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taeyamayang · 1 year

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Hey hey hey! Sorry for the late reply but I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING!! literally when you @‘d me the Ray Bradbury quote I was like “welp that’ll do it” and finished the kuroo Drabble. It’s def not my fav but it’s a start! After I wrote that I wrote a Yams story that was originally gonna be a part of a different series that I scrapped. But I really like the idea so I made it a one-shot. I really like it and am proud of it!! I just hope by the time you read this someone else besides me has read it 😅. I don’t Necessarily want it to blow up or anything but starting out as a fanfic writer is hard. How did you do it?

About the books thing growing up I lived with my grandparents and wasn’t really connected to the internet like kids my age were until like 8 (which is still v young but I grew up kinda fast so 8 was like 13 to me I guess) so I just read a lot cause we didn’t have much to do (and talking to people was hard- so books it was) besides watch the same old movies on VHS and play with Polly pockets. A lot of my toys were my aunts who was like a decade older than me as well. All of that was some of the reasons I identified a lot with the gen before me and I remember talking with my (other) aunt whose like nine years older and her friend reminiscing about when they were kids and I was like “ahh I remember those” and she’s like gIRL HOW U WERE LIKE TWO😭 fanfic has ruined actual books for me. Not saying fanfic is way better, and I still like to read actual books, but why get invested in all these new characters when you can read about the ones you already know and love? And plus it’s more convenient then actually carrying a book around.

OOH REMEMBER WHEN I TOLD YOU HOW I ALWAYS GET HIT WITH BALLS AND YOU WERE LIKE HEY THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD FANFIC IDEA? well that’s not exactly how it happened but guess what! I’m writting it! I have 630 words down so far so I know it’s at least gonna hit the 1000 mark at the rate I’m going. I’m so excited for you to read it!! Also I may take you up on the editing or what’s it called Beta reading? Where people read it over and give the ok to post? I was gonna do that with the Yams one shot but I was too excited! I will absolutely keep u in mind tho, thank you!!!

And for the thing about the schools and the pillows…I CANT BELIEVE I WAS RIGHT WHAT THE FUCK??? that is so wild to me omg. Also American tv is fucking weird when it comes to sex. Like when I was in high school only a few people had sex and it wasn’t a big deal? I mean I was very introverted and wasn’t popular so I might not be the best resource but still. Maybe it’s a newer thing not to care as much about sex with a more body positive gen or wherever but I don’t really think peer pressure or anything was a big deal. Honestly? Peer pressure in general barely exists anymore. Adults were always like “say no to peer pressure” when it was just one guy offering weed or whatever and a person saying nah and that was IT. I think there was more pressure in feeling left out if anything. The media is so weird portraying teens but we gotta remember- these are old people writting and producing these shows. They also get paid to make it dramatic and not realistic.

I hope everything worked out with your ex boyfriend/boyfriend! And I totally don’t think you are ranting and if you are, shot just call me a therapist LMAO. dating is so fucking messy. Everyone expects it to be certain kind of way and they get anxious when it’s not. People gotta learn that relationship differ for everyone and it’s ok to break up and move on when you feel like things aren’t working out! There doesn’t have to be hard feelings or anything either idk why society has to make breaking up so messy- I know it can be and things don’t always end well but they can end normally and you don’t need to feel bad about doing what’s best for both of y’all. Staying in a relationship that doesn’t feel right Is just bad for both parties. Then again, I’ve never really been in a relationship and I’m still a virgin because I’m demisexual and that strong connection is vital and I’m too fucking busy with my own shit to get that. But I think what I said still stands. Bruh I’ve been reading so much fanfic and while reading I’m like “wow this shit would never happen to me and my shy ass” bUT I STILL WANT A MEET CUTE!!! but I have to remember that I’m reading about anime men who are too good to be real LMAO. I have high standards ig. Finding a partner is gonna be fun. Also I know what you mean when you said being Intimate is hard because girls are taught to always say no to sex for multiple reasons. A. Religion and purity for being a female and slut shaming and B. R*pe and sexual assault. Like I listen to too many true crime stories! I know the statistics! And people just hook up with others??? Wtf??? Idk this might just be my demisexual ass but no thank youuuu

BRO I WISH I HAD SMALL FEET! THEY DONT MAKE CUTE SHOES FOR BIG ASS FEET LIKE MINEEEE. When I was a freshman I learned about how having small feet was attractive in china and how they would bind the feet of women to have small cute feet but I never heard of small feet being lucky. I did hear about big feet meaning big- uh I assume you know where I’m going with that.

I don’t read my journal that much cuz ig makes me wanna cry but I do read it when I feel particularly down. I still have contact with Kylie (I think I called her that- since i used fake names for them both) but we don’t talk much. Sadly I don’t have Daias number which makes me so sad cuz I miss her dearly.

Ok so the murder in my town was kinda on brand for it??? OK LEMME EXPLAIN. I live in an upper middle class town with good schools and such so a lot of wealthy families move here. Some areas of this town are more fancy than others (the farther away from downtown you are- i happen to live pretty close to downtown but ANYWAYS) even some big celebrities mentioned wanting to move here. my town has a pretty uppity spoiled reputation because of that. Like most of the crimes around here are from spoiled brats that get bored and do drugs or rob people. The culprit of this case was spoiled by his mother in every degree as a child and refused to be independent and when his mom cut him off he killed both of his parents and his one sister and her husband (bc the sister kept telling him and Their mom that he needs to get a life.) the sister and her husband live in the town over so technically it didn’t just happen in the town i live in (but!!! My old residental school was IN THAT TOWN! not the same area since they lived in the nice mansion part but still.) I also got lunch with my old teacher (the one with the books) and told her about the case and she original thought I was talking aBOUT A DIFFERENT MURDER! THAT HAPPENED EVEN CLOSER TO ME IN MY TOWN. she’s like “oh is it the case where the lady drowned her kids in the bathtub?” LIKE IM SORRY- WHAT??? she like “oh yeah it happened a lil while ago tho. The college bought the house and now they use it for administration or something since no one wanted to move there.” THIS IS THE SAME COLLEGE RIGHT DOWNTOWN!!! I PROBABLY WALKED PAST IT BEFORE WHEN I GOT LOST GETTING CUPCAKES. ok quick side note- my high school was downtown and we had free lunch where we can go off campus for food and I decided I wanted a cupcake from this cupcake place not that far from the school. Since I didn’t wanna be late I pulled up my old friend google maps to take me back the quickest way- THAT WAS A BAD IDEA!!!!! I ended up wayyyyy out of downtown and into this weird residental housing street soooo far away. I ended up calling my mom like “moooommmm…. I think I’m lost.” And she was like ???? “Aren’t u at school???” THEN I HAD TO SEND MY ADRESS AND SHE PICKED ME UP. I WAS SITTING ON THE SIDEWALK ALL ALONE AND SAD. I WAS LIKE 16!!! my mom wasn’t even mad LMAO. She just sighed and told me to get in. It was a good cupcake tho. ANYWAY BACK TO MURDER- apparently one of her students parents got murdered too or something like a decade ago… LET ME JUST RESTATE THAT I LIVE IN THE MOST PICKET FENCE UPPITY TOWN EVER. I know what I’m saying makes it look all shady but the town i live in is one of the safest towns in the country- let alone my state. It just goes to show a lot of shady things happen when you aren’t looking for them. A quick google search goes a looooong way if you know what I mean- hopefully that doesn’t scare you if it did I’m so sorryyyy lol.

I’ve heard a lot about some famous cases from Japan, like the one about the little girl that killed her classmate (THAT SOUNDS SO BAD OUT OF CONTEXT WTF) or the Kyoto Anime massacre and the Junko Furuta case. The last two are very interesting to me in different ways. The first because I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before and the outcome is very unique? If that is the right word and just different from other arson cases when it comes to the motive and even the aftermath is different, like the perpetrator being the first person to receive a full body artificial skin graft. And because Kyoto Animations is a very big anime company which produced movies and shows that I- a person so far away- has watched before. And the Junko Furuta case was one of the few cases that ever made me cry and stuck with me for a while (that makes me seem so cold blooded I just don’t cry often because when I do EVERYTHING comes out) - but it was some of the most gruesome shit I have ever heard. I feel like the way I’m mentioning them is kinda disrespectful but I don’t want to go into detail about them because A. It’s really depressing for a tumblr ask and B. I wouldn’t do the stories justice. You also probably know about them anyway since you also like true crime and live closer geographically but if not I heard both of these cases from the YouTuber I mentioned a few times before Elenor Neale. Junkos case is kind of similar to one that happened here about a girl named Sylvia Likens, just in terms of sheer brutality.

OK THATS ENOUGH MURDER! but I wish I lived closer to Japan, since my mom told me she’d take me there after I graduated at some point- but she needs to get on a smaller plane first since she’s never been on one and the first one she’s going on will not be the 14 hour flight to Japan. So now I’m kinda just waiting and saving up lol.

I believe you did tell me about hearing voices in your house! Very spooky indeed. One time in a different house, a doll appeared on my bed out of nowhere (apparently it was my aunts who gave me to Polly pockets so that part wasn’t that weird) but the doll had a gold necklace with a smiley face pendant with a big round nose. Everyone says they never seen it before and honestly? I believe them. I have no idea where it came from and I held it close to me (bc spooky things are cool) until my little sister got jealous and broke it smh.

OOOH IM SO EXCITED ABOUT YOUR STICKER BUSINESS!!! IT SOUNDS SO COOL! I don’t play Genshin myself but my best friend does so I know some things about it. Her fav character is childe so I know zhongli and how he’s a god of some sort that childe buys everything for. I know there is a best friend duo and one of them hunts ghosts (bc my bestie said they remind her of us) and i know that childe calls everyone comrade and he’s a fatui harbringer with a little brother who thinks he is a toy maker. Oh and pimon (I think is her name) is annoying and Klee is cute and makes bombs. Oh there’s also Ito who’s like an Oni that’s a himbo and Thoma (I like him a lot. He’s cute) with the lil doggo! Your Zhongli sticker is so cute!!!

I’m also glad you take time to chat with me!! It makes me so happy whenever I get these messages. I hope you like my writting! By the time you get this my bokuto fic should be out!!!

And here! Take some cat pics as a treat!

i'm back with a communicable brain. dude, would you believe that i am building a sleigh.. a freaking life sized santa sleigh for christmas?? it's for community competition and i was tasked to build a sleigh and 9 reindeers. ugh, it's fun but very tiring i might be able to show you the sleigh the next time i write to you.

i read feline antics and kuroo in your fic is canon!! omg lol and when you mentioned about yams fic i was like "wait...why is the fic not on my dash (considering that i have few mutuals/following)." then it turns out I DIDN'T FOLLOW YOU?? WHAT THE HECK i swear i thought i did last time i read feline antics but my pea brain forgot or thought i did (i'm very forgetful if you hadn't catch on yet. might as well name myself dori ffs) anyway, so i followed you and saw your yams fic and holy shit??? 6k?? DUDE 6K?? woah, i am so so proud of you because i remember you mentioned to me before that you couldn't write anything/one shots because you always tend to drop them off or left them unfinishes bUT 6K?? DAAAMN. i really like the way you portrayed yamaguchi's anxiety because it's raw, heartfelt in a way that i could feel his worries through your writing. i'm sorry if this entire paragraph is a commentary about your recent works gsmsbsns lol and about beta reading... ARE YOU SURE?? ME?? WHAT AM I?? kidding but i'm always down maybe we can talk over it on discord if you have one (i rarely open my dms here bc opening dms means opening notifications and if im not in the right mood to check notifs i tend to forget to reply to comments, ask games, etc. aghh you know that gsnsbs)

how i started out as a fic writer is not actually a plan lmao after watching haikyuu i reopened my dying tumblr blog bc i know that great artists thrive here so i wanted to check out artworks of haikyuu. then, i saw that a number of blogs writes for haikyuu and i was like "wow fics are still a thing here on tumblr, huh." then i tried writing my own and took my tendency to daydream about my fixations to my advantage. i love thinking about how these set of characters react to a situation (this prolly the reason why i took up psychology as a major lol i love observing people and their personality and behavior) then out of whim i posted. not really thinking of numbers or feedbacks, i posted bc i know that only a few people will get to see it so there are less judgments on me since i'm a beginner writer on this platform. then, as i kept posting more and more people came to my blog. and although now, i still am not a huge blog, it's always good to keep a mindset that you're writing for yourself (tho numbers are rewarding, we get that) and that the people who read your works doesn't know you. you can't be judged based on your writing bc that's just one side of who you are and it also comforts me to think that there people who genuinely enjoy my work. i'll be lying if i say that there are no times where my priorities lean towards writing for my audience. i did at one point but ended on a writer's block lol. if you keep it that way you'll end up burntout (this happened to me too before heh). so, in short, i started writing just because i can and i didn't really thought about the negative things people will think of me, i just did bc i enjoyed it. also, i think consistency plays a huge role in thisㅡnot only to keep people engaged but also to keep writing as a habit. if you make it a habit, your writing gets better and better. that's just based on my experience lol. alsooo tho one year of writing here is still a short-time, i have never encountered anyone calling me a shitty writer and to stop writing because my words are useless and childish LOL what i'm trying to say is worries about people judging you and your work doesn't happen often and if that ever happens, they're the problem, never yours. so yeah i keep that in mind too. AND if that ever happens to you, i'll be on the frontline defending you. leave the roasting to me lol.

about the tv shows and sex (i feel like i have to at least give a topic beforeni start a paragraph bc i reply SO LATE that i feel like you might have forgotten what we were talking about) i agree! it's more of the pressure of being left out. one is pressured to hangout after school because of the fear of not being included in a group. tho i was peer pressure to kiss someone in class for fun but i was like "uhm, nope!" so i made a petty (i think wise *wink*) excuse of going to the comfort room first before doing it but what i did was i went straight home without telling anyone. i am not doing that for their entertainment lol 💀and that's cool kids for you 💀

OH! ex boyfriend... uh.. it's a girlfriend 🤣 everything worked well so thanks! we broke up lmaooooo welp it's for the best. im onto finding a better match i guess lol bruuhh i get the strong connection but besides that i also want someone to balance me out. i'm literally just a speck of dust sometimes, you know floating and minding my own business aka my fixations and hobbies in life. kudos to you tho! you give spot on advice. i mean having zero experience is okay when you give out relationship advices bc to me i think that's a fresh perspective.

yeah, small feet are lucky. small faces are pretty. button noses are pretty. small curvy lips are pretty. everything has to be small to be lucky or pretty but eyes... IT HAS TO HUGE AND DOE-LIKE i swear to fucking god the beauty standard here is ridiculous tho people my age dont usuallu give a fuck about it lol but the older generations OH THEY DO but that doesnt matter we were taught to respect elders and their opinions (as part of our culture) but that doesn't mean we will up to their unrealistic expectations. oh just to mention to you! when i was a kid i was pretty active. i play outside a lot and i love ride my bicycle and do races with my friends. one time my aunt (my father's sister) warned me of not "playing too much" bc my calves will develop man like muscles and it's not a good for a girl to have calf muscles because if i wear a dress and heeled shoes it will show. i was i think 8 or 9 and i was like... sOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT so i went to my mom and told her about it and she was like "what?! she told you that?! that's an exaggeration! just keep cycling or running, don't mind her." (my mom doesnt really care about physical looks whereas my aunts-dad side CARE A LOT) they don't even like women wearing clothes that are too revealing so what i did was i wore a tube on a relative's birthday party. they cant call me out bc they know my dad doesnt care (he even buys me cropped tops) and my mom too. anyway, so yes small ankles and calves are a thing too. IT'S RIDICULOUS I SWEAR.

oh god the murders in your town?? THAT SOUNDS LIKE FROM AMERICAN HORROR STORY OR SMTH. is it not weird that the college bought where the murder took place? like if i were to study there i'll be thinking about it a lot... actually... that sounds a bit like my uni... not exactly my uni but the place where my uni sits. so my country was under a colony before (war times and all that) and the city where my uni is the main city where the locals and foreigners interacted during 1800s and since the woke locals are against the colonization, a lot of them were shot, killed, and thrown to the nearby river. and if you take a few strides from my uni there's like an underground tunnel recently discovered that turned into a tourist spot. it's downright creepy because the way down to the tunnel and the tunnel itself is sketchy tight, the way/tunnel leads to a huge boxed underground like a deadend. my friends and i went afterclass and when we reached the dead end we looked up and see like a railing(?) idk how to describe it but other tourists were shock that people are piling underground and they can see us. apparently, that hole used to be a prison for locals who fought for our freedom (and other criminals too) they were kept and stuck undergound, left them there to die (die of starvation and stuff). it was creepy bc i was literally standing where almost hundreds of people died and i didn't know. we only knew of it when we reached the dead end. as it turns out, there are many other tunnels with the same structure near the place. sooo yeah.

omg speaking of the two japanese murders you mentioned i dont know about them so ill check it out!! and about your cupcake incident OMG THATS SO CUTE WTH IM SORRY FOR LAUGHIN but i just think its adorable that you ended up lost for a good cupcake. cant blame you tho i loveee a good cupcake. where you able to get back in class without an earful?

ahhhh i live near japan but i can't fly there yet bc of school (but since i graduated who knows heh). you know how crazy asian schools are? yes, they're crazy. so my family and i barely have time to travel outside of the country without taking a week off from school. we traveled once before to two countries it was hongkong and vietnam but i had to file a one week leave (it was tedious with all the papers i have to submit and all that ugh) and thank god that one week is just school festival week so i didnt miss anything besides the fun. that was in elementary but came middle school and high school.. heckkk after class study sessions is real like the one in anime especially if you're a senior. i remember my mom's friend being a math teacher so every summer i go to their place to train my skills in math and i'm begging my mom not to drop me off to their place 💀 imagine spending summer solving math problems HA! still, i'm never the best in math lol

thanks for the wishes i hope to launch my sticker shop soon apparently i hae forgotten my skills on photoshop HA HA HA and i'm trying to recall my lessons on it BUT FUCKKK anyway you a lot for someone who doesnt play genshin if you ever plan on playing it soon let me know!! i would love to know (its funny how you mentioned almost all daddies of genshin bc saaaame ughh childe supreme sugardaddy and a meme)

here are some haikyuu stickers i made recently it isnt final yet butttt here have a look!

WHY ARE YOUR CATS SO PHOTOGENIC?? THEYRE ALL SO BEAUTIFUL AND SOOO CALMING TO LOOK AT!! THATS UNFAIR bc momo knows when a cam is pointed at her and she just runs away. and the huge pikachu too!! I WANT THAT AAAHHH

here have momo sitting on the sleigh im working on hehe

sorry for the long wait but i lovee writing to you whenever i receive a message from you i get all excited! you're a good communicator and thanks for waiting for my replies since i take eons to do so. i hope you keep writing!! i'll always be here to support a friend and a fellow writer. cheers!

#myve.😺#pea.asks

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currentlytoobusyreadingsmut · 2 years

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the “slumber party”

. ❥·˚ ༘ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you’re having a sleepover with your two best friends jennifer and anita. you three have been best friends since you guys were in preschool now recent high school students, can you handle the sudden change in the dynamic of the friendship between you three?

. ❥·˚ ༘ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: jennifer check, anita (needy) lesnicki, fem!reader

. ❥·˚ ༘ 𝗮/𝗻: this is my first time writing smut let alone publishing something so criticism is welcome. very new to this all so please be friendly, other then that i don’t have much to say. ily guys<3

. ❥·˚ ༘ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: (minors dni) mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, language, smut, pillow humping, dirty talk, degrading/and praising, fingering, slight dumbification kink, d/s dynamics, spitting, something along the lines of cum eating

the “slumber party”

you just got out of school, you and anita planned to head to jennifers so she just caught a ride with you. once you got to jennifer’s, she insisted you all got in your pjs so it was more comfortable. you spent the late afternoon watching movies and doing each others makeup while enjoying a glass of rosé. you got up after anita finished your eyeliner and said “we need something stronger, i’ll be back!”

once you came back, you see jennifer and anita laying watching yet another chick flick.. slowly getting bored since this is probably the 5th movie you guys have watched. you sit beside the girls passing them tequila shots, and suggest another activity. “can we play.. hmm, never have i ever?” the girls jump up from the position they were laying in quite excited for your idea, anita and jennifer grabs the shots. jennifer exclaims “oh my god, yes! that is an amazing idea.” you three quickly take the shots, refilling the shot glasses until the bottle is empty passing questions between the three of you.

“you’re telling me you’ve never even touched yourself?” you asked anita, jennifer looked at her and was teasing her and you kind of felt bad bringing it up as jennifer literally just called her a loser over something so personal and a choice. you knew anita was a sensitive girl so you tried to change the topic. but it didn’t quite work as jennifer whispers in your ear, “lets teach her..” jennifer’s hot breath against your skin sent shivers down your body feeling the heat down below.. you nod and look up at anita, playing with her hair moving it behind her ear. “anita, let us teach you?” although anita found herself very nervous, she agreed. jennifer passes you a pillow and you sit it down in front of anita patting on it, anita smiles up at you before playing herself on the pillow. you shake your head no before folding the pillow into a fold, “like this.” anita sits back down on the folds of the pillow and starts to grind against it, you and jennifer completely turned on by the innocence found in anita. jennifer pulls you into a kiss while anita continued to grind against the pillow and all you can hear is her let out a throaty moan trying to say something. jennifer pulls away from you “speak up you slut.” the word jennifer spit out rings through your head, you look at anita expecting her to be upset but you find her riding the pillow faster letting out the loudest moans and you bite your lip.

you slide your hand in anitas pants, pulling them to her knees before you find yourself kissing anita passionately and your fingers deep and curled inside of anita, the way your name rolls off her tongue while she is moaning is the biggest turn on ever. you feel jennifer pulling down your panties and her tongue along your clit, letting out a throaty moan in anitas mouth.

the next couple hours was a blur.. you, jennifer and anita took turns pleasing each other and you could swear you have came over 5 times. at one point you thought anita could have past out, you and jennifer took turns eating anita out, while fingering her. she lost herself to you and jennifer and all she wanted was you guys, her moans filled the room and she kept repeating between you and jen’s name. “i’m going to cum! don’t stop, please.. i need you gu-” her words are cut off by you shoving your fingers in her mouth allowing her to taste herself, her body melts by your touch and you move away from her clit letting jennifer take over. you play with her hard nipple and looks at her in her eyes “youre such a needy slut.” you whisper in her ear, you don’t know if it was your words or jennifer’s tongue but all you knew was she definitely came, you slide back down flicking your tongue through her arousal not being able to get enough of her. “good job needy, you did a great job.” the three of you spent the night making sure each of you had gotten to please themselves and cum at least 5 times. it was the most intimate and beautiful moment you spent with your best friends, never wanting this to end. all you heard was jennifer mumble “my pretty sluts, i love you guys.. i love my pretty sluts.” what does this mean for your friendship, is this an on-going thing, feelings or just lust? (leave suggestions)

#smut #jennifer check #jennifer x needy #needy pussy #smut rp #jennifers body #so needy #wattpad #fanfic #writing #bad idea #female reader #wlw smut #wlw post

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yuzukult · 3 years

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glossed over. (m) || nyt & reader

title: glossed over. pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, best friend’s brother, idiots to lovers, coming-of-age (?), college!au, slowburn (?), pining, 90s theme word count: 18.2k warnings: explicit smut, profanity; oc gets wasted at a party. prompt: times in your life where you thought nakamoto yuta was just your best friend’s older brother, a guy you had a little childish crush on. but little did you know, there was more than what meets the eye. a/n: this took way longer than expected. but this is for the 90s love collab event! check out the other authors and fics :D also, thanks to @/masterninjacow for helping me come up with a title despite not really knowing the route of the fic LOL also thanks to all my friends for beta-reading this! :) this fic style definitely is different from the other ones i've written so... hope you guys enjoy!

The Introduction

I like you. There’s a lot of weight in those words, oftentimes used lightly when expressing content on an encounter with someone, for an object, or even an experience, but it also carries a burden. You’ll never know if the person that you’re saying this to reciprocates those very emotions—and if they didn’t, would you be hurt in the end? But you’ll never truly understand the feeling of rejection from someone who doesn’t mirror those emotions—specifically if they’re from a certain boy.

And if you’ve learned anything about boys while growing up, it’s that crushing on your best friend’s older brother is slightly more common than you’d think.

Especially if it’s your best friend’s older brother.

Back in high school, it was universally known that Yura had the coolest older sibling in your friend group. The girls that hung out with the two of you were practically drooling over the sight of him—long, jet black locks, piercings that decorated his lobe and cartilages, all while he drove that 1990 Jaguar XJS in a customized midnight blue vinyl. He was part of the popular crowd at the time; hung out with the jocks, despite not being an athlete in any of the sports teams, and even getting along with a troublesome crew, the guys that constantly loiter outside of convenience stores and smoke in their cars until their lungs go black, and he didn’t even smoke.

Nonetheless, although he had that reputation, he remained… authentically nice. He invariably drove Yura home from school, even stayed behind those extra hours or ensured that he came back in time before she finished cheerleading practices, and some days, he’d drive you home too.

Nakamoto Yuta wasn’t just the cool, popular guy in school. He was a good brother. A loving son, a courteous friend—he was the definition of what a genuinely affable guy was. Literal textbook definition of perfection, or for whatever they listed under the phrase for ‘who-you’d-take-home-to-your-mom.’ Albeit that’s not what’s really running through your mind at that age.

He’s amiable and caring, altruistic when it comes to his friends, and more when it’s his family. Whenever his mom would cook dinner, he’d help cut the vegetables. And after eating, he’s already started to wash the dishes and cleared out the table. Or when his dad needed a hand with the at-home oil change for their cars—Yuta never hesitated to stop whatever he was doing just to assist him.

Simply put, Yuta had a pure heart.

And because of his pure heart, you couldn’t control yourself when you fell for him later on, it’s inevitable that you’d end up like all of Yura’s other friends. He never made it easy in the first place, especially when he gave you those tender gazes that had your heart melting like a stick of butter sitting on the kitchen counter on the hottest day of summer.

He’s just… that guy. The one that seems so out of reach, although a walk away from your best friend’s bedroom. You’d get to see him more frequently than the other girls that fawned over him from your leverage being Yura, yet at the same time, because of Yura, there’s no way he could be yours.

try something new.

TIMEFRAME: HIGH SCHOOL (FOURTEEN)

The first time you realized your stupid crush on your best friend’s older brother was when she invites you, the entirety of her friend group, along with Yuta and her parents to a Hibachi Grill. It sounds weird now, but as a fourteen year old, you couldn’t ask for much, and well, this was as good as it gets.

The enticing aroma of the beef sizzling on the grill, the onions, and don’t forget their signature fried rice, all swells and engulfs your senses that it awakens your hunger. Greasy countertops, loud hisses and the clacking against the cast iron, and the loud conversations between the customers made it all so exciting. Being able to have a birthday party here was like an initiation out of middle school, like a rite of passage into high school because having events like these at your house with a chaperone seemed lame. But here, you can kinda just do your own thing while the adults sit aside and converse on their own.

With that initiation though, comes ‘positions’ in this new group of friends.

You thoroughly enjoyed being next to Yura, kind of like a sidekick to a superhero. Even in school, while walking in the halls, passing other students, you sort of always stood adjacent to her as she waved and said her ‘hellos’ to everyone. But since hitting high school, things weren’t as they usually were because she obtained this new ‘friend group’ and it always felt a little… harder trying to get to know the other girls. Occasionally, it felt like their daggering stares were sharp with judgment, constantly questioning how someone like you were even friends with a girl like Yura. She’d always been the outgoing one; extrovertedness was a bonus trait from her being altogether benevolent, funny, and intelligent. The fact that she got along with everyone so effortlessly just made her all the more welcoming.

So, you overcome that reticent characteristic of yours, only for Yura’s birthday party. She’s been nothing but a good friend to you; including you to outings, asking you to come to playdates with just the two of you, and even picking you first as her partner in the classes you shared together when she obviously had other options. The two of you are opposites, you’ve come to conclude, but you love her for it.

But on that day, it felt like a competition in trying to get her attention.

There are five other girls from your class, all friends of hers, that desperately want to sit next to the birthday girl. She’s so cool, you’d think to yourself, because everyone liked her, so much that they’re fighting to get one of the spots beside her. Albeit you’re a bit reluctant to join the brawl, opting to stand in the sidelines. It’s a bit lonely, despite your best friend being right in front of you, and the abundance of people in attendance. No one talked to you specifically, they always preferred to talk to her instead. And you’d never want to steal the thunder from her, but part of you wished… to be loved in the way she gets loved.

You’re given the seat farthest away from Yura. Truthfully, it’s probably one of the most embarrassing moments of your childhood, but the instant that Yuta takes the seat beside you, the negativity of the thought washes away and your brain malfunctions when he says, “do you have in mind what you’re gonna order?”

“Uh,” you can barely speak, words are stuck in your throat because Yuta actually chose to sit next to you instead of Yura’s pretty friend Hyeri. “Uhm… maybe something without shrimp?”

“Are you allergic?”

You shake your head in response, face dug deep into the menu, but it’s not like he can see it anyway. “N-No,” you stuttered, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously for being so stupid right now. “I don’t like shrimp.”

“Have you tried it?” He asks, and although it seems like an obvious question, you respond with, “No, I haven’t.”

“Ah,” he nods, pursing up his lips briefly in thought. “How about I get something with the shrimp, and you can try it? And if you don’t like it, I can finish the rest.”

When the food comes, being left out from the group of friends doesn’t burden you anymore. It doesn’t haunt your thoughts or dampen your appetite because you’re feeling sad. Instead, it’s the contrary. Yuta keeps you company, asking questions about school, what you like about it, and even teaches you to try new things like shrimp, rather than coming up with an opinion for it before even trying it.

“How does it taste?” He queries, cheeks full of the stir-fried rice. “Do you like it? I could always finish the rest if you don’t.”

Finish… the rest of your shrimp? The idea of him sharing a piece of food with you has heat lingering around your face, and you can guarantee that it’s not from the grill. “A-Ah, no it’s okay, I uh… it’s good, actually. Thanks for that. I probably would’ve never known I liked it if it weren’t for you.”

With a soft smile, he chuckles afterwards before reaching for his drink. “Any time. Call me if you ever want to try new things, I’m always down for it.”

Maybe you’ll take up on that offer one day.

first ride, first times.

TIMEFRAME: HIGH SCHOOL (FOURTEEN/FIFTEEN) - FRESHMAN YEAR

You think the first time Yuta didn’t just seem out of reach but felt like he was when he got his driver’s license.

It’s a rite of passage into your true teenage years, not like a thirteen year old being excited that their age now has the word “teen” at the end of the number nor is it like that hibachi grill party that Yura has (she thinks it’s lame now, looking back). A license meant that you didn’t need your parents to come get you anymore, it meant that you could cruise down the roads and highways, hand hanging outside the window with the breeze flowing in between your fingers while going places wherever and whenever you wanted, living as free as a teenager could. It’s amazing what significance a rectangular piece of plastic holds.

He’s sixteen now, and his mom stood at the threshold of the Nakamoto residence with her arms crossed with a slight twitch in her lips. She’s annoyed; you can practically see it radiating off of her body because she’s not ready for her baby boy to be on the road, but the expression planted on his dad’s face is the complete opposite.

“Remember all that ‘free’ labor I made you do for the past three summers? Well, congrats. It wasn’t free. I kept all the money you earned and got you that car you have a poster of in your bedroom.”

The smile on Yuta’s face stretched so wide that it extended further than cheek to cheek.

He’s so lovely when his eyes sparkle at the sight of his own car, one that he can say is his car and not his parents’. He doesn't have to drive around in that champagne-colored 1995 Honda Odyssey his parents sported, a car that’s notoriously known to be a soccer mom car. Yuta has his own car now, his dream car, and oddly enough, he feels further away today.

Yet you’re immediately reeled back in when he turns to look at you and his little sister, chuckling brightly before waving the keys in his hands. “Who wants ice cream?”

But when you spotted him in the parking lot of your high school, hair slicked back with his signature leather jacket, exiting out of his new vehicle with the gorgeous popular girls coming by his side almost instantaneously, it’s when you realize that Nakamoto Yuta isn’t just your best friend’s older brother anymore. He’s the cool, well-rounded, and loved-by-everyone type of guy that doesn’t turn your way anymore to give you that little wave and a soft ‘hello.’

we’re just friends.

AGE: HIGH SCHOOL (AGE SIXTEEN) - JUNIOR YEAR

You think your first heartbreak was when Yuta gave you his textbook as a hand-me-down.

He made arrangements to meet somewhere outside of his University because he claims that he was too occupied with after school organizations, not to mention homework, so you bike to where he said he’d be after you’d get off school in compromise.

It’d be a bit nerve-wracking, trying to collect yourself and come here to where basically all the “big kids” were while you were still a high school student, but it has heart racing in anxious flips in front of Yuta because there’s a reputation you’re trying to uphold. You wanted to seem more than just… a junior in high school, possibly being something more by the time you reach college.

But the moment you detected him in the crowd of people, you slowly approached him. It’s then when the atmosphere suddenly shifts, and you can’t placate exactly why.

He’s not the same Nakamoto Yuta you knew back when you were growing up; this person he’s exhibiting is quite the adverse. Hair doused in what feels like a hundred pounds of gel, oversized denim jacket on his shoulders with a smug look on his face, he doesn’t feel like your Yuta. Albeit, when his eyes lock onto yours, that pompous look immediately wipes off, almost like he had a facade just to carry out in front of his friends.

“Oh, hey! You’re here. I have the book.” Slipping the backpack off, he shuffled through the bigger pocket as you bounced on the balls of your feet awkwardly, waiting patiently while his friends observed you with curiosity. It’s like their peculiar stares are piercing through you like a laser, and left you unsure where to place yourself.

“Who’s that?” The one dude asks, gesturing to you with his chin. “Looks like a little ass kid.”

“A friend,” Yuta retorts back casually, but the second the book is in your hand and his gaze meets the guy, he swallows and changes his answer promptly like he’s got something to hide. “Uh, actually, she’s actually my little sister’s best friend. Nothing special.”

It would be a lie if you said that you never thought Yuta only saw you as Yura’s best friend.

But a small, tiny piece of you wished that there was more beyond that.

There were times where he’d pass by his sister’s bedroom in the hallway, showcasing that lovely smile of his with a short greeting in your direction. Something about the way he says your name, how delicate and sweet he makes it sound, unlike the way he says your other friends' names. It gives you that brief burst of serotonin, as if you’re seven again with a root beer flavored Dum Dum lollipop in your mouth. And maybe you misread his actions, but when he’d come back from the kitchen and hand you a soda, and nobody else, part of you sort of hoped that maybe Yuta liked you back.

Then again, a girl can dream.

Albeit it doesn’t stop the aching your heart, knowing that he sees you as just Yura’s best friend, not even as a friend. With a clench of your jaw, you merely mutter a quick “thanks” before stuffing the textbook into your backpack before quickly leaving, hopping onto your bike back home.

Nakamoto Yuta will never be yours, it seems. He’s only but a dream, a fantasy that won’t come true.

But when he sees you on prom night, arms linked with some pretty boy in your grade named ‘Eunwoo,’ he swears that his blood was boiling in his veins. Heat lingered around his face, neck flushing red, and a tightened fist by his side, he’s hesitant about making any moves because you’re not his to react this way.

Yuta doesn’t know what it was that was churning in the pits of his stomach, but he didn’t like this kid. He had bad vibes from him the moment he laid his eyes on Eunwoo, but he couldn’t say anything—not when you’ve got that cheery smile on your face as you looked up at the boy in your pastel blue dress, one that makes you breathtakingly beautiful that he almost forgot his anger. It wasn’t his place to say, either.

He stays silent, murmuring a quiet, “you look gorgeous tonight,” that brought heat to your cheeks.

Looking back, you knew the second you fell in love with Nakomoto Yuta. But you never knew that in that very moment, Nakamoto Yuta had already been a goner for you.

don’t cry, blue skies.

AGE: HIGH SCHOOL (SEVENTEEN/EIGHTEEN) - SENIOR YEAR

There was something different in your expression, Yuta notices this when he opens the door to the sound of you knocking. It’s like there’s a facade, some type of curtain that’s shielding whatever it was you were actually feeling, and part of him wished he wasn’t your best friend’s older brother so he could pierce through that without much suspicion.

“Hey, whatcha doing here?” He questions curiously, hand slipping into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Is Yura here?” You ask, skipping all the formalities. This wasn’t normally how you acted, especially since there was always something hesitant in your words when you spoke to Yuta. “Is she home? In her bedroom?” You’d been fiddling with your fingers, practically shaking but you were trying your best to camouflage what’s actually running through your head.

Yuta juts out his bottom lip apologetically. “Sorry, kiddo. She’s out with her boyfriend. Anything I could do for you?”

Quickly, you shake your head. “Uh-n-no,” you stutter, attempting to walk backwards to get off their porch, but Yuta follows warringly. “I’m f-f-fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Yuta holds onto your arm, pulling you toward him before you could trip over the first step. “Talk to me, yeah? You seem troubled.”

It doesn’t take long for Yuta to suddenly have you in his arms, face dug into the fabric of his shirt.

Being in his embrace feels like home. The smell of his cologne reminds you of clean linens, fresh laundry, or like a warm morning with the sun peeking through the curtains as you’re drowning in the newly washed bed sheets, despite the darkness that casts in your heart, the sky mimicked you, obscuring into shades of grey, cold and gloomy.

“Wanna go inside, love? It looks like it’s gonna rain soon.”

At another time, maybe the term of endearment would’ve warmed your heart. But this time isn’t like that. Your tears fall harder, after you thought it’d been impossible with the amount of sobs that escape from your lips. It hurts, as much as you didn’t like to admit, because whatever it was that you had with him was solely for the fact that you wanted to get over Yuta, and here you were… in Yuta’s arms.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, other than the soft weeps that come from you and your staccato breathing. “He left, Yuta.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Who left?”

“Eun...woo,” you manage to say, but with each syllable is a clench to your chest. “We were dating for a couple months, and he told me today that we weren’t going to workout anymore. He was my first boyfriend, Yuta.”

Yuta doesn’t mention it, but the second you called Eunwoo your first boyfriend made his heart twinge.

He let you cry that night, head on his chest and on his bed. Yuta never brings it up, but he’s had girls over before, but he never ever felt comfortable having them close like this; laid on top of his duvet, wearing his hoodie while drenching the second shirt he’s on because you drenched the first one.

things aren’t as they seem.

“Is it too loud?” He asks, but another asteroid explodes and practically bursts his own eardrum, deteriorating the purpose of his question because it’s evidently too loud. His nose crinkles at the booming, and an apologetic look smears across his face. “Sorry. Should I lower the volume down?”

“No, it’s okay,” you respond with a smile, and Yuta doesn’t admit it, but the sight tugs on his heartstrings. “It doesn’t bother me.”

It’s a casual Saturday afternoon; clear sunny skies with a light breeze in the air, however you opt for sitting indoors instead of by the tree outside, enjoying this view of Yuta seated on the floor and in front of the bulky CRT television with the controller for his 6 Sega Dreamcast.

“Are you sure?” He queries yet again, scratching the back of his neck. It’s his house, you think, and he should be able to play a game in peace, but the fact that he confirms whether or not you’re okay is… heartwarming. It means he cares about your preference and your comfort.

You nod again, paying no mind to even look up when he asks, turning another page of your book. “Yes, Yuta. Just do what you like.”

Deciding the game isn’t much of his interest anymore, he shuts it off by pressing down the power button before stealing a seat beside you on the couch. “How intrigued are you by that book?”

You quirk a brow. “I guess not as much as I am of you,” dog-earring the page, you close the book and lay it flat on your lap. “What’s up?”

“How are you?”

This was strange. Yuta never really actually sat down and had a full length conversation with you before, so seeing him sitting in the free spot on the couch adjacent from you isn’t familiar. “I’m… I think I’m doing well. How are you? Why are you asking me this?”

“I can’t ask you a simple question?” He shoots back, copying your expression. “Do you… Do you get mad sometimes that you have to wait for Yura? Like… you’re at her house right now, sitting on her couch while her brother sits nearby and plays video games. It doesn’t bug you?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you place the book onto the coffee table in front of you. “Quite honestly? No. But that’s because I grew up with both of you, in this house as well, and I know your parents almost as well as my own. This is practically my second home. So… not really.”

He takes a minute, sinking in your response as he leans back onto the cushion of the couch.

“Are… Are you okay?”

You never know, and he never tells you, but when you ask those very words, he feels like his anxiety, insecurities, and instability that was once locked in a cage are now let free. He can’t help but spill, constantly speaking to you like word vomit, and there’s just always something about you that makes him feel comfortable to do so.

“I—Where do I even begin?” He starts, letting out a chuckle but nothing about this is funny. Yuta seems distressed, head hazy, fogged up with thoughts that he hasn’t been able to release.

But you never learn that afternoon that when Yuta pours out his recent difficulties of school, of social groups, and the fear of never finding an internship, he’s never voiced these troubles out loud. You’re his… version of a diary, in the form of a person, holding many more qualities than just a piece of paper to write on—he trusts you.

the second time he calls you his friend.

Yuta is a generally reserved guy that contains his anger well. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him heated before.

But just like how weather changes, and people change too.

It was a hot day, from what you can recall. The humidity made your skin sticky, practically adhering to the leather seats of Yura’s couch as you waited patiently for her, and that’s not to mention all of the sweat that’d been accumulating on the top of your skin. This type of weather was disgusting, and candidly, you prefer the cold, brisk winds that winter brings but in the city you live in, there is no avoiding summer. Even in a black tank top and champion grey shorts, you can’t escape the heat.

“Yura!” You whine groggily, slouching back on the loveseat. “Are you ready yet? It’s hot. I wanna go to the pool.”

She hollers something in response from her bedroom, but the walls from the hallways are thick enough to muffle the sounds, so you pout disappointingly, deciding that it’d be better to stay put.

The front door slams shut, following an angry Yuta that huffs his way out to the back porch; jaw clenched, narrowed eyes, and tightened fists by his side; you genuinely thought he looked adorable like this but it’s probably not a good time to make that kind of comment. “Yuta?”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, attempting to shove the sliding door open but it’s a bit reluctant. When it finally complies, Yuta was already close to breaking it. “Fuck.” He makes his way out, arms resting against the white plastic railings that’s installed on the perimeter of the deck, attempting to catch his breath but the heat doesn’t help.

“Yura?” You call out once more, mostly as a test to see how much time you have left. She lets out another shriek, something along the lines of admitting she needed another twenty minutes, only for you to roll your eyes and head to the kitchen to snag up a couple sodas.

Truthfully, he’s not sure when’s the last time he blew up. He’s usually composed, oftentimes playing referee when it comes to heated situations, but this time around, he was the one playing offense. But Yuta felt tired. It was a constant battle trying to be someone he wasn’t, even though he seemed to have everything put together, if he’d been truly honest… he wasn’t even sure why he was trying so hard to put a front for people.

But when you come out with those soft drinks in your hands, it’s like everything is… lighter.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, so casually like you didn’t see him just knocking over something from the tabletop by the front door. “Seems like today is a pretty bad day. Sure, everyone might think otherwise because the sun is out, it’s warm, and it’s perfect for a pool day. But in my perspective, I think it sucks. It’s hot. I’m gonna burn, no matter how much sunscreen I apply, and I’m sweating all day.”

For the first time that day, Yuta laughs.

You pull a couple jokes out your ass (per usual), and he can’t stop the laughter. His stomach is aching by the end of it, having to pop open one of the cans and take a sip for a breather. “I… I uh… wasn’t feeling that great earlier.”

“Mm,” you hum, pretending like this is new information. “I thought you purposely dropped the catch-all bowl by the counter.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I… thanks, kid. You’re a great friend.”

Fuck, Yuta was so good at breaking your heart without even trying.

And it’s worse when later on, you’re at the community pool with Yura, lathering the stupid sticky sunscreen lotion, that she claims is ‘life-changing,’ on her exposed back when you see her, the prettiest girl holding onto Yuta’s arms, giggling and making him laugh like you did earlier today.

How could someone you’ve never even been with cause this much heartache?

stuck in the suburbs.

AGE: COLLEGE (TWENTY) - FRESHMAN YEAR

“Yura,” you grumble, slamming the payphone back with a huff afterwards. It’s typical of her since she started dating Jonghyun; constantly staying over at his house to the point that if you called her at his place, they stopped picking up (you suspect they’re doing more than just making out, especially since they’re going through that first-college-relationship phase). But you needed her tonight, especially since the last bus from the University just left and there’s no way for you to get home. Sure, you could hitch-hike or even walk, but the late hours of the night isn’t necessarily the safest place for a young woman.

Your parents are out of town (how typical) and there’s no one else but to call but a taxi service—then again they’re hella expensive on a Friday night. Why did you have to stay and finish that goddamn paper on that stupid ass Power Macintosh that takes forever to load anything anyway? The dumb rainbow pinwheel was starting to tick you off, so you grabbed your bags and left but it didn’t occur to you what time it currently was. By then, it was too late and the last bus had taken off.

Then, an idea hits.

It’s not a bad one, just one that you were hoping to avoid. Anything but that, is what you were thinking, but at this point, you’re running out of options. It’s dark, lonely, and creepy out here, and the last thing you need to happen with your parents being away is going missing.

Swallowing your anxiety, you’re tapping in the Nakamoto residence number. But before you could even finish dialing, someone hollers your name. “Hey!”

You flinch. Gradually, you turn to the voice, heart palpitating because what if it’s some creepy dude who knows you from class and now that you’re alone, it’s his time to pounce? What’s he going to do? Kidnap you? Oh my god what if he—

“What the hell are you doing here alone at night?” You swore your heart dropped to your ass, but the second you see the owner who asks the question at hand, you release a sigh of relief.

“Holy shit, Yuta.”

His brows are furrowed in concern, hoodie so big it practically drowns him. His hair is ruffled, slightly damp with the blonde highlights peeking through the black, puffy mess and you’re wondering what he was doing before running into you. “Holy shit is right. Why are you here alone? At night, for that matter. It’s not safe for girls to be roaming around by themselves. There are nasty dudes out there, and there’s no telling what they’d actually do if they saw you here all vulnerable and by yourself. What happened?”

With the burden lifted from your shoulders, you drop them. “I got caught up in schoolwork. Then the last bus left, Yura is at her boyfriend’s and my parents are out of town—” “And you didn’t even consider calling me?” Well, to be quite fair, you were going to call him, that was until he coincidentally met you here. It was going to take some time but you were planning on calling the Nakamoto residence in hopes someone else could grab you (mostly not Yuta, though.)

“I mean, I was going to call your house but—”

“No, call me next time. I saved up money for a phone,” Yuta whips out a Motorola StarTac from his pocket. “Call me next time. Don’t depend on someone else. I’ll come grab you, wherever you are. I don’t like knowing that you’re out here stranded by yourself.”

He’s a bit heated, you take note, almost as mad as he was that day he came home from hanging out with his friends. Instead of only angry, there was a hint of concern in his tone, like he was worried for your well-being. But that’s just Yuta—caring. You had to shake yourself from these potential ‘what if he likes me’ thoughts because you were afraid of leading yourself on.

When you hop into his Jaguar, reality sinks in that you’re going to be alone with Yuta.

“Wanna listen to music?” He asks, interrupting all the thoughts inside of your head. Startled, you nod continuously, unsure how else to respond. He can’t do things to your heart like this, not if he potentially has a girlfriend. It’s not fair to her, you repeat to yourself, but… this is Yuta, and your feelings never went away. However, you’ll never cross the line anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I uh, I don’t see why not.”

He pops in a cassette. “Mm, tell me if you wanna listen to something else. I have a bunch of options in my glove compartment.”

When the tapes start rolling, there’s no transition. Immediately, there’s this blaring guitar strum, four dudes yelling, and weird whimpers in the background.

If you were a child, you’d probably pee yourself right now.

It was frightening, you had to admit, but at the same time, super funny. In fact, you burst into laughter, stomachs twisting in pain from the sudden intrusion, tears nearly threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

Yuta lowers the volume. “Wh-what! Oh my god, are you… are you crying?”

“I’m sorry!” You’re wiping the ends of your eyes. “I just—oh my god, that was great, thanks, Yuta.”

He quirks a brow curiously. “For what?”

You point to his sound system. “That song. You’re not gonna tell me you actually like that, are you? Because there’s absolutely no way.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re Nakamoto Yuta. You love soft music, the kind you play when it’s raining outside and you can hear the gentle patters against the window. You like songs that remind you of nice days, ones you can reflect on and dream about momentarily in those three solid minutes. This,” you’re gesturing the cassette player, “isn’t you.”

He’s got that look on his face like he’s trying to play it off. “Pft. What? No.”

“Come on.”

Yuta stares at you; it feels like hours have passed the longer he keeps it up, but he eventually concedes, leaning over to tap your leg out the way and pop open the glove compartment. There, he has an array of cassettes, all labeled with washi tape and scribbled with his sloppy handwriting in a black sharpie. He snatches up the one that reads, ‘dreams’ in his butchered lettering, recalling back to the time his mom would whack his hand with a chopstick because his e’s and a’s looked too similar.

He clicks a button that pops out the tape with the weird songs, and one that he’s seemingly claiming as his actual favorites.

And when Yuta hits play—you feel like you got a glimpse into what it’s like to be loved by Nakamoto Yuta.

Eyes closed, head leaning back against the car upholstery. “This sounds like you.”

You don’t ever know, but Yuta looks at you with that gaze so adoringly, like you’re the prettiest girl in the world, and like you’re the only one. There’s something about you that has his heartstrings tugging, already swooning over the sight of you listening to the music that he likes, and not the kind that he pretends to like in front of his friends.

When you put your jacket on one day at the Nakamoto residence, ready to leave and head home, there’s something rectangular in your pocket that definitely wasn’t there before. Furrowing your brows in curiosity, you pull it out and notice that same scratchy handwriting with the sharpie marker that’s in need of replacing.

‘smth u might like. yt.’

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t listen to that tape everyday religiously.

you’re sick but he’s lovesick.

AGE: COLLEGE (TWENTY-ONE) - SOPHOMORE YEAR

Dim rooms, flashing lights, booming music and the plethora of people packed inside of this house party is probably way over safety regulations, but nonetheless, if a frat party was happening… well, then it happened.

There are more kids drinking underaged than you can count on your two hands, and too be completely honest, but who were you to tell them ‘no’? Plus, would it be a Beta Theta Pi house party if it didn’t have at least twenty kids drinking under the legal age?

“We should take shots!” Your new friend, Tzuyu, suggests while waving shot glasses in the air shakily with some of the alcohol spilling over. “It’ll be fun!”

You frown, slightly uninterested. Drinking has always been something you did for fun, as in something like mojitos or margaritas with delicious foods laid out in front of you. Drinking at a party however, wasn't really your forte. Hard liquor straight up felt like torture, and you’re not even quite sure how Tzuyu downs the tequila so easily. It burns.

“I—Maybe not, Tzuyu,” she’s jumping to the music, hair messy and in her face, some sticking to the sweat on her forehead. “I might head out soon.”

“But…” Tzuyu whines your name, pulling on your arm and tapping your other new friend, Dahyun on the shoulder. “Don’t leave. Drink with us! You’re so cool—but you’ll seem even cooler to Yuta oppa if you… let go for a bit.”

You quirk a brow, perplexed as to how Tzuyu knew that information. “Why are you bringing up Yuta?”

“Ugh,” Dahyun groans, rolling her eyes. “We all see the way you look at him, babe. It’d be more surprising if you didn’t like him. Plus, it’s that classic best friend’s brother trope. I’m appalled that Yura doesn’t know.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feign ignorance, deciding that snatching the shot cup from Tzuyu’s hand would be a better distraction. “I don’t have feelings for Yuta!” And with that, you down the tequila and grimace moments after Dahyun hands you a slice of lime.

The night goes by quickly, you sadly admit, and it’s mostly because you can’t remember most of it.

“I feel queasy,” you admit with a pout dressed upon your lips, stumbling in your sneakers. Yuta recalls these as your favorite, wearing them for almost every occasion, so he lets out a sigh because if you’re going to vomit, he wouldn’t want it to be on these shoes. “I wanna upchuck on a woodchuck.”

“A… what?” He blinks, watching as you puff your cheeks. “Want me to drive you home?”

He spotted you from across the room—drunk and sloppy, losing footing in your steps along with your friends. He doesn’t know them, but he’s heard of their reputation; drink hard, regrets are for later. And well you… don’t fit the M.O, and Yuta wasn’t going to let you fall into that motto, so he drags out of the party without hesitation.

Abruptly, you straighten your posture. “Uh, nope, no, nope. Momma bear and papa bear would definitely ground me at the age of twenty-one. Never heard of that before? You will now.”

“Okay, well how about you stay at my place? It’s not that far. It’s another frat house, but at least I have a bedroom to myself.”

You rub your eyes tiredly, pursing your lips. “Yuta, we’re not even dating yet and you wanna share a bed with me?”

He nearly chokes on his own saliva. “No, I wouldn’t, no, that’s not appropriate, kiddo.” Yuta pulls you back up when you flop your body down again. “I just want you to get somewhere back safe. I’ll stay on the couch or sleep on the floor or something.”

Face dropping, you seem disappointed and he can’t place why. “Do you not like me in that way, Yuta?”

“I’m—what? Sorry, I’m—what?” What were you even saying? She’s inebriated, he thinks to himself, she probably doesn’t even know what she’s saying.

“I like you, you know,” you say in a sing-song voice, hands cupping his cheeks. “You’re so cute. Wish you were my boyfriend.”

Yuta swallows, mouth slightly agape and words vacuumed from his vocabulary. “You—You what?”

“Mm,” you hum along to the song booming inside of the house, swaying your hips to melody. “It would be nice, yaknow. Havin’ ya as my boyfriend, taking me places, taking care of me. Callin’ me pretty. All that good stuff. It was nice from Eunwoo, but I’ve always had this huge fat crush on you, it’s not the same hearing it from another boy.”

Yuta practically has to pull you back to his frat house after that, but he’s left unspoken and in awe at all this new information. You’ve liked him, this entire time, all along, since the beginning. You’ve been pining over him quietly, watching as he ran over these obstacles during college, meeting girls potentially, and even dealing with him changing personalities before your eyes, and you remained still having feelings for him.

He slips off your shoes after dropping you on his bed, carefully placing them in the corner of his room for the next morning. Tucking you underneath the covers, your eyes are immediately shut closed, a smile pulling at the edges of your lips. “Mm, cozy.”

“Is it?” He chuckles, pulling the trash bin beside you. “If you feel like you wanna ‘upchuck on a woodchuck,’ there’s a can here.”

You nod slowly, nuzzling your face into the softness of his blanket. “I like you, Yuta. I think you’d take good care of me. You should be my boyfriend one day.”

Yuta doesn’t sleep well that night—in fact, he’s laying on a used yoga mat with a spare blanket and pillow, watching your tired expression. Arm hanging off the bed, face smushed into the sheets—he can’t help but think you’re so pretty like this, so close, and fingertips length as his, but you’re not his.

And part of him wishes you were.

He sighs, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. “I thought I told you to call me if you wanted to try new things.”

sunken realities.

“Damn, he’s fucking fine,” Nari mutters, clicking her tongue at the sight of a guy. You don’t pay her much mind, figuring that clearing out the tables at the diner was more of a priority, but it piqued your interest when you heard her wince.

It’s Yura whacking Nari on the back of her head.

“That’s my brother, you idiot,” she hisses, feigning a hit and Nari whines again. “No way in Hell am I letting your stupid ass get all cozy with my brother.”

“But he’s so… yum, Yura,” Nari pouts, shoulders dropping in disappointment. “Even ya bestie prob agrees.”

Scrunching up your nose, your face heats up from being put on the spot. “I… I have no comment,” you quickly reply, shuffling back to resume wiping the mustard yellow resin tables. Nari’s bold; she often gets what she wants simply because she straightforwardly asks for it. Last month, she had her eyes set on Johnny Suh, and the day after his name slipped from her mouth, she was already under his grasp as his arm candy.

Yura points at Nari sternly. “No,” and Nari juts out her bottom lip yet again. “Absolutely not. He’s actually a decent guy, and we get along great. I’m not letting him date a girl like you, especially with your track record.”

“And what’s wrong with my track record?”

“Babe, I love you, but you’re a hoe. You’re gonna drop him the moment you get in his pants and I’d rather him be in something serious.”

Nari scowls. She moves over to get a better view of you before calling out your name. “Hey. You’ve been friends with Yura for how long? Did you ever make a move on Yuta?”

Yura pushes Nari away from interrogating you, making some weird sounds with her mouth. “Nari! Stop, if she did, I would’ve already let her have a chance with Yuta. Not you, though, because I don’t trust you.”

Well… this is… new information.

Throughout your years of knowing Yura, she’s never mentioned any of this before. In fact, the thought of you ever dating Yuta never even was a point in a conversation, which brings the question: how did Yura really feel about it?

Abruptly, you shake your head from these thoughts. To be quite frank, Yuta didn’t reciprocate any feelings for you, so just the idea of it was surely just a fun idea—nothing actually worthwhile thinking about.

His chuckles echo from across the room; seated in a scarlet red booth in a corner with his friends from university, there’s a smile that beams brightly across his face that has your heart tightening from the mere sight. It makes you think about the moments you shared with him through your childhood, questioning from time to time if there ever could be more, but your position still stays the same. Yura’s best friend. His little sister’s best friend.

“Namjoon is driving me home tonight,” Yura informs, uneasily too. “I uh… that means I can’t come with you home.”

“Oh,” you blink blankly. “There’s a spare bike in the back—“

Yura rolls her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Yuta will wait for you when Doyoung comes to relieve you off your shift.”

“I mean, it’s totally fine. I could just ride—“

Your best friend calls your name out in a hard tone, and you’re starting to feel as small as Nari did when Yura told her ‘no’. “He offered to stay. Let him drive you home, okay?”

You whimper. “Please don’t.”

“What’s wrong with Yuta?” Well, for one: you’ve had this stupid persistent crush on him since god-knows-when, two: it would be super weird to be alone in the car with him again, especially after professing that said crush on him, and three: he’s with his cool friends. He’s not going to want to drive you home, and knowing Yuta, he would, but it doesn’t mean he wants to.

“Uh, you know. He’s with his friends. It’d be rude to make him ditch them for me.”

Yura clicks her tongue irritably, crossing her arms over her chest. “Come on. Yuta always is willing to drop everything if it means driving you home safely. It doesn’t make this time any different.”

“Please, no he’s not. He’s just being nice.”

“Stop being stupid, he likes you!” She exclaims, flailing his arms.

“Well, he kinda has to, I’m his sister’s best friend—”

“—No, like… he likes you, you idiot. Just let him drive you home. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed these past few years. He keeps looking at you with little hearts in his eyes; I’m surprised he hasn’t confessed yet.”

You freeze. It feels like you’re frozen in a block of ice, or that your feet are stuck in quicksand because you can’t seem to move. Was Yura really telling you this in the middle of a workshift? How are you supposed to react? Because truth be told, you don’t really believe her. “I—Huh?” You shake your head in response. “Nevermind. Forget that. I can ask one of the chefs to drive me home.”

Your best friend groans, running her fingers through her hair. “Did you not hear me? I said Yuta likes you.”

“Uh, yeah. I heard it.”

“Then what? You don’t believe me?”

“Eh. Yeah, I don’t believe you.”

“Well—” Before Yura could even finish, Yuta was already standing by the counter with the biggest grin on his face. “Oh. Yuta,”

“Hey,” he looks over at you. “When does your co-worker get here? I’ll drive you home.”

You wave your hands dismissively, “No, no. It’s totally fine, Yuta. I can get home by myself.”

Yuta raises a brow. “By how? You don’t think I’m just going to leave you here, are you?” He’s adjusting the jacket on his shoulders, shoving his hands into the front pockets afterwards. “Because I know there’s a bike in the back, and if I see you riding it, don’t be surprised if I’m chasing you down. Am I that repulsive?”

You mentally wince. He’s the complete opposite of repulsive, but with how you’ve been tipping on eggshells around him, it’s not surprising that he has that impression. “No, you’re not, Yuta, I just… I don’t wanna interrupt your uh… outing.” Gesturing the group of college kids at the table he came from, you puff your cheeks out. “I don’t want to be the party pooper.”

“You are far from being a party pooper. I’m the one that offered.”

“Yeah, but like… you don’t have to drive me home.”

“But I want to,” he says, this time sternly. “I want you home safe, so I’m going to drive you home myself.”

You glance over at Yura who only smiles in content, shrugging her shoulders as if she doesn’t have influence with an input on this. With a heavy sigh, you nod, unraveling the tie of your apron from around your waist when you spot Doyoung entering the diner. “Alright,” you cave in, “you can drive me home.”

“Well, don’t sound too excited,” he jokes, but you only narrow your gaze at him. “I promise the ride won’t be too bad. I need to talk to you anyways.”

Aw, fuck. Was he going to bring up what happened at the party? Because if that was the case, maybe if you make a run for it now, grab your bag from the back and slip out the door—

“Oh, here’s your bag,” Yura hands over your backpack with a mischievous look on her face, like she knew your plan all along. “Wouldn't want you sneaking out the back now, would we?” Fucking bitch—although you did love her. Just not right now.

On your way out, Yuta waves goodbye to his friend group, and you don’t miss the way some of the girls snarled in your direction. You recognize one of the faces—Haeri, one of the volleyball players, D1 for your University’s team—and she did not look happy seeing you trail behind Yuta. “I’m headin’ out, guys.”

Haeri’s face contorts into a pout. “Oh no, Yuta, why not stay a little longer?”

He shuffles through his jacket for his keys. “Uh, gotta drive this little one home. But maybe next time, guys.”

“She can’t take the bus?” Haeri has her jaw resting in her hands, elbows flat on the table. “It’s not that dark out.”

One of Yuta’s good friend’s, Jungwoo, stares at Haeri suspiciously. “Dude, it’s like pitch black dark outside. Why would she take the bus home alone?” Jungwoo gestures to Yuta with his chin. “Drive her home, bud. I’ll hold down the fort here. I can drive Haeri and them home.”

Haeri rolls her eyes. “But I was hoping for a ride from Yuta.”

“Well, Yuta is occupied. Don’t be difficult.”

“I can take the bus,” you quickly interject, adjusting the straps of your backpack. “It’s really not a problem.”

Both Jungwoo and Yuta shoot a glare at you. “Don’t be stupid, kid. Let him drive you. It’s safer. It’s not like she doesn’t have a ride, so she’ll be fine,” Jungwoo shoos Yuta with his hands. “Go, go, before this one starts something else.” Haeri scowls at his comment, pursing her lips up in indignation.

the drive.

God, this was fucking awkward.

Truthfully, you didn’t want to be here. It’s the reason why you kept dodging a ride with Yuta in the first place; the perspiring hands, racing heartbeat, and there always feels like something is lodged in your throat, preventing you from speaking.

“How was work today?” He’s starting small talk, and you don’t want to talk at all. Just drive home, drop you off, and head back to his friends. Why’s he even trying? You confessed, he didn’t respond back to anything you said, and pretended like nothing even happened. So why was he still trying to be nice? He’s leading you on, even if you already know he doesn’t reciprocate feelings.

“Fine,” you reply tersely. You keep your focus outside the window, watching the street lights pass by.

“That’s it?” He asks, sneaking a glimpse in your direction. “Why are you being so… short?”

“No reason,” fiddling with the material of the seatbelt between your fingers, it helps lessen the tension. “Just… don’t have much to share is all.”

“Is it about the confession?”

You freeze. It’s like the car stopped moving, the street lights don’t pass by anymore, and the clicking of the analog clock on his dashboard halts its movements. You’re almost positive that your heart impedes, delaying in its beats, and you’re left unsure how to act.

“Because if it is, don’t worry about it.”

Was that… it? So… you poured your heart out for a boy that you’ve been hopelessly in love with for god knows how long, and in the end, it resulted in… nothing? Not even a straightforward rejection. Is this what it comes to?

“Cool,” you suck in your cheeks. There’s really nothing else to say to him, especially since he doesn’t have anything to say back.

Just then, Yuta pulls the car over on the side of the road.

Your head swings to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, something wrong with the car? Everything good?”

He puts the car in park, pushing back his seat to get comfortable. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

“About what?”

“You know. About us. You don’t expect me to just brush off what happened the night of the party, do you? They were fucking drinking—and there was nobody there to take care of you!” Oh. You honestly thought for a second there, he was going to bring up that you told him that you liked him. “What if someone took advantage of you?”

“I was fine,” you retort, irritated. “They were my friends. They would’ve taken care of me.”

“They were definitely not your friends. Your friend is Yura.”

Your nose scrunches up in revelation when he only says his sister’s name. “I have more than one friend, Yuta. It doesn’t have to be Yura. I know a handful of people, and the fact that you make it sound like I know only Yura is kind of offensive.”

His expression softens. “You know I don’t mean that. They just… they’re not a good crowd.”

“Okay, well, thanks for that. You’re not my brother, but I appreciate you looking out for me. I know that me being Yura’s age and her best friend might give off that vibe, but I don’t need you to take care of me.”

Yuta sighs, ruffling his hair in slight frustration. “It’s not that, I just… what if something happened to you?”

“Nothing would’ve. I could take care of myself.”

“I took you to my apartment that night, in case you forgot. I tended to you, made sure you were okay.”

“I could’ve gotten a ride home. You didn’t have to bring me back to your place.”

“Would you stop?” Yuta exclaims, dropping his body into the driver’s seat. “Look, alright? It’s not just that, I’m not just worried for you like I am about Yura, I genuinely… just… look, I don’t like seeing you unsafe. I don’t even think of you remotely close to a sister, if I’m being honest.”

“Then what?” He’s taking too long to spit out what he wants to say, and you’re getting tired of it. “Just an acquaintance? Someone you can’t stand because they’re so careless?”

“No—” he groans, head falling back on his seat. “I don’t even see you in that light.”

“Then what? You know what, nevermind. Take me home. I’m exhausted. I’ve been on my feet the entire day, I tried going home alone, but you’re persistent on driving me back only to not,” hand wrapping a grip on the door handle, you grab the top strap of your backpack, ready to hop out. “I can walk home.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, tapping his fingers against his leather steering wheel. “I like you, alright?”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“Like… more than a friend, not like my sister’s best friend. Like… I want to be your boyfriend.”

Blinking blankly, you stay frozen in your seat, unsure what actions to make next. Yuta likes you, out of all the girls he could have feelings for, including that pretty girl you saw at the diner.

“I-Uh, what about Haeri?”

He tilts his head, muddled by your question. “What… what about Haeri?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you lean back to melt into your seat. This was all too much information, too much new stuff and it’s making your head all foggy. “I thought the two of you were… a thing. If not… sleeping together.”

Startled by your statement, he immediately begins denying it. “What? Oh, that. It’s just a rumor, you know. She spread it herself so that girls wouldn’t come after me.”

“So… what now?”

“Did you really mean it? That night. You were drunk, and I get that but you were drunk, so I didn’t know if you said it just to say it or if you actually… liked me.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. That night wasn’t a blur, unfortunately, and you remember every bit and piece of it. From vomiting on the side of the street to his apartment floor, to him wiping your face down with a wet towel, all this after you threw yourself on him—every part of it, you can’t forget it. It practically haunts you every time you see him.

“Ugh,” you groan, face in your hands. “I was drunk, and too honest. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He chuckles. “It was cute. If you didn’t tell me anything, I would’ve thought that you just wanted to sleep with me and nothing else.”

“Oh fuck, you remember that too?”

“You think I wouldn’t remember a girl that I liked trying to get in my pants? Of course I do. As much as I want that, I just don’t feel comfortable letting us go any further unless I know how you feel about me.”

This time, you do choke on your saliva.

“Are you okay?” He’s rubbing your back soothingly, and your heart skips a beat at the gesture. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been too bold, huh.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine I just… didn’t expect that.”

“Expect that I saw you… more than just Yura’s friend?”

“Really just… anything. You just made it sound like you would sleep with me, and that you like me. But before that… I sort of felt like I was only Yura’s friend.”

He nods slowly, nails scraping against the leather of the steering wheel. The air in the car feels thick, almost suffocating because he’s tempted to say more, but he can’t. The feelings you have for him are reciprocated, which sounds like good news, but he truthfully wasn’t sure where to go about from here. The two of you could date, yes, but part of him feared that Yura wouldn’t be okay with it, and what happens if you both break up?

“I’m just worried, alright?” He admits solemnly, pools of chocolate orbs seeping with guilt. “I like you but I’m afraid of the consequences. There’s Yura—I never know what the hell is running through her mind, and then there’s my reputation—fuck. No, I didn’t mean that—”

“Drive me home, Yuta.” You state strictly, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Just… drive me home.”

“Wait, you know I didn’t mean it like that—“

“Yuta, your reputation precedes you, evidently. I don’t want it to dent it, so please, stop wasting my time and take me home.”

And with that, he turns to put his seatbelt back on quietly, starting the car once again and drives off to your house.

He doesn’t like the silence; he much prefers when you’re giggling and laughing with him, calling him cute ‘insulting’ nicknames, and making fun of his tastes in music. He likes hearing stories about your childhood, despite being part of it, those anecdotes never seem to have him as a character and he wonders why he distanced himself from you for so long.

You were great. You are great, but something in him continuously stops him from asking for more.

When Yuta reaches your house, he mutters another apology but you’ve already had your Walkmans on and headphones snug over your ears. The audio is put on the max volume, and you don’t hear what he says, but he hears your quick, “thanks for the ride,” before slamming the door and making your way in.

Yuta doesn’t know, but your heart aches more than that night Eunwoo ended things.

Yuta hates this.

If anything, he wished that there was a way to mend the situation. Instead of being further away from you, he was hoping to at least… become friends. But he told you that he liked you back, but used a stupid reasoning for why the two of you can’t be together. And well now… you’re mad.

Or well, he speculates you are, but from how you’re acting, you’re so good at pretending that nothing fazes you.

“What movie did you wanna watch, Yura?” You ask, hopping onto the couch opposite of Yuta. Eyes never meeting his, you lean over to grab a handful of popcorn, and he can’t help but feel this weird churning motion in the pit of his stomach. Popping a couple pieces of popcorn into your mouth, you crunch away, melting into the leather seats of the couch, legs crossed like a pretzel. “I heard you rented a couple options.”

“Mm, I think Yuta has it, let him show you,” she calls out from the kitchen, prepping the tray of drinks and more snacks.

That’s when your gazes lock.

It’s been a while since he’s been able to get a clear look at you; the last encounter had been weeks ago, and you were a professional when it came to avoiding him like the plague. He doesn’t live at home anymore, but when he’s here, he barely gets a glimpse of you before you’re already zooming out the door with Yura joined at the hip, ready for whatever adventure the two of you are on again.

But it feels good to have your attention away. Even though it was for a brief moment before you shrug, turning back to the TV and watching whatever it is on the antenna. “It’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can just show you,” Yuta says, disheartened that you rejected him so quickly. “They’re just right—“

“I’m good.” You respond, words hardened. You don’t even bat a lash in his proximity.

Yura comes back from the kitchen, a tray of food in her hands when she suddenly feels the tension in the atmosphere. Furrowing her brows, she places the snacks onto the table before resting her hands on her hips. “Alright, what’s up with the two of you? Talk. You guys never fight.”

“We’re not fighting,” you state plainly, reaching over to grab a chip but Yura smacks your hand. “Ouch!”

“I said talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about—“

“Yuta is being oddly quiet today.”

He blinks. He knows if he says anything, it’ll only anger you more, so he stays silent, reaching over to grab a glass of iced tea and lifting it in her direction. “Thanks for the snacks, sis.”

Yura swears she’ll get to the bottom of this.

“What’s up with you and Yuta?”

“Nothing is up with us.”

Yura’s nose twitches, halting her motions. She’s been cleaning the counter, trying her best to push out the grease stains that have found a permanent home there, and the frustration was building up along with the one she had for you and her brother. “There is obviously some tension between the two of you. What happened?”

You shrug. “Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me, I’ve known you both forever. There’s definitely something up. Why won’t you tell me?”

Retying your hair into a low bun, you can’t help but to tighten your lips into a straight line as you wipe down the condiment bottles. “Yura, I don’t know why you’re interrogating me on this. Shouldn’t you ask Yuta, if both parties are involved? So you claim.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she rolls her eyes, fed up with your dodging. “It’s easier to get through you than Yuta. He’s built like a wall.”

“I can be strong.”

“You are not strong when it comes to me, dummy. What’s up?”

She thinks you’re going to crack, but sadly for her, you’re not going to this time.

It’s sort of embarrassing, if you could, you’d admit that. Being turned down by a guy you’ve liked for years, and it wasn’t for the purpose that he didn’t reciprocate feelings, but rather because he simply just was ashamed to call you his girlfriend. And letting someone who you greatly respected and admired know this information is very… humiliating. You’ve had enough ignominious moments in the past few weeks, you could do without more.

Tossing the damp rag onto the booth, you heave a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, alright? Yuta and I just aren’t really friends. We don’t click, so sometimes we’re just awkward. Why won’t you let this go?”

“Because, I want you to be my future sister-in-law. He likes you, and he won’t make a move unless you do. And I think you’re a perfect fit for him because he gets all giddy and excited when he sees you. Why don’t you believe me?”

Erase everything you said mentally just moments ago, because you end up blurting it all out like word vomit to Yura. Maybe she’s right. You might be a little bit easy. “Because!” You exclaim, flailing your arms in thwart. “He said he liked me, then mentioned how he’s so worried about what’ll happen if you find out, but he never took the initiative to ask you. After that, he accidentally said something about his reputation—you realize he’s embarrassed to be with me, Yura? He thinks I’m harmful to his reputation.”

Her gaze on your softens. “Babe—”

“No,” you retort sternly, despite her usage of a sweet term of endearment. It feels like deja vu, but you’re doing this to another Nakamoto sibling. “I’m not going to try to fix it or make it better. He said what he felt, and that’s just what it is.”

“He’s stupid, you know. You just have to talk to him.”

“It’s not my job to make him feel better about himself. If he feels like I am hindering the ‘coolness’ that is his reputation, then I don’t want to be with him either.”

With that, you turn on your heel and walk away from your best friend, as you did to her brother, and she doesn’t bother you for the rest of your shift.

However, the moment Yura gets off, she doesn’t hesitate to take the route to her brother’s place.

“Nakamoto Yuta, you fucking bitch, open the door!” She’s slamming on the front wooden door of the fraternity house, and someone not Yuta swings the door open and nearly gets punched in the face. “Great. Someone finally opened. Where’s Yuta?”

The male makes a face that’s a mixture of a grimace and fear. “Uh, are you a girl he’s seeing or something?”

Yura scowls. “No, you idiot. Yuta is my brother.” It doesn’t take long for the guy to slide out of her way and let Yura stomp up the stairs of the fraternity home, hollering out his name until the groggily, sleepy boy opens his bedroom door. Eyes bulging out, he recoils back into his bedroom when he sees his little sister storming in his direction.

“Nakamoto Yuta!”

“Jesus, Yura, what the fuck is wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” She exasperates, brows furrowing and eyes lit with a flame. “You rejected my best friend all for a reputation? I thought you liked her, you idiot! Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re ruining the best opportunity you have. You guys are literally perfect for each other—why are boys so dense?”

Perturbed, he tilts his head at her sudden intrusion. “Wh-What are you even saying?”

“Why’d you tell her that you couldn’t be together?”

He scratches his tousled bed head. “I… I thought you wouldn’t want us to date. And I was just thinking about what’ll happen if we broke up, and—“

“I highly doubt that. But go on.”

He sighs. “—And, I worried a little about getting into something serious. I’m barely making a name for myself here, and honestly, I’m worried that my group of friends won't be… accepting of her.”

“And? They wouldn’t be accepting of someone who is as nice and caring as her?”

“Well, when you put it that way—“

“Listen,” she says, mimicking the strictness of your own voice that night, and it nearly sends him back to that time in his car. “If you turn down this chance, you’ll never know. You’ll never know if she’ll be the one you end up with in the long run, you’ll never know if she’s your ‘the one.’ And what about your friends? What if this is good for you?”

“Good for me, how?”

“She makes you happy, Yuta. Is that bad of a reason?”

God, is this what teenage boys feel like when they’re about to confess to their crush? Hands perspiring and shaking, bouncing on the balls of his feet to soothe his nerves, and constantly double checking that everything is going according to plan—as if there’s anything to go by.

He’s decided that he’s going to concede, tell you that he was wrong and he wants to give this a shot.

But when he sees you standing outside of your house, bashfully pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear while giving some boy a pretty eye smile, he suddenly feels discouraged.

“It’s fine, Doyoung, really. Thanks for the ride!”

The guy grins cheekily back at her. Yuta recalls the face from the diner—he’s your coworker, oftentimes working on shifts with both you and Yura, but he didn’t seem to be a threat. But seeing as he’s on your porch right now, the feeling doesn’t sit very well in the pit of Yuta’s stomach.

However, he pushes aside any of his insecurities, and has one focus—you. Doyoung is already in his car as you wave goodbye, another quick ‘thanks’ before the boy drives off and realizes that Yuta is right in front of you.

“Oh. Yuta.” It’s short, he recognizes, unfamiliar to the other sweet greetings you’ve always given him.

“Let’s talk, please?” He’s practically begging, anxious out of his mind. If he doesn’t spill the beans on his emotions, he might actually blow up.

Truthfully, you didn’t want to let him in. But it’s the way he looks at you—orbs not swirling in semblance to cups of warm hot chocolate, but they’re rounded with hints of fear and anxiety, so you cave in and offer him a seat on your patio swing on the porch.

“What’s up?” You’re calm and he hates it. He can’t take a read on you, but your heart is palpitating like you’re about to jump off a cliff.

“I—“ this is way harder to execute than playing inside of his head. “I… realize I’m kind of stupid.”

“Mm, I know but I digress. Keep going.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I realize that ever since high school, I’ve always tried to fit in with the crowd I wanted to be. I had a certain look I wanted to go for—so I made it my priority to be that. Getting into college, it got worse and I pretty much diagnosed myself as a poser.”

Fiddling with the car keys in his hands, he finally leans back to melt into the seat when he’s comfortable. “I have this look to me. Sometimes, I seem cold hearted, disconnected, and oftentimes mean. It makes people want to be my friend—to get closer to me but realize they can only get to arm's length. But you, I don’t know how, managed to slip in between the cracks, but you might’ve already done that before I created this facade for myself.”

“What are you getting at here?”

His eyes meet yours. They meet yours, dreamily gazing into them like you’re the only one in the world. “I’ve always tried fitting in, but with you, I don’t feel like I have to. I feel like I can just be me.”

Was this a therapy session? What was the point of this conversation?

“Yura is okay with us. She’s the one that came to my place, causing a whole fuss,” he lets out a laugh for a brief moment, recalling the scene clearly, but comes back when he realizes he’s supposed to explain himself. “But uh… she mentioned that if I throw away this chance, there might never be a chance again. That if I spent my time worrying about my reputation, I might lose something more valuable to me than that.”

Swinging your legs off the seat, you sit in silence. If anything, it’s his turn to speak, expressing his feelings because it seems like he’s never been able to do it genuinely. Yuta spends so much time masking it, that you fear he lost himself along the way.

But knowing that you played a part in making him feel comfortable with being himself is… assuring. Because you never wanted to be the people that made Yuta feel like he needed to adjust himself so people would like him.

“If… you’d let me, I’d like a chance.”

It’s… honestly strange having Yuta like this, but in a good way.

He’s brought you on a trip… with his friends. Something completely unanticipated and out of character for him because that night in his car, he made it clear that he cared about his reputation too much to start a relationship. How could someone like him date his little sister’s best friend?

But then supposedly something snapped and now he’s… okay with it?

Well sort of. Or is he? It’s honestly hard to tell. First he says one thing, then the next, it’s another. You can’t read Nakamoto Yuta, even if you’re apparently his girlfriend.

You meet Jungwoo and actually get to hold a conversation with him other than a random quick exchange at the diner. He seems nice, always cheekily smiling like he’s got something to be happy about incessantly, and you admire that he has a reason to be. Then you meet Johnny (an old hook up of Nari’s) and he’s comical, worse when he’s with Jungwoo, and they both never fail to bring laughter upon the group.

There’s more friends that join, but overall, this was Taeyong’s, one of Yuta’s fraternity brothers, parents' beach house. It’s got three floors, close in proximity to the shoreline, enough bedrooms to house their entire friend group plus more, and feels like something you’d see on the cover of a magazine on the coffee table of your doctor’s office waiting room.

It’s so… nice seeing Yuta like this. He’s so happy, without much to fear about, visually appearing without any worries and it has that insecurity brewing inside of you because what did he mean about his reputation? And does he still feel that way? It hasn’t been long since that conversation, so you’d be lying if you said that what he said didn’t gnaw your insides with curiosity and uneasiness.

He’s handsome, manning the grill while his friends all stop by now and then, getting their plates stacked of food. You try your best to assist—handing over buns, raw patties, cheese—and you don’t miss the way he exchanges small talk with his friends so effortlessly. He’s great with conversation, and he knows how to be kind without forcing himself through a layer. But what did he mean that he could be himself when he’s around you?

“So, I know we had just dropped all of our stuff in the living room because we’re all fucking hungry,” Taeyong announces, attempting to grab everyone’s attention. “But let’s talk about room assignments.”

“I can room with any of the girls,” a girl beside the pretty Haeri offers, her name something along the lines of Hyerim. Her beauty is in comparison to her friend, although her personality is brighter than Haeri’s from what you observe.

Taeyong looks over at you. “Will you be okay with rooming with Hyerim?”

It couldn’t be too bad, right? Because even though Haeri seems displeased by your attendance, on the contrary, Hyerim is gleaming with excitement. “Sure, I mean—“

“No, it’s fine, Taeyong. We’re sharing a room together.”

Taeyong nearly chokes. You’re starting to pick up that maybe he’s mentioned he’s bringing a plus one, and when they saw it was his sister’s best friend, they didn’t think much of it. But sharing rooms? “Oh. Okay. I’ll give you guys the one room with the double beds—“

“We can just take the one bed one.”

Taeyong blinks. You can only imagine what’s running through his mind.

Yuta hands him a plate with a burger on it—patty, lettuce, mayo, beef and tomato—and grins. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my girlfriend room with other people?”

Why are you so anxious?

Should you be? Should you be prepared for something? You’ve never spent the night alone with Yuta before—unless you count that night you were wasted as hell, barely coherent and mind not even processing what was even happening. But you’re sober this time, and you’re processing everything. There’s no masking the nerves that’s running through your veins, and the expression on your face is living proof that you could never become an actress.

That night was a scheduled movie night. Taeyong had this whole thing planned; in the living room, there were bean bag chairs, not including the couches, and little cushions on the ground for people to sit cozily on. The windows and the patio slide door were open, letting in the breeze from the ocean kick in, the salty water aroma filling your nostrils, and you truly couldn’t even bask in the freshness of the sea because your senses were overwhelmed of all the thoughts of spending the night with Nakamota Yuta. Alone.

He steals a seat next to you on the couch, as expected but for some reason you’re surprised nonetheless (you think you’re accepting the idea of him being your boyfriend sink in). Yuta shoots over that signature smile of his, except this one has a hint of assurance in it, like he can sense your uneasiness but you only reciprocate an attempt of a smile back, and he can’t help but chuckle.

“What movie is this?” One of Yuta’s friends, Jaehyun asks, an arm over his girlfriend’s shoulder. He’s sitting comfortingly on the other side of Yuta, and there’s more than enough room for the four of you on this couch, but you can’t help but cling into the armrest for dear life.

“Clueless,” Taeyong answers, popping the disc into the DVD player.

Jungwoo raises a brow questioning. “That movie barely came out a while ago. How the fuck did you get it on DVD?”

“Bootleg, dumbass.”

Oh yeah, definitely this movie was bootleg. At the time, bootleg movies were just people sneaking in their camcorders, holding it up in the middle of a movie theatre; hands shaking, probably slipping on occasion from the sweat accumulating in their palms, and those were the things that they had control of. That’s not to mention the heads of the audience blocking the screen and the few that stand up in the midst of the goddamn movie to go to the concession stand or bathroom.

“Bro—another fucking bitch going to the bathroom?”

Hyerim slaps Jungwoo’s arm. “Language. Plus, she’s fucking pregnant. Don’t you see her stomach?”

He rolls his eyes. “You just cursed! And plus, don’t judge a book by its cover. What if she’s just fat?”

You let out a quiet snort; Jungwoo and Hyerim’s dynamic was amusing because they always had this push and pull thing going on. Yuta must’ve heard the snort though, because he turns to you with a soft laugh escaping from his chest at your reaction. “They’re always like that.”

“I can see,” your eyes don’t leave the two of them, who gently shove each other back and forth until Taeyong breaks them up. Snugly bringing the pillow on your lap closer, your purse your lips. “I like your friends. They’re fun.”

Yuta reaches for your hand, and your eyes widen slightly. “Good. I’m glad. I like having you around them too.”

You don’t notice the way Haeri stares intensely, blood practically boiling at the sight of him squeezing your hand warmly, eyes filled with hearts like you’re the only girl he sees.

And you are.

“Ugh, I don’t like the idea of it. It’s dark out.”

“Okay, but where’s the fun of just going to bed early?”

“It’s midnight!”

“Exactly! We’re on the same page!”

Toothbrush in his mouth, Taeyong stares at both Jungwoo and Hyerim curiously. “What’s up now? Why are the two of you fighting this time?” You linger in the back, resting against the doorframe of your designated bedroom, one you’re absolutely scared of fully stepping into although your bags are already in there.

Jungwoo turns to Taeyong. “Hear me out, hyung. We’re on a trip. Which means we should enjoy it.”

Taeyong nods. “Okay. I’m listening. Go on.”

“Let's go night swimming. In your pool. It’s the same thing as if we’re doing it in the day, except it’s at night! It’ll be fun, I swear. We can drink—” Hyerim is rolling her eyes, “—but I promise we’ll be responsible and—”

Taeyong shoves Jungwoo aside and runs his toothbrush under the water from the faucet before rinsing out his mouth. He turns to look at everyone before a mischievous smile tugs on the edges of his mouth. “Well, what are you guys just doing standing here? Spread the word. Cancel early bedtime. We’re going swimming in the pool.”

This is probably the worst part of the trip. At least, it’s looking that way for you.

For one, you knew you were going to the beach. But the thing is, you didn’t expect to swim, you were just hoping to enjoy the warmth of the sun on your lathered sunscreen skin, resting underneath the comforts of a beach umbrella with all its primary colors while sitting on a mat. So you didn’t pack a bathing suit for that purpose, hoping you could get away with the ‘oh, I forgot my bathing suit;’ excuse, and well, you did, but sitting at the edge of the pool with your legs hanging off the ledge, half submerged in water while watching the rest of the group play felt… excluding.

Wearing a bathing suit just wasn’t… pleasant. You’re unsure how other girls do it, because all you could think about is the skintight material hugging all the creavasses of your body and out for all people to see. But when you see Hyerim walking out behind Haeri, dressed all pretty in their two piece black bikinis, you’re starting to feel another type of insecurity gnawing at your insides. Jaehyun’s girlfriend follows after in a one-piece, seemingly uninterested in being here at all, so she quickly jumps into one of the empty beach chairs. You sorta didn’t even get a chance to learn her name because she didn’t seem like the socializing type (sort of like you… except she’s very cold.) So there was some ease in your anxiety knowing that it wasn’t just you that didn’t talk to the group.

Hyerim calls out your name, rushing over to your side with a pout. “Why aren’t you dressed!” She has her hands placed on her hips, shoulders slouched like she’s disappointed to see you in this attire.

“I… I don’t have a bikini,” you admit guiltily, although you’re not very apologetic about it in all honesty. The oversized band tee with black shorts were your choice of a sleeping outfit, so maybe they’ll catch the hint that you really didn’t want to join in their activities. “So… figured I’d at least join the fun by hanging out on the sidelines.”

Hyerim pouts in return, shaking her head. “I have a spare one.”

“I’d rather not,” you frown, slouching to mimic her position. “You need that one for tomorrow. I’ll be fine. Plus, I don’t think… I can fit…” you don’t want to say you’ve been checking her out but jesus, she’s got huge tatas. There’s absolutely no way you could fit in her bikini. You’re not fully paying attention, but you take note of the way Haeri glares in your direction. She definitely does not like you.

Yuta leaves the house with the guys, all excited to hop into the pool and you catch him bantering with another one of the boys. And to be quite frank, the boys all look great.

You swallow.

Cause well, Yuta… looks even… greater?

When he walks out of the house, he looks like those hot guys in those coming-of-age teenage/college movies where the dreamy guy moves in slow motion. The way his hair lusciously flows through the slight ocean breeze, the way his teeth are so pearly white, exposed by his wide smile, and don’t even get yourself started on his hearty, deep laugh.

Geez. Was he really your boyfriend?

It sort of feels like he shouldn’t be.

Part of you starts to grow self-conscious; there’s all these pretty girls here, confident enough to strut around in a bikini, flat tummies and tiny waists, then there’s Yuta himself—handsome, built, and an outgoing personality, he’s like the embodiment of what a perfect guy is. And just as you felt the day he got his dream car for the first time, Yuta is suddenly out of reach once again.

“Hey,” he says, finally reaching to you at the end of the pool where you’ve found comfort in the lounge chair. When you assume he’ll forget you, he doesn’t. And while your brain is full of possible scenarios of not being good enough for him, Yuta’s head is spilling past the brim with ways of calling you a term of endearment without it being too weird. “No swimsuit?”

“Yeah, I think… I’ll just sit out,” you shrug, arms in between the space between your thighs. Just before you could whip up any more negative thoughts, Yuta leans over and places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.

“Well, you look beautiful nonetheless. Come join us in the water if you’d like. I have a spare shirt for you to sleep in if you decide to swim with that one.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat.

Have you ever looked at someone and the air from your lungs is vacuumed out almost instantaneously? Heart palpitating, palms perspiring, and when you’d speak to them, you’re stuttering over your words like some drunken idiot, but really you’re just so nervous you can barely make any sense.

Well, imagine that. Instead, you’re just not just looking at them, but they’re your significant other and somehow you’re in a bedroom with them.

Yuta’s in an oddly tight fitting grey t-shirt and some basketball shorts as he flips the covers open, sneaking a glance up at you. “Are you okay? Do you wanna take the bed and I take the floor? You seem uncomfortable.”

Is it hot in here? Because you could feel the heat radiating from your body and it worsens when he asks that.

“Uh, yeah yeah. I’m, uh. I’m good.” Yuta’s stare turns into a dubious one. “Yeah.”

“You said ‘yeah’ three times.”

“Did I?”

He drops the duvet onto the mattress. “What’s up? Talk to me. Why are you so nervous about us spending the night together? Should I have asked Taeyong to put you with Hyerim, because if that’s the case, I’m really sorry I assumed and—“

“I—Don’t apologize,” you interrupt, guilt beginning to seep through your expression. “It’s not your fault. I’m just… kind of nervous.”

Yuta looks at you like you’ve got food smeared on your face. “Nervous about what?”

“Sharing a bed with you.”

“Baby,” shit, is he using couple nicknames now? Because you’re not ready for it. You swore this was just a crush a week ago, and now he’s standing over a bed you’re supposed to share together and he’s your boyfriend. “We don’t have to sleep in the same bed if you’re uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to—“

“We don’t have to—“

“Yuta,” the way his name escapes from the tip of your tongue is stern, and hard, and he blinks blankly without a word. “I want this. I’m just nervous is all. I’ve never stayed a night with a guy before, and you did tell me if I was going to try something new… let it be with you, right?”

He stays silent for a moment before rubbing his hands onto the fabric of his shorts. “Since you’re being honest, I should too. I’m… also kind of nervous,” he lets out a chuckle, shaking his head afterwards. “I shouldn’t tell you about my experiences with other girls, but you’re not the first person I’ve spent the night with but you’re the first one that has my stomach doing weird things because I’m nervous.”

You furrow your brows. “You? Nervous?” Head tilting to the side, confusion is spread across your face. “Why?”

“Well, I guess because those girls didn’t mean much. But I like you, so…”

Now you’re the one left puzzled.

“I know you think I’m the cool older brother who’s got everything figured out. But really, I’m just a guy with this crush on you and never acted on it,” he rubs his nape, before continuing, “Stop seeing me as your best friend’s older brother and start seeing me as your boyfriend, yeah?”

Maybe that’s been your problem since the start of the relationship—you’ve only been seeing Yuta as not just Yuta, but Nakamoto Yuta, Yura’s brother who’s always been seemingly hard to obtain, one you never thought you’d ever get the chance to date, the one you believed you wouldn’t ever get to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

And yet, you stand before him with all of these opportunities but you’re so caught up in your own head that it still can't be happening and you are ruining it for yourself.

“What about me?”

It’s like there’s this imaginary ball of perplexity that’s getting passed back and forth. “What do you mean?” He shoots back.

“I’m your little sister’s best friend. You didn’t want to be together in the first place because it was bad for your reputation. I should be the one worrying about how you see me.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “Honestly? I stopped thinking of you as Yura’s friend ever since you showed up with Eunwoo, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Mouth slightly agape, you’re speechless. That’s when Yuta realized his feelings?

“But that’s only when I realized it. I’d probably been harboring all of that since even before that. So if you’re worried about me seeing you in that way, don’t.”

“Then what about your rep—“

Yuta sighs heavily, but he knows that he’s going to have to confront his mistakes. He remembers what he said that night vividly—how could he not? He basically made it sound like he was embarrassed to be seen with a girl he’s been head over heels for. “I meant… yes, you, but I wasn’t ashamed that I was dating my sister’s best friend. I was… god, you know I’ve always tried hard to fit in while growing up. And part of me just wanted to impress my friends and this persona I kept up of being single, of being unattainable—I liked it. But I didn’t like the thought of not being with you because of some stupid label.”

“… Oh.”

“Oh?” He poured his heart out and all you could say was ‘oh’?

“This… this whole time, I thought it was me.”

Yuta walks over to your side, and reaches over for his hands to cup your cheeks. His chocolate colored orbs aren’t just filled with sweetness, there’s so much love saturated in them that your heart could practically feel it emanating. “It’s definitely not you. Why do you think Haeri keeps looking at you like that despite my constant telling her to stop? Because she’s been chasing me for years and one day, I pull up with a girl that she’s never met before.”

That would explain those dagger stares.

“I just needed to grow up,” Yuta confesses, planting a kiss on your forehead. “And I hate that I broke your heart and my sister had to flip shit for me to learn that, but I needed it to happen. Nonetheless, I’m glad for it because now I have you.”

You swallow. Now that you know the truth behind it all, the next words you say are chosen carefully after some thought.

“I want to sleep in the same bed tonight.”

our first night.

Why the fuck did you announce that like some politician at a podium? It was too proper—and for what?

It’s even more appalling when you’re laying on top of the covers, body stiff and straight while basically six feet away from Yuta. He’s comfortably underneath the duvet, pillow propped up against the bed frame while he shuffles through the channels of the bulky TV that sits on the roller carts. “Wanna watch something?”

“Uh, sure.” Thump, thump, thump. Was that your heartbeat? Why’s it going so fast? “W-What did you have in mind?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Friends, maybe? Don’t you and Yura watch that?”

“Uh, sometimes.”

Yuta flickers the TV to the channel, and it showcases Jennifer Aniston wagging that erotic novel in front of Joey and you recall watching it with Yura in the comforts of her bedroom, snuggled with a pillow and a drink in hand.

Oddly enough, you’re with her brother instead.

“You’re still awkward,” he points out obviously, as if everyone in the world couldn’t identify how weird you were around him. You’re starting to pick up on how much worse it is when it’s just the two of you. “Loosen up, will you? I’m still the same guy. I’m just… your boyfriend now.”

“Yeah but… gah,” you groan, turning to hide your face in your pillow. “Kind of hard to accept all of this, especially when there’s girls like Haeri that are hardcore crushing you. She’s so in your league and I’m so… not.”

“What? We’re still on this?”

“We never left it,” you frown, but he can’t see it. You’re being such a whiner right now but it doesn’t seem to faze him. “Why’d you choose me?”

“Because you’re smart, pretty, and kind.”

“Yeah, but Haeri is hot. I couldn’t even wear a bikini to the pool outing today. That’s so embarrassing.”

“So what? I thought you were hot.”

You freeze. Like those frozen dinners in the refrigerator aisle in the supermarkets. “What?”

“You really don’t know? You had a baggy shirt on—although I did wish it was mine you were wearing, I was hoping you’d actually swim so I could lend you one to bed. Then you have those shorts on, exposing your legs out to everyone and—“

You turn over. “Hyerim and Haeri were wearing bikinis.”

Yuta shrugs. “And? I still found you attractive. Just because you’re not wearing a bikini doesn’t make you any less sexy than they are.”

Truthfully, you’re not a bold person. When some kid shoved you in the playground at school, you let them and stayed on the ground with cuts and bruises all over your legs. Then, in middle school, when a famous actress came to visit your classroom, you didn’t have the courage to ask her all these questions you stayed up formulating the night before. In high school, these pink neon leg warmers were all the trend, but you were too shy to wear them while Yura flaunted them off like they were the best things she's ever seen.

But for some reason tonight, you shattered that old version of yourself because you straddle Yuta’s legs, his cheeks are in the palm of your hands, and your lips crashed into his. You needed to confirm this. To make sure that everything right now is a reality and wasn’t some type of fucked up dream you were going to wake up from then become disappointed.

When you pull away, you take note of how his eyes are darkened. Skin flushed, lips swollen, his chest heaves up and down as he swallows, eyes never leaving yours. There’s nothing but soft pants that escape from his lips, and that hooded look he gives you has your stomach churning incessantly.

“Sorry,” you mutter bashfully, as if you didn’t just dauntlessly force him into a kiss. “I just… wanted to see if this moment was real.”

His hands find purchase at your exposed thighs, rubbing them soothingly. “Do you… want to do it again just to confirm it?”

Of course. Always. From that kiss alone, it doesn’t feel like fireworks fly like they express in those romance movies or in those teen romance novels, but it feels like… it clicks. When two things are put together that are meant to be side by side, it works. And Yuta is that for you.

Nodding diffidently, he leans forward to connect the two of you again. His lips are soft, supple, and tastes sweet with a mixture of mint from the toothpaste he used to brush earlier before bed. He smells like fresh laundry up close, like clean linens, and when the kiss deepens with your fingers lacing through his lengthened locks, you’re suddenly intoxicated by everything about him. He makes you woozy, lost in him, and before you could even take a breath, your hips accidentally buck into the bulge suffocating in his shorts.

Yuta is first to break the kiss. “Are you okay? Is this okay? We don’t have to go any further if you’d like. I want you to be comfortable.”

“And dry hump like a bunch of horny teenagers?”

He laughs, so hearty and from his chest. “Yes, like horny teenagers. I don’t mind it. Want you to be alright with it.”

You roll your lips, tapping your fingers against his shoulders in thought. You hear the laugh track in the back from whatever episode of Friends is playing, but all you’re focused on is that sparkle in his eyes, and you know how genuine he is when he says those words.

“I’m okay with more,” you confidently say. “I… I wanna do it.”

“Are you sure?” You nod again in confirmation. “Okay, but… just tell me if you want to stop. Don’t think about me—say stop and I’ll have my hands off right away.”

Of course. You shouldn’t expect less from Nakamoto Yuta.

He’s perfect yet flawed at the same time, and it makes him human. Overall great brother, but he gets on his sister’s last nerves sometimes. He’ll fight with his parents, but at the end of the day, they make up. He messed up with you at first, but he’s doing his best to show you that he could be better. And trying is truly all you could ask for.

Laying you down gently on the bed, he makes sure that the pillow is underneath your head; touch delicate and constantly reassuring, Yuta never fails to verify your well-being.

“Do you want me to eat you out?”

You choke at the boldness of his question. “W-What?”

He chuckles, pushing a couple of strands of your hair away from your face. “Eating you out. If you’re still weird about it, I can just do something else instead to prep you.” Your silence pretty much answers his question and he presses a gentle kiss on your nose. “Can I?” He asks, gesturing to your pants with a tug on the hem.

“Y-Yeah,” you respond meekly, wishing you could slap yourself in the face right now because you sound like a bitch. You’re literally underneath Yuta right now and you can’t even get yourself together straight. “You can um. You can take it off.”

He slides your black shorts down your legs, and he gives you that look for permission before you nod again in consent.

It feels so strange to be naked from the bottom half in front of him.

Albeit it’s like he reads your mind because he quickly tosses off his own shorts off the bed before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Bear with me, alright? I wanna stretch you out first.”

He lifts the end of your loose t-shirt up, legs on either side of him and before he proceeds with anything else, he distracts your thoughts by planting delicate kisses onto the skin of your neck. They’re innocent and soft at first, that is until he starts to nip and suck at the skin, reaching up behind your ear that earns a gasp from you.

Jackpot.

He finds your sweet spot, and with that, his fingers dip in between your folds, and he lets out a faint moan when he feels how wet you are just from making out and his ego inflates. It’s a foreign feeling, you admit, because you’re used to your own fingers but his are different—long and thick, it does a lot better than yours do.

The more he thrusts, your hips eventually give in and move to the motion. Your juices coat him, squelching sounds are heard from down there and it has heat growing in your cheeks. And before you could even halt him in embarrassment, his thumb finds your clit, swirling and massaging the nub that has you sharply drawing in a breath. You could feel a smirk on his lips on your neck.

“Feels good?”

“Y-yeah,” you manage to let out, clenching your eyes shut. This is by far way better than being by yourself in your bedroom.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum.

Your hand grasps onto his biceps—which, by the way, he’s not the bulkiest guy but god, he’s been definitely hitting the gym. Blunt nails dug into his skin, he doesn’t seem to quite mind it, in fact, he observes the expression on your face in content as yours contort under pleasure.

When you’ve finally calmed from your high, you’re still panting, flushed from his touch and that’s when you notice how hard he is in his briefs. “Would you… do you want…”

He shakes his head, hands on either side of your head. “Maybe next time. I want you to feel good.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he mimics, a pretty smile on his mouth. “Would you like to continue or would you rather stop here?”

“I—“ you’re still so timid and hesitant when you talk to him, even though he definitely had his fingers up your pussy less than thirty seconds ago. “Let’s keep going.”

“Are you sure?” Concern is washed over him, but you’re sure with your decision. “We can’t go back after this. I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, it takes a bit of courage to finally speak up. “I have one request.”

“Anything.”

“Can I… keep my shirt on?” He complies, as expected, because your comfort comes first. Seconds later, his shirt is off and he’s struggling to slide off his boxer briefs, and you’re growing nervous. But at that very moment, his gaze meets yours and your eyes melt into his. There’s assurance in those pools of chocolate, like he reads through you like you’re pages of a book opened for him. Just then, he leans forward to press a kiss on your lips gingerly, and you inhale in a deep breath.

“Remember. Tell me if you want to stop.”

Yuta reaches over to the drawer of the dresser by the bedside table, and there you spot three boxes of condoms, different sizes and brands. Before you could even say anything, he’s already quick to explain. “Taeyong just expects we’re all fucking or something, so he’s prepared for every scenario. This is in every room.”

“Every room?” You reiterate in disbelief and Yuta lets out a laugh.

“Yeah. Weird, but better safe than sorry.”

When he finally slips out of his boxers, your heart begins to race. He’s hard and heavy, tip red with beads of pre-cum like he’s been holding himself back the entire time and you give him props for staying so relaxed the entire time even though you’re panicking with every move he makes. He tears the condom packet with his teeth, careful to avoid the rubber itself before sliding it down his length, and the sight causes you to swallow.

Then, he gives you that one last look. “Okay?”

You roll your lips. “Okay.”

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he says once again, the head of his cock slowly pushing into you.

Truthfully, this isn’t the first time you’ve had sex. You’ve had other partners before—Eunwoo being your first, but in the general gist of it all, Yuta isn’t the first guy you’ve slept with. But… something about him makes you lose the confidence you inhabit in the bedroom, something about him makes you feel like you’ve got this little crush and it leaves you sheepish each time.

Fingers clenching onto his shoulders, you bite down on your bottom lip. It’s been a while since you’ve been sexually active, and you realize Yuta notices this when his eyes clenched shut, doing his best to hold back because you feel so good with him snug in you.

With a light squeeze on his arm, he takes the sign of approval then begins thrusting into you slowly.

He’s so handsome like this—skin flushed punk, mouth agape with his brows furrowed in concentration; he’s not the most built guy you’ve ever seen, but he’s perfect like this, perfect enough for you.

Lowering himself down, his forehead hits yours and his nose nudges against yours affectionately, and that’s when he lifts your leg up a bit, and the new angle earns a moan from your swollen kissed lips. Pleased, he hooks your leg over his arm, shoving you up further that your knees are pressed against your chest, you’re dizzy off his scent, completely smitten that he’s this close.

“Good?” He queries, thrusting hastily in comparison to his slowing pace before, and he’s constantly hitting that sweet spot.

“G-Good,” you respond breathily, a wince following afterwards. He feels good like this, so full, so intimate, but you could see in his eyes that it’s taking all of him to not ram into incessantly. “But go at your own pace, you don’t have to be slow for me.”

“Maybe next time,” it’s warm, the way he says it, like there are more times to come and this is just the first. “For now, I wanna show you my love for you.”

Yuta does exactly that. He shows you he loves you that night—letting you finish again before he does, and right after, he rushes to the bathroom to come back minutes later with a towel to clean you up. He peppers kisses along your exposed thighs, muttering something about how he wants a taste next time, but he refrains and continues to give you time to warm up.

That daydream of you being loved by him is suddenly not a dream anymore.

second meetings.

“Yuta is bringing a girlfriend home for dinner,” Yura’s mom announces, adding the finishing touches to the dishes in the kitchen. There’s an array of banchan and an assortment of main courses, and it’s pretty much a guarantee that nobody is going to clear out their plates with this abundance of food. She’s got on that cute pink apron with a bear peeking out the stomach pocket that you got for her about four Christmases ago, a smile plastered on her face, restless about meeting this ‘new girl.’ Yura is groggily setting up the dining table per request from her mother, an extra spot ready for ‘Yuta’s new girlfriend.’

“So I’ve heard,” she responds back, stepping back after she puts down the last set of forks. This should be good enough, she thinks to herself. After all, she knows who he’s bringing home, and you don’t need much impressing from what you’ve seen already. “You’ll like her.”

Her mom rolls her eyes, wagging a spatula at her daughter. “Don’t make jokes, Yura, I don’t like that.”

“Well, I’m serious!”

Walking to the dinner table, her mother scowls at the amount of plates laid out. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not going to place a spot for your best friend? Geez, Nakamoto Yura, you don’t think—“

“Hey mom,” Yuta peeks in, dressed cutely in a black t-shirt and baby blue jeans. Even in the most casual clothes he’s breathtaking, and you have to thank your past self for doing whatever it was to get a guy like him. “I uh, wanna introduce you to my girlfriend.”

His mom’s face switches from annoyance to excitement, shoving Yura out the way gently and playfully. “Just in time! I was telling Yura how stupid she was for not setting a place for her own best friend and—“

That’s when she pauses. The moment she sees you coming from behind Yuta, his fingers interlocked with yours, her heart clenches. She’d been so loving and caring towards you for as long as you’ve known Yura, being almost like a second mother, and finally becoming official with Yuta made you slightly fear that she’d feel otherwise because you’re not her baby girl’s best friend anymore, you’re her precious baby boy’s girlfriend.

But you didn’t need to worry because a grin stretches from ear to ear, arms wide open for you to run into. “Finally,” she says, letting out a heavy breath that feels like she’s been holding in for years as she wraps you in her embrace. It’s a sigh of relief if you’ve ever heard of one. “I’ve been waiting for one of you to realize that this works.”

#neosmutcollective #yuta #yuta smut #yuta x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct127 #nct fanfic #yuta fanfic #yuta nakamoto x reader #nct yuta nakamoto #yuta nct #nct yuta #idk what to tag anymore i give up #gyukultfics

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ladyartemesia · 3 years

Text

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.

To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.

To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.

A woman.

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back.

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!”

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.

You were exquisite.

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.

Desire.

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION

“The Park Angel?”

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!”

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing.

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost.

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”

Disaster struck at dinner.

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.

“I-I need—”

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily.

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.”

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed.

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you.

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded.

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?”

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)

Then it was your turn.

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.

And hope.

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it.

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.

The next move was yours and you intended to make it.

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.

He bit back a moan.

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.

It was for you.

He wanted you.

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.

Touch me… please.

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens.

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room.

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.

Your dress tonight was deadly.

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.

Oh help.

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.

You were breathtaking.

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.

Oh boy.

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply.

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t.

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.

“T-Taehyung—”

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

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floraljae · 2 years

Text

𝐄𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

Alternatively, Nini having too many opinions about guys her age ft. loving slander

PAIRING. ENHYPEN OT7 X FEM!READER

THEMES. CRACK, fluff if you squint lol

WARNINGS. Totally NOT beta'd, food mentions, profanity, very very oddly specific at times because I was projecting, I love Jay.

NOTE. High school is, here in my country, for most part, 9th to 10th grade (we attend 10th for two years) according to the national system (MY country is not like other girls, guys 😩). 11th grade and 12th grade are considered junior college, spanning for just a year and half until we start preparing for university entrances. All of the parties I have actually attended were organised by either my friends from the old school or by the teachers from our tuition/coaching classes lmao. The partygoers’ ages range from 16-18 and there is ABSOLUTELY no booze or whatsoever, just good food, water, fanta, sprite and kid friendly mango juice :D Gonna have to thank God bc my best friend doesn’t use tumblr or she’d actually realise who these chipmunks are bc of all the oddly specific details LOL

Dedicated to @kristianities and @kdyism , the two ladies I laughed about this whole shiy show to. Enjoy the slander ;-;

LEE HEESEUNG

The guy that looks sane

Probably goes to a coed school and is pretty chill with girls

Turns up in his plain tees and washed blue denim jacket thrown over

Wears a watch, ALWAYS (I’m so sorry this gonna get too specific lol)

Has this pretty famous Instagram account where he uploads covers of his favourite songs

I shit you not, but at least 3 all Girls schools have declared him the campus' national crush (we have that at our skl so kskejdj. The fangirls SCARE me to death)

When he walks in, he looks like the calmest, the most sorted guy to ever exist

From afar, he might look like he is just here to vibe (and he is)

But you might need to reconsider the calm aspect

Loves the hype

The kind to literally bust a lung to his fave songs

Got some GREAT moves up his sleeve and never hesitates to use them

Gets super shy afterwards but do we talk about that?

Gonna be very specific here :O But he strikes me as that one quiet kid who has a lot of friends and is very much in demand

His cousin might be a bitch you know from skl, BUT HEY??? He’s nice when you talk to him

Probably even scores your number by the end of the party and sends you the notes he gets from school

Rest 99.9% assured that he's gonna become your new bestie way too quickly

PARK JAY

The rich kid (pt.2) who actually looks and acts like a rich kid lol

Goes to some really fancy All boys' school

Pulls up in a porsche

His ultra modern very hot and sort of overbearing mum drops him off

Wears some cool shirts, ripped jeans, the good students’ enemy, good old platform boots

The kind of guy, I personally, would never talk to

Looks mean

Acts mean

But isn't actually mean, he's just awkward, you saw him giggle at one of your best friend's jokes from your peripheral vision

Makes sipping Mountain dew look like it’s something fancy

Acts like a casino owner sorry my people I don’t make the rules

Brags about his vacation in Phuket, Thailand 🙄🙄

I wanna throw my mango juice at him

Hangs out EXCLUSIVELY with his tight knit group of friends

Acts like the others are lints

Can have fun when he wants to

Which is only when the music plays

Busts some elegant moves, small steps and all

Makes it all look like he’s at a pub, enjoying a drink and all that rich kid jazz

literally just lady-killing

IT’S THE VIBES I WILL NOT ELABORATE

Unless you're friends or close with any of his friends, the chances of him treating you like a lint is high, not in a bad way!!!! He just won't reciprocate your presence lol

If you happen to be the kid of his dad's friend (istg I am totally NOT projecting rn), he'll be kind enough to spare you a glance and probably ask you why you were riding your bike down the lake without parental supervision or something

100/100 the kind of guy at least one of your friends will have a crush on and bug you about it for the rest of the semester

Is actually shy around girls but his pride won't let him admit that lol

He acts so awkwardly mean I would be best friends with him if I had the patience and motivation to reach out first

SIM JAKE

The friendly childhood friend who is literally too fixated on being taller than you

Another oddly specific dude

But yes

His parents are like- super rich but he chooses to be the biggest himbo

Comes to the party alone, goes home with his friends lol

No but he is so popular with girls it’s crazy

Maybe because he’s the nicest guy ever

Is respectful *cough* and helps you with physics

But he has ONE flaw

And that’s being a childhood friend you probably even forgot about until now

Physics Tutions caused a long awaited reunion of friends and he’s sadly one of them

Will definitely follow you around like a pup until you pay attention to him

Would literally float to wherever the fuck you have been standing with your friends

Yell your name from across the room

And of course, heads will turn and this bitch will still be as clueless and continue to wave

Trust me, this makes you want to drown in the drink you were probably holding

He will barge into your group and ask “Remember me :D”

LIKE TF I DO

And then he continues to tell your friends how he used to be shorter than you in kindergarten and all through elementary

Spoiler, they know what happens at the end but here we go I guess

He is now a good few inches taller

And THIS BITCH IS LITERALLY SO HAPPY ABOUT IT HELP

His friends tease him about it way too much

I need a Jake ;-;

PARK SUNGHOON

Doesn’t want to be here pt. 1

A dude so pretty that even the parents knows about him

The sole reason as to why he attends is that his friends made him pay for his share of food pt.1

100/100 Missionary All Boys school vibes I will not elaborate

Famous jock who's probably played national preliminaries

Looks like he’s got something up his ass constantly, too poised and awkward

Wears the same jacket and a pair of washed blue jeans and black Converse highs (not even original) to every single party

The only thing that changes is the colour of the button up shirt he wears underneath. Still very hard to ever even notice because it just alternates between white, beige and black lol

Always wears his dear lil apple watch

Soft spoken, and you will NEVER hear him speak more than 10 words at a time

Looks like he’s gonna pass out the moment a girl tries to talk to him

Not with people he isn't familiar with, at least

Sticks to the cheddar cheese flavoured Pringles and bottled water

Acts like he doesn't know any of his friends if they do something (read: anything)

Just wants to go home but his friends won't let him

Idk why but he strikes me as a person who secretly judges every single person in the room and secretly laughs when someone trips or makes a mishap when dancing 💔🚶‍♀️

You are BOUND to find him sunk into a couch, away from the dance floor after being forced to sway his body a lil

Gets all red and nervous when you try to start a convo

Too awkward hi mum I love him

But hellooo? Ask him about his Missionary school. He won't ever shut up.

KIM SUNOO

The nicest guy

Co-ed schoolboy vibes

Instagram famous OML

He takes pretty photos

And he is so nice :(((

Sunoo I think casually, is actually the only one (except for Jay) who puts some thoughts into dressing himself

I can literally picture him in these pretty peach/beige/baby blue coloured t-shirts or half-sleeved cotton button ups with small prints or embroidered flowers

I just think he's the neatest and has the most cohesive sense of fashion

The kind to literally fly around the whole place, strike up convos with anyone in sight

A true sweetheart (and saviour) if you're as sulky as me, sitting in a corner because your friends ditched you for a dance

Yeah because he'll pad pad his way towards you, take a seat, stay silent for about three seconds and ask something like "Not gonna dance?" or "my friends do that too :)</3"

And bam! Before you even know it, you'll be talking to him like he’s your best friend separated at birth

Trust me, he has so much tea

From school scandals, who is dating who to who failed their primary grad prelims secretly, he knows it all

Honestly, it will be really fun to talk to him in general

I love him pt. 2

The only guy who asks the girls for a dance and enjoys himself very much

YANG JUNGWON

Doesn’t want to be here pt. 2

He just came for the food not even going to lie

Isn't even bothered about his clothing

Wears whatever the Heck he finds first in the closet and a pair of black cargo pants

You will NEVER see him leave the food counter

But the only time you will find him elsewhere would be when he sees his best friend trying to approach his crush lol

You can see him and the rest of his group walk and laugh exactly half a meter away from them, so not trying to hold their laughs as they hear them attempt to make a proper conversation

Loves taking pictures of his friends

Mostly cursed ones but at least he takes it for them <33

NISHIMURA RIKI

HE IS SO CUTE I WANNA GIVE HIM HEADPATS

Just here for the dance

And also because he was made to contribute to the budget

That one cute lil dude going through his "I wanna be a cool kid" phase

All black outfits, a lil bit of silver chains and black Air Jordans

Walks around with this grumpy face

But can never keep it bc he is babie

Gets excited when someone tells him his outfit is cool or tells him they know from interschool event and all

Challenges boys from other schools to dance-offs I'M SO SORRY IT HAPPENS IRL TOO

Tell me how he knows ALL those tiktok dance challenges by heart

Famous and too shy

Talking to him would be the funniest because he just CAN'T seem to bring himself to accept compliments with something other than "Thanks....I know?" In the most awkward way lol.

Girls are nuts over him and he's scared lol

Loves the mango juice, thinks the fact that you never get canned Sprite lol

All for candies, even takes some home lol

He appeals to me as the kind of guy, whom you have the biggest urge to baby even though are practically the same age BECAUSE!!! he is so lost and sweet :(((

FLORALJAE, 2022

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hyvcklvr · 2 years

Note

13 + 7 + 20 yangyang fluff pls :D

First Time (f)

Pairing: Líu Yangyang x reader Genre: fluff, fake dating!au

7. "and why would i do this for you?" "because you love me." "not enough- fine." 13. "since we're dating, does that mean i can hold your hand whenever i want?" 20. "shut up and kiss me already."

Thank you for your request! I hope you like it :) Requests open, check out my song request event~

The first time you asked him, he wanted to refuse the offer.

“Please please please, I need this.” You had whined, and Yangyang had just let out a sigh.

You were invited to a karaoke party by some of your old high school buddies, and literally everybody had a date- even though it was a karaoke party- except you. You needed someone you could rely on, and who could you rely on more than your closest friend, Yangyang. Besides, he was good looking and nice- even though you would never admit it in front of him- and somehow he was the only option that had popped up in your mind.

“I don't know.... Being your fake boyfriend? Won't that make things weird?” Hell no it wouldn't, he thought to himself. He just had the one in a million chance to get deeply hurt. Unfortunately for him he always seemed to be that one.

“No Yang I promise I won't let it be weird just, god I need it for tomorrow, or I'll never hear the end of it from those stupid girls.” You said, desperately.

“And why would i do this for you?” “Because you love me.” “not enough- fine.”

Yangyang said, giving in with a sigh. You always saw right through him. You squealed and trapped him in a big hug. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

The next night, it was your first fake date with your "boyfriend". Yangyang picked you up from your house, and even though he was dressed in casuals, he looked awesome, as per usual.

You reached the place by cab- it was just a cheap karaoke room your friends had rented out, but it was one of the bests, and they had great food.

Yangyang liked it when you introduced him as his boyfriend. Throughout the party, he was quiet and just observed you, you were having fun, drinking and singing songs. Your smile brought a smile to his face.

Then he was forced to sing by the others. You never even knew he could sing, but he could, and he was really good at it. He earned some compliments and impressed looks from the others, and you had to admit, he was the best fake boyfriend you could ever have. You wondered what it would be like if it were real.

Yoy exited the party with Yangyang earlier than you expected, it was getting too noisy, and half of them were drunk already. Plus, you could avoid paying this way. It was perfect.

The night was quiet once you came out. There was a chilly, enjoyable breeze blowing. You and Yangyang walked quietly next to each other, a smile on both your faces. “Thanks again, Yang. You prevented me from being embarrassed.” You said, feeling kind of guilty about using him. If only he knew how much you wanted it to be real...

“Its all fine. I had a good time there.” He said.

Another moment of silence. Yangyang suddenly but gently held your finger in his hands. You stared up at him. He looked back at you as he laced all his fingers with yours. You kept staring at him in awe.

“Since we're 'dating', does that mean i can hold your hand whenever i want?” He said.

You turned away your flustered face, squeaking out a little "yes", too quiet to be heard. Yangyang smiled, low-key proud of himself.

“Why would you wanna hold hands with me anyways?” You said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant, not making eye contact with Yangyang

“Why not.” He said, “You're awesome.”

Once again you were staring at him with wide eyes. “And pretty. And smart. And fun to be around.” He continued, looking at you. “and cute.”

You couldn't help it. You blurted the words out before you could even think them over. “Oh just shut up.” You said, “Shut up and kiss me already.”

You stopped in your tracks when you realised what you had said. Your face was drained of colour. Your eyes were filled with embarrassment. You looked at Yangyang. He looked equally surprised. You were about to apologise but Yangyang beat you to it.

“If you want..” Yangyang said, trailing off as his gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, “I mean...” He leaned in closer, soon your nose was touching his.

“I really like you.” Both of you whispered, almost at the same time, and Yangyang quickly gave you a peck on your lips. Not of you stood there, surprised for a minute.

“Can we remove the 'fake' part now?” Yangyang suddenly spoke up.

“Hu-huh?” You said, embarrassing yourself further as you broke out of your trance.

“The 'fake' in 'fake boyfriend'. I'd rather be your real one.” You suddenly became quite shy. “I'd like that.” You said. He smiles, holding your hand once again.

He was kinda glad he didn't refuse the offer the first time.

Masterlist

#nct #nct u #nct x reader #fluff #nct fluff #idol x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #nct wayv #wayv #wayv x reader #nct wayv fluff #yangyang #yangyang x reader #yangyang fluff #yangyang nct #líu yangyang #yangyang wayv #promptsevent

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

heated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: An (innocent?) conversation about D/s dynamics accidentally leads to you confessing that you think about your childhood best friend while getting off. To your childhood best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Erm. This is after he told you that you would be “an awful sub”, btw.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; reader is bisexual; smut (fem reader, dry humping, fingering, [tiny bit] m-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluffy af; non-idol!AU; F2L; softdom!Jungkook x softbrat!reader; you kind of have a forearm kink and you never let Jungkook have his lovey-dovey moment, whoops

MMA 2020 ‘ON’ Jungkook? Yeah. That one.

“I could never be a sub.”

You clicked rapidly as you spoke, mashing the right button on your mouse. It was quite loud, paired with your mechanical keyboard.

“Why not?”

The music coming from Jeon Jungkook’s smartphone was a rhythm game, nearly as loud as you, since he was grunting angrily at it. It was very obvious when he missed a beat.

“I can’t imagine that being me, you know?”

You, on the other hand, were on your computer, playing with the new items in League of Legends from the latest patch. Using the practice tool, you had loaded up your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, and messed with various builds, trying to find the best combination. So far, Lethality was feeling pretty good.

“Like why would I ever let my pleasure be handled by someone else?” you mused, reading the high damage numbers of each shot. Oh, the fourth shot felt nice. “That sounds stupid.”

Jungkook rolled over on your bed, growling in his throat as the level ended. He restarted it, trying to get a better score. “Maybe people like to let go sometimes. You know, not always be in control.”

You snorted. “I could never trust someone else with my body.”

“You got an alien body or something?”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your outburst. “I didn’t ask if you could be a sub, I just asked what you thought of domination and submission as a dynamic in general.”

You shrugged, trying to see if you could do Baron alone. Welp, you needed lifesteal, of course. “I mean, I’ve tried it in various situations. I was never the sub.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.” Jungkook suddenly sat up, excited that he achieved a higher score. “Look, look. I got ninety-eight.”

You craned your head to look at his phone screen. “Why isn’t it one hundred? You’re a disgrace to this family.”

He bopped you on the nose with his phone. “If I was part of your family, your family would be even more dysfunctional than it is now.”

You rubbed your nose and looked up at him. “How much gel did you use in your hair? You look like a wet dog.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows went up and he touched his long black hair. “It’s not crunchy though.” He grabbed your hand and lowered his head, placing your palm on his slicked back hair. “See?”

You pulled your hand back, staring at your palm. “Still feels weird though. I call sorcery.”

He shrugged, creaking the black leather jacket he was wearing. He wore a black t-shirt under it. The black jeans he had been wearing were on your bed, swapped for the black joggers he kept at your place. You weren’t really sure why he left the jacket on. Maybe he was cold or something. It was pretty cold in your apartment. You were wearing fleece green pajamas with Pikachu all over them.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” you said, gesturing to his jacket.

Jungkook looked down at his chest. “Eh. It’s fine. Saves you money.”

You shrugged, getting up from your chair, leaving the League client open. “You’re only staying a little while, right? Party to go to and all that?”

Jungkook followed you as you left your room. “Told you it was cancelled, so I was just going to sleep over. No reason to go back home.”

You turned around, walking backwards. “When did you say it was cancelled?”

Jungkook raised his dark eyebrows. “Literally when I walked in your apartment.”

“Hah.”

You turned back around and went to your fridge, grabbing an aloe juice. Jungkook went to your water kettle, hunting for hot chocolate among your tea packets.

“You’d make an awful sub anyway,” Jungkook said, returning to the original subject as he filled the kettle with water from your filtered sink faucet. “Like, probably the fucking worst.”

You took a large swig and glared at him. “Alright, first of all, you wouldn’t even–”

“You’re terrible with authority.”

You paused. “Okay, true.”

“You’re angry, twenty-four, seven.”

You walked up to him and slapped him in his very hard pecs. He gestured at his chest, as if to indicate, exhibit A.

“And you’re super uptight.”

“I am not uptight.”

“Control freak.”

“That’s–”

Jungkook turned around and placed the kettle on its stand. You swooped in with a Pikachu-themed kitchen towel and wiped the excess water away, scowling. Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you, brown eyes laughing.

“That’s literally a safety hazard!” you exclaimed, waving the towel at him.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pressed the button to start heating the water. “Haven’t you ever just… not freaked out over every little thing? Done something spontaneous and stupid?”

You placed the kitchen towel back in its proper place. “No, because that would be spontaneous and stupid, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned against the counter, watching you perfectly fold the towel into three parts and hang it on the rail. He scratched his nose, shaking his head. “You should be more like me.”

“Having the police called on you because you were standing on a lawn chair tooting a party horn at four in the morning?”

“That was one time! Stop bringing it up,” Jungkook groaned.

You raised your hands in innocence. “Well, I was the one called to pick you up because you literally couldn’t remember any other number and I was very disturbed on New Year’s Eve, where I should have been peacefully sleeping and not hauling your drunk ass across town.”

Jungkook sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t drink that much again. Jimin made me do shots–”

“You always blame Park Jimin,” you interjected, smiling. “Jimin’s the kind of guy who only wears clothes to take them off.”

“Well, it gets him laid, so I guess it’s working.”

The kettle whistled noisily, cutting through the conversation. You took a sip from your aloe juice as Jungkook grabbed a mug from your cupboard and poured the hot chocolate powder into it.

“You want some milk?”

He looked up. “You have milk?”

You went to the fridge and took out a small carton. “Because you said you were coming.”

“Aw, what a sweetie.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

That’s how it was with you two. Growing up together was the same conversation over and over of you constantly saying shut up and Jungkook always replying with no. If both your dads hadn’t been such good friends, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tolerate him. Since they were, you were forced to, which turned out to be okay, since it turned out you had similar interests in games and such. It drifted apart a bit when you two entered high school, but you two reconnected once university started.

The dysfunctionality Jungkook was referring to was your two older sisters, who both got pregnant out of wedlock and thus caused a lot of tension between them, your parents, and you, the one who hadn’t actually done that yet. And you were trying to keep it that way.

Jungkook poured half-water and half-milk, stirring it with a silver spoon he found in your drawer. You lived alone, having gotten a full scholarship to be able to pay for tuition, meals, and part of a small apartment. Your parents paid for the rest – another point of strain between you and your sisters. That’s why you kept your grades up and rarely went out.

“When was the last time you fucked a guy?”

You sucked the inside of your cheek. “Dunno. Maybe two years ago.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and took a long sip. “So, only girls, huh?”

You tilted your head and sighed. “They don’t get you pregnant.”

“Neither does a condom.”

“That’s a ninety-eight percent chance, not one hundred.”

He licked the excess off his pink lips. He looked like he wanted to say something, but reconsidered, taking another sip before replying. “You don’t miss dick?”

“I mean, a dildo is a dick.”

Jungkook nearly spat out his hot chocolate. You snatched your Pikachu towel again and threatened him with it. He raised a hand, coughing.

“A dildo is not a dick,” he hacked out. “You insult me.”

“Hmph.” You turned back around and placed the Pikachu towel back in its place, making sure the graphic was perfectly centered.

“You tell your parents?”

You narrowed your eyes. ‘Why the fuck would I tell my parents that I fuck girls instead of guys to avoid getting pregnant?”

He shrugged. “Give them peace of mind?”

“You think too highly of the generation before us.”

Jungkook gave you a weird look. “So… you’re just using them?”

“No.” You paused. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s not because they’re girls. I guess I haven’t found someone who understands me yet.”

He took a long, noisy sip of hot chocolate. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“No one can understand you if you only fuck once and drop them.”

“Wouldn’t you fucking know,” you replied irritably.

“Now, I fuck multiple times before I realize it’s not going to work out,” Jungkook countered.

You shoved your bottle of aloe juice back into your fridge. Suddenly, you weren’t thirsty anymore.

“Is that the only reason?”

You closed the fridge door.

“Reason for what?”

“Is fear of pregnancy the only reason you fuck girls?”

“I don’t know!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. You spun around, blowing hot air. “I don’t fucking know why I do it, Jungkook. I don’t know why I load up dating apps to only hook up with girls, I don’t know why I don’t try to get into relationships with them, I don’t know what is wrong with me and why I can’t give anyone a chance and I don’t know why you pop up in my head every time I try to fucking masturbate! It is annoying and I do not like it, so I try to get off with someone else!”

Your chest was heaving with exertion and annoyance, hand curled onto a fist and planted on your kitchen counter, glaring at the space past Jungkook’s head, muscle twitching in your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast it didn’t feel real.

Silence.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

And then you turned around, stalking back to your bedroom.

Or would have, if you didn’t hear the clink of the mug touching the kitchen counter and Jungkook grabbing your upper arm, yanking you back, slamming you against his muscular body. You hissed, staring into his chest.

“Let me go.”

“Hold on a second.” You watched Jungkook take a deep breath, his toned, tan skin rising and falling. The silver necklace on his collarbones flashed as he breathed. “Just hold on a damn second.”

Your eyes were on the low neckline of his black shirt. It felt weird being close to him. Not that you two haven’t been physically close, because you had. But it had never been like this. Since you realized he wouldn’t leave your mind every time you tried to masturbate. Since you started looking to other people to push him out. Since you were sure that it was not just a passing thought, not just your brain playing tricks on you. And being this close to him now, you understood.

And it scared you.

“You cannot dump all that on me and expect me not to react,” Jungkook said quietly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No,” he snapped. He grabbed both your upper arms and shook you violently, making you jerk your head up to blink at him. Jungkook furrowed his brows, his dark eyes glaring at you, jaw clenched tightly. “I will not shut up. Why should I shut up? I should shut you up.”

And then he kissed you.

Your eyes widened. Jungkook’s pink lips were on you. You. On your lips, pressed firmly against them, gripping you so tight you were losing feeling in your arms. You tore back, stumbling, touching your lips, shoulders shaking, not sure why your heart was beating out of your chest, not sure why your lips tingled and wanted more, not sure why Jungkook slowly opening his eyes and flickering to you made your knees knock together uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?” you sputtered. “You don’t even… what…?”

“I’m kissing you,” he growled, walking up to you and pinning you against the counter. “I’m fucking kissing you because you want me to.”

“I don’t…”

“Just shut up, please.”

And then Jungkook kissed you again, harder this time, pressing you against the kitchen counter, hands coming up and taking you by the waist, pulling you to him and his leather jacket, him and his black shirt, breathing your name into your lips, your hands grabbing his t-shirt and yanking him to you, gasping into his mouth. And you wanted to say, no, no, you weren’t supposed to know, but it was too late because you were shoving his leather jacket off, grasping his shoulders, fingers pressing into his hard muscles, sliding down his biceps.

You yanked your head back and his hand came up to grab it back, kissing you more, more, tongue licking your lips, hissing your name, grinding his hips against yours. Your hand came up in between you two, stopping him, stopping him and his insatiable lips.

“You have to s-say–” You moaned, feeling him harden against your fleece pajamas. “You have to say it.”

“Say what?” Jungkook muttered impatiently, kissing your hand, speaking into your palm.

“Say you’re okay with it,” you gritted out as he rolled his crotch into yours.

“Obviously I’m okay with it,” he grumbled. “Why else am I humping you in your kitchen?”

“You said I’m a c-control freak,” you groaned, throwing your head back as Jungkook slid his hands down to your ass and squeezed it, grinding against you.

“You are,” he grunted. “You can’t let go, you can’t enjoy yourself, you can’t even tell me you like me so I can fucking fuck you already, instead of me cancelling my parties so I can spend time laying on your bed and staring at you playing video games wondering when you’re going to fucking notice that I want to bang you.”

“What?” you replied breathlessly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re so busy controlling your own life that you don’t even notice the people around you anymore.”

“What?” you repeated again as Jungkook hoisted you up by your ass and began to walk, forcing you to grab him by the shoulders and stare down his right arm, the fully tattooed one with flowers and script and the tiny circle with angry slits for eyes and a frown on the inside of his elbow, the one Jungkook said was for you and you had slapped him in the chest and told him to shut up.

“Let me take over for once,” he mumbled, placing his chin on your shoulder and nudging you with his head and his non-crispy but still not quite soft dark hair.

“You said I would be an awful sub.”

Jungkook dumped you on the bed, shooing you upwards. You didn’t move, frowning at him. He sighed dramatically.

“You would. You are,” he corrected, planting a hand on your chest and pushing you down, bouncing you against your Pikachu bedsheets. He sandwiched your arms at your sides and straddled your torso. The bed bowed far too low and you almost slid off. Hurriedly, you scooted upwards and Jungkook followed, unbothered.

“You said I’m terrible with authority.”

Jungkook wrestled your arms back down and pinned them with his strong thighs. “You are.”

“You said I’m angry, twenty-four, seven.”

He cocked his head, slowly unbuttoning your pajama shirt. “Still true.”

“And you said I’m uptight,” you added ruefully, pouting.

Jungkook shrugged, reaching in between his legs to unbutton he last few ones. “I’ll fuck it out of you.”

“Jungkook!”

“What?”

He paused, towering above you, eyebrow raised. His black hair curled around his ears, against his silver hoops and base of his neck. His dark eyes pierced down at you, tiny mole under his lips clearly visible from this position. You could see the bottom of his sharp chin, the black t-shirt clinging to his chest, the shape of his tan arms, one tattooed, one not, from below.

“Y-you’re pinching my right arm…”

Jungkook looked down, moving his left leg. “Sorry.”

You winced, pulling out your left arm to rub the other. He tapped your forearm impatiently with his finger.

“You’re ruining the moment,” he scolded.

“You ruined it by bruising me,” you shot back, backing up to your pillows on your elbows, grimacing as you soothed your arm.

“I’m going to bruise you more if you keep being a little brat,” Jungkook growled, following you on hands and knees, the neckline of his t-shirt hanging down, revealing way too much of his skin. Your eyes widened and you slipped, a white plush Poro bonking you in the head. He grabbed it and tossed it aside, the poor guy rolling on the floor.

“That’s very rude,” you muttered, but he was over your body now, breathing hard, staring down your now open shirt and the curve of your breasts into your black bra.

“Why do you get hotter every year?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t?”

Jungkook shoved the sides of your pajama shirt apart impatiently, reaching under your back and pinching the bra clasp, undoing it with one hand.

“Yes, you do,” he exhaled hotly. “Every year you get prettier and prettier and it pisses me off so much that I have to work out to look half as good as you.”

You felt your ears and cheeks get hot. “Well… you do look very, erm, good.”

“You’re very convincing,” Jungkook chuckled darkly, pushing your bra up and sucking in his lower lip as he revealed your hard, quivering nipples.

Your eyes shifted away from his hungry eyes. “I, uh… am very wet.”

A single, perfectly shaped eyebrow ticked. “Show me.”

“Um…”

He lifted himself off you, pointing down.

“Show me,” Jungkook commanded.

You tried to move your arms and found them tangled in your clothes. You frowned and shrugged out of your pajama shirt, chucking it and your bra aside, before gripping the waistband of your green fleece pants. You hesitated and looked back at Jungkook, who just flapped his hand downwards, giving you a neutral expression.

You puffed your cheeks and raised your hips, yanking your pants and panties down your thighs. You had to bend your legs a bit to fully take them off since Jungkook’s knees were on the outside of your thighs.

Now you were fully naked in front of your childhood best friend. And he was still fully clothed.

“Er, aren’t you going to–”

Jungkook cut you off. “You still haven’t shown me.”

You blinked at him. “What do you want me to do, become a fucking pretzel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Any way you can prove to me you’re wet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking…” You bent your right leg and slid it up between his thighs, brushing against his sweatpants and feeling his hard-on for a hot second before you jammed your leg into your chest and lifted it out, pressing your thigh against your torso and raising your calf into the air. You turned your head to the left, letting out an exasperated huff.

“There. You see it?”

Shit, this position was embarrassing for some reason. You could feel cold air on your dripping pussy. Maybe he couldn’t see or something. You lifted your right arm to wrap around your thigh, pressing it down against your breasts since Jungkook wasn’t saying anything.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jungkook breathed.

“Okay, going to put my leg do–”

You gasped, suddenly feeling Jungkook’s fingertips touch your heated core, smearing your juices around the lips, his hot breath against your ear as he touched you. You shuddered as he stroked your folds, your name on his lips, his lips kissing your ear.

“Had to touch you,” he whispered against your neck, tone desperate. “I’m sorry, I just had to touch that beautiful pussy, all wet and slopping for me.”

Your eyelids fluttered as his middle finger found your clit, pressing on it. “J-Jungkook… That’s my…”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Yeah? That’s your what?”

Slow, lazy circles, pushing it around, moan leaving your lips. “My c-clit…”

“Want me to touch it?” Jungkook purred. “Want me to handle your pleasure?”

But he as already touching it, nursing the sensitive bundle of nerves and rousing your lust, igniting it and setting it on fire.

“Y-yes…”

He kissed down your neck, whispering softly, licking your collarbones. “You trust me? You trust me with this pretty, perfect, hot, sexy, fuckable body?”

You arched your neck, giving him more access as he ran his pink lips all over, rubbing your clit, mouth on your throat. Your whole body shook, hips rolling into his finger.

“Y-yes…”

His breath so electrifying that you could barely focus, barely speak as Jungkook’s other hand came up behind your head, long fingers burying into your hair, holding tight, so tight it almost hurt, teeth nipping at your skin.

“Want to mark you,” he mumbled. “Want to give you a big fat hickey you can’t explain, want to bruise you so bad you’ll be staring at it for weeks, thinking about my lips on you, remembering my teeth gave you that.”

He pressed another finger to your clit, increasing the pace, and all you could do was hiss out a yes, a burning yes, a pleading yes, please, Jungkook, whining as his teeth sank into the spot where your shoulder and neck connected, sucking hard, his tongue licking away the prickling pain. His hips rolled into your thigh, his hard cock pressing against you, straining against his pants.

Jungkook moaned into your skin, so hot, so intense, rubbing your aching clit faster, harder, more urgently. Sucking and humping your leg as the feeling of his teeth and his fingers overwhelmed you, one hand clutching his shirt and one hand curled into your sheets as your thighs shook, trying to close but unable to because Jungkook was so strong, so there, so overpowering that you could only lay there and take it, take it as his name poured out of you in a breathless wail, throwing your head back as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, your juices becoming slicker, thicker, the scent of your orgasm staining the air.

He shoved the two fingers inside you and unlatched his mouth, moaning with you as he felt you squeeze his fingers, pumping you in long, slow strokes, all the way to his knuckles. You whimpered, tightening your core and Jungkook moaned again, eyes closed, his hair in disarray as you fucked his hand, clamping your hands on his right forearm, gasping at the feel of his muscle. Pussy throbbing around his fingers, hips meeting his knuckles over and over.

His eyes opened, watching your fuck yourself with his hand, an almost bored expression on his features, but you didn’t care because you felt him flex his fingers and his arm, telling you to continue, telling you he liked it.

“I thought you were going to let me do it.” Jungkook’s voice was low, trying to stay even despite his shallow breathing. “Have to control everything, don’t you?”

You caught your lower lip in your teeth, eyes moving to his face, his handsome, angular face with his black hair curled around his forehead and his cocked eyebrow, smirk on his lips.

“I’m not in control,” you panted. “Your forearm is…”

Jungkook flexed it under your hand and you moaned pathetically, breath hitching.

His smirk grew wider.

“It’s getting you off touching it.”

You swallowed, close, so close and Jungkook was taunting you and for some reason you couldn’t tell him to shut up, because he kept tensing his arm and it was so fucking hot that you really were going to orgasm.

“Say it,” he purred, breathing your name. “Tell me you like my forearm.”

Your eyes shifted down to his arm in your hands, the tiny angry face tattoo in his inner elbow frowning at you.

“I fucking love it, Jungkook,” you gasped. “Fuck, I love your delicious, sexy-as-fuck forearms.”

He grinned and began to thrust his fingers into you, fast, so fast you couldn’t even fathom how he could be that fast like a fucking vibrator, sending torrents of pleasure through you and his arm was so hard and his skin so soft that your eyes rolled back into your head, moaning his name far too loud. Jungkook placed a hand over your mouth and you screamed into it, liquid gushing down your thighs, but he didn’t stop, he kept going until you felt it again, pussy throbbing, back-to-back, eyelids fluttering, nails digging into his arm as the crescendo slammed into you, taking your breath and senses away, lost only in the feeling of Jungkook’s secure presence above you.

He slowed, breathing hard. Gently, carefully pulling his fingers out of your pulsating pussy, gasping as he removed his hand. You vaguely heard Jungkook place his fingers in his mouth, sighing wantonly at your taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispered around his fingers. “Fuck, so sweet and thick and delicious.”

Your brain could not compute what the fuck was happening. Did Jungkook just give you three mind-blowing orgasms in a row after you exploded at him and admitted to thinking about him while masturbating?

Holy shit.

He pressed his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You swallowed thickly.

“Jungkook, do you, ah… want something too?” you asked quietly.

You heard him snicker. “If I take my clothes off, I’m going to want to put my dick in you.”

“… I’m cool with that.”

“I thought a dildo was the same as a dick?”

You cleared your throat. “Ah… Well, I didn’t think you’d want to put a dick in me.”

Jungkook laughed. “If I had five dicks, I’d put them all in you.”

“Erm… mathematically speaking, that doesn’t really work…”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook sat up, looking down at you with a smile. The same smile he always had, but a little different now, because he didn’t have to hide his attraction to you anymore.

“You really let me put it in you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “With a ninety-eight percent chance, only.”

His smile became mischievous. “That’s not one hundred percent.”

You puffed your cheeks.

“I’ll take the two percent chance for you and only you, Jungkook.”

He grinned and turned around, throwing himself to the end of the bed where his jeans were barely holding on. Fishing through the pockets, retrieving the foil packet from the back pocket. You blinked at him.

“How long has that been–”

Jungkook gave you a silencing look. “I bring a new one every time I come over, in hopes you become drunk enough to sit on my dick.”

You blinked at him. “What.” Not a question, just you stating it.

“Because you’re paranoid.”

You frowned. “I’m not–”

He launched himself over the bed and silenced you with a kiss, deep and longing. You leaned into it, breathing softly, tongue against his, pressing back against him. Jungkook drew back slowly, thumb on your cheek. Eyes looking into yours, careful and tender.

“I don’t want you to worry,” he said against your lips. “I’ll do anything you want. I know it’s not easy for you. I know you’re not ready for the million babies I want from you.”

“I can’t have a million babies. It’s not scientifically possible,” you interjected.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Can you just let me have one romantic moment?”

“Erm, sorry.”

“You want me to have a damn vasectomy or something? Because I’ll fucking do it. That shit’s reversible.”

“No, that kind of requires more time and I’m pretty horny for your dick right now. Condom will do.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are a shitty sub.”

“I will do better after I’ve had the dick.”

Jungkook straightened and yanked his black t-shirt over his head. “No, you won’t.”

Your eyes roamed over his toned chest. Damn, he was ripped. Maybe he was insecure about you being hot or something, but you were certainly benefiting. “You never know?”

Jungkook sent you a pained look and pressed a hand to your chest, shoving you back into your bed. “I’ve known you way too long to believe those words coming out of your mouth.”

You were going to reply, but he ran his hand over your chest, inhaling sharply as he brushed against your nipples. He ran his fingers over them, squeezing a little. You whined, trying to get more, but Jungkook pressed his palm down on your breast, breathing hard.

“Listen, woman, I’m about to explode in my damn underwear. Stop sounding so sexy this instant.”

Your eyes found his, pupils blown wide, lips pursed, and jaw tight. Your lips parted a little, tongue peeking out, a soft moan of his name emitting from your throat. You saw a muscle in his eyebrow twitch. He looked like he wanted to throttle you, at least a little bit.

You grinned.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

“You are lucky you’re cute,” he muttered. “And lucky I want to be in this pussy more than I want to be alive.”

“Don’t you ne–”

Jungkook planted his hand on your mouth. “The only words I want to hear out of you are, ��Fuck me harder” or my own name, you got that?” he snarled, pressing his hand into your face for emphasis.

You nodded quickly.

He sighed, almost in relief, and yanked his pants and underwear down, wincing. There was a large wet spot on his boxer briefs, strings of pre-cum clinging as he pushed it down his muscular thighs.

“You made me a giant mess,” he muttered, eyes flickering up to you. “What do you have to say?”

You blinked at him and gave him a thumbs up.

He grinned. “You do know how to listen.”

In truth, you couldn’t say anything because you were breathlessly staring at Jungkook’s thick cock, red head glistening with pre-cum, dripping everywhere. You slid down quickly, startling him, and wrapped your lips around the head, moaning as his strong taste invaded your mouth. He hissed, gritting his teeth as your tongue swiped around, licking his length all over, feeling the veins and contours, memorizing them.

“F-fuck,” he gasped. “You wanted to clean me up that bad?”

Your eyes traveled up his abs, his pecs, his neck, to his face, giving him your best imploring look. He smirked, placing a hand on your forehead, and gradually, with great effort, pulled out of your tight mouth. Tight because you sucked in your cheeks, not wanting to let him go, but Jungkook was stronger than you. You frowned, but he shooed you away.

“I allowed it this one time. Now back to your spot.”

You backed up, tsking as you watched him roll down the condom, groaning as it covered him.

“I’m actually glad I have this fucking condom,” Jungkook muttered, glaring at you.

You couldn’t say anything, so you spread your legs. His eyes dropped down and he bit his lower lip, crawling to you, grabbing your thighs. Placing himself right in front of your soaked entrance, staring down at your pussy as he guided himself, sinking into you.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned, feeling Jungkook’s cock stretch you out, so different from a silicone dildo or multiple fingers, because it was Jeon Jungkook praying for air as you clenched around his length, his cries of pleasure as he rocked his hips into you. Those long nights with your vibrator and his Instagram open on your phone were incomparable to his cock molding to your walls, his hard hips finally hitting your thighs, all the way in, and it was so good that you throbbed around him, shuddering.

“J-Jungkook…” you pleaded.

“I know,” he panted, hands gripping your knees tight. “I know, but give me a second to appreciate this pussy, holy fuck.”

He jerked his cock inside you and you cried out, definitely crushing your sheets, but Pikachu had seen a lot by now and there was only going to be more.

Jungkook finally began to slide out and push back in, groaning, starting slow and deep because quite frankly he needed to last more than five seconds and your pussy was not letting up. You had too much control over your vaginal muscles and he was too into you to not be hugely turned on by it, shoving your legs up higher so he could go deeper, feel more of you surround him and massage his length.

“H-harder…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungkook, fuck me harder…”

And how could Jungkook say no to that? Begging so perfectly, with just the right amount of desperation, and you didn’t even know it was driving him insane, because he knew normally you were so wound up, always worrying about being perfect, always worrying about doing the right thing, but now you were unraveling on his cock as he bent down and put more force into it, pounded you harder, watching the ecstasy in your eyes, your mouth opening and tongue peeking out, hot breath in his face. Knuckles white as you clutched the sheets, pleasure radiating up his length as you came with a cry, his name, his name on those perfect lips, lips he always watched with envy, wondering who had them, wondering who was so lucky to capture them.

And now it was just him, just him and you, and his hips slapping into your hips, pussy nearly choking his cock, but it felt so good, so fucking euphoric as you fucked him back, raising your hips to meet his, loud, wet, and lewd, probably causing a ruckus next door. But neither of you cared, your names mixing together, your eyes staring to Jungkook’s piercing brown ones, hot pleasure radiating up your stomach, your chest, to your head and there was no one else.

No one else but Jungkook’s name tumbling out of your mouth as the wave soared into you, pussy spasming as you came again, unsure at what number it was, but it was the one Jungkook wasn’t prepared for and he groaned, smacking into you one last time before you felt his cock throb and pulse against your walls, spilling into the condom. You gasped at the feeling, clenching around him, his right hand reaching over to grasp yours and hold it tightly, intertwining your fingers.

“W-wow…” you whispered breathlessly. “Nice cock.”

Jungkook burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable.” He reached down and gingerly felt around in your dripping folds, finding the end of the condom and pulling out carefully.

“Fuck. It’s so much,” he gulped, brows knitted in worry.

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. I finished my period yesterday. Likelihood of you getting me pregnant is pretty low.”

Jungkook jerked his head towards you.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say that sooner?” he roared, slapping your leg. “I was scared shitless over here!”

You placed your hands over your ears. “So loud. Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No!”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut

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typical-simplelove · 3 years

Text

Since We Were Three (J. Oleksiak)

Summary: What happens when you go work for the Dallas Stars and your childhood enemy plays for them, too?

A/n: Here is a fun enemies to lovers I wrote. This is the first time I've ever written for that trope, but I want to write more so buckle up! Enjoy this!!

Warnings: people doing things enemies do (sorry, that's really vague), mentions of sex, breaking/spraining ankles

Word Count: 12.1k

You didn’t expect to move to Dallas; it wasn’t even on your radar. All you really remember is sitting at your parents' house back home and you got an email from your Linkedin saying that there was a position open for something you were qualified for. You didn’t even bother to look at where it was; you opened the application, read the prerequisites, and filled it out. You were desperate to get a job, so it didn’t matter. Only after you emailed your application did you realize where it was - Dallas. It didn’t even register in your mind at the time that your former neighbor and lifelong enemy lives in Dallas or plays for the Dallas Stars, the organization you just sent an application for. They were looking for someone to work in their marketing department. If you knew that your former neighbor and lifetime enemy was working for the Dallas Stars, then you’d probably not have submitted the application. You decided, however, that the pros greatly outweighed the cons, and you doubted that you’d ever need to interact with the players unless they had a marketing issue. You doubt they would, right?

You got an email three days later asking for an interview. You emailed them back saying that you lived in Canada and weren’t sure if you could make it down for an interview. Thankfully, they said that they’d be willing to have a virtual interview; however, you’d have to be willing to move to Dallas for the job. You knew for a fact that you’d be more than willing to move to Dallas. That wasn’t the problem. So, you and the Dallas Stars’ representative set a time for your virtual meeting. You had the interview, and it seemed like they liked you. You got an email three days later that you got the job; you moved to Dallas three days after that and started four days later.

You completely forgot about the fact that your enemy slash former neighbor was in Dallas until your mother brought it up.

“Hey, yn, you know, you don’t not know anyone in Dallas.” You were confused. You literally moved to a country in which you knew no one.

“Mom, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jamie, remember him? Jamie Oleksiak. You hated him growing up. Well, remember, he plays for the Dallas Stars. You should contact him.”

The normal warmth in your face immediately drained. Yeah, now you remember. The only reason you had the slightest inkling as to what Jamie was up to was because your mother and his mother were good friends. You don’t care for him at all.

You knew that you couldn’t just outright and tell your mother “no”, so you pivoted. “Maybe,” you said and your mother seemed to think that meant that you’d be reaching out to Jamie. You weren’t. You were going to do everything in your power to try to avoid him. There was no way that someone who worked in marketing would ever come in contact with any of the players, right? You didn’t work in media that was in constant contact with the team, and you didn’t work in anything to do with the contracts or paychecks. As long as you keep a quiet profile, you expect you should be fine, right?

This worked for your first season working with Stars. You were new and a few years out of college, so your more experienced colleagues made sure to observe what you were doing. You were happy with this. Before working in Dallas, you only worked for one small company and you were one of two people in the marketing department. The reason you were looking for a new job was that this company went bankrupt. Yeah, you were grateful for the oversight you received. You made it one year without seeing, hearing, talking to, or being around Jamie. The fact that the two of you were in the same city made your blood boil. You hated Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being, and you hoped to avoid him as much as possible.

You went into the second season thinking that you’d have the ability to remain anonymous to the team and stay in your lane. This, unfortunately, did not work. You went to work on the morning that training camp started. You sat at your desk and noticed that everyone was quite angsty. You turned to a friend and asked what was going on. She told you that someone from management was coming to find people to work for the GM, specifically, someone in marketing. You knew that you’d be the last one selected considering your lack of experience. You were wrong.

The minute the representative from the GM’s offices walked in and saw your application, you were swept up and taken to their offices. Happy with the new promotion, you didn’t realize that you’d be closer to Jamie.

The notion hit you nine days after you were promoted when Tyler Seguin walked into the office and walked over to you.

“Yn, right?” he says and you nod. “We need someone to fill in with media personnel and they asked for you.”

“Oh!” you say; you had experience in media but not that much to get a recommendation.

“Yeah, they said to be there at 1:30pm.”

“Thanks,” you tell Tyler; he smiles at you and waves.

So you were going to be getting closer to the team than you thought.

. . .

As you walked down the hall towards the locker room, you ran right into the wall. Except it wasn’t a wall.

“Oh, you’re not a wall,” you say mostly to yourself. It was a very hard and firm person.

“So, you’re telling me you would have walked into me also if I were a wall?” You look up and see none other than Jamie Oleksiak looking back at you.

His beautiful eyes made you want to throw up. There was no word to express how much you hated him. Literally just staring at him for a second made you want to run away and scream.

“I, no, I just thought I had more time before I had to turn the corner.”

“Sure,” he says in a voice that makes you want to punch him; however, looking at him, you know it wouldn’t hurt at all and do the damage you wanted. Since when did he get so big? “Hey, Yn. I heard you started working for the Stars organization. Welcome to Dallas.”

“Yeah, no, you’re not my welcome party. And I’ve been in Dallas for almost a year.” You immediately back up but trip over your feet. Jamie instantly reaches out and helps you balance. You feel your face suddenly grow warm. Why did Jamie’s enormously large hands have this effect on you?

“You always were quite clumsy growing up. Tripping and falling for me, I mean in front of me.” Jamie’s joke didn’t go past you. It infuriated you. He liked to think that you were in love with him. You weren’t.

“You know, the only reason I kept on falling was because you kept tripping me. It’s your fault.” You storm away angrily and head to where you need to be.

Jamie smiles after you. “That’s the feistiness that I remember.”

You turn around and glare at him. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be fun.

. . .

You’ve hated Jamie Oleksiak since he tripped you in daycare when you were three years old. The first three years of your life, you didn’t mind Jamie. Your mothers were best friends, and you were both neighbors. Your parents were both ER surgeons and sometimes they had to go in for emergency surgery. This was one of those days. Your father was already working and your mother was called in for emergency surgery, so Jamie’s mother was going to pick you up from preschool. You put on your small, sparkly light purple backpack and followed Jamie and his mother out the door. The minute you were about to cross the parking lot, Jamie stuck his foot out and you tripped and fell on your face. You didn’t immediately feel the pain until Jamie’s mother helped you up and mentioned that your face was bleeding. You touched your face and began to cry. Jamie tripped you purposefully and now your face was bleeding. From that day forward, you hated Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being. How could someone who was supposed to be your friend and care for you purposefully hurt you? Where was the logic in that? Why could Jamie purposefully hurt you unless he didn’t like you? He must hate you to want to hurt you.

It wasn’t just because he tripped you; Jamie began to make your life miserable. From taunting you on the playground to tripping you all the time. It continued into kindergarten and elementary school. Middle school was terrible. He taunted you and made fun of you. He always found ways to make anything you were enthusiastic about a reason to taunt you. He joined clubs because you were in them and so he could bring his stupid with him who would the experience unenjoyable for you. You remember your parents telling you to ignore him and Jamie probably had a crush on you. He didn’t. He just out of nowhere opted to make your life miserable.

It only got worse in high school. As his popularity grew in high school as a result of hockey, he only became more cocky and unbearable. He always found a way to make you miserable. Whenever you had any remote crush or boyfriend, Jamie always swept in and ruined it for you. By the time you graduated and went to college, you were ready to leave the horrors that Jamie brought on to you. You were quite proud of the fact that despite your mothers being friends, you had no idea about anything to do with Jamie’s life. You went to college and built a life that was the exact opposite of the misery that Jamie brought into your life.

. . .

You walk into the locker room and Carrie, one of the other media execs, greets you. “Yn, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“We need you to fill in for a few weeks with our media team because one of the media personnel had to leave for a family emergency. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure how good I’ll be at it, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Carrie laughs. “It’s not too hard. You just have to take photos and videos of the team during warmups, practices, and stuff like that. If you know how to use Instagram, then you should be great.”

“Well, then, I think I should be good.”

“We’re going to give you a separate phone to use that you can just keep at your desk in the GM’s offices.”

“Perfect, that sounds great.” You and Carrie continue to talk and work out the little details about your new temporary position. You walked back to your desk in the GM’s offices with a smile on your face. You were happy to have this new position. At first, I didn’t recall to you that you’d have to be in contact with the team. When you heard Jamie’s voice echoing through the halls, your blood began to boil. You definitely weren’t looking forward to having to have to work with him.

. . .

The day after you got the word that you were filling in with the Media Department, you started right away. You were told to sit in the practice arena ready to take photos and videos of the team. As the practice was ending, Carrie asked you to head to the locker room and take one-minute interviews with the players. She gave you the list of players: Tyler Seguin, John Klingberg, Esa Lindell, Roope Hintz, and, much to your disappointment, Jamie Oleksiak. You sighed. You really didn’t want to have to talk to him, but you were going to be professional and try not to let him get to you.

You walk towards the locker room and Carrie tells you to wait a moment; the players aren’t ready. After fifteen minutes of small talk, you and Carrie walk into the locker room. The players that you and Carrie were going to interview were sitting on the bench waiting. You glance around the room and Jamie is looking at you with a curious eye.

“This is yn; she’s filling in for a few weeks as media personnel whilst Tristain is out with a family emergency,” Carrie explains. “Be nice to her please.”

Jamie meets your eye again and smirks. You roll your eyes and some of the players notice with confusion.

“Yn, why don’t you start with Tyler and I’ll start with John and we’ll work our way around?” Carrie explains.

You nod. You glance around the room and take note of who you’d be interviewing. You were going to be interviewing Jamie Oleksiak much to your disappointment. You get through the interview with Tyler, but he stops you before you can move on.

“What’s with you and Big Rig?” Tyler asks.

You smile at him trying to hide your disdain for your former friend. “Nothing, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Tyler laughs. “If you say so.”

You move on and interview Roope next. His interview made you giggle like a maniac behind the camera, and you didn’t notice the glares that Jamie gave his teammate and you.

You finish your interview with Roope and get ready to interview Jamie.

“Hi Jamie, ready for your interview?” you ask professionally.

“Yeah, I am,” he says in a tone that you can’t quite decipher but it’s already got your blood boiling. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“So, Jamie, tell me, what’s been the best part of the start of the new season?”

He puts a smirk on his face and you know exactly what he’s thinking - you’re not going to get an answer you like. “Uh, I’ve liked that I’ve been able to rekindle our companionship.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not what this is, and you have to give me a different answer.”

Jamie’s answer didn’t go unnoticed by his teammates and they were begging, no yearning, to ask more.

“Fine,” Jamie pauses briefly to think of another question. “I would say just being back with the team and skating with everyone again is probably the best part about the start of the new season.”

You nod and glance down at your list of questions. “What do you hope to get out of this new season?”

“Hopefully a Stanley Cup?” he says and quirks his eyebrows in a way that sends warmth to your face but also infuriates you. You nod in a sign of acknowledgment and Jamie can’t pass up the opportunity to get a rise out of you. “Maybe you, too.”

You instantly drop your notepad and glare up at him. What was his problem? Why was he like this? Jamie should know you hate him, so why does he suddenly think that you two were going to fix the hatred that’s been building for years? Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the room. “Can you please stop? Just so you know, I hate you, so whatever fantasy you’re playing out in your mind? It’s not happening, Jamie. Can you please stop making it harder for me to do my job?”

Jamie smirks. He knows he should stop, but he won’t. “I always liked watching you get frustrated at me.”

“Jamie! Just cut it out!”

“Is everything okay over here?” Carrie says, trying to calm the situation.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Jamie’s just rehashing things from our childhoods.” You explain.

“Wait, you two know each other?” John asks comically.

Jamie nods. “Know is not quite it, but yes.”

“What does that mean?” John asks

“That means that Yn hates me.”

“You hate me too, Jamie; don’t just put this on me. You’ve only ever made my life more difficult throughout every part of it.”

“Yn, why don’t you interview Esa, and I’ll finish with Jamie, that good?” Carrie suggests

“Yes, that works,” you walk over to Esa and breathe out a sigh of relief. Yeah, you knew that this was exactly what was going to happen.

You finished your interview with Esa, and you and Carrie walked out of the locker room to prep the videos to be posted.

“Dude, what did you do to make her so angry at you?” Esa asks. “It seems like your mere presence pisses her off.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it does,” Jamie admits. “I can’t remember why; all I remember is that one day we started hating each other.”

“I’d hate to be in your shoes,” Tyler tells his teammate. “A pretty girl hates you, and you very obviously like her.”

Jamie pales. He didn’t think it was that obvious to anyone, ever. “What?”

Everyone laughs.

“It’s obvious,” Roope agrees. “You like her. Just the way you looked at her and acted around her. You’ve got it bad.”

“No, I don’t,” Jamie grumbles.

“Dude, you were staring at her the entire time she was interviewing Roope. All the giggling made you jealous, didn’t it?” Esa states.

“I’m not jealous, and I don’t care. There is nothing but hate between us.” Jamie tries to defend himself. It’s useless; Jamie knows for a fact that he was jealous that Roope got to be on the receiving end of your giggles.

“Whatever, this is going to be fun,” John says.

It truly will be.

. . .

When you got home from work that day, you immediately called your best friend, Lisa, to tell her all about your day with Jamie.

“You know?” you being. “He’s just as infuriating as when we were children. He had the audacity to believe that we could possibly be friends. I mean, come on, the antipathy and rancor between us can be felt for miles and miles. He drives me crazy so much.”

Lisa was glad that you weren’t doing a video call because the smile on her face was wide. Deep down, she knows that there are other feelings besides this hate between you and Jamie; she just wasn’t sure if it would ever come out. “Maybe he wants to be nice again.”

“No, that’s not what this is. If he wanted to be nice and try to be friends again, then he wouldn’t have done exactly what he knew would drive me insane. It’s probably like caffeine to him; driving me insane is the coffee that wakes him up in the morning. You know, now, probably, he wakes up and hatches a plan to try to drive me insane.”

Lisa laughs. “Aren’t you taking this a bit far?”

“Absolutely not, I think I’m acting appropriately. You didn’t see his smirk; I wanted to punch him in the face so badly. Obviously, it wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him as he’s huge now.”

“Oh? Down there too?”

Your face warms suddenly, and you’re glad Lisa can’t see your face. “That’s not what I meant. He’s giant and super muscular. I guess you could assume that he’s packing quite a bit.”

“You know, yn, maybe this is just pent-up sexual tension and frustration. Maybe you just need to get laid and get laid by someone in particular.”

“You’re telling me that when we were seven when Jamie broke my ankle, that was pent-up sexual frustration?”

Lisa laughs. “Okay, maybe not your entire relationship was pent-up sexual tension. Maybe just now and parts of high school? You have to admit, Jamie is quite hot, now, right? Maybe the past few years of hate has led to the dire need to just sleep with each other.”

“Thank you for your take, but these past few days is the first time I’ve spoken to Jamie in almost five years. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Just talk to him. Maybe tell him that you want this to be as professional as possible and try to move past the hate. Yn, before you argue, just think of what working for the Dallas Stars could do to your career. That’s a high-profile job. Maybe if you try to be professional and polite, then maybe he will too?”

You wanted to contradict everything Lisa said, but you knew she was right. For your job to go smoothly, it was important for you to keep a professional attitude and any hate you have for Jamie on the backburner. “You’re right; however, I’m not promising that it’s going to work. I’ll try my best to be professional, but if he starts to aggravate me, I’m not sure if I can keep up that facade.”

“That’s why you talk to him. Maybe set up a time to meet up or something and just discuss what you have to say.”

“That would require me to unblock him on literally everything, even Facebook.”

“Does he still even have that?”

“He does; it’s not even his real name. It’s an alias. He only made it to try to talk to me and bother me. I doubt he uses it and it may be deactivated now.”

“This is besides the point. Yn, Jamie is obviously not going to try to be professional with you, so it’s up to you to make that clear.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The only lingering thought you had was whether or not this would work. Surely, Jamie could be a decent human being to you, right?

. . .

The next day, you went and sat in the practice arena ready to take the photos that your job required you to take. Today, you decided was going to be the day that you had that all too important conversation with Jamie. You really didn’t want to have that conversation, but you knew that it was important in having a not chaotic working environment for everyone, not just you and Jamie.

When practice was over, you waited outside the locker room for Jamie. He walked out on his own and smirked when he saw you waiting. He didn’t know for sure you were waiting for him; however, when he saw that your phone was off, he assumed you weren’t there for work.

“Hey, ynn,” Jamie says to you and your blood instantly begins to boil. Jamie knew that you never gave him the jurisdiction to call you that, yet he still used it. You wanted to call him out on it but thought better of it. You were here to try to be professional and rehashing this would contradict your objective.

“Hey, Jamie, can we talk? It’s about something important.”

Jamie’s smirk instantly left his face and worry washed over his face. You didn’t know that Jamie could be sympathetic towards anything you said. “Yeah, is everything okay?”

His response shocked you and it took you a moment to regroup. “Oh, yeah. I just want to talk about our relationship, well, lack thereof of one. I think that when we’re here at work, we should be professional. We should put any hate that we have for each other on the side while here so that we can have a better working environment.”

Jamie laughs. “This is what you wanted to talk about? This couldn’t have been a text? You had me so worried, yn.”

“It’s important to me, Jamie,” you protest. You didn’t want to get angry at him, so you calmed yourself down. “I think it’s better for both of us if we can just keep our history and past behind us while we are doing anything to do with the Dallas Stars.”

“If I were to take you out on a date, then we could hate each other as normal?”

“What?” you falter.

“You heard me, yn. You never had a hard time hearing what I had to say.”

“No, absolutely not. You will not be taking me out on a date, ever.”

“Come on, really?”

“Jamie, this is beside the point. I’m trying to move on from our pasts and you aren’t really making this any easier. Isn’t this what you said the other day? You were hoping for a rekindling? Well, this is the first part. Trying to put behind us any hate.” You were raising your voice now. “I’m trying to make my job easier, but you’re making it incredibly difficult. Jamie, all I want is to come to work and not have to worry about whether or not an outburst I make at you will cost me my job.”

Jamie doesn’t have anything to say. “Yn.”

“No, don’t do that. You know, the reason we hate each other is your fault, so you should be the one fixing things, not me.”

“What?”

“You tripped me purposefully when we were three and laughed at me.”

“Wait, this is what this is about?”

“No, that’s the first time you treated me terribly. It was the start of you belittling me and making me feel terrible. I hated going to school because I was always worried about you and your stupid antics.” Tears are forming at the corners of your eyes, and you try to will them away.

Jamie feels terrible now. “I’m sorry, ynn. I didn’t know.”

“Firstly, don’t call me ynn; you don’t get to do that. Secondly, seriously? You’re telling me that you didn’t know you were being a total ass to me? No, I don’t believe that because I know for a fact that your mother talked to you. Do you want to know how I know that? Because she apologized to me time and time again for what you did to me. Don’t you dare say that you had no idea.”

Jamie looks down at you and extends his left leg so it’s jutting out. “You’re right. I was a total ass.”

“Only took you twenty-plus years to finally admit that.”

“Come on, ynn,” Jamie says and you glare at him. “Yn, I’m trying here, and you’re not making it any easier.”

“Oh my goodness, Jamie. Literally, that’s what I’ve been trying to do! You not willing to accept my proposition is the whole reason we’re rehashing this stuff.”

“Yn, I’m sorry. What can I do?”

You look at him and are shocked to see that he has remorse in his eyes. “Nothing, just let me be.” You take a step to the right and begin to walk away. Unfortunately, because Jamie extended his leg, you tripped over it and went crashing to the floor hurting your ankle in the process. You screamed out in pain; you always had weak ankles after breaking them in elementary school. Your cry out in pain brought some people out of the locker room.

Jamie’s eyes go wide in fear. “Yn! Are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay? Jamie, did you really have to trip me?”

“Really? I didn’t mean to! My leg was just there, and you tripped.”

“It doesn’t matter; let me just get up.” You put your hands flat on the ground to help yourself up. The minute your leg is stable enough to be stood up on, you get up but fall immediately. You cry out in pain again.

“You might have sprained your ankle,” Roope says. He was one of the people who rushed out of the locker room when you first fell.

“No, I don’t think so. I just have very weak ankles after Jamie broke, I mean, I broke my ankles in elementary school.” Your correction of Jamie breaking your ankles does not go unnoticed by him. He wants to ask why but feels it’s not the right moment.

“Here, let me help you,” Jamie reaches for your arms and you move them away. “Really, yn? Just let me help you.”

Jamie and Roope help you up and put you on the bench in the locker room, and Roope goes to find a trainer to check on your ankle.

“I’m sorry, yn, really,” Jamie says with a soft voice. You begin to put your foot on the ground but Jamie stops you gently. “Put it on the bench. It’s important to keep it elevated.”

“It’s cold, though,” you pout.

Jamie laughs. “Here, put it on my lap then, okay?”

You look at Jamie hesitantly.

“This isn’t a trick, yn. I think I’ve hurt you enough over the years. Just put your leg on my lap.”

You do as he says and Jamie rests his hands on top of your ankle. Your face grows warm at the touch and you suddenly don’t hate Jamie. “So, you’re finally admitting that you made me miserable?”

“I don’t think I made you miserable,” Jamie says and you scoff. “Wait, let me finish. I think I didn’t make your life any easier. I’m not relenting any more than that, babe.”

You flinch at the pet name, but your face grows warm. Do you address it?

Jamie makes the decision for you. “Yn, I have a question for you.”

You nod, signaling him to continue.

“You were saying something about how you have weak ankles and then said something about me. This isn’t me trying to be self-centered or whatever. I just genuinely want to know. I don’t remember what happened.”

“Well, we were in elementary school and you once, I’m pretty sure it was accidental, put your hand out and it hit me while I was walking down the stairs and I fell. I landed weirdly on my ankle and broke it.”

“So you blame me?”

“Yes, absolutely. Do you blame me? You had a way of hurting me and making it seem like an accident.”

Jamie laughs and you giggle along; he’s about to comment when a trainer walks in.

“Let’s see what’s the matter here,” he says. You are suddenly extremely aware that your leg is sitting on Jamie’s lap and his hands are on your lap. The trainer examines your ankle. “It’s nothing too terrible; just a small sprain. I think if you keep it elevated as much as possible then it should be healed in a few days. Can you try walking on it?”

You nod and put your foot on the ground gently. Jamie puts his hands on your waist as you try to stand, and your skin is burning beneath his touch. “I think I’m good to get back to work.”

“You sure?” Jamie asks, concerned.

You nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you walk away from Jamie’s embrace. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Just ice it and keep it elevated once you get home tonight,” the trainer tells you. You nod and walk out of the locker room.

“What did you do to her?” Roope asks Jamie.

“Too much damage to ever fix,” Jamie says with a sigh. There was no way that your relationship with Jamie would ever go past professional acquaintances after what you revealed to him today. If Jamie knew one thing about you it was that you were strong and steadfast with your opinions and rarely changed them, especially when it came to people. Jamie doubted that he’d be an exception considering all of the past history there.

. . .

The days that followed your fall, you avoided Jamie as much as possible. You could proudly say that you didn’t hate him anymore. That’s not true. You still hated Jamie; however, when you heard his name, you didn’t immediately roll your eyes and get angry. Sometimes, you’d smile and other times you’d have no reaction. This shocked everyone because they all knew about the hatred you had for the Dallas Stars hockey player.

Shortly after, you were taken off of the media job and went back to your marketing job. The night of the home opener, however, Carrie comes up to your office with a request. “Tristain can be back at work but not for games at the moment. Do you think that you could fill in tonight? We had her on the schedule and no one else can be there.”

You hesitate; the only thing holding you back was the fact that you’d be seeing Jamie again.

“Sure, of course!”

You sort out the details with Carrie and are set to be available as part of the media team tonight for the home opener.

Later that day, you’re standing outside of the locker room filming the boys get ready for warmups. Once the video was taken and posted, you put the phone in your pocket and begin to head to the place you were supposed to be. However, someone grabs onto your arm gently and stops you.

“How’s your ankle?” Jamie asks softly.

This should infuriate you; however, his concern has you touched. You don’t show it though. “Better. I think I’d be better, though, if I didn’t have to worry about my ankles but oh well.”

Jamie shakes his head; he wasn’t sure why he was expecting anything else from you.

“I have to go, good luck tonight, Jamie,” you tell him and walk away. You’ll admit, your comment was quite snarky and unneeded. You feel bad for what you said, and Jamie was only trying to be nice. You had to keep up familiarities, right? You hated Jamie Oleksiak for the majority of your life, so why did you suddenly feel bad for what you said to him?

. . .

“Are you coming out with us tonight, Yn?” Denis asks. The team won and wanted to go out and celebrate.

You shake your head. “No, thanks for the invite though.”

“Oh, come on, why not, Ynn?” Jamie asks. Why was he asking you that? Did he not remember that the two of you have hated each other since birth? “Don’t not go because of me.”

“Funny. You think that I care about what you do or think. I just have a few things I have to do.” you lied; you weren’t going to admit that Jamie was the reason you weren’t going out.

Jamie smirks. “Fine, if you say so, but I will continue to think in my head that the reason you’re not coming out with us is because of me and the animosity we have for each other.”

“Well, look at you. Did you finally begin to remember the vocabulary we learned in high school?”

Jamie’s face turns red. Yes, he asked his sister to send photos of his old stuff from high school to try to impress you. He wasn’t going to admit it, however. Ever since that heart to heart in the locker room, Jamie wanted nothing more than to impress you. You went back to bantering and driving each other crazy; however, this was a lighter teasing and driving each other crazy. Some would even call it flirting. Would Jamie say he was flirting with you? Yes, absolutely. Would Jamie say you were flirting back with him? No, absolutely not. You hated him, so Jamie knew that whatever he thought you felt was obviously in his head.

“No,” he grumbles and some of his teammates laugh at him. The one thing that was sticking out to Jamie was that you didn’t correct him when he called you by your nickname. You went along with it. Was there some progress being made? “Enjoy whatever you have to do tonight, yn.”

You smile at him softly that has Jamie’s heart beating fast and walk away.

“Dude, you’re in deep with her,” someone says as they clap Jamie on the back. He didn’t have the energy to determine who was talking to him or contradict what they were saying. They were right; Jamie was in deep and he had no idea what to do about it.

After taking the video you needed for the Stars Instagram of the boys playing soccer at the next home game, you wave goodbye and head to the media offices; you once again had to fill in for the media team. You take five steps and hear a loud “ow!” from the one voice you despised. You turn around to see Jamie rubbing his head and staring down at his teammates. You can’t help but smile.

“Stop staring at her, you idiot,” Roope calls out and this gets a laugh out of all the boys. “Just ask her out instead of staring,” someone else yells. A deep red blush overtakes Jamie’s face and you can’t help but smile. You walk away with a giant smile on your face. You immediately shake it off. Why was Jamie getting flustered making you smile? You hated Oleksiak, right?

. . .

When you got home from work after a long day, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. You had a minor sinus infection and the day was exhausting. You had a massive headache and felt nauseous all day. There was nothing more you wanted to do was take a hot shower, curl up in warm clothing, and call it a night. You weren’t expecting to come home and see a DoorDash bag sitting outside your door. You knew for a fact that you didn’t order anything. You picked up the bag and noticed there was a note attached.

Yn,

I heard that you were feeling sick, so I bought you some soup.

Enjoy,

Jamie

Jamie bought you soup? Jamie was asking about you? Where did this come from? Why would Jamie extend any kindness towards you? Isn’t he supposed to hate you? Isn’t Jamie supposed to be making your life miserable? You’ll admit, after the incident where you sprained your ankle slightly, you and Jamie have been cordial. Whenever you both talked to each other, mean words were being passed around. However, it was more of a teasing and flirting meanness. Does this mean that you and Jamie were friends now? No, right?

You walk into your apartment and open the bag - it was Italian Wedding Soup, your favorite. Your heart warmed at the fact that Jamie remembered your favorite soup. Growing up, your grandmother always made this for you when you were sick. Sometimes, she’d bring some over to the Oleksiak house if anyone was sick there, too. You grabbed a bowl and ladle and put some soup in a bowl. The minute you took the first bite, you sighed in content. It wasn’t quite like home, but it was close. You started to immediately feel better. How did Jamie know this was exactly what you needed? You wanted to text him to thank him; however, you didn’t have his phone number and didn’t feel comfortable sending him a text through Instagram quite yet. You opted to write him and note and were going to leave it in his stall the next morning.

You finished the soup and began to feel better. You were happy and thankful for the soup, but you had one lingering thought. Why would Jamie do something like this for you?

The next morning, when Jamie got to his stall, he noticed that there was a gift bag sitting on the bench. He looked around to see if maybe one of his teammates left it there. It wasn't his birthday and there was no big milestone coming up. What was the message behind it, then?

“It was here when I got here,” John tells Jamie.

“He wanted to open it, but we told him that it wouldn’t be nice,” Roope says.

“I didn’t want to open it; I wanted to see who it was from. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, Jamie, just open it.”

Jamie grabs the bag and looks for a card or maybe a note. He removes a piece of tissue paper and sees a note. He smiles as he sees your familiar handwriting that always got Jamie’s heart racing back in high school.

Jamie,

Thank you so much for the soup last night. How did you know it was my favorite? I didn’t have your phone number, so I am leaving this for you. Enjoy a small treat from home! Again, thank you.

Jamie smiles and peers into the bag. Inside, Jamie finds a bag of snacks that are endemic to the Toronto area. Only, you would know what his favorites were. “It’s from Yn,” Jamie tells his curious teammates.

This gets a few raised eyebrows and snickers from the people that were currently in the locker room.

“Why did she leave you a gift?” Roope asks.

“I bought her some soup and had it delivered to her house yesterday because I heard she was sick. This is her thank you.” Jamie blushes with these words and can’t meet anyone’s eye.

“You got her soup?” John asks curiously. What did this mean? “Are you trying to date her?”

Jamie pales. “What? No. She just wasn’t feeling well, so I tried to make her feel better.”

John smirks. “How did you know exactly what she would want?”

Jamie, not realizing that his teammates were setting him up, answered obliviously. “It was always her favorite growing up.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because I loved her, still do.”

This was not the answer that everyone was expecting. “What?” someone asks.

“What?” Jamie looks up from the note to see everyone staring at him.

“You love Yn? The girl who hates you? The girl who you treated like absolute shit your entire life?” Roope confirms.

“I, yeah, I loved her. In middle school and elementary school, I just messed with her because she was a girl and, you know when you have a crush on a girl that young, you tease her.”

“No, you don’t,” Miro says.

Jamie glares at his teammate. “Whatever, not the point. I thought I was being obvious, and then in high school, I realized I was in love with her.”

“You wanted to treat her right, but you knew she’d find it suspicious.”

“I forgot about my feelings when she went to college and my career picked up, but when I saw her that first time I, just,” Jamie stops talking because he isn’t sure how to continue.

“Realized your feelings.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe just talk to her? Tell her how you feel?” John suggests.

“That probably won’t work. How do I tell her that I’ve been in love with her since we were three and I treated her terribly because I was scared of my feelings? Oh, and I ruined any possibility of her dating anyone in high school because I was a jealous idiot who couldn’t figure anything out.”

Jamie’s words get a few pitiful glances, “that sucks”, and pats on the shoulder. No one knows what to say or do. Jamie was in love with the one person who might never love him back.

. . .

Walking into the ballroom, you were trying to find your boss so that you could tell her that you were here. Tonight was the annual Casino Night and you were working behind the scenes to make sure the night went smoothly. This was the first time you were attending because last year, the marketing team didn’t need you to work it, and you also caught a cold right before.

“Oh, hey, yn’s here,” Carrie calls out and crosses your name off the list. “Perfect, you’re going to be sitting at the table in the front welcoming guests and stuff. You are going to ask for their name, ID, and ticket. Once you do that, you’ll tell them their table number and give them a gift bag. A few of the players will be serving as ushers tonight, so they’ll bring the guests to their tables.”

You nod. You want to ask who the players are, but you don’t want to sound eager.

“The organization assigned Roope Hintz, Denis Gurianov, and Jason Dickinson as ushers. They also put Jamie Oleksiak. I know the two of you have some hardcore animosity between you two, so if you don’t want him there, then we can get someone else.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be okay,” you tell Carrie. For the first time in your life, you were serious. Things between you and Jamie were cordial and professional. You still hated him like crazy but significantly less than when you were growing up. You weren’t even sure that you and Jamie would be at this point, but here you two both were.”

“Okay, great, why don’t I bring you to your station and show you how the software works,” Carrie says and leads you to the entrance of the ballroom. The next ten minutes pass, and you think you’ve got the software and system figured out pretty well that you should be okay. Carrie told you to organize the table in any way that’s fitting to your needs, so you begin to reorganize based on how you think you’ll be able to work more efficiently.

Walking to the front entrance from the back entrance are the ushers. Leading the pack is Jamie and Roope. They were walking and talking casually when Jamie suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Keep walking,” Jason says and smacks Jamie over the head.

“What are you staring at - oh,” Roope follows Jamie’s eye line and spots you organizing the table.

“She’s so beautiful,” Jamie says with heart eyes. You were wearing a dark green dress that fell just above your knees and matching green stilettos. Your hair was done in the way that you knew looked best. Jamie recognized it as the same way you did your hair for Senior Prom and graduation.

“You know, maybe tonight you should tell her?” Denis suggests.

“I don’t think so,” Jamie says with reluctance. “I know she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Then try not to stare or gape too much, then.”

Jamie nods. “We should head to where we need to be, right?”

The four boys continue walking to where you were. “Hey, yn,” Roope greets you.

You look up and smile. “Hi, well, you guys clean up nicely.”

“As do you,” Jamie tells you, and the heat rushes to your face. So, Jamie was complimenting you now.

“Um, so, I’ll be greeting guests and taking their ticket information,” you explain. “Your job, which you've probably been briefed on, is to escort them to their table numbers.”

“‘Briefed on’?” Jason begins. “Are we in some kind of spy or FBI movie?”

“Very funny,” you say sarcastically. “Not the point, but that’s it basically. I think Ryan from marketing will be here to help me with the tickets. Carrie told me that two of you will be on my side of the table and two on Ryan’s side.”

Ryan suddenly appears and greets you with a hug. “You look nice, yn.”

“Thanks, Ryan, you clean up well, too,” you say back to him. You don’t catch the glare that Jamie was giving to Ryan. “I was just explaining what we’re going to be doing tonight to the boys. Two will be working with you and two with me.”

“Perfect, thanks for briefing them; you four can talk amongst yourselves as to who you’re going to be working with. I don’t care either way.”

“See?” you look pointedly at Jason. “Ryan used ‘brief’, too. Oh, I also don’t care. Actually, I’m going to head to the washroom quickly before people start to arrive.”

You get up and walk away, but you don’t notice Jamie watching you leave. He was incredibly captivated with you and wants nothing more than to sweep you up and kiss you. He wants to profess his love to you and love you forever. Sadly, you would never feel the same way as a result of how he treated you growing up. Jamie is drawn out of his thoughts by Jason smacking his arm.

“Dude, you have to stop staring,” Jason says.

“Oh, you like her?” Ryan asks. “She’s quite a catch.”

“Oh, no, I don’t,” Jamie denies. He gets stares from his teammates. Jamie isn’t sure why he denied having feelings for you. You weren’t even here to hear them anyways.

“Good, I like her, and I think I’m going to ask her out. I wasn’t going to say anything if you liked her, but since you don’t, I should be okay to do so.”

Jamie nods but locks his jaw. “Excuse me, I have to go to the washroom, too.” Jamie walks to the bathroom angrily. Of course, Ryan likes you, who wouldn’t? Why couldn’t Jamie just tell Ryan he likes you? That way, Ryan won’t be asking you out. Too entranced in his thoughts, he runs right into you, again.

“Oof, wow, hi Jamie,” you say to him giggly after regaining your composure. “I should stop doing this, you know, running into you. Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

“You look really angry and pissed off.”

“Oh, well, I’m not, so, don’t worry,” Jamie says in a voice that doesn’t express what he just said.

You laugh softly.

“What?” Jamie asks.

“You say you’re not angry, but your tone says anything but,” you explain with an amused smile. You look up to meet Jamie’s eyes, and you see the fury going on in his head. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Jamie brushes you off and walks away toward the washroom.

You want to yell after him, but you don’t feel it’s your place to do so.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Ryan says to you. “Jamie and Jason are going to be your ushers and Roope and Denis will be mine.”

You nod and sit down. So, Jamie was going to be closer to you than you thought. “Perfect.”

When Jamie gets back from the washroom and sees you talking to Ryan in a much too friendly manner for his liking, Jamie sulks again. This was going to be a long night.

Somehow, despite his anger and frustration, Jamie was able to put that all aside as he was working as an usher for the Casino Night. Just being near you and around you was enough to calm him down. Watching you interact with the guests made Jamie’s heart warm. He always knew that you were incredibly caring to everyone you met; he just didn’t know that your actions would make him melt and fall more in love with you. After about an hour and a half of welcoming guests, Carrie walks over and says that one group can go and get something to eat. She walks away and the six of you talk amongst yourselves as to who should go. The decision is made for you when two guests walk up to you and begin pulling out their IDs. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Ryan, Roope, and Denis head into the ballroom to have dinner. After welcoming them in, Denis ushers the guests to their table. You take a breath of releasing exhaustion and Jamie smiles at you.

“Tired?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s a lot of people to talk to; when I took this job, I thought it would just be marketing, not the rest of this, too,” you tell him. “It’s a very versatile job.”

“Well, if it weren’t versatile, then we wouldn’t have ever come into contact with each other, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.”

Jamie looks you in the eye. “Well, I think it’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah?” you say to Jamie, and he nods. “I’ll take that into consideration as I make my decision.”

Jamie chuckles deeply, and you feel the shivers go up your spine.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you ask Jamie.

“Sure,” he tells you.

“Why were you, actually never mind,” you stop asking, seeing Denis walking back to the table.

Jamie was about to question why, but he sees Denis and another guest approaching. He takes this as the reason that you stopped talking. You put on a bright smile and begin talking to the guests and welcoming them. Jamie ushers them into the ballroom after you talk and gives you a wink. You feel the warmth reach your face; you see Denis shaking his head and you question him.

“Just give him a chance,” he replies to you.

“What?” you ask confused.

“I’m serious, just give him a chance.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You will, just give him a chance when you realize you know what I’m talking about.”

You nod. What in the world could he be talking about?

Three hours after the event starts, Carrie comes over to the six of you and tells her that you were all relieved of your duties and were free to enjoy the event. You weren’t sure what to do now.

“Where are you headed?” Jamie asks.

“I’m not sure, you?”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“I’ve never been to one of these before, and most of my friends are working or have their own dates. I don’t have a table to sit at and don’t want to intrude.”

Jamie nods. He extends his arm for you, and you look at him skeptically.

“What?” you ask.

“Dance with me,” he tells you.

You want to tell him he’s crazy and that there was no way in hell that you were going to dance with him. However, you wanted to. You wanted to dance with Jamie, so you loop your arm through his and he leads you into the ballroom. The two of you find a spot on the dance floor and maneuver yourselves into a dancing position. Jamie rests his two hands on your waist and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. You giggle softly; your hands don’t reach because Jamie is too tall.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re too tall; I can’t get my arms to go around your neck,” you tell him.

“Oh,” Jamie says. His eyes suddenly light up. He removes one of his hands from your waist and takes your hand. “Now, you put one of your hands on my back. This work?”

You do as he says and nods. “Yeah, and now we dance!”

“That we do.”

You and Jamie begin swaying with the music. You remember that you had a question you wanted to ask Jamie, so you decide to prompt him with it now. “Hey, Jamie?”

“Yes, ynn?”

“Why were you so upset earlier?” you ask.

Jamie suddenly stiffens, and you begin tracing patterns on his back with your hand to try to calm him down. “No reason.”

“So, you mean to tell me that you just get angry for no apparent reason?”

“No, I did get angry for a certain reason.”

“Care to share? A penny for your thoughts?”

What about a kiss for my thoughts. “It’s stupid. Ryan just said something I didn’t like, so I got angry.”

“Oh, okay.”

Jamie smiles at you, and you both continue to dance to the song. When the song ends, you begin to release your grasp of Jamie, but he doesn’t do the same.

“Jamie, the song's over.”

“I know, one more?” he asks. You want to say yes, but you aren’t sure why you don’t want to. You aren’t sure what this shift in your relationship is, but you need some time to figure it out on your own.

“I’m sorry, my feet hurt, I think I’m going to head to the back with staff and just rest, okay?” you pivot.

Jamie nods and releases his hold on you. “I probably have to do some sucking up to the donors and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, probably,” you tease. “See you later?”

“Absolutely, yes,” Jamie says to you, and the two of you go your separate ways. You head to the back to find Carrie, and Jamie heads to his teammates.

“So, did you finally tell her?” Denis asks excitedly.

“No,” Jamie says glumly.

The team gathered at this certain location all shook their heads in annoyance. When will the two of you finally realize these things?

You’re sitting in the back kitchen with a piece of chocolate cake as the event wraps up. Carrie told you that you could just sit in the back if you didn’t want to go out. Yeah, that’s what you did. You didn’t want to see Jamie again because you didn’t know what the shift in your guys’ relationship was. You needed to talk to Lisa as soon as you could before you saw Jamie again. Sadly, the universe didn’t care that much about what you felt.

“Is this the pity party?” Jamie asks as he sits across from you. He grabs the fork in your hand and takes a bite out of your cake.

“Hey!” you jokingly scold. “And no, this isn’t a pity party. I just don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You could have come and found me, you know.”

You open your mouth to say something but close it right away.

“What?” Jamie asks with his mouth full of cake.

“Stop eating my cake,” you tell him and take your fork out of his hand. “Should you really be eating this anyway?”

“It’s cake.”

“Yeah, and you’re a professional athlete.”

“I don’t follow.”

You sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating only healthy things?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“But you’re eating cake.”

“Oh, now I get what you're saying,” Jamie says to you. “Just don’t tell the nutrition staff.”

“Then maybe you should wipe that chocolate icing off your face,” you joke.

“Oops, my bad,” Jamie begins wiping the icing off his face but misses.

“Here, let me,” you say and scoot your chair closer to him. You use your thumb and wipe the icing off your face. “Better.”

“Thank you,” Jamie says to you, and his face gets closer to yours so close that your foreheads are touching. “Yn, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you say to him, realizing how close your face is to his.

“You know how you asked me earlier today about why I was mad?” Jamie asks, and you nod. “Well, I wasn’t entirely telling you the truth. Yes, Ryan said something I didn’t like. When you walked to the washroom, I was staring at you because you were so beautiful. One of the guys told me to stop staring at you, and Ryan asked if I liked you. I don’t know why, but I told him no even though I’m so in love with you. Ryan then said that he was going to ask you out, and I got mad. I got mad because I want to be the one to love you, and I think Ryan might be the one to get that first.”

You pull back slightly, shocked. “What?”

“I’m in love with you; I always was.”

There’s no way you feel the same way. Where did that come from? “What? No, Jamie. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve treated me like shit our entire life. There is no way you’re in love with me. No, you’re not. I’m sorry, I have to go.” You get up abruptly and walk out of the kitchen.

You walk to go find Carrie, so you could tell her you were going to head home. You were going to tell her you feel sick, which you do. You find Carrie and tell her you’re going to head home. She says it’s fine, and you head to the exit.

“Yn, wait, don’t leave because of me,” Jamie says to you as you’re about to leave. Somehow, he found you and was following you.

“No, Jamie, if you didn’t want me to leave, you shouldn’t have said those things to me. Why? Do you hate me that much that you want to mess with me so badly?”

“What? No, of course not. I don’t hate you, yn!”

“That’s rich; I’m leaving. Goodnight, Jamie.”

You don’t see the fallen look on Jamie’s face as you walk away, but his teammates do. Jamie goes back to his table but doesn’t say anything. Why did he think you’d ever feel the same way? Because he was nice for a few months? No, he should have known better. This was his fault, and he had to live what he did.

You held in your tears until you got to your car. The minute your door closed, you broke down. How dare he do this to you? How dare Jamie say something like that to mess with you? What was his problem? Why would he do that?

You and Jamie both went home miserable that night. Jamie went home heartbroken, and you went home angry and annoyed. What happens next?

. . .

You called in sick the Monday after Casino Night. You weren’t ready to face Jamie even though you knew that you’d probably not see him. You weren’t sure what to think. Jamie was always someone that you knew would be in your life. However, you always thought he’d be there as your lifelong enemy who you happened to still be in semi-contact with because your parents were friends. As of late, though, you’ve been seeing Jamie as a friend. You weren’t going to lie, you found Jamie ridiculously attractive, and ever since the accident you had where you and Jamie finally talked, you began to see him in a different light. Instead of your first thought being how much you hated him, you thought about the good things he had to himself. You saw how friendly he was to everyone, and he always asked how you were. He had a selflessness to himself that you were starting to love about him.

“Why are you telling me all this, yn?” Lisa asks you exasperated. “I always thought that the two of you were perfect for each other, even in high school. Don’t lie, you thought about it, too.”

You pause for a moment carefully thinking about what you were going to say. “I guess you’re right. I did have a small crush on him in high school because, for almost six months, he was mostly nice to me.”

“And what about now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Yes, please, Lisa.”

“I think you’re in love with him, too. I think you always have been; I think he’s one of those people that is always going to be in your life whether or not you like it. At first, everyone thought you two were going to be the best of friends and take over the world. That all changed when he tripped you and the rest is history, but I think it’s different now. This time around, you both are mature adults who, I think, subconsciously realized that the way they dealt with the crushes they had on each other was by absolutely hating each other. You both didn’t know what to do, so you’re coping mechanism? Hate each other senselessly because you didn’t know what else. Now, Jamie realized how he feels and wants that with you. He said it first, right? Maybe he wants to show you he’s changed and truly loves you now.”

“I guess you’re kind of right,” you tell Lisa. “I just, I don’t know how I feel.”

“Do you find him attractive?”

“Yes, of course, he’s gorgeous.”

“Did you always think that?”

“Yes, because he’s always been gorgeous.”

“Was one of the reasons you hated him because he was so gorgeous?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Lisa,” you tell your best friend skeptically.

“My point is that if you truly hated him, you wouldn’t have called him gorgeous so quickly. I think you would have just denied finding him attractive and that’s that. Now that you know what nice and kind Jamie is like, I think you want more. You want to have more with him because you’ve seen what a great person Jamie is. Because you’ve seen the goodness, you want more and all of it. Can you say that you currently hate Jamie Oleksiak with your entire being?”

“No, I cannot say that I hate Jamie Oleksiak with my entire being.”

“Your first reaction to him telling you how he feels was not to punch him or to hurt him, was it?”

“No, I guess it wasn’t,” you say calmly.

“What was it then, yn?”

“In my head, and I don’t know why I said it, but it was ‘there’s no way you feel the same way', and I was surprised those words even formed in my head.”

“Don’t you see, yn? You feel the same way! You just didn’t know it! Your head and heart have been trying to tell you how you feel by spreading warmth to your face, making you feel shy, or just wanting to be around him. Yn, you’re in love with Jamie Oleksiak.”

“Holy shit, I’m in love with Jamie Oleksiak.”

“You’re in love with Jamie Oleksiak, yn.”

“Oh dear goodness, what do I do now, Lisa?”

“Apologize and tell him.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah, I can do that, right?”

“If you want to be with him, then yeah.”

“Okay, I can do that, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? What could possibly go wrong?”

. . .

Believe it or not, a lot. The next day, you were set to go back to work, but you woke up with a massive migraine, an aching cough, and a debilitating stomach ache. You couldn’t go to work feeling like this, so you called in sick for real this time. You finally had the courage to go see a doctor, and they told you it was just a bug. They gave you some antibiotics, and you were back to work in three days.

On the Saturday after Casino Night, Carrie asked if you could fill in for the media team, and you agreed enthusiastically. Maybe you’d finally be able to see Jamie and talk to him?

Unfortunately, that was not the case. You weren’t outright trying to talk to Jamie or get his attention, but you weren’t not doing that. You tried to act normal, but Jamie wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You were able to catch him alone after the game, but when you called out to him, he didn’t respond. You went home that night crying thinking you ruined something great without knowing you had something great at the tip of your fingers.

The following Monday, you were sitting in the GM’s offices when Jamie walked in looking for one of the team managers. You were the one of two sitting in the room, and Jamie walked to the other person who was on the far side of the room to ask if the manager was there. You’ll admit, that hurt.

You saw Jamie a few days later on your way to the locker room to give some paperwork to the coaching staff. You were about to turn the corner when your foot got stuck in a loose floorboard, and you went tumbling to the ground.

“Are you okay?” someone asks you as you try to get up.

“I mean, considering I just fell to the ground, no, but thanks for asking,” you answer and lookup. “Jamie.”

“Yn,” he replies back to you. “I’m going to go.”

“Jamie, wait, please.”

“What, yn? Are you going to reject me again because I don’t want to have that conversation with you, then.”

“When we both aren’t at work and in a public place, can we please talk?”

“Why should I agree to that, yn? Because, for your information, you’re breaking my heart. I can’t do this if you’re just going to make me feel terrible.”

You falter slightly when Jamie tells you that you’re breaking his heart. “I’m really sorry, can we just please pick a time and place to talk?”

“Sure, right here, right now.”

“Jamie, that’s not what I --”

“No, if you want to talk, then right here. I don’t want to have this conversation later if you’re going to reject me again.”

You’re getting kind of sick and tired of Jamie insisting that you’re going to reject him again because you’re not. “Jamie! I’m not going to reject you again! Do you think I’m some kind of heartless monster who loves to see you suffer? Guess what, I don’t! I hate that my words made you hurt and put you in a terrible mood. I apologize for that. You know you got to speak your mind, isn’t it time for me to be able to speak mine?”

Jamie is about to say something, but you stop him.

“No, I’m not going to break your heart, I promise. Just listen, okay?”

Jamie nods and takes one step towards you.

“Casino Night? You caught me off guard. My entire life, I hated you and that was all I knew. Wake up? Hate Jamie. Go to bed? Hate Jamie. You have to admit, though, you didn’t make it hard, but that’s beside the point. When I literally ran into you all those months ago, I picked up where we left off because that was all I knew. Then, come to find out, I didn’t like that. When I tripped over your foot and we talked? That was the shift inside of me. I didn’t know what I was feeling. The next few things I’m going to say I didn’t makeup on my own, Lisa helped me with it. She told me that I got to experience nice and kind Jamie, and I loved it. I did, I loved being on the receiving end of it. She was saying how I wanted more, all of the love and kindness you have to offer. She’s not wrong. I want everything you have to offer because I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“Casino Night? I didn’t know what I was feeling. If you gave me a bit more time, on my own, then I think I would have realized it soon. I’m not sure if you know this, but in sophomore year of high school, I had a crush on you because, for once, you were quite nice to me. I like nice Jamie because he makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Jamie Oleksiak, I’m in love with you even though I spent almost twenty years hating you. And, that’s all I have to say, so I’m going to go now.”

You begin to turn around, but Jamie’s next words leave you stunned. “I’ve had a crush on you since we were three.”

“What?”

“When we were three years old, I realized I had a crush on you. I wouldn’t have called it a crush, but I always saw how in love my parents were and one day wanted that with you. You know how children get ‘married’? Well, I wanted to marry you. I didn’t know how to process how I felt so I treated you like shit and for that, I’m sorry. I realized I was in love with you in high school, but at that point, too much damage was created for me to go back and change things. When I saw you again a few months back, I realized that I never really got over you, and I wanted more with you.”

You take a step forward. “So.”

“So?”

“So, we’re two idiots who are in love with each other, then?”

“So we are,” Jamie says to you with a smile.

“Now what do we do?” you ask.

“Well, I’d like to take you out for dinner and maybe kiss you? Then, take you out for dinner again and call you my girlfriend. What do you think?”

“I think you should kiss me now and we can just jump to the ‘I’m your girlfriend’ part.”

“That’s a deal,” Jamie says and leans down to kiss you. He places a gentle kiss on your lips before leaning back to take a breath. He leans in again, and you both deepen the kiss he places on your lips. All of five seconds pass when you hear cheering behind you. “I guess this is why you wanted to talk in private, right?”

You laugh. “Yeah, it was. Maybe you should listen to me more often.”

“Well, now that you’re my girlfriend, I guess I have more of a reason to.”

“And why’s that?”

“So I get to keep you and love you forever?”

You smile and say, “that I can do.” You perch upon your tippy-toes and kiss Jamie again. Who knew that two childhood enemies could one day learn to love each other?

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