to call them. At first, you called an ambulance, thinking it was a heart attack. The lovely team of nurses of the NHS were assuring you that it was just a panic attack and nothing to be worried about. Afterwards, they felt more like tightness in your chest or a fluttering in your throat—things you could write off as stress or maybe just not enough sleep. Just your own body rebelling against you, in the silence.

You found yourself on the floor of your bedroom one night, wrapped in your duvet like it might shield you from whatever your body was doing to itself, the fabric pulled so tightly around your shoulders that it felt like armor. Your forehead was pressed to your knees, legs drawn in close, your entire body curled into itself as if trying to shrink away from an invisible threat. The room was silent, but your mind was loud—heart pounding too fast, breath catching in your throat, skin prickling like something terrible was about to happen. You told yourself to breathe, repeating it like a mantra: In through the nose, out through the mouth. Again. And again. It didn’t work right away. Nothing did. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

You hadn’t been sleeping well, not since the breakup. Maybe your body was just reacting to all the stress—maybe it was nothing. But three nights later, it happened again, and this time it was worse. You felt it coming like a wave from far off, slowly building, then crashing over you without mercy. You hadn’t even made it to bed that night—you were standing by the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in your hands when your knees buckled slightly and your vision blurred at the edges, and you had to sit down on the cold tile floor to steady yourself, your hands shaking so hard that you spilled hot tea down your arm without noticing until the burn registered minutes later.

From that point on, you started sleeping with the lights on. At first, just a lamp on your nightstand, but soon, the overhead light too, humming quietly above you as you lay in bed wide-eyed, unable to surrender to sleep because sleep had begun to feel like a place you might not come back from. You began checking the front door twice before bed, then twice more after you’d already crawled under the duvet. Some nights, you’d get up a fifth time—just in case.

It was as if fear had taken up residence in your flat. At first, it lived in the shadows, tucked quietly behind the wardrobe or underneath the sink—just out of sight, just out of reach. But soon, it made itself known in every corner of your day. It whispered to you when your phone lit up unexpectedly. It pressed against your chest during meetings, on buses, in the silence between texts. It crawled into bed with you at night and reminded you, again and again, that nothing was safe anymore—not your heart, not your body, not even your thoughts.

You stopped recognising yourself. The version of you who had once laughed easily, who made plans without hesitation, who trusted her instincts—she had been replaced by someone you didn’t quite understand. Someone who flinched at doorbells. Who forgot entire conversations. Who avoided mirrors because she didn’t like the sadness she saw staring back. That was the night you realised this wasn’t something you could manage alone.

The walls of your Nottingham flat felt smaller every day, closing in around you like a cage you couldn’t unlock. The memories clung to the paint and the worn floorboards—the echo of his laughter in the hallway, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air long after he was gone. Each room held a weight that made it harder to breathe, harder to pretend you were okay. You realized that no matter how many therapy sessions you attended, how many nights you forced yourself to sit with fear, you needed distance. Not just from him, but from the life you had shared and the place that now felt haunted by what was lost. So, after months of restless nights and quiet goodbyes to friends and routines you once cherished, you packed your bags and moved to London. A city vast enough to swallow your past and loud enough to drown out the doubts swirling in your mind. You weren’t running toward something —you were running away—from pain, from memories, from the girl you used to be. And somewhere, beneath the noise and the unfamiliar streets, you hoped to find yourself again.

Your company had been kind enough to transfer you to their London office—a gesture that felt more like a lifeline than just a change of scenery. From the moment you arrived, everyone you met was friendly, welcoming in a way that made the city’s vastness feel a little smaller and less intimidating. No one pressured you for explanations or asked about the sudden move—your colleagues respected your privacy and you appreciated that unspoken understanding more than words could say. It was a relief to be part of a workplace where your silence wasn’t mistaken for weakness and where kindness didn’t come with expectations.

What you didn’t have to say aloud, your company anticipated. They were fortunate to have a partnership with a mental health therapy organisation, a benefit they encouraged all employees to use if needed. One morning, your manager quietly slipped you a small card with a phone number and a simple note: “For whenever you feel ready.” The offer felt like a soft hand reaching out in the dark—a chance to take care of yourself on your own terms, without judgment or pressure.

That number became a quiet promise to yourself. You didn’t call immediately, not yet. But knowing it was there, waiting, was enough for the moment. It was a reminder that healing wasn’t a path you had to walk alone.

You started going to therapy slowly, taking your time with each step—making the appointment, walking into the quiet waiting room, sitting with your own thoughts before the session even began. You were no’t in a rush; some days, just getting yourself there felt like progress enough. The therapist never pushed you to speak before you were ready. Sometimes you came with stories, sometimes you sat in silence, simply letting the space hold you. Over weeks and months, the sessions became a steady thread, weaving a new kind of strength into your days.

But those moments stayed private—your sanctuary away from the busy hum of office life.

One evening, your company announced that there would be a social gathering between all the teams in the UK—a chance to unwind outside the usual meeting rooms and email chains. They had booked a spot at a posh, tucked-away venue in Soho, known for its elegant decor, craft cocktails and a clientele that included some of the most celebrated people such as Hollywood actors and actresses. The place had a reputation for discretion and charm, a haven where stories whispered in hushed tones and laughter lingered under soft lighting.

As you stepped into the venue that night, the atmosphere wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The clink of glasses, the murmur of conversations, the subtle glamour—you felt, for the first time in a long while, the possibility of joy quietly blooming again. It wasn’t about dating or drama. It was about connection, even if just with colleagues, in a space that sparkled with life and whispered promise.

The party was alive with a vibrant energy that pulsed through every corner of the sleek Soho venue. The room was filled with a swirl of colors from elegant dresses and sharp suits, the soft glow of chandeliers casting a golden hue over smiling faces. Laughter spilled from clusters of people, weaving through the steady hum of conversation and the rhythmic beat of music that encouraged some to dance with carefree abandon. Glasses clinked repeatedly, carrying the sharp tang of citrus cocktails, the crisp bite of white wine, and the deeper warmth of red one. Groups formed and reformed, exchanging stories and jokes, some animated and loud, others whispered and intimate. You found yourself drifting from one circle to another, soaking up the lighthearted atmosphere, the way the laughter lifted the heaviness you’d carried for so long. For the first time in what felt like ages, the weight in your chest loosened and your smile felt real, not forced. It was a rare moment where the past felt distant and the present felt… almost too easy for you.

Making your way to the bar for your second bottle of white wine, you paused, letting your eyes wander across the room. That was when you noticed the man standing beside you, ordering tequila shots and a glass of red wine with an easy confidence that piqued your curiosity. He glanced over, breaking into a small smile before asking,

“What are you ordering?”

You matched his smile with a playful smirk and answered,

“Try to guess.”

He studied you for a moment, as if trying to read the expression on your face, and then guessed,

“Whiskey?” You laughed, a soft, genuine sound that surprised you with its lightness. Shaking your head, you said,

“Nope.” That little exchange sparked something warm between you, a flicker of connection that felt unexpected and welcome.

Then, with a friendly nod, he introduced himself.

“I’m Pedro,” he said, holding out his hand with a sincerity that felt both natural and disarming. Recognition flickered in your mind.

“Oh, you’re that guy from the Kingsman film,” you said casually, as if naming a colleague at work rather than a famous actor. He laughed—a rich, easy sound that didn’t carry an ounce of arrogance—and shrugged, clearly used to the recognition but not defined by it. The moment was simple, unforced, a brief crossing of two very different worlds in the middle of a bustling party. It wasn’t about fame or flashing cameras; it was just two strangers sharing a laugh and a connection in the soft glow of a London night.

You took a long swig of your white wine, almost chugging it down like it was the only thing keeping the nerves at bay, when Pedro caught your gaze with a teasing smile.

“Easy there, little birdie,” he said, his American accent rolling around the words in a way that made you laugh out loud. There was something utterly charming about hearing those casual words come from someone so effortlessly confident, and you shook your head, still smiling as you set the glass bottle down. The nickname stuck with you, a playful reminder of the evening’s unexpected lightness.

The two of you peeled away from the bustling bar, navigating through clusters of guests with their animated chatter and clinking glasses, until you found yourselves sinking into a pair of plush, velvet sofas tucked into a quieter corner of the room. The soft, amber lighting wrapped around you like a gentle cocoon, muting the noisy hum of the party into something distant and soothing. You felt the tension in your shoulders begin to unravel as you settled back, the leather cool beneath your fingertips. The glass of wine warmed your hands as you took slow sips, matching the unhurried rhythm of the conversation that blossomed between you. There was an ease in the way words flowed, a give-and-take that didn’t demand more than you were willing to offer. His eyes held your gaze with steady kindness, and you realised you hadn’t felt quite this heard—or this safe—in a long time. For the first moments that night, the weight of your past, the knot of anxiety and fear that had tightened inside you for months, softened, melting away into the background.

Time seemed to stretch and compress all at once, until a subtle shift in Pedro’s voice caught your attention. His usual easy cadence faltered just a little, as if he was weighing his words before sending them your way.

“I should probably tell you something,” he began, the faintest hesitation lining his tone, “I’m leaving London in a week. Not exactly sure when I’ll be back.” His eyes searched yours briefly, then softened into a warm, rueful smile that carried a mix of regret and hope.

“But I’ll make sure I come back. I love a long getaway here.” The honesty in that moment struck a chord deep in your chest—it was an unexpected, bittersweet truth laid bare amidst the lightheartedness of the evening. You nodded slowly, feeling the ache of his impending absence, but also the quiet thrill of knowing he wanted to come back—to you, or at least to this shared space. When he finally asked for your number, it wasn’t with urgency or expectation, but with a gentle hopefulness that made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected tonight. Your fingers brushed as you handed over your phone, a small, electric connection that promised possibility, no matter how uncertain the path ahead might be.

Over the weeks that followed, you and Pedro settled into a rhythm of daily texts and late-night FaceTime calls, bridging the thousands of miles between New York, Los Angeles, and London with a steady stream of shared moments. Each morning, you’d wake to a good morning message, sometimes a simple “How are you doing today?” that carried more warmth than you expected. The conversations were unhurried and honest—talking about your day’s small victories and struggles, the funny things that happened or just the quiet spaces where neither of you needed to fill the silence. Pedro’s easy laugh came through the screen, a comforting presence when the city outside your window felt too big or too lonely. You found yourself looking forward to those calls more than you’d admit, a tether pulling you back from the isolation that had clung to you after the breakup. It wasn’t romance at first—not the way you’d imagined it—but a steady companionship, a connection that felt safe and real. After six weeks of these digital exchanges and long distance communication, Pedro surprised you with a message that made your heart skip: he was flying back to London, just to see you. The anticipation that followed was like a slow-burning flame, both thrilling and terrifying.

When you finally met again, it was at a posh restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of North London—the kind of place that felt like a well-kept secret, where the soft lighting and muted chatter wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The scent of fresh herbs mingled with the subtle flicker of candle wax, and the hum of other diners created a cocoon of intimacy around your small table near the window. You smoothed your dress nervously as Pedro arrived, his smile immediately putting you at ease. He looked exactly like you remembered, relaxed yet attentive, his eyes lighting up as he greeted you.

“It’s good to see you in person again,” he said softly, pulling out your chair with a quiet charm that made your heart flutter unexpectedly.

The dinner unfolded gently, like a carefully composed melody. Between sips of wine and shared bites of food, you talked about everything and nothing—his work trips and meetings to and in New York and LA, the quirky little moments that made each day feel different, and the small victories and frustrations that peppered your own routine in London.

“I’ve got to say,” Pedro confessed, leaning in slightly, “I missed this—just talking with you. No cameras, no scripts, just… us.” You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep inside.

“Me too,” you admitted, “I didn’t realise how much I needed something like this. Something real.” There was a pause, a quiet space where your eyes met, and you felt something shift—a flicker of connection that went beyond the casual.

Pedro reached across the table, his hand briefly brushing yours, and you caught your breath. His smile was warm and easy, full of that quiet confidence that made the night feel safe. He didn’t know anything about what you’d been through—the panic attacks, the nights when fear took hold so tightly you could barely breathe. He only knew the you sitting here now, laughing softly, sharing stories, making jokes.

“I’m really glad we’re doing this,” he said gently. You smiled back, but inside, the old doubts stirred—could you really let someone in again after everything?

“I wasn’t sure that I would have wanted to be here tonight,” you admitted and it sounded worse in your head, hoping that it would not put off Pedro’s thoughts about you, “not after a year of being out of the dating world. But tonight feels… different.” Pedro’s eyes softened.

“Sometimes the best things come when you least expect them.”

After a while, as the easy laughter died down and the music softened in the background, playing Somebody Else by The 1975, you found yourself wanting to say more—something deeper, more honest. Pedro’s steady gaze gave you the courage you didn’t know you had.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” you began, voice low and a little shaky. “Before I moved here, back when I used to live in the middle of England, in the city called Nottingham, I went through a really hard time. I was back in my home country and something really fucking shit happened.” Pedro was listening patiently, not interrupting your talk.

“I have told myself that I would not speak about it until like the fourth date or something but I feel like if we want to get to know each other, then why the fuck not say it right now,” you chuckled, a bit of a panic surging in your body as the adrenaline increased in you. Your neurodivergent brain was really telling you to say everything out loud, on a proper hamster on the wheel moment.

“I was cheated on and it fucking broke me to bits. I did tell myself that I would never fucking date again or go out for a dinner with a male person so that’s why I was quite hesitant about today. I started to have very strong and bad panic attacks, the anxiety was killing me inside—it was like a shadow I couldn’t shake. I’ve never really talked about it much.” You took a breath and looked at him.

“I didn’t want to scare you off or make things complicated. But I’d rather be an open book than some little bird locked in a cage, pretending everything’s perfect when it’s not.” Pedro reached out, his hand warm over yours, his smile gentle and steady.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said softly. “That means more than you know.” In that moment, something really heavy shifted from your heart and shoulders—a quiet relief, a doorway opening between you, inviting trust. He was an absolute gentleman, something you never thought would happen in your life again. Pedro wanted to make sure that you were seen.

You felt it like the subtle change in air pressure like something that happens before a summer storm appears—gentle, but undeniable. Pedro didn’t let go of your hand right away. His thumb traced a slow, thoughtful line along the edge of your knuckles, not absentmindedly, but as if he were grounding himself in the weight of your presence, in the fact that you were sitting across from him and letting him see just a little more of who you really were.

There was a pause then—not awkward, but thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, eyes searching yours in that way that always made your chest feel too small for your heart.

“Can I ask you something?” he said finally, his voice careful, but not unsure. You gave him a small nod.

“I know I’m flying back to New York soon, and I don’t want to make anything complicated or overwhelming… but would you want to go out with me again? A proper date this time. Just… you and me, somewhere quiet as I know a few places around here.”

You hesitated and were not sure about that—not out of fear, but out of surprise. Not because the idea scared you, but because for the first time in a long time, it didn’t. And that alone felt like something worth acknowledging. You looked down at your joined hands, then back up into his eyes. There was no pressure in them, only warmth. Only patience.

“Why not,” you said with a slow, genuine smile, your voice light but sure. “I’m actually feeling… comfortable with you.” The word ‘comfortable’ wasn’t flashy, wasn’t poetic—but it was rare, and true, and exactly what he seemed to understand the value of. Pedro smiled like he’d just been handed something delicate and precious, and nodded.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then let’s make it a date.”

Three days later, the real date happened—an evening that shimmered with a different kind of anticipation, heavier than casual, lighter than pressure, but undeniable all the same. The restaurant Pedro chose was nestled on a quiet side street in Fitzrovia, one of those hidden gems that felt both intimate and electric, the sort of place that whispered of slow conversations and long glances across candlelight. The notes and sounds of different genres of music spilled warmly from the speakers, not too loud, just enough to score the night with a pulse of elegance. You wore something that made you feel beautiful—not for anyone else, but for yourself—a soft satin dress the colour of red wine that brushed your knees and shimmered just a little when you moved. Pedro stood when you arrived, pulling your chair out for you with a shy, almost boyish smile, and you felt your heart stutter unexpectedly at the quiet charm of it.

As the night unfolded, the conversation deepened in that unspoken way two people sometimes fall into when the timing is just right. You laughed—really laughed—at something ridiculous he said about trying to make sourdough during lockdown and accidentally creating what he described as "a weaponised crouton." In return, he listened with that warm, undivided attention that made you feel like your words had gravity, like they deserved to be heard. You talked about your favourite films, the weirdly specific type of cereal you couldn’t live without, your favourite parks in London, and whether or not dogs should be allowed on restaurant patios (you both agreed wholeheartedly that they should). Each time your hands brushed on the table, each shared smile held just a little more weight, a little more charged air, as if the night was quietly asking you both to step closer, if only a little.

Halfway through the meal, somewhere between the second glass of wine and the shared chocolate fondant you didn’t plan on ordering, a strange warmth had settled in your chest—not from the alcohol, not even from the food, but from the simple, gentle truth that you felt safe. Not just physically safe, but emotionally, too. You could feel it in the way Pedro looked at you—not with hunger or expectation, but with something steadier, more curious. A part of you, the part still tender from your past, wanted to pull away, to protect what was still healing—but another part, braver now, let itself lean in.

“I didn’t think I’d feel like this again,” you said quietly, swirling the last sip of wine in your glass, your voice dipped in vulnerability. You weren’t even sure what “this” was, but you knew it mattered. Pedro didn’t flinch, didn’t try to fill the silence with jokes or assurances. He just reached across the table, his fingers curling gently around yours, his thumb brushing the back of your hand.

“Neither did I,” he said, his voice low, sincere, and steady. “But maybe that’s why it’s worth seeing where this goes.” There were no fireworks, no declarations of love, but at that moment—two hands joined across a table in the corner of a softly lit restaurant—it felt like a beginning. A quiet promise between two people still figuring themselves out, but willing, cautiously, to try.

As the evening wound down, the plates were cleared and the final drops of wine sipped slowly, both of you reluctant to move too quickly, to shatter the delicate stillness that had settled between you. The conversation had softened into low tones and shared glances, into stories told with your hands and laughter traded in the pauses. The rain had begun sometime during dessert, soft pitter-patters at first, then a full symphony against the windows. London outside had turned blurry and grey, its chaos muted by the falling water, streetlights smudged into watercolor glows.

Pedro walked you out, always the gentleman, one hand at the small of your back as the maître d’ held the door. The air was cool and damp, the kind that kissed your cheeks and curled at your hairline. You both stood beneath the overhang, watching the rain coat the pavement, the smell of wet stone and the far-off sense of the dust hanging between you. Your taxi hadn’t arrived yet—it was running a few minutes late—and neither of you minded.

You turned to say something, maybe a thank you or a joke about the weather, but Pedro beat you to it—not with words, but with a look. There was a softness to it, a careful weighing of a question behind his eyes. He shifted just a little closer, close enough that you felt his warmth, but not enough to crowd.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, and his voice was quieter now, not nervous exactly, but reverent, as if he didn’t want to disturb the shape of this moment. You nodded.

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Do I have your consent… to kiss you?” The question hung in the air, simple and respectful and more intimate than anything he could have done without asking.

There was a beat of silence—not hesitation, not fear. Just stillness, like your heart needed a second to catch up. You felt something shift inside you again, not a door this time, but a window cracking open, letting in air you hadn’t breathed in ages. You smiled, slow and sincere, your cheeks warm even in the rain.

“Yes,” you said, your voice soft but certain. “You do.”

And when he leaned in—gentle, unrushed—it wasn’t the kind of kiss that made your world spin, but the kind that made it feel like, for the first time in a long time, it had steadied.

The kiss was exactly how the films tried to sell it—the good ones, the ones you used to watch on weekends with a blanket pulled to your chin and hope tucked somewhere quiet inside you. It was soft at first, barely there, as if Pedro was still giving you a chance to change your mind. But you didn’t. You leaned into it, into him, into the moment that felt like it had stepped straight out of a romcom and into your real life.

His lips were warm, unhurried, and somehow... familiar, like a song you didn’t know you remembered until the melody started playing. It didn’t make your knees weak or your heart race into a panic—instead, it calmed everything. Your shoulders didn’t tense. You didn’t feel like you were about to be pushed aside or left hanging in the dark again.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the press of someone else’s lips against yours didn’t feel like a risk—it felt like home. Like permission to stay a little longer. Like maybe, just maybe, the worst had already passed, and this—this simple, steady kiss in the middle of a rainy London street—was something you were allowed to feel good about. Something that could be yours. You didn’t want this night to end, as you were telling yourself - expect the unexpected. The thought of Pedro going back to the United States was something that you did not want to happen but his work was there and you didn’t have a say in it - you just accepted it.

The days after Pedro flew back to New York passed with a strange kind of ache. You weren’t unfamiliar with missing someone—it was a feeling that had carved itself into you long before—but this was different. This wasn’t the hollow silence of absence; it was a hum beneath your skin, a low thrum of connection stretched across an ocean. You found yourself looking forward to his texts more than your morning coffee. The FaceTime calls became part of your routine—some sleepy and quiet, others filled with stories about his long days on set or you venting about the nightmare of the Northern and Piccadilly Line at peak times and rush hours. Sometimes you’d fall asleep with the call still connected, the glow of your screen dimmed and his breathing soft through your headphones like a lullaby you hadn’t known you needed. You did snore but he did not mind it, although in your anxious brain, it was telling that he definitely did.

Pedro missed you, too. He didn’t hide it. He told you in ways that felt easy and honest—“I saw someone at Whole Foods today who looked like you from behind. I almost called your name like a total idiot.” Or, “The pizza here tastes like cardboard now. It’s your fault - your European taste has changed me.” And in quieter moments, he’d say things like, “Wish I was there tonight,” voice low, thumb rubbing absently against the side of his whiskey glass. There was a tenderness to the way he said it. A yearning that settled in your chest and made you whisper, “Me too,” even when it hurt.

Four more weeks passed like that—half-lived, half-waiting—and then he booked the flight. No big declarations. Just a simple text one morning: “Coming back next Friday. I can’t wait to see you.”

This time, you invited him to your flat.

It was still strange, letting someone into that private, quiet space you’d built for yourself in North London. A place that had become your little sanctuary—the one you’d slowly reclaimed after heartbreak and fear. But it felt right. It felt like the next step you were meant to be ready for.

The buzz of your intercom jolted through the stillness of your flat, pulling your heart into a stuttered rhythm as you moved toward the door, equal parts anticipation and nerves pooling in your chest. You opened it slowly, fingers trembling slightly on the handle, and there he was—Pedro—standing in the dim, golden light of the late afternoon, framed by the hallway of your building like some beautiful, familiar scene from a film you didn’t want to end. He looked the same and yet different somehow—maybe it was the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, or the relief that visibly softened his features the moment you stepped into view. He wore his usual soft hoodie layered beneath a tailored coat, dark jeans that clung just right, and that grin—the crooked, sleepy one you’d seen over blurry FaceTime calls, now right here in front of you. In his hands, a bouquet of tulips—your favourites—fresh, delicate, still beaded with the faintest hint of water, in a pale blush pink so soft it made your throat tighten. In the crook of his other arm, a bottle of the same white wine you’d both accidentally gotten tipsy on at the bar in Soho all those weeks ago.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low and warm, like the word had been waiting on his tongue for far too long.

“I come bearing gifts... and a really average case of jet lag.” His eyes searched yours, half teasing, half sincere, and you couldn’t help but laugh—one of those real, from-the-stomach laughs that bubbled out before you could think. You stepped aside to let him in, and as he passed through your doorway, everything about your flat—the familiar books stacked by the window, the soft throw blanket draped over your worn couch, the faint scent of the candle you always lit in the evenings—suddenly felt brighter, more significant. Pedro dropped his bag gently in the hallway without taking his eyes off you, then leaned in with no hesitation and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close like he’d been counting down the minutes to this exact embrace. You sank into him instinctively, your face pressed into the fabric of his hoodie, his arms secure around your waist, and for a long, quiet moment, the world outside ceased to exist—no ticking clocks, no emails, no endless distance—just the warmth of him, real and solid, right here.

Then, without a word, he leaned back just enough to see your face, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your breath hitch. He didn’t rush. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your cheek and then—slowly, deliberately—he leaned in and kissed you. It was soft at first, gentle in the way that said I missed you before it said anything else. It wasn’t urgent or frenzied like in the movies—it was intentional, grounding and quietly electric. The kind of kiss you’d always seen in romcoms, the kind where the camera lingers, the world goes quiet and everything else blurs out except for two people standing in a hallway lit by the promise of something unfolding. His lips moved against yours with the kind of care that didn’t try to take anything, just offered. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t flinch or hold your breath or feel the old fear curling at the edges. You felt steady. You felt chosen. You felt… home.

Later, after the tulips were placed carefully in a glass jug and the wine poured into mismatched glasses you’d forgotten you even had, the two of you settled into the low hum of an ordinary evening—the kind that asked for nothing more than time and closeness. You didn’t bother with anything elaborate. No plans. No pretense. Just the quiet lull of your living room, low lamps casting soft amber across the walls, and Amy Winehouse crooning from your old speaker, her smoky voice curling like incense through the room. Pedro had kicked off his shoes and was now stretched out on the sofa, his back leaned comfortably into the armrest, one arm slung across the top as you lay with your legs draped over his lap. It was domestic, almost dangerously so, but it didn’t feel heavy—it felt good— it just felt…real. His hand rested on your thigh, warm and unmoving, just there, a gentle reminder that he was with you, and you were with him.

There were kisses, here and there—nothing urgent or scripted, just soft brushes of lips exchanged in between shared comments about the music or the weather or how surprisingly nice your North London flat was despite your constant complaints about it over FaceTime. His presence was steady, grounding, like gravity reimagined in human form. And for the first time in a while, your body didn’t feel like it was bracing for anything bad. You were just... there. Existing. Breathing. Safe. The kind of safe you almost didn’t recognise at first because it had been so long.

But then, just as “Love Is a Losing Game” faded into the next track, the atmosphere shifted—not in a bad way, but like something was pressing gently against the surface, asking to be let in. Pedro’s fingers, which had been absently tracing lazy shapes against your leg, stilled. His eyes found yours—not intense, not heavy, just... clear. Present. His voice was low, careful.

“I have a question to ask,” he said.

You sat up slightly, heart ticking up, and nodded, trying to read the sudden seriousness in his face.

“I know we’ve been taking our time, figuring this out in our own way,” he began, voice steady but laced with something fragile around the edges. “And I’ve really loved that—every moment of it. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about what this actually is. What we are.” He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in small circles. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... are you ready to take this to another level? Like, properly—me and you. As in, boyfriend and girlfriend.”

The question hung there, full of breath and weight and possibility.

Your mind didn’t go blank—it went loud. Questions rushed in like a flood: How does he really feel about me? Is he just being kind? Does the age gap ever make him hesitate, even if he’s never shown it? What about my anxiety—does he really know what he’s signing up for? The days I might shut down or pull away, the nights I might cry without a clear reason? Can he handle the version of me that isn’t put together and pretty?

Your breath caught, not in fear exactly, but in the overwhelm of suddenly being seen so clearly and offered something real. Pedro must have noticed the flicker of doubt in your eyes, because he squeezed your hand just slightly and tilted his head.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to say yes because you think it’s what I want to hear. I want you to say yes if you want this too. I already know you’re not perfect. You think I don’t see when you get quiet and go somewhere else in your head? I know. And it doesn’t scare me. If anything... it makes me want to be here even more.”

You blinked, lips parting, your heart tightening with something that almost felt like relief. The part of you that always braced for people to run... eased back just a little.

“I don’t know if I’ll always get it right,” you said quietly, voice a little shaky. “But I think... I want to give it a go, again. I want to try it with you. Because I feel safe with you. And that doesn’t happen often.”

Pedro smiled, his eyes softening, and leaned forward to kiss you again—slow and sure and full of something that didn’t need words.

And just like that, something shifted—quietly, powerfully. No fireworks. No dramatic music swells. Just the steady heartbeat of two people choosing each other in a world that rarely makes things simple.

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