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sundrop-writes · 3 months

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Careful - Chapter One

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Over Yet

We can go farther, beyond the end.

Summary:

You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.

That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 5,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?

A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.

...

The team had been in Portland for three days.

No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers.

A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers.

“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?”

He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers.

Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad.

Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects.

Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete.

They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree.

“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.”

She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued.

“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.”

“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized.

“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.”

“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.”

Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on:

“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.”

“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.”

“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration.

“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him.

“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.”

“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.”

He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it.

“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on.

“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.”

“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.”

“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.”

Prentiss visibly cringed at this.

“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together.

Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought.

“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.”

She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain.

“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?”

“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory.

“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.”

“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit.

This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again.

“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room.

“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her.

“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.”

“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued.

Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain.

“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?”

Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile.

“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.”

“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced.

A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from.

“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.”

“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk.

“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.”

“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-”

“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.”

“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned.

“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,”

“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”

“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed.

“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.”

“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.”

“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.”

…

The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office.

After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through.

So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned.

“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed.

“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully.

Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day -

You had a son.

A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now.

And his birth date was… fuck.

He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again.

One thousand, seven hundred and two days.

Four years, eight months, and two days.

It wasn’t difficult math.

Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child?

His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.

Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life?

Had you been keeping this from him intentionally?

He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with.

What the fuck was going on?

There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions.

Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe-

“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention.

Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically.

“Did you find something?”

…

All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them.

So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before.

It could definitely work.

When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone.

So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house.

…

“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,”

“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts.

He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air.

“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?”

JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend.

Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated.

Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation.

The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up.

But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago.

Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again.

It had been four years.

JJ was someone he could lean on right now.

“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest.

“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked.

“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it.

“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?”

It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look.

“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned.

“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer.

“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.”

“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”

“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.

It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him.

“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.”

There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time).

She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world.

So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby?

“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud.

Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together.

“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment.

That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face.

“One thing at a time, alright?”

…

When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning.

It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother.

Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.

He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly.

And now the two of you likely had a child together.

Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang.

“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.”

She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you.

He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing.

He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’.

Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open.

At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return.

You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone.

Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you.

But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock.

He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever.

“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot.

You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.

So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him.

You were breath-taking.

“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already.

You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock.

Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date.

The first night that he knew he was in love with you.

…

He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.

It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on.

It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night.

Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness.

It was a perfect night.

Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat.

His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves.

And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled.

“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind.

You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place.

“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?”

Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic.

“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.”

“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this.

Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued.

“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.”

“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.”

Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer.

“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.”

Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more.

“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this.

“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.”

You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more.

“Interesting.” You replied.

“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.”

Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail.

“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.”

Spencer let out another bright laugh at this.

“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.”

“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile.

“And see-”

Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his.

He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was.

But Spencer was nothing like that.

He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips.

When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“That was… wow.” He sighed.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle.

“Well, I - you - wow.”

It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter.

Back then - everything had been perfect.

He had no clue where it all went so wrong.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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lewisvinga · 2 months

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both of them | charles leclerc x fem! reader x alexandra saint mleux

summary; fans think charles is cheating in alexandra after fans see his interactions with y/n, the truth shocks them even more

fc; sabrina carpenter

warnings; cursing i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested ! slowly but surely recovering from this cold, so expect some more posts soon ( hopefully 🤞 )

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; guess where i’m going 😁] [caption 2; forza ferrari sempre ❤️]

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story !

alexandrasaintmleux make sure charles isn’t being such a worrier ! i miss u both sm:(

yourusername oh babe u know our cha, he worries about every little thing ! i think he might go crazy if i spend any second longer getting food 😬😬

yourusername n we miss u 2🙁

alexandrasaintmleux classic charles😅 idk how he survives races when neither of us are there 🤔

charles_leclerc replied to your story !

charles_leclerc WHERE ARE YOU

yourusername i swear alex can feel how nervous u are from here😭

yourusername IM OMW!!!!

charles_leclerc im not that nervous 🙄🙄

yourusername yeah sure lolllll😂😂

yourusername u just need a hug bae

charles_leclerc yeah true

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others !

yourusername: slayrarri

tagged; scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari: we’ll invite u everytime slay y/n 😁❤️

yourusername: oh yes please

username: MOTHER

username: THE HALTER TOPPP😍

username: no wonder charles kept staring at her bc AWOOGA

charles_leclerc: come back in 2 weeks, yeah? 😉

yourusername: only if u play nice 😁

username: what is going on in the house of commons…

username:,)-;@3:

username: charles 😭😭😭

username: whyd charles add a winking emoji like sir u have a gf 🤔🤔🤔

username: AND ALEX LIKED THIS?? like in front of u gf is embarrassing he has no shame 💀💀

username: it’s weirddddddd, like if that was my man i’d say it’s cheating but that’s just me

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yourusername, alexandrasaintmleux, and others !

charles_leclerc: my girls, both of them.

tagged; yourusername, alexandrasaintmleux

yourusername: CHAAAAAAA

alexandrasaintmleux: chaaaaaaa ( lowercase )

charles_leclerc: Y/NNNNN ALEXXXXX

yourusername: my sweet boy n my sweet girl, ilysm😢🫶

alexandrasaintmleux: love u, pretty girl, love u both💓

charles_leclerc: and I love u both the most

alexandrasaintmleux: y/n let him win this or else hem get pouty😕😕😕 yourusername

yourusername: fine i’ll let him win 🙄🙄🙄 alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc: i don’t??? get??? pouty????

carlossainz55: this is you everytime 😾😾 and unfortunately i have to deal with it🙄

username: he said i want ‘em BOF

username: WHAHSOAJD

username: waittttt i like this 🤭🫣🫣

username: they’re all dating ???&2@;&😭😭

username: how’d charles pull both of ‘em holy shit they’re gorgeousss😭😭

maxverstappen1: a lot of stuttering and blushing i must say😕😕

username: MAX???? LMAOOO

username: not max exposing charles 😭😭😭

charles_leclerc: maxverstappen1 stop lying on my name

pierregasly: you still blush at the mention of their name wdym?? 🤔 charles_leclerc

lewishamilton: remember when he came up to us and asked for advice on how to approach them? 😂 pierregasly

charles_leclerc: ok that’s ENOUGH pierregasly lewishamilton

yourusername: no keep going boys pls 🙏maxverstappen1 pierregasly lewishamilton

alexandrasaintmleux: i’m liking this 😁

username: JWODKWKS WHATS GOING ONNN😭

username: poor charles he’s getting violated under his own post

username: THEYRE A THROUPLE???

username: YOOOOOO😨😨😨😨😨

username: wdym they’re all dating WDYMMMM

username: do u guys need a dog??? i can bark😖

username: KANKAKXKAKKD???!1@;&/&/

username: i audibly gasped whaaaa

username: the way they all slay so hard

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux

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atticrissfinch · 5 months

Text

Underneath Kitchen Lights: A Meet Me in the Back Ficlet | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: You ride Joel's thigh. That's about it. Some gross fluff too. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), daddy!kink, thigh-riding, light spanking, breeding!kink, degradation!kink (use of slut/whore), sleazy Joel’s mouth, brown sugar cinnamon poptart supremacy, does joel have a ponyplay kink?? who’s to say. don’t read into it ok he’s just a silly little guy who says words, mentions of religion, mentions of creampie, mentions of food, just like….really gross fluff tbh I’m sorry about this word count: ~1.6K | ao3 a/n: this kinda came out of nowhere tbh. I wanted to talk about the cross and I also wanted to implement an ask I got recently lmao. this isn’t necessarily directly after the Christmas special, but it is definitely sometime after those events take place. you can imagine what/when you’d like, really 🙂. also I pulled the title from all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine, which I HIGHLY recommend listening to with these two knuckleheads in mind 👀. enjoy, my little sickos ❤️ Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

“So what’s with the cross?”

You’re in his kitchen at his tiny, rickety dining table. Joel had pulled you up onto his boxer-clad lap after you’d polished off the poptarts he had so generously toasted for you after you’d confessed your post-orgasm hunger this afternoon. You’re not normally a poptart kind of girl, but he had the brown sugar cinnamon ones, and you weren’t sure exactly how much of Joel’s fridge contents you trusted.

He had thumbed off the crumbs clinging to the corners of your mouth and slipped them between your lips once you were situated on his lap, legs straddling his thigh.

Now you’re fiddling with the small gold crucifix that perpetually dangles from his neck, currently adorning his bare chest.

“What about it, darlin’?” Joel replies as his hands smooth down your sides clad in the undone, palm tree patterned button-up he’d been wearing when you came over. Before it had promptly been shucked onto the ground.

“I just see you wearing it all the time. And somehow you don’t strike me as the church-going type,” You say with a smirk, flicking your thumb back and forth on the bottom tip of the cross.

Joel scowls playfully at you, resting his warm hands on the tops of your naked thighs. “‘Scuse me. I take offense to that. I am a good Catholic boy, just like my mama raised me.”

“Bullshit,” You laugh. “Tell me.”

“No, you’re probably gonna think it’s dumb,” He rebuttals, leaning back in his creaky kitchen chair.

“Maybe. Still wanna know.”

He eyes you as his thumbs stroke the insides of your thighs, contemplating. “Alright. It’s kinda just…” He trails off for a moment, averting his eyes slightly down to the linoleum floor of his kitchen. “S’pose it’s just a way of keepin’ my mama with me wherever I go.”

The mirth in your eyes softens a little. “Joel. That’s actually, like…really fucking cute.”

He shrugs a shoulder, a sheepish smile creeping along his lips. “I dunno.”

“It is,” You insist, running your thumb over the face of the small symbol. “Even if it makes it a little weird that you wear it when you fuck me.”

“Fuck off,” He mutters, fighting off a grin as he swats at your hand.

You drop the necklace and wrinkle your nose with a smile. “Need a reminder of good ol’ mom to get it up, huh? A bit too Oedipal for my taste, I gotta say.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but you note a tinge of red burgeoning in his cheeks as you tease him. “I do not—that’s not…You’re nasty. You’re a nasty fuckin’ girl. And not even in a good way this time.”

You giggle as he stammers over his words. It’s not often that you leave Joel floundering for a response. That’s typically reserved for you when he says something ridiculous that you’ve never heard someone else string together into a sentence. As excruciating as it is, you really have developed a fondness for it. He’s like a constant surprise. An increasingly comforting unpredictability.

“Fuck does that even mean anyway? Eddie Pull?” He scrunches his eyebrows as he attempts to recreate what you said, and it takes you concentrating all the muscles in your face to not burst into laughter.

“You mean Oedipal?”

“Whatever the hell you just said.”

Your lips warp as you resist the urge to laugh at his, unfortunately very endearing, lack of knowledge. “Story about this guy from, like, a million years ago who killed his dad and married his mom.”

Joel’s eyes widen. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Some fucked up shit.”

“Tell me about it,” You sigh, winding your arms around Joel’s neck and busying your fingers with the loose curls there. “Although you make me call you ‘daddy.’ Not sure how much better that makes us.”

“Well, I’m sure Eddie’d have a field day with that one,” Joel jokes with a roguish grin as he leans in to capture your lips in a spirited kiss. You giggle against him, recognizing a losing battle when you’ve met it as you ignore the mispronunciation.

Joel moans into your mouth, tensing his grip on your thighs and subtly guiding you back and forth on his leg. You won’t lie, the gentle movement has arousal trickling to your core, but you protest.

“Joel, I can’t,” You insist, rolling your forehead against his. “I just came twice, like, thirty minutes ago,” You groan, despite the wetness darkening the fabric of your panties as Joel spurs you on with shallow, lazy pushes and pulls.

“Don’t mean you can’t do it again,” He purrs, flicking the tip of his tongue over your parted lips before sinking it between them once more.

You whimper as his hands slide over your hips, around to your ass to press into the flesh exposed by your thong. “You have to go to work soon. S’why we stopped,” You breathe out, but your words begin to decrease in weight as you allow your hips to move more freely with Joel’s strong hands as your guide.

“Won’t take you long. I know that for damn sure. Pussy’s too goddamn wet. Glidin’ like a fuckin’ waterslide, even through your panties.”

“Am not,” You argue half-heartedly as your pussy dampens his thigh.

“You’re gonna give me one more,” He says definitively, watching your face through hooded eyes, drinking in your pleasure as it increases.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Didn’t say I was. Just sayin’ what’s gonna happen,” He croons, his fingernails starting to dig into the meat of your asscheeks as you grind on him. “Cause we both know that greedy little snatch wants one more.”

You gasp as his lips latch onto your throat, scraping his teeth along your skin. “Fuck, daddy,” You let slip, rolling your hips through the slick pooling in your underwear.

“That’s right, sugarplum,” He prods you along, his breath hot on your neck. “Pull those panties out the way for me. Let Daddy Joel feel that messy little gash humpin’ his leg. Like a slutty fuckin’ whore.”

“Fuck,” You exhale, tucking your fingers under the gusset of your underwear and yanking them to the side. Your pupils cheat up towards the back of your skull at the first contact of your quickly swelling clit against Joel’s bare thigh.

“Jesus, fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetheart,” Joel groans, your slick clinging to the hair on his leg with each pass of your hips over him. “So fuckin’ desperate for daddy, aren’t ya? Cunt’s probably too sore to take his big, fat cock again, but you’ll take any part of him you can get, won’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” You whine, your hips cranking faster, your clit throbbing as it drags.

“Fuck, you’re drippin’ down my leg. Gonna make a mess of my floor,” He says, punctuating his words with a solid smack to your ass.

You squeak at the impact, throwing your head back as you fuck his thigh in earnest.

Joel chuckles darkly, spanking you again to feel you buck against him a second time. “That how I get you to giddy up? Smack your ass and you’re off to the races? You gonna whinny for me too, kinky girl?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You grit out, “I’m not doing shit for you, you fucking mama’s boy.”

Joel laughs, burying his fingers in your hips again and jerking you faster on him. “That why you milked my cock dry just a minute ago? Spread those slutty legs for daddy’s fat fuckin’ load to fill you up? Sure were lookin’ like a daddy’s girl then. ‘Fact, I see some of daddy leakin’ out your stretched little cunt right now.”

You whimper as you glance between your legs and see the pearly evidence of Joel staking his claim inside you earlier mixing with your slick and curving in rivulets down his hairy thigh.

“Yeah, that’s it. What you gonna do when daddy finally knocks you up, darlin’? When daddy makes his little girl a mama instead?”

You whine out, frantically fucking your hips forward. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah, you are. Probably already knocked up right now, filthy fuckin’ slut,” He growls out, and the words go straight to your pussy in a way that they definitely fucking shouldn’t. “Give it to daddy, sugarplum. Give the rest of it to daddy. All that fuckin’ come. Squeeze it out over me.”

You come with a shout and a vice grip on Joel’s shoulder to keep your balance, your pussy pulsing against Joel’s drenched skin as you ride it out.

“That’s daddy’s girl,” He coos in your ear, still slowly grinding your hips on him with the measured pull of his hands. “Told ya you’d give me one more.”

“Shut up,” You pant against him. “You need to…knock off this whole ‘knocked up’ bullshit, you sick fuck. You’re gonna manifest that shit. Tempt fate. It’s fucked up.”

Joel huffs out a small laugh, finally bringing his hands to a halt to let you rest. “So fucked up I could feel your pussy clenchin’ at just the mention of it, darlin’.”

“Was not,” You mutter grumpily.

“Was too. Maybe God just wants us to use sex as he intended it. I should know,” He says, tugging at the chain of his crucifix.

You groan and lift your head to meet his eyes. “Well, you can tell God that he can kiss my well-fucked cunt. My uterus is off-fucking-limits to you.” With that, you push off his chest and swing your leg over Joel’s to stumble a path to his bathroom, blatantly ignoring the renewed bulge in Joel’s underwear.

Before you shut the door you hear Joel call after you, “Well-fucked, huh? Not too bad for a mama’s boy, was it?”

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #sleazy!joel miller #tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #katy wroted fic #mmitb

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lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— meet cute of the century ⟢

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 25.4k words

★ TAGS; meet cute, strangers to lovers, pining, discourse abt being an idol as a career, mild angst, smut

★ NOTES; it's finally done!! and it turned out to be the longest oneshot i've written ever T T i reaaally didn't mean it to become this long but i got overly self-indulgent so here we are :3c also psa that this story features a handful of other characters from the series, so if you find them familiar that's totally on purpose HEH

this is part of the doting on you! series.

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, service top wonwoo, praise kink, voice kink, first time together, fingering, creampie, ofc they're grossly in love

★ TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @coffeestay - @jkbabiey

★ SERIES TAGLIST; @ti--red - @jeonwonhi - @gyusbabydoll - @xiaoting999 - @marksluvr0 - @ohmyhuenings - @downbadreading

P.S. i reserve the right to refuse to add you to my taglist if you don't have any age indicators in your profile :^)

There are a handful of things that a college student can do with their free time. Studying, hanging out with friends, and maybe even picking up a hobby of sorts. You, on the other hand, use up all the hours you’re not spending on your undergrad thesis or sleeping the day away at an animal shelter just a few minutes away from your apartment.

Your friends constantly wonder how you’re still able to maintain a remarkable GPA with a part-time job that’s starting to look full-time, but you just laugh their questions off for the most part—saying that other people have got it worse than you, but can still perform leagues better academically.

You also tell them that most of your motivation comes from all the unadopted animals from the shelter. You started as a volunteer just to kill time on weekends when you’re free, but even if you knew better than to get attached to all those adorable faces, you eventually found yourself on the employee roster anyways.

Now you’re rushing to finish your degree so you can get a neat sugar mommy job that’ll let you afford to adopt everyone that’s been stuck in the shelter for nearly a year or more.

Okay, maybe not everyone because you’re no fool with a savior complex. But just enough to give a few furry friends a new home, right?

“Don’t look now,” your coworker, Mina whispers conspiratorially while you’re in the middle of snacking in the break room, “but that cutie you’ve been crushing on just walked inside. He’s checking out the cats out in the playroom as usual.”

Right. Apart from your altruistic dream of adopting as many animals as your financial capabilities can allow, there’s another reason you’re always looking forward to your shifts at the shelter. A reason that you’re a bit too embarrassed to let your friends know about.

You nearly choke on a potato chip when Mina informs you of the news and she immediately breaks into a fit of laughter. Glaring at her, you compose yourself with a long gulp of water before saying, “I do not have a crush on him.”

“Sure,” she plays along. “If you consider making googly eyes at the guy every time he drops by as ‘not having a crush on him’, then I’ll concur.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, sweetheart. Now get out there and sweet talk him into taking one of the kittens home! Pretty sure he wants one if he’s been showing up as much as he did for the last two months.”

While you would’ve argued that the so-called cutie you’ve been crushing on could just like seeing the cats play around in his free time, you don’t really have much energy to play mental gymnastics with Mina. You’ve had a long day of revisions and other nonsense materials you have to submit for your majors, so you’ll let this one slide.

Your workplace is as bleak as every other shelter you’ve seen a few times in your life. Gray walls, concrete floors, and steel cages stacked on top of each other. It looks more like a prison than anything, really, but it’s the staff and those kind-hearted souls who rehome animals that have long been abandoned that give the entire place some life.

While Mister Cutie That You’ve Been Quote-Unquote Crushing On doesn’t exactly fall into either of those categories, you like to think he still leaves the building just a touch more colorful once he walks out of the front door.

Speaking of color, he’s wearing a loose, dark green shirt that falls just below his elbows. Cutie—as you’ve deigned to call him not because you think he’s cute but because you’re yet to get his name—has one palm flattened across the viewing glass of the playroom. He’s wearing his usual black face mask today, but from the way his eyes glint behind his glasses, you’re just going to assume he’s having a good time just by watching the cats frolic inside.

“You’re here pretty late,” you state nonchalantly before standing a few feet away from him.

“Is that so strange?” he murmurs with a chuckle, surprisingly not startled with your sudden entrance before glancing your way. “I always show up here at this hour, don’t I?”

God. No matter how many times you hear his voice, you just can’t get over how deep it is. But before any of your thoughts could show on your face, you get talking.

“True. You’ve sparked a debate among the volunteers about your line of work, actually.” Not exactly. You’re not sure if any of the volunteers have even seen this guy, since they mostly work day shifts. “Anyway, are you just here to check ‘em out or am I finally going to hand you the adoption papers?”

His eyes crinkle a bit before he shifts his gaze towards the playroom again. Most of the older cats have already been put back in their respective cages. All that’s left inside are the kittens with way too much energy to spare. The director, A.K.A., your boss, believes that it’s best to tire them out first before settling them into individual enclosures for the night. Keeps the place nice and quiet for the evening shift fellows like yourself.

“Not yet, sadly,” Cutie says with a sigh before pointing at a small black kitten huddled up in a corner. “That one’s new, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve seen him around before.”

“Her,” you correct. “Her name’s Hani. She’s a stray that someone from the university I’m attending brought in last week. It was pretty ugly, actually. Poor thing got into an accident and was bleeding everywhere. Good thing our usual vet was paying a visit when they came here.”

“Oh? That’s a relief then. No wonder she’s got a little limp every time she walks around,” he observes with a saddened tone. “But I digress. You mentioned you were attending university?”

…Okay, why’d the topic of interest suddenly shift to you?

But since it’s a harmless enough question, you reply with, “Yeah. The one that’s just a few blocks away. It’s kinda why the person who found Hani brought her here instead of a vet clinic. The nearest one’s like half an hour away.”

“Good call, good call.” He nods with a look of understanding. “I hope someone comes and adopts her. She deserves all the love she can get. Well, everyone here does of course.”

You flash him a conniving smile, raising your brows a few times. “You could give that to her.”

Cutie shakes his head with another low-pitched laugh. “As much as I’d love to, my…living conditions won’t be suitable for her at all. Or any of the other animals for the matter.”

“Hm?” You stare at him curiously. “Your landlord doesn’t allow pets or something?”

“Mmm… Not exactly.”

The conversation pretty much ends there. Cutie excuses himself—saying that someone is waiting for him at home. You don’t know why your heart deflates a little at the very real possibility that he has a significant other. Then again, if you’re this whipped when you haven’t even seen his face, you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to settle down with someone who has.

Either way, it’s none of your business. And correction: you’re not whipped. Just…hyper aware of his presence every time he stops by.

Despite the fact that you’re dead-set on filing this strange fascination you have for the guy, however…

“Wait!”

Cutie turns around to face you with an inquisitive look. “Yes?”

You swallow thickly, deciding to just bite the bullet before your nerves get the best of you. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Cu—I mean, Glasses Guy in my head whenever you pay us a visit.”

He blinks for a few seconds, obviously nonplussed by your forwardness but you don’t think your pride can take it anymore if you had to refer to him as—

“You can call me Woo,” he says warmly and you can almost see the smile that stretches behind that black face mask.

Shit. Did your heart just stutter?

“Mister Woo—”

“Just Woo is fine.”

“Okay, Woo,” you start, kind of liking the way that something that’s obviously a nickname rolls off the tongue, “just let me know if you ever want to take Hani home. We’re open twenty four-seven, as you already know.”

He nods. “Sure thing. Is it okay if I can get your number for that?”

Now you have to fight the urge to scowl at him after he’s been so nice to you all night—and every other night he’s dropped by.

This guy isn’t flirting with you. He said it himself—someone’s waiting for him at home. Plus, he’s expressed consistent interest in adopting a kitten for himself a handful of times before. Maybe he just connected with Hani on a level that’s above the others. Enough to ask for your number since the possibility of him bringing one of these angels home is becoming more and more real.

Yeah, that’s definitely the reason!

So you give it to him—hastily scrawled behind an old flier gathering dust in one of the drawers on the front desk. It’s way too big to write just yours and the shelter’s contact details on, but the other calling cards are nowhere in sight. You’ll have to ask Mina if she’s seen them once—

“Thanks. I’ll keep in touch,” Woo tells you while folding the sheet of paper into a sleek black Louis Vuitton wallet.

Wait a minute.

Before you can even seriously ponder about what job he’s got to be able to afford that, Woo is already out of the door—heading into the evening streets without once looking back.

“Gosh, I swear that guy’s an idol in disguise or something.”

That’s the first thing that Mina tells you when you find her doing a few rounds among the sleeping dogs in the far back. You haven’t even spoken a single word about your most recent exchange.

“What makes you think that?”

“He just exudes idol vibes, y’know? Shows up here when the place is deserted. Always acts subtle and inconspicuous. Oh and not to mention how hot he looks even with a face mask on! He could be that one idol your little sister is crazy about.”

You roll your eyes at her odd ways of deduction. “Mina, I’ve seen enough of Haewon’s Mingyu merch to last a lifetime and Woo definitely does not look like him.”

“Oh?” Your coworker perks up with a mischievous smile. “You finally got his name, huh?”

God. This is going to be a long shift.

The next time you see Woo is, surprisingly, not at an ungodly hour in the shelter.

Well, it’s still at an ungodly hour, but the change in venue is a little baffling. You were up all night studying (read: cramming) for a major exam that you’ll take at eight in the morning the next day. When you were finally at your wit’s end, you decidedly hauled yourself away from your laptop and fluttered off to the only twenty four-hour coffee shop in the neighborhood.

You don’t usually frequent this place because you’ve tasted their shitty americanos firsthand, but you’re not in the mood to grind some beans yourself and you’re much too stubborn to drink anything instant—convinced the powdered concoction would only make you sleepier.

So here you are, in line for an espresso because you’ve decided to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe not everything on the menu tastes less than it’s worth. With how many other students are pulling all-nighters here, that should be testament enough that they tolerate the place’s drinks enough to linger.

But, to your horror, when you’re right in front of the graveyard shift barista, he informs you that wireless payments have been temporarily disabled and that they’re only accepting cash up front. You make a show of patting down the pockets of your hoodie to check for your wallet even if you know damn well that you left it back at your apartment on purpose. Just when you’re about to resign yourself to buying shitty instant coffee at a Seven Eleven instead, the person behind you in line clears his throat.

“Uh, I can pay for her drink.”

You don’t think you’ve ever whipped your head around to check for a person’s identity faster than you did at that moment. It’s not that you’re particularly obsessed with the low timber of his voice or anything, but you’d recognize the way the shelter’s late night regular speaks in a goddamn heartbeat.

“Woo?” you scowl as he maneuvers himself to the front of the line, bringing out that same Louis Vuitton wallet you were ogling the last time you saw him.

He pulls out a few banknotes and places them on top of the counter with what you think is a smile behind his mask. “Couple that with four iced americanos please.”

You purposely hold your tongue about your personal vendetta against that particular drink as the barista nods, punching in Woo’s order and asking for a name. Just when you thought he’d say the same one he’d given when you’d asked, however—

“Soonyoung. Oh, and I’ll get those drinks to go, please.”

Your gaze is on him the entire time as the two of you shuffle to the end of the counter to wait for your drinks. Woo is doing a pretty okay job at playing it cool despite the fact that he lied about the names on his orders. Or maybe he lied when he told you his name was Woo.

Either way, does it matter? It’s not strange for people to make up fake names for baristas to write on their coffees—Mina does it all the time. But something about the idea that the man standing in front of you doesn’t look like a Soonyoung bothers you more than it should. It makes you wonder what his actual name is and if it’s weird to ask when he already gave you one to address him with—

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he suddenly says and you nearly have a heart attack.

“Uh,” you start somewhat dumbly, before finally getting a hold of your brain. “I live around the area. Thought I could use a drink if I didn’t want to sleep through my lecture notes.”

He lets out a low chuckle and at that moment, you let yourself observe him a little more closely. His hair is hidden behind a black beanie which he expertly paired with an equally black parka that’s zipped up all the way. He’s wearing a different pair of glasses today—one with thick, black frames—and you’re starting to get an idea of what his favorite color might be.

“Is that why I haven’t seen you at the shelter these days?” he wonders. “Every time I dropped by last week, you weren’t on shift.”

Oh. Shit, he’s been visiting still? And he was looking for you?

“Yup, I needed to take a few days off because if I wanna graduate, I’ve got to keep myself from failing any of my majors,” you explain as briefly as you can—not wanting to go into detail about GPA requirements and your thesis. “How about you? Why’re you out and about at this hour, Soonyoung?”

It’s kind of adorable, how the tips of his ears flush pink at your words. “Soonyoung’s one of my friends. I actually went out tonight because I lost a bet and had to buy four of us coffee.”

You’re not sure how and why you feel a wave of relief wash over you, so instead, you brush the feeling aside before leaning against the counter. “Lost a bet about what, pray tell?”

Woo is quiet for a while, as if contemplating if he should unveil his losses to someone who’s virtually still a stranger before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Mario Kart.”

The snort you let out draws a few curious stares from other customers sitting near the counter and you force out an apology that’s underscored with a hiccup of laughter. Woo doesn’t seem at all offended by your reaction though. In fact, he seems even amused by it.

Not ten seconds later, the barista calls out his—rather, Soonyoung’s name and he hands you your drink while he carries a takeout package in his other hand. You try not to think too much about the way his fingers brush against yours when he gives it to you, thanking him despite the obvious redness settling across your cheeks.

“I actually meant to text you last week but I didn’t know if you were comfortable with it,” Woo admits as he opens the door to the coffee shop for you—thanking him as you step out of the air conditioned space and into the humid evening air. “I wanted to ask about the adoption requirements at the shelter.”

Part of you is a little skeptical about his explanation because… If he’s been dropping by your workplace as often as he claimed last week, then he could’ve just asked the other staff about the details. Why wait until he meets you again to bring it up?

But of course, you’re way too polite to ask that to his face.

“I don’t mind you texting me about that or…anything, really,” you say, turning up the flap on the lid of your espresso before taking a small sip. Bearable. “It’s not like I’m too busy to respond to you. Well, I kinda am, but I can spare a few minutes.”

Woo nods with a soft laugh. “Okay. I’ll just get into detail via text later. I gotta bring these coffees back or they’ll chew me out for the rest of the night for being late. Oh, but do you need someone to walk home with you?”

The idea of having your not-work crush escorting you home flusters you more than it should and when you take another sip of your drink, it nearly goes down the wrong hole. Woo pats your back in comforting fashion when you sputter from your coffee, tears stinging your eyes as you attempt to breathe like a normal person. Fuck, you must look so fucking weird right now.

“I-I, um, sorry about that.” You cough into your fist, laughing uneasily as you grip your drink a little too tightly. “No, it’s fine. I only live a few blocks away.”

Now that you mention it, does that mean Woo is the same? If he’s out here in this specific neighborhood at this specific hour, that would only mean he lives in the area, or is at least staying for the meantime, right? But before you could get swept up by your own curiosity, you immediately sweep any and all ideas under the rug.

“Oh, that’s—that’s good to know.”

He sounds disappointed. Why does he sound disappointed?

“So I guess this is goodbye? ” you start.

Woo nods briskly. “Yup. I’ll keep in touch.”

You chuckle. “That’s what you said last time.”

Whoa. Were you propositioning him or something? Sometimes, it baffles you how one minute, you’re choking on a cup of coffee—several shades embarrassed—and the next, you’re practically daring him to text you like he said he would.

“And I’ll make good on that as soon as time permits.” Woo shakes his head with a laugh. “It was nice seeing you again, though. Good luck with your exams.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat up yet again at the thought of him having remembered that you mentioned your exams. “Thanks. I think I need all the luck I can get.”

When Woo turns to look at you through those thick-rimmed glasses, you almost wish you could see the smile that’s undoubtedly spreading behind that pesky mask of his.

“I’ll be happy to give it to you every time then.”

Today was probably the shittiest day of the week.

Not only did you spectacularly flunk the exam you took this morning whilst running on less than two hours of sleep, but your thesis adviser emailed you about several concerns regarding the latest version of your manuscript. Needless to say, you spent a good chunk of your day holed up in the university library, consulting new reference materials to back up your data since the ones you used were much too outdated for your adviser’s liking.

It should’ve been something you’d consider a walk in the park, given the many revisions that have preceded this one, but it just so happens that you’ve got three more exams to worry about for the remainder of the week. Meaning, you had to squeeze in a few minutes of studying in between editing your newest draft and telling yourself that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if you got held back for one semester before graduating.

You’ve been so caught up with your piling academic responsibilities that you’ve barely looked at your phone. You only deigned to dig it out of the deepest pit of your backpack when you got a little hungry and wondered if they still let food delivery guys past the school gates. To your surprise, you’re greeted with a few text messages that you immediately feel horrible for not replying to the moment they were delivered.

Unknown Number [10:45]: So about those adoption requirements…

Unknown Number [11:33]: Oh. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. It’s Woo.

Ignoring the fact that you’re obviously famished, you hastily type in a response after marking down Woo’s number with a black cat emoji right next to his name. It takes a moment because you’re so shaky, you end up suffering from a few typos here and there.

Me [13:10]: hey! sorry i was a bit busy and i just saw these…

Me [13:10]: what do you wanna know? i’m on a self-imposed lunch break rn

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:15]: No worries, I figured you got a long day ahead. Hope lunch is good at least.

Me [13:16]: actually, i haven’t ordered anything yet ‘cause time got away from me but Anyways

Me [13:16]: you wanted details abt the adoption process?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:18]: What? You haven't eaten yet?

Me [13:18]: yeah, but it’s no big deal. i could just have some food delivered.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:19]: Well, I’m out right now. I could just buy some food for you and drop it off.

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when you read each word of Woo’s text message. Is he being serious right now? The guy just paid for your coffee last night—a coffee that you forgot to pay back because of how surprising the circumstances were. Now he’s offering to buy you lunch?

Me [13:20]: you really don’t have to, i swear!! i’ve still got a few discount vouchers in baenim

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:22]: I insist. I’ve got my bike with me anyway.

Me [13:22]: bike? like, a bicycle?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:23]: Mmm. Close. Anyway, what food do you want?

Now what the hell does that mean?

Part of you feels like you should be freaked out with how…kind he’s being to you. The world is full of weirdos who play the nice guy just to do something despicable to you in the end. Yet another part of you—a less reasonable one, admittedly—insists that Woo is nothing like that, despite the fact that you barely know the guy.

Then again, you’re tired, stressed out, and barely slept a wink last night. If the hot guy you’ve been quote-unquote crushing on is offering to buy you food, where’s the harm in accepting?

Me [13:25]: fine. i could use some yangnyeom chicken and tteokbokki.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:26]: Nice. I know a good place.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [13:27]: I’ll head out in a few, so just text me the address.

Right after sending your university’s pin location to Woo, you start to consider the chance of him being some sort of serial stalker. Could he be biding his time, trying to let your guard down and easing personal information out of you so he could do something nefarious when he gets you alone? Fuck. Maybe it’s a good idea you didn’t let him walk you home yesterday…

But despite the very real possibility of Woo being someone with bad intentions regardless of how nice he is, you see no problem in meeting him at the school gates when he arrives with your food. In fact, you don’t even feel apprehensive of him in spite of all the ideas you conjured in your head over the past hour.

Me [14:15]: where are you?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [14:16]: Parked by the curb in front of a bookstore. You can’t miss me.

Me [14:16]: i don’t even know what you Look like today, genius

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [14:17]: I told you, I’ve got my bike with me. I don’t see anyone else looking the same way within a twenty meter radius.

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. For someone you deemed as ‘nice’, he can get pretty mouthy if he wants to.

You head to the general direction of the bookstore that Woo was talking about as you try to ignore your growling stomach. Given that the lunch rush is more or less over, the usual crowd of pedestrians has considerably thinned out and it makes it easier for you to scan the vicinity for any bike-wielding impromptu delivery guys.

However, the only person that does stand out to you is some dude wearing a black leather jacket, chilling next to an expensive looking motorcycle as he taps away on his phone with a matching pair of leather gloves and everything. His face is obscured by a black helmet and you would’ve let your gaze go past him had it not been for a sudden realization that hits you right there.

Bike? Like, a bicycle?

Mmm. Close.

“Woo!”

Of course the leather jacket-clad, expensive motorcycle-wielding man looks up at the sound of his name being called from across the street. The visor of his helmet is drawn all the way up and you could see that he isn’t wearing his glasses for good reason. He seems to perk up at the sight of you before grabbing something from the trunk of his motorcycle and jogging to meet you where you stood.

You’ve seen him sporting a spectrum of comfortable outfits during his late night visits, but this is the first time you’ve witnessed Woo looking as dapper as he is now.

“Late lunch delivery?”

You don’t even try to hide the way you roll your eyes as you accept the paper bag he hands to you. “Thanks. How much do I owe you now? You already got me coffee and now lunch.”

He shakes his head and you find it a little ridiculous, considering he’s still wearing that huge helmet of his. “It’s on me. It’s the least I could do to repay you for being so accommodating.”

“Woo, I haven’t done shit for you ‘cause you’re yet to properly talk to me about the adoption process. What on earth are you talking about?”

“But you will do shit for me when we do talk about it. I’m just repaying the favor in advance,” he rebuts cheekily before pulling back the sleeve of his jacket to check for the time. “Though as much as I want to do that now, I need to catch a flight in a few hours.”

That makes your expression morph into disbelief. “You need to catch a what?”

“A flight. Gotta head to Japan for a few days,” Woo tells you nonchalantly, as if heading to Japan for a few days is something people do on a regular basis. “Can you make sure no one else takes Hani home before I can settle everything on my end?”

You tell yourself that you’ve got time to mull over what this guy does for a living some other time. Clearing your throat, you manage an awkward smile. “Um, yeah, sure thing. You’re really attached to her, aren’t you?”

“You can say that again,” he laughs softly. “She kinda reminds me of myself from a long time ago… But anyway, I’ve gotta go. Tell me what you think about the chicken when you’re done with it?”

You nod. “I’ll be as brutally honest with my review as possible.”

“Just the way I like it,” Woo replies, eyes crinkling with amusement.

When you head back to the library, the person you were sharing a table with looked after your stuff for you while you were gone. You thank her profusely before settling back into your seat, grabbing the takeout packages from the paper bag that Woo personally delivered to you.

Before you can start wolfing down the delectable-smelling chicken he brought, however, you notice a cute sticky note plastered on the lid—a doodle of a cat with glasses and a speech bubble that says you can do it~ scribbled on the corner.

Don’t overwork yourself. It’s been ages since my last exam, but I know how hard it can be. Make sure to eat properly so you can absorb all the info you need.

When your head bangs against one of the many wooden tables in the library, the person seated at the far end stares at you with a concerned look. You can’t muster the energy to assure her that everything’s alright, though because…

That quote-unquote crush of yours?

It’s starting to become a little too real.

You’re in the middle of throwing out old files from the back room archive when Mina peeks her head into the doorway and says, “You’ve got a visitor again.”

One glance at the old wall clock hung above the steel cabinets tells you that it’s midnight, but you know for one that this mystery visitor isn’t Woo this time around.

You’ve been keeping in touch with him through Kakao, since you can’t exactly afford to send international text messages to Japan and your new friend(?) has been keeping you posted about his shenanigans for the past week. He hasn’t replied to your last message from over three hours ago and you’re not so delusional to think he got on a plane back to Korea and is suddenly here to surprise you.

When you see who it is, though, your heart warms just a little.

“Why haven’t you been texting me back?” Haewon, your sister who’s two years younger, gets up from the seats lined up across the walls of the lobby. “I missed you!”

You shake your head before pulling her into a hug. “I missed you, she says. But you’re really just looking for someone to show you around the city again, aren’t you?”

“Hey, missing you and needing a chaperone aren’t mutually exclusive,” she huffs and you notice that she’s in full fangirl gear again—a lightstick hanging off a strap slung across her shoulder, a windbreaker with her favorite boyband’s logo sewn on the front pocket, and of course, a photocard of Mingyu dangling from her little handbag.

Despite the fact that she’s also in college, Haewon chose to stay in your hometown in Jeju to pursue her studies there instead. The first few months since you left were the hardest—so unused to not having your little sister go on and on and on about how much she loves SEVENTEEN. But you’ve also come to appreciate the peace and quiet that living alone in Seoul affords you.

Besides, with how much money she’s raised for being one of the more well-known event organizers in her fandom, Haewon can pretty much come visit you in Seoul whenever she feels like it.

“I’m guessing your thirteen boyfriends have a thing going on?” you ask before glancing over at the playroom to make sure there aren’t any kittens left inside.

Haewon nods enthusiastically. “Yup, they’re having a mini fanmeet outside their company building in a few days—”

“In a few days?” you parrot before gesturing for her to follow you in the break room so you can get changed. “What’re you doing out here all dressed up then?”

Your little sister rolls her eyes. “Unnie, I’m not some weirdo who wears their merch on a regular night for no reason. I came from this little cupsleeve event for Wonwoo’s birthday. Things ran a little late because we had to help clean up at the café.”

While you’re not well-versed in fandom jargon, you have learned a few terms from Haewon here and there. Plus, she already took you to a cupsleeve event for another member’s birthday once. You’re not really sure who it was because the only one you do consistently remember is Mingyu—your sister’s ultimate bias, apparently.

“What made you stop by then?” you wonder as you exchanged your work uniform for a loose shirt. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in advance. I could’ve fetched you from the airport.”

“I did tell you in advance.” She pouts. “But you said you were busy working on your manuscript when I did, so it must’ve slipped your mind.”

Oh. Okay, now you feel bad. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you this weekend with dinner?”

Haewon whines. “Unnie, their fanmeet is on Saturday and I leave on Sunday.”

“So? How long is that going to be anyway?”

“Uh, all day?”

You sigh. “Fine. How about you crash in my place tonight and we can rewatch Hometown Cha Cha Cha while stuffing our faces with ramen?”

“Deal.”

After timing out for the evening, you say goodbye to Mina, who’s just waiting up for your other coworkers who’ll cover the next shift. Haewon talks your ear off about what happened in the event she attended as you both walked back to your apartment and, while only some of the things she’s saying makes sense to you, it’s nice to be in your little sister’s company again.

“Oh, by the way, here.”

You stare at her curiously as she rummages through her bag, handing you a photocard enclosed in a dainty-looking toploader.

“What’s this for?” you ask.

“You told me back then that Wonwoo was your type,” Haewon explains with a grin. “So I did my best in one of the parlor games and won that extremely in-demand photocard just for you.”

You scan the piece of idol merchandise in your hands for a few minutes more—staring at Wonwoo’s face as if waiting for him to speak. You never really understood the appeal of collecting photocards. As long as it makes Haewon happy, you won’t bat an eyelash.

But now she’s giving you one to keep for yourself and the more you stare at the idol printed on the sturdy paper, the more you think that you’ve seen him somewhere.

Then again, Haewon has been talking about these boys since they debuted years ago. The familiarity must’ve stemmed from those numerous fancams and music show performances that she forced you to sit down and watch with her.

“You better take care of him, okay?” Haewon pouts. “If I see him suddenly being sold for a high price, I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“I barely know how the market for this works, so you don’t have to worry about that,” you chuckle before carefully sliding the toploader inside your own bag. “So what ramen are we eating? Shin Ramyun or something else?”

Me [21:17]: btw, when are you coming back again?

Me [21:20]: someone was asking about hani earlier and i feel like you’ve gotta come back here to assert your dominance.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:35]: Shit, sorry. I forgot about the time.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:35]: My friends and I had a birthday celebration at the izakaya near our hotel. It’s been a while since we got to unwind like this.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:36]: Anyway, who’s the funny guy who thought he could have my cat?

Me [02:38]: wow. YOUR cat? 🤨🤨🤨

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:40]: You’re still awake?

Me [02:40]: yeah, my little sister is in seoul and we’re binging our favorite drama

Me [02:41]: how about you? why are You still awake?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:45]: Taking care of drunk friends. Remember Soonyoung?

Me [02:45]: what about him?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:47]: Pleading for forgiveness in the toilet while he retches his guts out.

Me [02:47]: huh. some birthday party. who’s the celebrant anyway?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:47]: Me.

“Whoa. You okay?” Haewon asks when you suddenly lurch forward on the couch, choking on the ramen you were in the middle of slurping.

You thank your sister when she offers you a glass of water and you gulp it down to soothe the burning sensation in your throat. “It’s fine. I just received a surprising text is all.”

“From a boyfriend?” she teases.

You scowl. “No. From a friend. Just a friend.”

“Boo. But you’ll tell me once you land yourself your very own Hong Dusik, right?”

The look on your face only worsens at the reference she’s made to the drama that’s still playing on screen. “I’d actually rather die than have someone like Dusik as a boyfriend. If the whole enemies to lovers thing works with Hyejin, it really won't with me.”

“True, you’ve always been a mellow lover,” Haewon agrees and you roll your eyes. “That’s why Wonwoo would be perfect for you~”

“I think me landing a Hong Dusik-esque boyfriend is more likely than me getting together with a world famous idol but okay.”

You’re momentarily distracted from your conversation when your phone vibrates in your lap again, and— Fuck.

You forgot to reply to Woo.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:55]: Fell asleep on me already?

Me [02:56]: no, no. sorry. my sister was just talking to me.

Me [02:56]: anyway, it’s your BIRTHDAY?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:57]: Hahaha, yes. It’s been a while since I could sit down and actually celebrate it with my friends.

Me [02:58]: is that why you went all the way to japan? for a little birthday getaway?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:58]: Hm… something like that

Me [03:00]: i’ll give you hani’s adoption papers as a gift

Me [03:01]: that or you let ME treat YOU to something nice for a change

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:05]: Well, I’ll be back in Korea this Saturday, but won’t be free until late at night.

Me [03:05]: back to regular programming, huh?

Me [03:06]: we can celebrate later if you’re busy, you know.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:07]: It’s okay. I wanted to spend time with you anyways.

“You sure that’s just a friend you’re talking to?” Haewon asks with an unimpressed stare as you choke on your instant noodles for the second time. “The only way I’d react like that to a text is if my friend told me one of our professors is fucking his TA despite being married. If that’s the case, you gotta let me in on the juicy details.”

You make a face at her. “Isn’t that way too specific?”

“Isn’t that way too specific?” Haewon mocks. “Whatever you’ve got going on with this friend of yours, promise I’ll be the first to know once you make it official?”

“Haewon!”

For the sake of your own sanity, you only reply to Woo’s message once you’re tucked in bed and Haewon is comfortably dozing on the couch in the living room. She’s a heavy sleeper that passes out quickly after a long day, so you don’t feel particularly worried about your little sister barging into your room when you type out a response.

Me [03:43]: gotcha. just meet me at the shelter after your thing.

Me [03:45]: happy birthday, woo.

You don’t wait for him to type out a reply anymore—eyes drooping into slumber as you let the screen of your phone fade into sleep mode.

Unbeknownst to you, a man who just finished putting his intoxicated friends to bed an ocean away stares at your chat history with a fond smile, heart racing just a few beats faster at the prospect of what awaits him at home.

You’re just about done cleaning up the big dog kennels when Woo drops by on a bright Saturday morning.

The sound of his deep ‘hello’ nearly made you drop all the cleaning utensils you were about to put away. When you turn around to confirm that the shelter’s nighttime regular has indeed switched things up and decided to visit during daylight hours, you’re too busy scowling at him to mind the fact that you’re all gross and sweaty from all the hard labor.

Sure, you texted him about taking up a day shift today, but you definitely didn’t expect him to visit when he just got back to Korea a few hours ago.

Surprisingly, Woo isn’t donned in all black this time around. He’s wearing a gray pullover with some muddled text you can’t quite read with the hood pulled all the way up, concealing the white cap resting on top of his head. Of course, his signature face mask is still in between you and his no doubt handsome countenance, but you’ll take what you can get.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, a bit breathless before you notice that takeout bag he’s setting down on one of the empty tables. “I thought you’re not gonna be free until tonight.”

“Thought you could use another lunch fix,” he says nonchalantly. “Well that and I wanted to personally give you some cool trinkets from Japan.”

The sentiment makes your heart stir a little, but you end up voicing out a dry laugh before stuffing the shelter’s cleaning paraphernalia inside the broom closet. “Keep doing all these nice things and I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

Woo laughs but does absolutely nothing to deny the allegations.

“Here.” Your brows arch a little when he fishes something from the pocket of his hoodie, handing it to you. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d like so I just got all of them.”

You’re a bit reluctant to receive his gift in your current state—dirty hands, dirty clothes, dirty everything—but Woo doesn’t seem to mind when he drops a small plastic package full of…

“Kitties!” You coo out loud at the assortment of colorful enamel pins inside before gawking at him. “Seriously, Woo, you’re way too nice to me. I’m starting to feel indebted.”

He shakes his head with an adorable laugh. “It’s nothing. I swear. They just reminded me of you when my friends and I passed this one booth at a festival.”

Shit. They reminded him of you?

“So are you finally going to sit down and talk to me about adopting Hani or are you gonna keep skirting around again, mister?” You place a hand on your hip, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction as you tuck his gift safely in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Surprise, I actually came here to do just that. I still have an hour free before I have to go to work,” Woo admits and him mentioning work taps in on your innate curiosity about what he does for a living. “But your coworker said something about rounding up the dogs and putting them back in the kennel?”

Oh. Shit.

As if on cue, Mina—along with a few on shift volunteers—emerge down the hall, all of their hands gripping several leashes as an army of dogs fills the hallway with excited and agitated barking alike.

“Are we good to go?” Mina yells over the noise.

Trying not to look too disappointed that your time with Woo has been cut short, you give Mina a thumbs up before striding off to meet them halfway. You take it upon yourself to take a few of the dogs off one of the volunteers’ hands and he looks at you with withering relief when you do.

“Yep. Everything’s as fresh as a daisy now,” you inform them. “Hope these guys didn’t make too big of a mess up in the front though. That would mean Kino’s turn for cleaning duty came a little early.”

“Hey!” The volunteer in question complains. “I’ve got a date later, noona. Don’t go saying weird stuff like that.”

You’re just about to tease him a little more but you suddenly feel the force of a couple of former strays tugging you forward disappear. That’s when you notice that Woo made his way to your side, guiding the dogs silently as he helps lead the first of them to the kennel.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insist but your friend(?) merely shakes his head.

“It’s no big deal,” Woo reassures.

It doesn’t help that this particular hallway is a little cramped. You’re practically standing arm to arm as you all make it to the end. You can practically smell the expensive cologne wafting from his clothes amidst the scent of dog fur that’s starting to permeate the air. When Woo lets out another soft laugh when one of the dogs he has on a leash licks his hand, you know it’s over for you.

It takes about half an hour to settle all fifteen big dogs into their respective cages and by the time it’s over, you’re convinced that you need a shower now more than ever. As Mina and the rest of the volunteers head back to the reception room, you decide to take a break and help yourself to the takeout that Woo personally delivered yet again.

“Thanks for your help. Cleaning day is really one of the toughest days of the month. Especially when we have to clean up the big dog kennels,” you sigh before plopping into an empty seat in the break room.

“Don’t mention it,” he says and you find yourself imagining a smile behind his mask yet again. “I actually have a dog at home, too, so I would now. But she’s definitely more tame than these guys.”

That makes you pause. “Is that why you’re beating around the bush so much about adopting Hani? You think she won’t get along with your dog?”

He hums a little before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “That’s one of the reasons, yes.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try,” you huff as you unseal the takeout package—the delectable scent of yangnyeom chicken pervading your senses. “Anyway, you’re going to sign the papers this time, right? Right?”

You have a feeling that you’ve finally got him cornered, but before Woo can even formulate a response, a ringtone that definitely isn’t yours starts going off inside the break room.

Your friend(????) answers it with a wistful sigh.

It’s so quiet that you can vaguely make out the voice at the other end of the line saying, “Hyung. Everyone’s looking for you. Where are you?”

You try not to stare at Woo as he takes the call out of pure decency—distracting yourself with your food. But you can’t help but listen in when their conversation is the only thing you can hear at the moment.

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Tell everyone I’m sorry for the hold up, Mingyu.”

The moment that name leaves Woo’s mouth, you freeze mid-chew. Did he say Mingyu? Like…the idol that Haewon is downright obsessed with? No… It was probably just someone with the same name. It is pretty common, after all.

When he ends the call, you flash him a tight-lipped smile that manages to conceal your momentary surprise. “Rain check?”

“Rain check,” Woo sighs in agreement.

You nod. “It’s okay. The more you keep delaying Hani’s adoption, the more presents I get from you.”

“And you’re absolutely right about that,” he humors you before reaching out to ruffle your hair. You haven’t even recovered from that little gesture he just did when he asks, “Hope our plans for later are still up though?”

Woo must’ve caught the look on your face with the way he retracts the hand that was just on top of your head to snicker into his palm. “Don’t tell me you forgot. We were supposed to celebrate my birthday, remember?”

Curse you and your habit of making plans at ass o’clock in the morning. You always forget them!

“Uh, it kinda slipped my mind?” you admit sheepishly as you pick at your food. “I ended up going for a day shift ‘cause I have to see my sister off at the airport tomorrow.”

He nods in earnest and it kind of makes you feel bad about your short term memory. “It’s alright. I’ll just drop by some other time to get the paperwork over with. I’ve disturbed you enough as it is.”

“No, it’s fine!”

Your sudden outburst makes Woo look up at you with a confused stare. “Hm?”

“I-I can still meet up with you later,” you stammer and you have to force yourself not to bury your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment. Pull yourself together, damn. “If you’re not too tired from your plans for the day, of course.”

He mentioned something about having to go to work, and while you can’t imagine what sort of work has to be urgently done on a Saturday, you’ll still respect his time.

Woo blinks for a few seconds, as if still digesting what you just said before his eyes disappear behind his glasses with a soft chuckle. Your brows cinch together, not getting what’s so funny.

“Noted. I’ll come pick you up here later, still? If you’re not comfortable with sharing your address with me yet.”

He’s so thoughtful, you might actually give him all your personal details at this point. But at the end of the day you’re actually a person with a head full of common sense, so you answer him with, “Sure thing. Thanks for going out of your way to come hang out despite how busy you are.”

“No, thank you for always putting up with me,” Woo insists with a shake of his head. “I swear I’m not hassling you with this whole adoption thing on purpose. There’s just…a lot of things to consider on my end. I hope you understand.”

You wave away his concerns with a laugh. “Just keep getting me more of this chicken and we’ll call it quits.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

When Woo sees himself out of the break room, you fumble for the plastic package in the back of your jeans—taking one of the adorable black cat enamels before pinning it in the front pocket of your uniform. You can’t help the smile that creeps up your face when you see your reflection on the small mirror sitting on the table.

How could you be this down bad for someone whose entire face you’ve never even seen before?

Haewon 🪷 [17:20]: Are you suuure you don’t wanna come to the fan meet?

Haewon 🪷 [17:21]: I’ve still got a few extra passes :3c you’d get to see wonwoo in the flesh!

Me [17:30]: why do you want to set me up with wonwoo so badly

Haewon 🪷 [17:31]: Bc we’re sisters? And it’d be cool if we stanned MinWon together?

Me [17:32]: …not even gonna ask you to elaborate on that

Haewon 🪷 [18:00]: Unnie ㅠㅠ

Me [18:00]: why? what’s wrong, hae?

Haewon 🪷[ 18:05]: Mingyu looks sooooo much better than I remember

Haewon 🪷[18:06]: The girlfriend allegations must be true

Haewon 🪷 [18:06]: Only a man in love can smile like that!

Me [18:07]: or: a man who relies on fanservice to get paid?

Haewon 🪷[ 18:08]: RUDE!!!!

Haewon 🪷 [18:08]: Here’s a pic of Wonwoo to shut you up

Haewon 🪷 [18:09]: [Sent an attachment]

Me [18:10]: idk if i should find the fact that you think some kpop guy affects me in any capacity amusing or concerning

Haewon 🪷 [18:11]: !!!! Take that back wtf?? Wonwoo isn’t just ‘some kpop guy’?????

Me [18:10]: sure he isn’t.

Haewon 🪷 [19:45]: Good news!!

Me [19:45]: you’re finally going to get off my back about the whole wonwoo thing?

Haewon 🪷 [19:46]: No ^_^ My Monday final got canceled so I can stay in Seoul for a day more!

Haewon 🪷 [19:46]: Aka you don’t have to wake up early to drag your ass to the airport w me

Me [19:47]: oh. that’s cool. what’re your plans for tomorrow then?

Haewon 🪷 [19:48]: Gonna attend the pre-recording for a music show :3

Me [19:50]: …Haewon i swear to god if you ask me to do what you’re about to ask me to do

Haewon 🪷 [19:50]: Come with me pretty pleaaaase?

Haewon 🪷 [19:51]: I’m using my adorable dongsaeng powers to get you to agree

Me [19:55]: there’s no talking my way out of this, is there?

Haewon 🪷 [19:55]: Nope <3

Me [19:56]: fine. just text me the details. i need to go out soon.

Haewon 🪷 [19:56]: HEHE have fun !!

You weren’t lying when you texted Haewon that you had to go out soon. You agreed that you’d meet up with Woo for his post-birthday celebration at 9 P.M. Hell, you even called a local bakery to have a personalized cake made for pick-up before you head over to the rendezvous point. Everything was already set right from the start.

But then you ended up falling asleep while scrolling through Twitter and now the clock reads 10:45 P.M., and you’re rushing to pull on a ratty sweater instead of the cute outfit you planned for the night as you rush out of your apartment.

Me [10:47]: FUCK IM SORRY

Me [10:47]: i was SUPPOSED to take a five minute nap but i didn’t realize how tired i was

Me [10:48]: are you still up to hang out? i totally get it if not though.

You immediately stuff your phone in the pocket of your jeans—not even bothering to glance at Woo’s reply when it vibrates with a text notification. Your conscience is much too guild-ridden to read any sort of reassurance he’d undoubtedly give to you despite how long you’ve made him wait.

Two hours, jeez. You’d be furious if someone was that late on you.

When you arrive at the shelter after doing a couple of quick detours, you’re panting like you just won first place in a marathon. Needless to say, it’s a pitiful sight to behold when Woo is leaning across his motorcycle—looking much too attractive in that stupid leather jacket of his.

“Is this what the kids call fashionably late these days?” he chuckles.

If you weren’t so apologetic, you would’ve rolled your eyes so instead, you give him a crumpled paper bag with a smile that borders on overcompensating.

“Happy birthday?”

Woo looks like he was just about to say something until a quiet mewl interrupts him midway. You gaze at him with a puzzled look until he stifles a soft laugh, pulling the lapel of his jacket open to reveal—

“Hani?” You scowl.

The black kitten is tucked away snugly in the inner pocket of Woo’s jacket—nearly blending in with the leather. It’s almost as if two pairs of big yellow eyes are staring at you from a void.

“Finally got the papers over with when you fell asleep on me,” Woo chuckles before scratching behind her ears. “So I guess it wasn’t so bad that you made me wait for two hours.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Yes, and I heard you,” he insists before peering inside the paper bag you gave him. “What’s this?”

“No peeking until we get to your good old thinking spot,” you scold, smacking his hand away.

A hand that you just noticed is also clad in a leather glove.

He shakes his head playfully before putting his arms up in surrender. “For someone who’s two hours late, you’re pretty demanding.”

“Woo!”

During his last few days in Japan, Woo told you about his favorite thinking spot that’s specifically located beneath Hannam Bridge. There’s an old watchtower that was built before the bridge even existed. I go there when I want to clear my head.

When he said he wanted to bring you there for his belated birthday bash, the ghastly possibility of him turning out to be a serial killer luring you to your doom crossed your mind for half a second before you ended up agreeing anyway.

Now here you are, drowning in the musk of his cologne as you press your cheek against the fabric of his jacket. He’s definitely going past the speed limit with how sharply the wind sings in your ears, but instead of complaining about it, you tighten your arms around his torso—letting the warmth of his body seep into yours.

“It’s not so scary if you don’t think about it too much,” you hear him shout from the front. “Look to your right! This is why I’ve always liked doing late night rides!”

Easy for him to say. He’s brave enough to harbor a kitten inside his jacket and a person who’s never ridden a motorcycle before at a hundred kilometers per hour! But despite how terrified you are of falling off his bike, you do as he says anyways.

When you tilt your gaze in the direction of the Han River, you’re immediately greeted by the dazzling lights that glimmer across the water. You haven’t been to the districts on the other side of the river, but you think you’re content with getting to see them from afar.

With the roar of an engine ringing in your ears. With the summer evening breeze whipping past your face.

With your arms around someone who’s slowly but surely leaving his mark in your life.

“Are you sure this is legal?”

Your companion glances behind him as he makes his way to the aforementioned watch tower—a knapsack full of god-knows-what slung around his shoulder while he carries the paper bag with your “gift” in his free hand. “I’ve never seen a single ‘No Trespassing' sign since I’ve started going here ages ago, so probably.”

“Probably?” you parrot and Hani, who you’ve deigned to carry in your arms after that grueling motorcycle ride, meows as if she’s just as incredulous as you are. “So it’s still possible for us to get arrested?”

“Yeah, but what’s life without a little risk?”

Unbelievable.

Yet, despite the common sense you were oh-so proud of this morning, you still follow him up the winding steps of the watchtower, which is hardly even a watchtower given that it’s a few meters beneath the widest bridge in the city. Woo wasn’t lying about his strange description of it after all.

“Well, here we are,” he announces when the two of you reach the platform on the very top. The edges are lined with metal rails that are beginning to rust with age, but seem sturdy enough to grant you some sense of security—no matter how sparse. “I’ll just set this up. You can go enjoy the view if you want.”

Woo doesn’t even let you get a word in before he unzips his bag and brings out a checkered picnic blanket. He gently lays it across the dusty concrete, smoothing out the fabric before fishing some more stuff inside his gym-bag-turned-picnic-basket. You keep yourself from making any snide comments about his choice of venue because despite the unorthodox location, you actually get why he’d find it peaceful here.

It’s far enough from the freeway that the sound of vehicles rushing through the night can barely reach your ears. If you listen closely enough, you can even hear the water flowing below much more clearly. You close your eyes to get a better feel of the place—imagining a six-foot something guy leaning across the rusty railings as he watches the city lights sparkle across the Han River.

“There we go.”

You startle when you feel Woo’s warm, leather-clad hand on your shoulder—prompting you to turn around and see his handiwork. In the middle of the picnic blanket is something that looks suspiciously like a portable emergency light. How he got his hands on something like that, you’re not entirely sure, so you decide to focus on the other details instead.

Like the two unopened bottles of soju right next to a take-out package of your favorite yangnyeom chicken.

“Didn’t we agree that I was treating you to something this time around?” you grumble as you absentmindedly stroke Hani’s fur.

“We did, but then you overslept and—”

“Okay, fine! Point taken!”

Woo snickers as he hands you the paper bag you brought for the trip. It looks even worse than it was when you ran all the way to the shelter and you can only hope the package inside isn’t completely ruined.

You decide to let Hani down inside the gym bag that Woo left unzipped. Surprisingly, the newly adopted kitten makes a home out of it quickly—curling up into a ball as her tail swishes every now and again. Cute.

“Don’t judge, okay?” You breathe out nervously as you take the plastic container out of the bag. “I had a legit cake custom-made and everything but…yeah. Overslept.”

When Woo doesn’t respond a second too long, your gaze nervously rivets to his face to parse for a reaction. Was he disappointed? Should you have gotten a different design?

The moment you see the dazzled look in his eyes, however, you realize that isn’t the case.

He receives the little cupcake with open arms when you give it to him. It’s chocolate topped with bad fondant icing art, but you didn’t really have a choice. When you spotted it in the convenience store earlier, you grabbed the one that looked most like a kitten and dipped. It’s nice to know that he might actually like it after all.

“Oh and uh, sorry, but I couldn’t bring any candles for you to blow,” you add sheepishly. “You can just make a wish and pretend.”

Woo’s gaze drifts to you for a moment before his eyes crinkle with laughter. “I don’t really have to do that though. My wish has already come true.”

Huh?

To your chagrin, he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, Woo invites you to sit on the picnic blanket—carefully removing his boots so he wouldn’t track dirt all over the food and you follow suit.

You fill the silence with your goings-on for the rest of the day and how exactly you ended up dozing off and he’s kind enough to listen to every word. However, when you ask if he wants to do a toast, he shakes his head.

“I need to drive you back, remember?”

You shoot him a dirty look. “So you took me all the way out here just so I can have two bottles of soju all to myself while you sit there and listen to me talk about my day?”

“...Yes?”

Men are so fucking infuriating sometimes, you can hardly believe it.

“Nope.” You firmly shake your head—plucking the bottle opener he set down on the blanket to pop the caps off. “You’re drinking with me. Just quit driving past the speed limit so we won’t die in a freak accident.”

You immediately notice the stiffness in his shoulders as you shove the bottle of soju in his hands and part of you feels kind of bad for being pushy. For a moment, you allow yourself to scrutinize him for a bit longer. What could possibly be deterring him from drinking after going out of his way to do all this?

That’s when you realize he still has his mask on.

Does he…have issues about people seeing his face?

That would definitely explain why he hasn’t once taken it off in all the times you’ve met him so far. With that in mind, you promptly decide to tell him that okay, he doesn’t have to if he really doesn’t want to, but then Woo is already reaching up to peel the blasted face mask off.

Your chest seizes with panic, hands flying in front of you to keep him from doing something against his will. But the effort is futile because it only takes a second for him to remove and…

Fuck.

Cue the choir of angels because goddamn does this man look like heaven.

Woo shifts somewhat uncomfortably under your stare, as if he’s waiting for you to blow up all over his face or something. But you’re much too mesmerized by too many things to form any sort of response right away.

The sharp cut of his jaw. The gentle curve of his Cupid’s bow. The tinge of red spreading across his cheeks.

“I can’t believe you’ve been gatekeeping yourself from me all this time,” you whisper with a strained laugh—purposely peeling your gaze away for the sake of your own sanity. “I knew you were hot, but…God. I hate you.”

“You…don’t recognize me?”

The question brings you out of your feelings for a moment, making you glance at him with a questioning stare. “Am I supposed to?”

Woo gapes at the question like he didn’t expect that to be your response before shaking his head vigorously.

“N-No. Anyway, you said I was hot but you hate me?”

You narrow your eyes at him before taking your first swig of soju. “Don’t start getting all cocky with me, mister! I’ve got eyes and I can’t help that you’re objectively attractive. Just stating facts here.”

When Woo smiles for the first time without the figurative cockblock that is his signature black face mask and honestly? If you died right now, you’d die happily.

The night presses on in a haze of soju, spicy chicken, and the occasional visit from Hani who uses either of your laps as her personal bed for about five minutes before switching to the other person.

This is the longest you’ve been with Woo and you’re starting to realize that he isn’t much of a talker, which you completely understand. You can’t imagine someone who’s hell-bent on keeping what he looks like a secret for so long being a chatterbox.

“Oh, but you mentioned something to me at the shelter one time,” you pipe up before scooping a forkful of chicken into your mouth.

“Yeah? What is it?” Woo asks softly as he pets Hani’s back.

Feeling just a little bit tipsy from the alcohol, you try not to stare too hard at his handsome face or the way his lip curls at the edges with a tiny smile when Hani purrs from his touch.

“You said Hani reminded you of yourself from before,” you whisper as your gaze drifts to his leather-gloved hands. “Is it okay to ask what you meant by that?”

The sound of the river flowing beneath the watchtower fills your ears as you bask in the silence. It’s a pretty personal question. You’d totally get it if he decides not to answer, but you’re much too curious to keep yourself from asking.

“Well, I wasn’t a stray or anything, but there was a time in my life that I felt so…aimless. I lost someone near and dear to me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it for a very long time.”

Hearing the earnest ring of Woo’s voice, you force yourself to snap out of your subtle inebriation—scooting a little bit closer to him on the blanket to make sure you catch every word.

“I didn’t get into a life-threatening accident like this one did either, but…” He trails off for a moment, stroking the scar that you know runs along Hani’s sternum but has long healed with his fingers.

“I managed to get back on track when the people around me showed me their support. They didn’t leave even if all I wanted was to be left alone. If it weren’t for them, it might’ve taken me even longer to move past what happened. Worse, I might not have moved past it at all.

“When I saw Hani that day, she looked scared of all the other cats. Like she wasn’t ready to let anyone get close to her just yet.” Woo breathes deeply before taking a small sip from his bottle. “I guess I was the same way, too. Healing isn’t linear. Sometimes, when I think I’m all better, one day, I just spiral back to where I started in the next one. That’s…kind of where you fit into the picture, actually.”

The brief pause in his story makes you blink at him, surprised. “Me?”

He nods. “You used to feed the strays in your neighborhood, right? You even had a schedule and everything.”

“That was months ago,” you mutter. “You mean you already knew me back then? Because of that?”

“I…actually live in that area, too.” He clears his throat, that familiar blush settling across his cheeks once again. “I often saw you feeding the strays because that’s usually the time I got back from the cemetery. One day, things got a bit too much and I kind of…broke down in the park instead of just doing that at home.”

He says it like he’s embarrassed and now that he mentioned it, you vaguely remember consoling a stranger during your days before volunteering at the shelter. You don’t recall much of it though—just the memory of awkwardly patting his back before sending him off feeling just a bit better because you saw him smile a little.

Other than that, you’re drawing blanks.

“How exactly did I help you, though? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I wouldn’t say you helped me or anything, but…” Woo pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose while slyly avoiding your eyes. “I distinctly remember you saying something like—”

Hey, it’s just a bad day. Or a bad week. Or a bad month. I don’t know. But it’s not a bad life. It’ll get better soon. I promise.

Fuck. Maybe you do remember.

“It didn’t really mean much to me at the time. Honestly, it kind of pissed me off at first,” Woo admits with a guilty chuckle before taking another sip. “But you were right. Sometimes, things got worse. Other times, it got better. But one day, I realized that I got to a point where it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

“I’m not usually this open about my problems, but I learned overtime that talking about them makes them less taxing to deal with. Almost like I’m just talking about the weather, you know?” He smiles softly and you swear your heart melts at the sight of it. “And…I also don’t want to be closed off from others anymore. Back then, I mostly just kept everything to myself—bottling it all up until it was just unbearable.”

“Now you’re here spilling your guts out to some random college senior,” you snicker before taking another swig of your soju. You pout when you realize the bottle’s all empty before placing it back on the picnic blanket. “That’s some character development.”

“It really is.”

The silence sets once more and your eyes wander off to the city so close yet so far away. The lights from the skyscrapers glimmer like stars across the calm waters of the Han River and you like to think it compensates for the fact that the sky is blocked out by the bridge stretched far and wide above you.

This isn’t how you imagined your first stargazing date would be like, but it’s a good start.

Although, the moment the idea crosses your mind, you’re quick to jolt at your own thoughts.

This isn’t a date. You’re just celebrating his birthday together. Alone. On a picnic blanket. With one of the loveliest sceneries you’ve laid your eyes on. In a place where he claims that he never once showed to anyone else.

“Hey, is this—”

Your breath hitches in your throat when you turn to look at Woo—only to find his face mere inches from yours.

“What?” he whispers and despite the fact that you’re wearing a sweater, you feel goosebumps rise across the skin of your shoulders.

“Uh.” Fuck. “Is this a date?”

His mouth curves into a smile that you can’t quite get a read on. “It can be what you want it to be.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, suddenly feeling hot all over as his eyes flicker to your lips. “Just so you know, I don’t kiss on the first date.”

When Woo laughs again, it’s a deep-seated noise that makes your insides tingle with an indescribable feeling. You don’t really want to give it a name.

“Okay,” he repeats before pressing his forehead against yours. “We can have our first date next time then.”

Of course the sly fucker dives in for a kiss anyway.

“H-Hey,” you whisper in between, trying not to get too distracted with how plump his lips are as you keep holding him still by his broad shoulders. “You’re going to end up crushing Hani if you d-don’t cut it out!”

Woo sighs against your lips before pulling away regretfully. For a moment, he stares at the sleepy kitten on his lap, gazing around cluelessly after being roused from slumber. His expression softens for a moment as he scoops her up with both hands, settling her down in the comfort of his gym bag. She lets out a satisfied mewl before curling into a ball once more.

“Better?”

You’re not sure if he’s asking you or the cat, but…

“Better,” you whisper before fisting the lapels of his jacket and crushing your lips with his.

You don’t know where you’re pulling all this pent-up frustration from. During the very brief period that you’ve gotten closer to Woo, your general opinion about him never really deviated from he’s cute and he’s hot. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet here you are, gasping into his mouth as he flattens his tongue against yours. A strong arm hooks around your waist, pressing your bodies infinitesimally closer and your skin is slowly hitting a fever pitch beneath your clothes. Something wild and all-consuming burns in your veins and you channel it into a moan that makes his grip on you grow tighter.

You don’t know how exactly you wound up on top of his lap—knees planted on either side of his hips as he continues devouring you with no intention of leaving anything behind. You can feel the expensive material of his leather gloves when his fingers graze along the hem of your sweater. Your skin tingles like every nerve ending has been set alight and if you weren’t already rendered dizzy by his intoxicating cologne, you’re in for a ride with each second his touch hikes further up your torso.

Woo sighs against your lips before pulling away momentarily—eyes aflame before he removes his fogged up glasses with one hand, tossing them somewhat carelessly on the picnic blanket.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why was that so hot?

You’re too stunned to even draw a breath as he stares you down without the constant partition of his glasses. Has his gaze always been this sharp? Have those eyes always been transfixed on you?

“This…This wasn’t part of the plan, if you’re wondering.” Woo croons out the words huskily. Like an afterthought he only considered out of concern for you. Cute. “I swear I didn’t have any ulterior motives when—”

You giggle, before pressing a kiss on his nose. Woo’s eyes widen just a fraction.

“What made you cave then?”

The way his Adam’s apple bobs has no right to be that alluring, but it pulls you in anyway. “You looked really cute tonight.”

“Is that all?”

“Um, I thought it was sweet that you still got me a cupcake after you overslept?”

You groan, forehead bumping into the crook of his neck. Jesus Christ, he smells so fucking good. “How long are you going to hold that over my head for?”

You feel the vibrations of his laughter humming against your connected chests and your heart swells as Woo wraps his arms around your frame—pulling you into a firm embrace as the heat that engulfed the both of you slowly simmered into the cool evening air. You can feel him tracing idle shapes along your shoulder blades and the small of your back, and it does nothing to keep you from melting into his touch.

It’s so strange how easily you gave into him. You’ve formally known Woo for about three months and became legitimate friends(?) for less than three weeks. If you told Haewon about this whirlwind romance of yours, she’d hit you upside the head and tell you you’re being way too hasty for a man.

But if it’s a man with a black kitten taking a nap in his gym bag while he kisses you senseless underneath one of Seoul’s busiest freeways, you suppose you can make an exception.

“We should go,” Woo murmurs softly. “You’ve still got to accompany your sister to the airport right?”

“Mmm. Nope. She’s staying a day longer,” you inform him with the same quiet tone, letting your fingers trail up to his hair so you can toy with the strands in your fingertips. “But I do have some more edits to get over with in my final manuscript, so…yeah. We should go.”

Despite wanting nothing but to stay there in Woo’s little safe haven, the two of you manage to miraculously peel yourselves away from each other. Your face is hot the entire time you helped clean up his little picnic setup. When he shuts off the portable emergency light, you squint as you parse your way through the darkness.

You kind of end up tripping on air like a complete idiot, but before you can tumble off the rails and into the river, Woo catches you by the waist—not so different from how he held you ten minutes prior.

“Careful,” he mutters as he lets you go and you can’t help but silently mourn the loss of his touch again. “I don’t want to be accused of being a murderer.”

You snicker as he gently scoops Hani out of the gym bag and back into the spacious compartment in the lapel of his leather jacket. For a sleepy kitten, she’s surprisingly compliant. “I actually thought all this time you were some sort of serial killer trying to lure me to my doom.”

“You thought that but you came with me anyway?”

“Why not? You’re hot.”

That night, you let Woo drive you back home now that he’s more or less beaten the serial killer allegations. You tell him that he doesn’t have to walk you to your apartment, but he insists—saying that he can afford to leave Hani on his bike for a few minutes.

Of course, it ends up with another heated makeout session against your front door. This time, those stupid leather-clad fingers hike high enough on your back to toy with the clasp of your bra while his other hand remains tangled in your hair to pull you impossibly closer.

“I have to go,” he rasps before swiping his tongue along his bottom lip—giving you a sudden itch to sink your teeth into it. “But you’re making it really hard to leave.”

He’s making it really hard to tell him to go home, too, but as much as you want to kiss the night away, you still have some of your wits about you.

You chuckle as you reluctantly extract his wandering hands away from your body. Woo sighs in surrender with a nearly inaudible laugh.

“You already bent my I don’t kiss on the first date rule, genius,” you remind him breathlessly. “Don’t push your luck just yet until we’ve had that so-called first date next time.”

He grins. “So there’s going to be a next time?”

Deciding to keep him on his toes, you bat your eyelashes coquettishly at him. “Only if you want to.”

Woo leans in to press his lips against the corner of your mouth—trying his best to suppress the grin on his face.

“I’ll hold you to it then.”

Despite having lived in Seoul for four years and having a hardcore fangirl for a sister, today’s the first time you’ll be attending the pre-recording session for a music show.

Needless to say, you feel like an outsider amongst the fans armed with all sorts of idol merchandise and dressed in the prettiest outfits. Haewon managed to mooch a lightstick off one of her friends for you to use, but despite the fact that you know not a single soul would give two shits about you here, the alienating sensation remains.

“Hey, don’t be too nervous,” your little sister chortles as the marshals usher the crowd into the studio. “All you gotta do is wave that lightstick to the beat. You’ll blend right in, I promise.”

You crack her a nervous smile. Oh, the things you do to make Haewon happy.

It’s a little bit of a blur from there. You squeeze past the throng of fans while simultaneously trying not to lose your sister in the crowd. Some of the staff are handing out photocards that you hear are exclusively given away at this specific broadcast and were worth hundreds of thousands of won. You’re not sure which member Haewon got for you, but knowing your little sister, she must’ve snagged one of Wonwoo’s.

When the two of you are settled in your seats, you take the time to admire the set. You never imagined idol music show stages being this massive in person. In fact, you never really spared an active thought about them. Most of the info you do know about these kinds of things are secondhand accounts from Haewon from all the times she’s been to several broadcasting studios across the city.

“Did you bring the PC I got you last time?” she asks before taking out the broadcast ones out of their plastic package.

You shake your head. “Sorry. That Wonwoo’s sitting in a different bag.”

“Well, at least you haven’t sold him,” your little sister laughs before handing you one of the cards in her hands. “I told the staff to give us Mingyu and Wonwoo, but they gave me Hoshi and Wonwoo. It’s okay though, ‘cause Hoshi’s my bias wrecker anyway.”

Ah. More fandom jargon that you’re just now hearing about.

Just as the staff is starting to do the final preparations on stage, you decide to check out the broadcast PC that Haewon just gave to you. When your eyes land on Wonwoo’s face, however, you suddenly feel your blood freeze in your veins.

You…don’t recognize me?

One of the staff members announces that the boys will be out shortly to begin the pre-recording session but the words are all but muted in your ears.

Because how the hell can you focus on anything else when the face of the man who drove you back home last night—the man who kissed you until you were lightheaded—is plastered on a photocard that could be exchanged for an entire fortune?

This can’t be right, you muse with a scowl—fishing your phone out of your bag as your trembling fingers make haste to open your messaging app. He can’t be the same guy.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:35]: Good morning, I hope you got enough rest!

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:36]: I have a schedule later this morning so I might be MIA

Me [09:40]: it’s cool. i just woke up actually hahaha

Me [09:40]: i also don’t mind! i’m heading out with my sister in a while too

Me [09:41]: have fun at work(?)

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:45]: Haha I will :) Have fun with your sister!

With a deep breath, you lock your phone just as the lights start to dim and the crowd cheers their hearts out. Haewon urges you to turn on your lightstick and the part of the studio that’s filled to the brim with an audience is lit up with hundreds of dazzling lights.

You would’ve appreciated the sight if only a certain someone didn’t play you for a fucking fool.

Just as promised, the boys that your little sister has been crazy about since their debut all fill the stage gradually. Some of them greet the fans with wide grins and silly little gestures. The others are a little more reserved with their greetings—all shy smiles and reserved movements.

Like Wonwoo, for example.

After several years of only knowing Mingyu thanks to Haewon, this is the first time you were able to pick out another one of them on stage with ease. Why wouldn’t you be able to recognize him?

He had you pressed up against your front door only a few hours ago.

It all made sense now. The affinity for keeping a face mask on. The late night visits. The fact that he seems to make an exorbitant amount of money from a job he doesn’t want to disclose.

Woo is Wonwoo from SEVENTEEN.

And he somehow forgot to let you know over the course of your time together.

You try to keep down the frustration that burns in your throat, making you feel like the roof of your mouth is stuffed with cotton. It’s much easier to mask your feelings once the performers all get into position and the music starts. The loud beat blaring from the speakers coupled with the well-practiced fanchants from the audience easily overpower the sound of your hitched breathing. Even Haewon was too engrossed with the performance to notice your distress.

Still, there’s not much you can do about it now. Especially when Wonwoo’s the one who starts up the first verse of their newest song.

He looks so…different from the gentle giant you’ve come to know over the past few weeks. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes that you know is all for show, but it makes your spine tingle at the sight of it nonetheless. The words to the song are raspily sung into the mic and if you weren’t convinced that he and Woo aren’t the same person, you most certainly are now.

After all, it’s his fucking voice that got you so down bad in the first place.

Once his part is done, Wonwoo quickly heads over to the next formation—a complete professional by heart. He belts out each dance move with such perfect precision and you wouldn’t expect any less from an idol who’s spent years honing his talents. But despite how awe-struck you are to see this side of him in person, it just wasn’t enough to completely erase the feeling that you’ve been betrayed.

It stings even more when the song ends and the studio is filled with deafening screams from the audience yet again. For once, Wonwoo’s stoic expression cracks with a handsome grin as he and the rest of his bandmates huddle together and exchange high fives.

That person on stage is both the man you caught feelings for and a stranger at the same time. He easily smiles at the fans the same way he would smile at you, but the difference between Woo and Wonwoo is that only one of them is willing to show this part of his life to the rest of the world.

Did he not trust you enough? Did he think you’d act like some crazy fan if he told you the truth?

You love Haewon. You love your little sister more than anything in the world, but you can’t pretend that things are okay when the man who kept you in the dark is standing right in front of you, clueless of the revelation that occurred to you just now.

“Where are you going?” Haewon calls out when you make your way out of the rows of seats—earning yourself a collection of glares from the other fans in the vicinity. “Unnie, hey!”

The last thing you want to do is ditch her for something you promised you’d see through until the end but you’re just so fucking done. You don’t want to see Wonwoo right now. Or hear him and his stupidly perfect voice through the studio’s sound system.

Right now, you just…want to be alone.

About two weeks after you stormed out of the first and last music show pre-recording you’ll ever attend in your life, things have more or less mellowed out. Sort of.

You’ve been taking fewer and fewer shifts at the shelter as graduation draws ever-so near. But aside from wanting to focus on getting your academic backlogs over with, you also wanted to stay away from the one place that Woo—or should you say Wonwoo—can easily find you and subsequently corner you to talk. Because you don’t want to talk to someone who’s basically been lying to your face the entire time you’ve been friends.

Well, you suppose if you really don’t want to hear even a peep out of him, you should’ve blocked his number altogether. But that’s not really the case.

Your phone buzzes while you’re in the middle of signing off adoption papers to a couple who wanted to adopt one of the shelter cats. You thought it was pretty adorable of them to make that decision since having a pet together is almost as good as having a kid together after all.

Thinking it was from your adviser, you snuck a glance towards the notifications in your homescreen. But when you see a familiar emoji plastered on the sender’s nickname, you’re quick to put it face down on the wooden desk.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [09:35]: Good morning. Are you at the shelter today? Can I speak to you?

How he has it in him to keep texting you as if you haven’t given him nothing but radio silence for the past two weeks, you’re not sure. Wonwoo must’ve sensed that something was amiss the moment you stopped replying to him altogether, but he never tried to pester you about what was wrong. Instead, he simply continued sending all those messages to check in on you despite the fact that it’s almost as if he’s talking to a wall.

Well, it’s not like you have time to entertain him now anyways.

“Are you sure she doesn’t have a name yet?” One of your clients—the boyfriend—asks as he smooths down his newly adopted Maine Coon’s fur.

The girlfriend rolls her eyes. “You heard the nice shelter lady, Vern. This one just wouldn’t respond to any name they tried to give her.”

You agree with a half-hearted laugh, trying your best to ignore the guilt that’s perpetually swelling in your heart the longer you ignore Wonwoo’s pleas. “Yup. Our director said she’s got a bit of an attitude, but I think she just has high standards.”

Vern the Boyfriend makes a funny face at that. “So you’re saying that she doesn’t like the names she’s been given so far?”

“Mhmm. We tried Cupcake, Winter, Princess, and Lily, but she liked none of those. Try naming her something fancy. ”

“Chairman Meow?”

“Vern.”

“What? You gotta admit it’s funny, Sohee.”

Sohee the Girlfriend rolls her eyes. “Yes, but it’s an overused pun now! Think of something else.”

“Hmm. How about…Milana?”

“Is that because Seokmin wouldn’t shut up about his trip to Milan?”

“Ugh, yeah. Two months later and he still won’t stop talking about—”

“The gorgonzola he had for dinner the night before he flew back to Korea. I know. You won’t stop talking about it either.”

“Hey, Seokmin-hyung pays great attention to detail when it comes to food. You can’t help but want it, too.”

As you observe the friendly banter between the couple, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You don’t come across two people who complement each other as well as they do, and from the curious glint in their newly adopted cat’s eyes, you think she likes being in their company as well.

“Fine, let’s test it out first,” Sohee huffs before scratching behind the Maine Coon’s ears. “We’re going to call you Milana. Does that sound good to you?”

When the cat nuzzles her hand with a pleased meow, Sohee and Vern turn to glance at each other at the same time—two matching smiles plastered on their faces.

God. You can only wish to have what they do.

Once the rest of the documents have been finalized, you and Mina—who just got back from updating the vaccination records for all the animals in the shelter—see your most recent clients off. Vern the Boyfriend, Sohee the Girlfriend, and Milana the Child are off to the streets to start the next chapter of their lives or whatever.

When the door to the front entrance clicks shut, you let out the longest, deepest sigh known to mankind. Your coworker stifles a laugh.

“Looks like someone’s jealous,” Mina comments.

You whine. “How could I not be jealous of that? They’re so in love, it’s sickening. They even got a kid together!”

“You know, you could easily have that too if you just stopped avoiding—”

“Oh, look at the time!” You interrupt her a little too theatrically, stomping off to the direction of the break room. “Gotta go meet my thesis adviser. Kino and the other volunteers should show up in the next hour, though!”

You don’t catch the frustrated look on Mina’s face as you make a hasty retreat, but it doesn’t make you any less guilty about trying to skirt around the topic every chance you get. Mina’s always had your back during these past two weeks. Though you never told her why you’re avoiding your not-so-quote-unquote crush like the plague, she’d always come up with excuses and alibis to throw him off your trail.

Which, coincidentally, happens again just as you’re changing out of your uniform.

“I don’t suppose you’re looking for a sibling for Hani?” you hear Mina sigh from outside.

The person she’s talking to laughs softly. “No. I think you know why I’m here again.”

God. That fucking voice.

“Well, again, she’s not here,” your coworker bluffs. “And uh, word of advice, I get that you’re hot shit and all, but if you keep trying to bother my friend who, for some reason, doesn’t want anything to do with you, I might have to call the authorities.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second.

That’s a little too different from the typical ‘oh I’m sure she’ll come around one of these days’ spiel that Mina always feeds to Wonwoo every time he visits. Sure, you’re not yet ready to face him yet after everything that’s happened, but it’s not like you want him thrown in jail—

“Uh, right. I get it,” he says awkwardly, clearing his throat in the process. “It’s just that she hasn’t spoken to me in days and I’m a little worried—”

“That’s clearly a sign for you to back off, buddy.” You can almost see Mina with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been keeping myself from saying anything about it, but I’ve always found it strange how often you visit a goddamn animal shelter. And now that she’s clearly avoiding you, you’re still trying to corner her? Are you a stalker or something?”

Fuck. This isn’t how the conversation is supposed to go!

Mina’s job is to just politely drive Wonwoo away so you can slip out of the building without having to talk to him. But your coworker must’ve misinterpreted your persistent reluctance to meet him as genuine fear and…while you’re glad you have a friend who looks out for you like that, she’s going about all of this the wrong way!

Wonwoo doesn’t speak for a long time and your heart squeezes at the notion that he’s been called all those harsh words when all he wanted to do was talk to you. You didn’t even give him any reasons as to why you suddenly decided to cut him off. But instead of marching out there to face him and clear the air yourself…

You stay hidden in the break room like a fucking coward.

“I understand why you’d assume that, but I don’t have any ill intentions—”

“That's exactly what a guy with ill intentions would say,” Mina scoffs. “Do both of us a favor and just leave, yeah? And stop trying to contact her when she obviously wants nothing to do with you anymore.”

The silence hangs thick from outside and despite being in the break room, you swear you can almost choke on it yourself.

You’re not sure what expression Wonwoo is wearing. Actually, you don’t even know him well enough to know those kinds of things. The most you’ve seen of his face was during that quiet night you spent together two weeks ago and you’ve severed contact with him all because of something that he probably could have explained if only you gave him the chance to.

“Okay,” he whispers so softly, you almost don’t catch it. “Thanks for your time.”

Fortunately, Mina doesn’t try to add any more fuel to the fire. All you hear is the sound of retreating footsteps and the sound of the front door clicking shut.

It’s only when your coworker pokes her head inside the break room that you realize you’ve been holding your breath.

“He’s gone now,” she murmurs with a comforting smile. “And if he doesn’t stop bothering you even after that, I’ll raise the complaint to the director himself. I’m sure he can pull some legal strings to keep that guy out of the area for good.”

You find it kind of ironic that a few minutes ago, Mina was teasing you about him and now things have escalated into restraining order territory. But you can’t really blame her for it.

Especially when you’ve done nothing to clear up the misunderstanding.

“Right. Thanks, Mina.” You manage a thin smile, fingers absentmindedly drifting to the black cat enamel you still pinned to your uniform’s chest pocket.

“I really appreciate it.”

Haewon 🪷 [10:30]: Unnie hiii

Haewon 🪷 [10:33]: Can you call me as soon as you read this? Xoxo

You get to check Haewon’s message three hours late because finally, finally you’ve managed to defend your thesis after innumerable sleepless nights and neverending changes to your manuscript draft. Your panelists and advisers had nothing but praises to sing about your work—even going as far as to promise that your paper will definitely be published in the next volume of the academic journal you’d been secretly hoping it’ll get selected for.

It’s still surreal that the only thing you’ve got left on your university to-do list is to attend the commencement rites scheduled in three weeks’ time. Four grueling years have really just gone by in a flash.

After enjoying one of your last lunch breaks in the quad with some old classmates who’ve also conquered the figurative beast that is their undergrad thesis, you excuse yourself for a while to give your little sister a ring. Haewon picks up on the second ring.

“About time you called,” she huffs. “I thought you were sleeping in the day again.”

You shake your head with a laugh despite the fact that she can’t see the gesture. “No more sleeping in the day for me ‘cause I’m graduating.”

Haewon gasps—loud enough to create static across the line. “Really? Oh my god. That’s good news then! Mom and dad were actually getting worried about you, you know? You’ve been throwing yourself into that stupid thesis of yours for a month now.”

It takes a while for you to formulate a response, something akin to guilt creeping into your heart at the prospect of worrying your parents sick. But then again, what’s done is done. You can catch up on the several hours of sleep and countless brain cells you’ve lost trying to make your final manuscript actually make sense.

“It’s all good now,” you reassure. “All you guys have to do now is fly over to Seoul for my graduation and I can pack my bags and go back to the countryside as soon as I can.”

You half-expect Haewon to laugh off your haste to travel back to your hometown and say something about how you’re better off in the city than this old dump.

But you’re met with silence instead.

“Um,” she starts nervously after a few moments. “I know most of the stuff that’s been stressing you out is gone now, but… Are you sure you’re okay?”

The question makes you swallow thickly. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Unnie, I’m your sister,” Haewon says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture her scowling at you. “We both know you’ve been acting really weird ever since the pre-recording. I couldn’t pester you about it ‘cause I had to go back home the next day. And I didn’t want to bother you while you were finishing up your thesis.

“So now that all those obstacles are out of the way, do you mind telling me what’s wrong?”

The sound of the other students milling around the quad rings in your ears as you process Haewon’s words. When you take a deep breath, the exhale is accompanied by defeated laughter.

You’re an idiot to think you could ever escape your little sister’s scrutiny.

“I know you’re going to give me shit if I say it’s nothing you should worry about—”

“You’re right,” she interjects. “I will give you shit.”

“—but it really is nothing you should worry about,” you continue anyway, toying with the hem of your sweater with a wistful sigh. “Long story short, it’s…boy problems. Boy problems that I’ve ignored long enough that they just went away all on their own.”

At the other line, Haewon makes a strangled noise as if that’s not the answer she was expecting. “Come again?”

“Yeah, Hae. Your big sister actually has boy problems,” you chortle. “Weird, right?”

“Yes and you didn’t even bother telling me about it at all?!” She crows angrily. “You have to give me the gist or I’m hanging up and booking the next flight to Seoul.”

For a moment, you hesitate and give yourself a moment to think about what you can and can’t tell Haewon over a phone call when she’s a whole plane ride away from you.

She absolutely cannot know that the boy in question is Wonwoo. You’ll probably spend more time trying to convince her that what you’re saying is true than avoiding a pity party. So instead, you tell her:

“Well, this boy and I had…something good going for us, I think. I like him, you know—really, really like him. But then one day, I found out that he’s been keeping this important thing about himself from me.” A sigh. “Like, I know some stuff is none of my business, but it’s so easy for him to let others know about that…that thing, yet somehow he never bothered to tell me. I couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t trust me enough.”

Surprisingly, Haewon lets out a hum of understanding. “Yeah, that’s kind of a dick move on his part. Did you confront him about it?”

You find yourself tongue-tied for a moment—a bit embarrassed to admit to your little sister that you chose the coward’s way out of this.

“Um, that’s the thing. I kind of ghosted him when I found out,” you tell her sheepishly. “I don’t think he knows the reason why I suddenly just dipped to this day. Haven’t spoken to him in…two months.”

“Uh-huh. So all this time, you’ve been burying your guilt in schoolwork. Is that it?”

The straightforward tone catches you off guard for a second. “That’s not—”

“Unnie,” Haewon calls out firmly, making you close your mouth. “Again, I’m your sister. I know things about you that others don’t—things that you don’t either, probably. And trust me when I say this, but you are not the confrontational type. Don’t worry though because it’s perfectly fine to avoid the things you don’t want to deal with. Especially if you’re dealing with a person that’s more trouble than they’re worth.

“But…you said that you really, really like him. Present tense.” She pauses briefly, as if letting you digest what she’s saying a little better. “If the circumstances were even slightly different, I would’ve cheered you on for ghosting someone who hasn’t been one hundred percent honest with you because, duh? Deserved. But from the way you’ve been coping with what happened, I can’t help but think that avoiding him like this isn’t what you wanted to do at all.”

Haewon’s words flow from the speaker and lance straight through your heart, and you start to wonder when she started sounding so reliable. You’re used to looking out for her even with the distance separating you. But ironically, it’s in your last year of college that your sister effortlessly dissected the dilemma that’s been plaguing you for weeks.

“Look, I think you’ll feel much better about all this if you just talk to him,” she continues when you don’t utter a word in response. “Not that I’m siding with some semi-lying jerk, but maybe he had his reasons for hiding…whatever he was hiding from you? If he gives you a bullshit excuse, then at least the ghosting will finally be justified, right?”

Her frankness makes you snort. “I guess.”

“Good. Now hang up and call him now.”

“...What?”

“You heard me.”

“Haewon, I can’t just call him out of nowhere after ignoring him for so long.”

“Pfft. Of course you can! If he doesn’t answer, then that still justifies the ghosting because he obviously doesn’t want you enough. Men like that don’t deserve you, unnie.”

“...Fine. Point taken.”

You end the call after Haewon makes you swear to keep her posted about the situation and your love life in general from now on. Sighing, you reluctantly scroll through your messaging app—finding a conversation that’s long been buried by more recent texts from other people after he sent his final messages to you.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:35]: It’s been three weeks since you last replied. Hope you’re doing okay.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:36]: Mina told me that you wanted nothing to do with me anymore but I really don’t understand why because…aren’t we good? Didn’t we have something back there? Or was I just reading you wrong the whole time?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [02:55]: Either way, she was right about one thing at least. I’ve probably made you uncomfortable with my texts. Kind of pathetic now that I think about it.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:01]: I’m sorry for constantly bothering you like this. It’s just that…I want to know what went wrong.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:05]: It’s getting harder for me to sleep at night knowing I fucked up something that could’ve been the start of something nice. I was already planning our first date, you know?

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:10]: Fuck. Now it just sounds like I’m gaslighting haha.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [03:17]: Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I don’t even know anymore.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [04:25]: What I do know is that I miss you. So much.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [10:05]: Uh. Sorry about all of that. I had a few drinks and…you know how it goes.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [10:12]: I’ll stop texting you for real now.

Woo 🐈‍⬛ [10:15]: I hope your studies go well. Thank you for being part of my life, no matter how short our time together was.

Fuck.

This is going to be much more difficult than you thought.

You don’t really blame yourself when it takes you a few days to decide whether or not you should call Wonwoo. The choice has been weighing on you like a cloud above your head and you had to decline several invites to go out from your friends because you simply cannot sit still, knowing that you have to do something about…whatever’s going on with the two of you.

Part of you insists on just leaving it as it is. Wonwoo is an idol that’s almost a decade into his career and you’re much too certain that he’s met enough people in his life to deem the loss of your company specifically a big deal. He has his members, his fans, and anything else a person could ever want.

So what if some college senior he doesn’t even know that well just ghosted him out of nowhere?

But even with that logic, you still end up holding your breath before pressing the call button one Tuesday afternoon.

There are a total of five attempts made and all five lead you straight to voicemail—each instance making your heart grow heavier and heavier once the prerecorded message comes to an end. You secretly fear that he must’ve blocked your number altogether. Why wouldn’t he after you’ve wasted his time as much as you did?

Others would’ve considered this as a sign to just give up. The universe is basically telling you that the brief time you shared together would yield nothing more. Wonwoo has his own career to worry about and as do you, now that you’re finally going to be ejected from university and into the life of an unemployed fresh grad. You’re better off not chasing after the things you’ve purposely run away from in the first place.

So why on earth are you looking up the exact address of his company building, making the long commute for the slim chance of running into him against all odds?

The security around the area might look lax but you can spot the assortment of security guards stationed both inside and outside of the company building pretty easily. Given the nature of the business they’re running, it would make sense that they’d put up all possible countermeasures against people who might try to inconvenience their artists in any way.

Not wanting to be branded as a crazed fan, you decide to keep your distance—purposely lingering outside the shopping center just across the street as you brainstorm how exactly you’re going to meet up with Wonwoo.

But as the minutes ticked past, your sense of reason is starting to overpower your desire to clear things up with him. For one, you don’t even know what his schedule looks like. How can you be so sure that he’ll even be there today? Worse, would Wonwoo even want to speak with you after everything? Despite having kept the fact that he’s an idol a secret to you all this time, he has all the right to refuse speaking with you when you never even gave him a chance to explain himself.

The noise of the busy district fades in the background as your eyes fall to Wonwoo’s final text message. You haven’t even thought of texting him since you considered reaching out. But with the fact that your earlier phone calls didn’t go through, you don’t think you can bear seeing your apologetic messages get denied in the very real chance that he’s blacklisted your number altogether.

God. You feel so pathetic.

“Hey, it’s you!”

You immediately blanche at the feeling of someone placing a hand on your shoulder—turning around to see who it is only to be met with the sight of two familiar faces.

“Oh,” you voice out somewhat dumbly. “Miss…Sohee? And Vern?”

The couple who adopted a cat from the shelter flashes you pretty smiles, the two of them carrying grocery bags in each arm. Sohee perks up when you recognize them. “Yup! I didn’t expect to see the nice shelter lady around these parts. What brings you here?”

“Just…stuff.” The laugh you spare them is a little too forced, but if they notice, they don’t comment on it. “How about you guys? How has Milana been?”

“Feels right at home in either of our apartments,” Vern chuckles. “You were right about her having high standards. We always end up doing our grocery shopping here instead of the supermarket near my place ‘cause Lana refuses to eat any of the cheap cat food being sold there.”

Sohee sighs in agreement. “Mhmm. You wouldn’t even think she was a rescue with how high maintenance she is, but we’re idiots that dote on her all the time. It’s just a good thing we work right across the street from here.”

Feeling endeared with how much they spoil their new child aside, the latter part of Sohee’s statement catches your attention for a moment. “Sorry? You work right across the street?”

The moment the words leave your lips, the charming smiles on their faces falter before the couple before you share a look. A brief moment of telepathic communication must’ve occurred between the both of them, as if wordlessly discussing whether they should respond, but in the end Sohee relents.

“Yeah. Vern and I work at HYBE,” she chuckles. “I’m actually surprised you don’t recognize him, since he’s—”

“A very loyal employee that the nice shelter lady can’t possibly recognize,” Vern interjects with a cough into his fist and the immediate reaction makes it easier to put two and two together.

He’s an idol. One hundred percent an idol.

Deciding to play along, you offer up a nod in understanding. “I see. Guess you guys are heading back for the day?”

“Yep. We had one of the other members—uh, I mean, one of our friends look after Milana while we had our grocery run,” Vern explains not-so-smoothly.

“As much as we’d like to stay and chat for a while longer, our baby kind of needs us,” Sohee tells you with an apologetic look. “I hope things at the shelter are running smoothly! We’ve seen how dedicated you guys are to taking care of those poor animals.”

You nod. “Of course. I’ll see you guys around?”

“Anytime!”

You and the beautiful couple exchange quaint bows in farewell before the two of them start walking away. But with each footstep that they take further and further away from you, the itch to run after them and ask what you’ve been dying to when they said they both worked at HYBE grows all the more unbearable.

Cut it out, you mentally hiss at yourself. You can’t bother other people about your issues with Wonwoo. That’s just a whole new low.

You should’ve just gone the opposite direction when the conversation ended. You should’ve just directed yourself to the nearest bus stop back to your apartment—buried all of this in the past where it belongs.

But it’s as if your body has a mind of its own. The next thing you know, you’re sprinting towards Sohee and Vern before they could cross the next intersection—surprising the couple with your sudden re-entry.

“Did you need something?” Sohee asks, accommodating and confused all at once.

Now or never.

“Yes, actually,” you dole out breathlessly, pursing your lips before adding:

“Do you guys know where Wonwoo is?”

Out of all the ways you thought this day could turn out, you never would’ve imagined being in the backseat of one of HYBE’s music producers—breezing through the city’s freeway as she interrogates you about just how exactly you know Jeon Wonwoo.

“So you’re the reason he’s being so off lately,” Sohee chuckles before switching lanes. “Wonwoo’s always been the quiet type, but sometimes you can just tell when there’s a lot on his mind. Isn’t that right, Vernon?”

Vernon, who you come to realize is part of the same group as Wonwoo, glances at you from the rearview mirror with a shake of his head. “I can vouch. Wonwoo-hyung’s been working on sharing stuff with us, but of course there’s still some things he’d like to keep to himself.”

I also don’t want to be closed off from others anymore. Back then, I mostly just kept everything to myself—bottling it all up until it was just unbearable.

Great. Now you feel twice as horrible.

“Honestly, I was kind of scared that you guys would think I’m a sasaeng,” you admit with a dry laugh before settling further into the car’s plush upholstery.

“While we have no reason not to think that with all the weirdos popping up these days,” Sohee starts before her lips curve into a smile, “it just so happens that Soonyoung also can’t keep his mouth shut about Wonwoo’s little crush.”

That makes your face heat up a little. “Soonyoung like…Wonwoo’s friend?”

“You might know him better as Hoshi,” Vernon explains.

Hoshi, Hoshi, Hoshi…

You snap your fingers once you figure it out. “Yeah. He’s my sister’s bias wrecker.”

“Now we learn that your sister is a fan, too? Huh. Small world.”

“Anyway,” Sohee interjects. “The reason why we believed your explanation was because Soonyoung described Wonwoo’s crush as an animal lover. He’s not so much of a blabbermouth that he gave us more details aside from that, but Vernon here told me about how Wonwoo always comes late to their unit meetings because he keeps making all these detours first.”

Vernon stifles a laugh. “I actually found out about the shelter because Coups-hyung insisted that we follow him around to figure out where he’s been going. It didn’t occur to me at the time that his animal lover crush and the nice shelter lady could be the same person.”

At this point, you can honestly get used to being called a nice shelter lady. But that aside, you can’t help but flush even further at all the things being revealed to you right now.

It’s…a lot to unpack.

First, Wonwoo has a crush on you? A complete nobody? Then again, from how often he’s been seeking you out before things went to shit, you could infer that he’s at least a little bit interested from how he kept going out of his way to see you. He’s even late to meetings because of his little visits. This so-called crush was quite obvious, you just don’t like how flustered hearing it out loud makes you feel.

“But then Wonwoo-hyung just started showing up on time to our meetings during our comeback promotions,” Vernon continues. “We were glad we didn’t have to keep waiting for him to start, but…we also noticed that he’s been kind of down lately. The first time it happened, I assumed it was just an off day for him, though now that we met you like this, that’s definitely not the case.”

Wonwoo’s been feeling down? Because of you?

If the roles were reversed, you can say that you’d feel the same if he just stopped talking to you when you thought you were already growing closer. It doesn’t help that the last time you were together, you shared far too many kisses that mere friends should indulge each other with.

You sigh, leaning your head against the headrest.

You’re such an idiot. A selfish, inconsiderate—

“Well, here we are.”

When the car pulls over, you don’t even realize that Sohee already left the freeway and drove into one of the roads overlooking the Han River. You can barely keep yourself from choking on your own breath when you spot a very familiar motorcycle parked in front of the vehicle. It doesn’t help that Sohee pulled over a certain spot underneath the elevated highway that you’re very much certain you’ve already been to once before.

“Hyung doesn’t know that we know about this place. He never brings anyone else here,” Vernon informs you with a small smile. “From the look on your face, we can assume that he’s already brought you here though, right?”

You can’t even deny it at this point. “Yeah…”

Sohee moves to unlock the doors before glancing behind the driver’s seat with an encouraging look. “Well, how about you clear things upso we can start going on double dates and stuff.”

“Sohee,” her boyfriend groans.

“What? I think it’d be a great idea.” She pouts. “We can even rope Nari and Mingyu into tagging along. Then it’ll be a triple date.”

“What she means to say is,” Vernon cuts in before Sohee can get another word out. “No pressure. You go sort out the stuff you need to with Wonwoo-hyung. I’m sure the two of you can make the best decision for each other once you get to talk properly.”

The best decision, huh…

Your new friends watch you with wordless encouragement as you open the door to your left, letting out a long-winded breath so you wouldn’t be too psyched out by the circumstances. You thank them both with a subtle nod as you gather enough courage to see the person you’ve been longing to meet again for a while now.

Now or never, you repeat to yourself before finally stepping out of the car.

Wonwoo’s thinking spot looks much different in the day than it does at night.

You had a pretty hard time navigating the short terrain from the road to the old, weathered steps of the watchtower because of the lack of proper illumination. If it weren’t for Wonwoo guiding you the entire time, you would’ve face planted into the pebbled pathway on the first few steps.

The sun is already setting when you make it to your destination—red orange rays splintering through the high rise buildings on the other side of the river bank. It’s not difficult to spot Wonwoo’s tall figure leaning across the rusty railing of the watchtower, a gentle smile gracing his handsome face as he plays with the growing kitten in his arms.

He doesn’t notice you at the foot of the concrete steps right away, too engrossed with playing with Hani to take in the rest of his surroundings. But the longer you watch them from afar, the more your chest twists with guilt.

All this time, you never really thought about how Wonwoo must’ve been faring since you ghosted him. You merely assumed that he’d still be living his best life despite what happened between the two of you. The thought that he’ll still be better off without you in his life spurred you on to solely focus on the things you’ve got going on your end. You didn’t consider just how your actions would affect him. Not even once.

But now, despite having such an adorable cat to keep him company, it isn’t hard to tell that he’s not in the most stellar of moods.

It’s not like you’ve seen Wonwoo smile a lot when you still knew him as Woo—no thanks to his silly little face masks. But you always liked how his eyes crinkled behind his glasses whenever you said something he finds funny or amusing. The easygoing body language he always seemed to have around you.

There’s none of that now.

“Wonwoo.”

He visibly stiffens at the sound of someone calling his name. Cautiously, Wonwoo tucks Hani closer to his chest—glancing around for anyone who could have infiltrated his safe haven.

When his eyes land on you, you can almost hear his breath hitch from where you’re standing.

Seeing no indication that he doesn’t want you here, you swallow the lump in your throat before climbing up the stairs. Each step you take is familiar yet foreign at the same time and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears the closer you get to him. The startled expression on Wonwoo’s face doesn’t falter even when you’re mere feet in front of him on top of the watchtower—like he’s having a hard time grasping your existence.

Hani, however, doesn’t seem all that fazed. The black kitten mewls in delight at the sight of you, squirming around in Wonwoo’s arms, which seems to snap her owner out of his stupor.

His throat bobs. “You know my name.”

You laugh softly. “It isn’t hard to figure it out when you’re as famous as you are.”

Silence permeates the air by the riverside as Wonwoo processes the words you just told him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, hands absentmindedly running across Hani’s fur.

“So that’s why,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. “I should’ve known…”

You mirror the gesture somewhat vigorously, your throat closing up from all the things you want to say. He doesn’t deserve to be left hanging all because of that stupid reason alone. He doesn’t deserve those hurtful words from Mina.

Most of all, he doesn’t deserve to feel this shitty all because you were too much of a coward to communicate with him.

“I’m sorry.”

He startles at your apology—obviously not expecting that to be the first thing you say to him after two months of radio silence. “W-Why are you sorry? I should be—”

“It was unfair of me to just ghost you like that when you haven’t explained yourself,” you murmur, tucking your hands behind your back as you stare down at your shoes in shame. “I’m sure you had your reasons for not telling me right away, but… I selfishly thought you didn’t trust me enough to let me know.”

“No,” he quickly clarifies. “It’s not like that at all. I trust you—so much.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It took me a while, but I realized that along the way. The last time we were here, you entrusted me with the story of how you coped with losing someone. You entrusted me with your thoughts, your feelings, your secrets. And I took all that for granted because you didn’t tell me you were an idol.”

Wonwoo falls silent for only a moment as if considering what words to say next. Hani seems to sense his distress, cuddling up to his chest in an attempt to soothe him. He notices what she’s doing right away and Wonwoo scratches behind her ears with a breathless chuckle.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t plan on hiding it forever. I knew you would find out eventually—just not as soon as you did,” he murmurs. “It was also unfair of me to take advantage of the fact that you didn’t know me as Wonwoo. But…I wanted to keep my career out of the equation first because it’s nice being treated like a normal person. You never put me on a pedestal or looked at me like I was some sort of god.

“You treated me like I was human.”

This time, you’re the one who’s at a loss for words.

Having Haewon as a sister, you have this preconceived notion about idols where they have the world in the palm of their hands. You thought for the longest time that all they had to do was go up the stage to sing and dance and look beautiful and the rest will follow.

Hearing Wonwoo tell you this easily subverted all those assumptions.

You’ve never been good at telling people the things they need to hear. That’s Haewon’s area of expertise, not yours. So instead of offering up any words of comfort, you quickly close the distance that’s been keeping you apart to throw your arms around his broad shoulders.

Wonwoo freezes up when you pull him into a hug and he loathes the fact that he can’t even reciprocate it given that he has his hands full. It’s kind of adorable how careful you’re being to make sure you don’t accidentally squish Hani between your bodies.

Suddenly, all that heaviness that’s been lingering in his heart for weeks dissipates in a flash. Wonwoo relishes in the feeling of your warmth seeping into his, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds back his emotions.

“Can we start over again?” you murmur. “We still haven’t had our first date, right?”

When you feel the sound of his laughter rumbling in his chest, you can’t help the goosebumps that rise across your skin. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to forgive me that fast.”

Pulling away for a moment, you shoot him a dirty look. “Jeon Wonwoo, are you saying I’m easy?”

“Not at all.” Wonwoo grins and you can barely look at him without recoiling at how good he looks.

His hair has grown much longer than you remember and seeing the smile that oh-so easily hooked you in deeper than you already were, you already know that you can’t ever hope to put up a fight.

Not when he’s so love-of-your-life-shaped.

“Since we’re at the point of catching up, I’m actually graduating in three weeks.”

Wonwoo sharply turns to look at you with a scowl as he puts Hani in a little cat backpack he got for her. “Three weeks? Shit… I think we’re going to have a concert at that time.”

You wave away his concern with a smile. “I didn’t mean I was expecting you to show up at the venue, doofus. Can’t have any weird rumors about you going around by attending my graduation.”

“Rumors about what?” he challenges.

“You know.”

“I actually don’t.”

“We just made up ten minutes ago, Do you really want me to bail on you again?”

“Hey, I just thought that if you ever want to spark some dating rumors, we can make it happen any time.”

“We’re not even dating!”

“Not yet.”

“What?”

“It’s just like you said—I still owe you that first date, don’t I?”

“...Have I told you that you’re insufferable?”

“I’m actually surprised you didn’t start calling me that when I kept visiting the shelter too often to be considered normal.”

“That reminds me, why were you visiting the shelter so much?”

When Wonwoo hands you Hani’s cat backpack, you take it as an invitation to hitch a ride on his motorcycle. After all, it would be uncomfortable to have it sitting between the two of you. However, he takes you completely by surprise by answering you with:

“I like you. That’s why.”

It takes you about five whole seconds to recover from what he just said but it’s five seconds too late because Wonwoo is already chuckling to himself as if he deserves to have the last laugh.

“You’re lucky that I like you too,” you mumble as you carefully hop on his ride—sitting comfortably behind him while making sure Hani is strapped securely behind you. “If I didn’t, Mina would’ve made our boss file a restraining order against you.”

Wonwoo hands you a spare helmet before putting on his own, laughing again as he clicks the lock in place. “Dating rumors and stalking rumors? Being with you sounds like such a big hassle now.”

“Are we going on that first date or not?!”

Two months after graduating and four weeks into officially dating Jeon Wonwoo, you find out the real reason he was taking so damn long to make up his mind about adopting Hani.

The landlord doesn’t prohibit pets—he loves them, actually.

His dog, Seol, is a little shy, but she gets along with Hani just fine.

But then his old roommate, Mingyu, dropped by to visit Wonwoo’s apartment one day, sneezing all over the place like it’s pollen season. Except the pollen in question is cat fur and it just so happens that he didn’t bring any of his allergy meds for the trip.

“As much as I want to cuddle on the couch catching up on the Marvel Cinematic Universe with you guys, I gotta go,” Mingyu explains while blowing his nose into a tissue. “I’ll die if I spend even a second longer here.”

Wonwoo throws a piece of popcorn at him. “Didn’t you say that you’re going on a date with Nari?”

“Oh. That, too.”

“If she finds out that you just remembered as an afterthought, she’s going to kill you,” you tease while shoving a handful of your movie snacks into your mouth. “At least, that’s what I’d do if Wonwoo did the same thing.”

“Oh, she will. That’s why neither of you are going to tattle on me,” the beefy idol huffs before tossing the soiled tissue in the trash bin. “Anyway, Wonwoo-hyung, you should totally keep in touch with this pet sitter that Seungcheol-hyung discovered recently. A bunch of other artists leave their pets with her whenever they have tight schedules.”

Your boyfriend merely looks at him with an unimpressed look. “Are you saying that just so I can leave Hani there when you come over to play video games with me?”

“Yes.”

Mingyu leaves shortly after receiving a phone call from his girlfriend, Nari, who sounded nothing short of furious when she asked where on earth he is and why he’s late for their date again. Wonwoo tells you that his best friend has a thing for pissing off Nari just so he has an excuse to do grand gestures for her without his girlfriend complaining about it. You tell him that he should start doing the same too.

“By the way, you’re flying back to Jeju for a while, right?” Wonwoo asks once the credits start rolling in the film playing on his TV—the loose grip he has around your waist tightening ever-so slightly.

You shift your weight on the couch to cuddle closer to him. “Yeah. I haven’t seen my parents and Haewon since I graduated. Plus, I don’t have to start working until next month, so I can afford a last-minute getaway.”

He nods. “I still think it’s funny you haven’t told your sister about me. Are you ashamed of me or something?”

“Quit saying weird stuff, Jeon Wonwoo,” you huff before hitting him in the chest. Damn those firm pecs. “I just want to see the look on her face when she finds out I’m dating the person she ships with Mingyu for fun.”

“And I still can’t believe my future sister-in-law is a Gyuldaengie.”

You try not to think about how he said Haewon is his future in-law. You really do.

Once the last of the end credits pans on-screen, the bonus scene at the end of every Marvel movie starts playing and you can’t help but snort when Eddy gets snapped back to his own universe before he can even pay off his tab to the bartender. Just when you’re about to ask Wonwoo if he wants to watch the next movie, you realize he’s had his eyes on you the entire time.

“What?” you laugh.

“Nothing,” he whispers. “I just thought you were really pretty.”

“Wonwoo, you tell me that every thirty minutes. Don’t you get tired of it?”

You yelp when he abruptly pulls you onto his lap, steadying you by the hips so you wouldn’t accidentally topple to the floor. He flashes you a lazy grin as he traces circles along the curve of your thighs and you can barely suppress a groan when you look down at him.

He might look like some otherworldly creature every time he kills it on stage, but you love this Wonwoo just the same—dressed down with his glasses sitting all crooked on the bridge of his nose, hair falling across his eyes.

“Never,” he says simply.

There’s something oddly sensual about the way he says it and at that moment, you catch on to the half-lidded look in his eyes. You gulp, gaze instinctively wandering around his apartment to look for Hani and Seol, who you spot dozing next to each other in the kitchen.

Now that you’re sure none of the kids are watching, you let out a defeated sigh before lacing your arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss him.

Wonwoo is a guy you caved and kissed before the first date, so it’s pretty natural for the two of you to fall into this degree of intimacy every now and again. His effect on you is especially lethal whenever you spend several days apart because of the nature of his career.

But even if you’re yet to cross that line with your boyfriend, the possibility of it finally coming into fruition becomes more and more real every time his hot tongue slides against yours.

“Won…woo—” you gasp when you feel his cold fingers sneak up your shirt, hands firmly grabbing your waist to keep you in place.

Your boyfriend chuckles and the low vibrations that come from his chest shoot straight to your core. “I know tonight was supposed to be movie night, but you’re making it really hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“That’s what you say all the time,” you groan as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. Fuck. “Always blaming me for your lack of self-control.”

“I can’t help it when you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips before tugging you back down for another heated kiss.

You’ve fooled around with Wonwoo a handful of times and during said times, you’ve gotten an idea of how…into it he gets when pleasuring you. It’s almost as if he delights in seeing you come undone for him even if it’s just with his mouth and fingers.

It’s during those moments that you can’t help but imagine how he would be once the two of you finally take things all the way. But for all your teasing about how he has questionable self-control, Wonwoo has done nothing but respect the boundaries you’ve clearly set when you started dating.

“Fuck,” he rasps when he pulls away briefly, resting his head against the cushions of the sofa as he closes his eyes. “Baby, we’ve gotta stop or else I might just cave and fuck you.”

You simper. “You’re the one who started this.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m putting a stop to it before I end up doing something you don’t like!”

You shift around on his lap for a moment and Wonwoo is convinced that you’ll give him some reprieve and get off of him before he loses his mind. But then he realizes you’re grinding your hips against the hard-on he’s sporting in his sweats.

Chuckling to yourself, you pull him by the front of his shirt—pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth before leaning into his ear to whisper:

“What if I want you to fuck me, Woo?”

The deep growl that resonates in his throat sounds so fucking hot, you can feel a gush of slick surge between your thighs. He doesn’t say a word—merely opting to keep his hard stare on yours as he wraps your legs around his waist. You immediately get the gist and hold on tight to him as he carries you out of the living room and into his bedroom.

“I’m giving you a chance to back out again, sweetheart,” he sighs as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Think you can handle it when I get serious about fucking you until you can’t walk?”

The mental image he conjures in your head has you mewling in his arms, prompting you to pepper his neck with sloppy kisses as he gropes your ass like it’s always belonged to him.

“Think you can actually make good on that though?” you challenge with a soft chuckle, grazing your teeth just below his collarbone. You won’t bite—knowing that his stylists will give him hell for it if he shows up to work with hickeys. “We both know you like to talk big sometimes.”

Wonwoo breathes out a condescending chuckle before gently easing you on top of the mattress. You didn’t think it was possible, but you swear you get even wetter when he takes off his glasses and licks his lips at the sight of you.

“Oh, baby, you’re in for a fucking ride.”

That’s how you find yourself with your back pressed against Wonwoo’s insanely sculpted chest—both your mouth and pussy stuffed with his thick fingers as he works you open enough to take his cock. He slides those thick digits in and out of your wet channel, making sure you get used to the stretch all while he muffles your noises at the same time.

Normally, he likes hearing you get whiney and desperate for him, but there’s a charm to seeing you slobber all over his fingers as you clench up around the ones buried in your pussy.

“Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight for me,” he whispers huskily in your ear and the sound of his rough voice layered with the lewd squelch of your cunt makes your insides tingle. “Been thinking about having this pretty pussy all to myself for a while now. You gonna let me have it now, baby? Let me wreck you on my cock?”

Wonwoo easily has the hottest voice you’ve ever heard in your entire life. While you often think about how you can fall asleep happily just listening to him talk about anything under the sun, it’s an entirely different story when he’s spouting all this filth into your ear as he prepares you for an overdue dicking down.

“Yes, please—” You sob pathetically when he takes his fingers out of your mouth, curling your arm behind you so you can blindly grab his hair and mend your lips into a messy kiss. “Wonwoo, I need you so bad.”

“Desperate little thing,” your boyfriend chuckles before withdrawing his fingers from your needy hole. The loss has you writhing in his lap, one hand shooting out to keep him where you want him but Wonwoo coos into your ear as if to pacify you. “Shhh, baby, I need you to come first before I fuck you. You’ll be good for me and let me make you come, right?”

Shit. Who are you to refuse when he propositions you like that?

“I need an answer, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be good,” you gasp almost immediately as your boyfriend starts parting your pussy lips with the hand that was muffling your cute noises. “I’ll be so good for you, please just—”

“Just what, baby?” Wonwoo teases and you nearly cry.

“M-Make me come on your fingers…”

He hums, slick fingers gliding along your slit. “Not if you don’t say—”

“Please,” you whimper before grinding your pussy against his hand. “Wonwoo, I wanna come. Wanna come so bad. Want you to stuff me full of your cock. Want you to—”

It’s almost like he tapped in on every single nerve ending in your body when his dexterous fingers find your clit—rubbing the puffy bud in fast, tight circles as you start twitching in his arms. Wonwoo lets out another evil laugh as he forcibly pries your legs apart. The firmness of his grip leaves you no choice but to thrash around as he builds your orgasm from the ground up, trailing wet kisses along the column of your throat as he teases an orgasm out of you with the sound of his voice coupled with his sinful ministrations.

“So wet and ready for me. Have you thought about taking me inside this sweet little pussy? Do you think you can even fit me when you’re this tight?” he breathes into your ear and you don’t even have the dignity to bite down your moans anymore. “You’re so close, sweetheart. Let yourself go and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll blow your pretty back out over and over until you’re sick of me.”

Never, you want to tell him. I’ll never get sick of you, stupid Wonwoo.

Funnily enough, that silent jab at him is quickly followed by a mind-numbing release. It washes over you like a storm surging into a calm shore—overloading every cell in your body with pleasure until the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken rendition of your lover’s name.

Wonwoo talks you through your high because he knows you’ve got a thing for his voice. Knows just how much tighter you get when he whispers filthy words with a sultry sweet tone.

And when he growls, “Good fucking girl,” into your ear, you’re convinced he just made you come again while still riding the waves of your first orgasm.

For all his vigor, Wonwoo is surprisingly patient with you as you recover from what he just put you through. He plants brief kisses all over your neck and face until your breathing finally evens out and you stop seeing stars in the seams of your vision. Your boyfriend offers up a gentle smile when you finally come to—leaning in to kiss your nose.

“You still want more?” he whispers, exercising enough restraint to be revered despite the fact that you can feel his hard, leaking cock pressed against the small of your back.

A soft, somewhat weak laugh makes its way past your lips as you turn around to peck his lips. Wonwoo smiles against your mouth and you can’t help but do the same.

Then, you issue another challenge.

“Do your worst.”

You’re grateful now more than ever that Wonwoo is the easiest person to talk to in the entire world. You can practically count the things that he wouldn’t want to discuss with you on one hand alone.

In other words, you’ve already had the necessary conversations about sex, should you ever have it with him in the future (A.K.A., right now). Wonwoo knows you’ve been on birth control ever since you moved to Seoul all those years ago. He knows that you get yourself tested at least once every month if you can and assures you that he does the same.

On the other hand, you’re well aware that your boyfriend has a thing for coming inside, and now that you’ve gone this far with him, you’ll gladly let Wonwoo make his fantasies a reality.

He only agreed to it once you promised to tell him whenever you feel like he’s going too far or if he’s doing something you don’t like. You swear you would’ve married him on the spot, if it weren’t for that tiny voice in your head that suspiciously sounds like Haewon telling you off for losing it over a man who’s doing the bare minimum.

With those measures in place, you feel safe enough to let Wonwoo press your face down onto the mattress as his free hand grips your ass—fucking into your tight cunt as he tries (and fails) to keep himself from being too rough with you.

He really, really wanted to be gentle, considering it’s your first time to lie together like this. But your unfiltered reactions do nothing but test both his patience and self-control in more ways than one. All his plans on making love to you in good old missionary have been tossed out of the window now that you’ve given him the green light to actually fuck you until you can’t walk.

“Wonwoo,” you moan, fists curling into the sheets as he cants his hips deeper and deeper—the head of his cock hitting spots your own fingers could never hope to reach. “S-So fucking good…”

“Yeah?” he breathes raspily before leaning down to press his chest against your back, wanting to engulf you in the heat of his body until it’s all you’ll ever know. “My pretty baby loves my cock that much? You want me to fuck you all the time now?”

“Uh huh.” You nod before letting out a high pitched keen when he amps up the speed of his thrusts—slamming his hips harder against your ass.

Wonwoo thinks he could really get used to the sight of your pretty pussy sucking him in like this. You’re so greedy—clamping down on him as tightly as you do as you moan his name like it’s the only word in your vocabulary. But how could you not when each vein that runs along the underside of his perfect cock drags so deliciously across your velvet walls? When his balls—hot and heavy and full of enough cum to fill you to the brim—keep clapping against your pussy with each powerful thrust?

It’s the first time that you got to get a taste of what your boyfriend is capable of in bed and you can only imagine every instance that will follow once all’s said and done.

When he feels your walls start to spasm around his length every now and again, Wonwoo presses a sloppy kiss across the cut of your jaw—a hand sliding between your thighs so he can find that little bundle of nerves that made you fall apart only several minutes ago. Your reaction is immediate—crying and squirming below him even when you’re helpless against his massive frame pressing you down into the bed.

“I’m so close, baby,” he groans into your ear, holding out for as long as he can just so he can feel the sensation of you coming around his cock. “You’re almost there, too, aren’t you? My good girl—taking my dick like it’s always been yours. Can you come with me? You can do that for me, right, sweetheart?”

The fondness in his voice strings you even further apart and you’re nothing but a mess of pleasure and delirium as Wonwoo continues his assault on your poor, abused clit. He knows just the right amount of pressure to use and manages to time his thrusts with each delicious pass on that oversensitive bud.

It’s all over before you know it.

You let out a long-winded moan that will definitely earn him a couple of noise complaints from the neighbors but Wonwoo doesn’t have it in him to fucking care at the moment. Not when your walls are clamping down so tightly around his cock—making each stroke all the more tantalizing as your pussy milks him for everything he’s got to give you.

You mindlessly babble a string of I love yous against the sheets, a trail of drool dripping onto the mattress as Wonwoo fucks into you with heightened ferocity. He catches every single word you say and he tilts your head to the side so he can kiss you. Your boyfriend forces your tongue into a dance with his own until his hips stutter and stop—white hot emission surging into your cunt in thick spurts that he hopes would stay inside you for days if he can help himself.

You’re a mess—face painted with a fucked out expression as your pussy leaks with a mixture of yours and Wonwoo’s cum. The mere sight of it is almost enough to make him hard again, but he tells himself that he can take you up on marathon sex next time.

For now, he just wants to clean you up and tuck you back into bed.

“Woo?”

He turns to face you with a questioning look. Your boyfriend just finished with your mandatory aftercare session and is in the middle of making the bed comfortable enough for some post-sex cuddles. “Hmm?”

“You’re still free next week right?” you ask, drawing silly shapes on his chest with your finger once he finally lays down next to you.

“Yeah. I don’t have any major schedules until…” He pauses before conjuring up an imaginary calendar in his mind. “Next month. Why?”

Despite all the debauchery you’ve subjected each other to in a single night, your face still flushes as you consider what you’re about to ask him. Wonwoo smiles at that. Cute.

“How do you feel about flying to Jeju with me so I can introduce you to my family?” you ask shyly, gulping with a nervous laugh. “I totally get it if your management won’t allow it though. It’s hard to keep the media off your back when you’re so famous and—”

He doesn’t do this often, but Wonwoo shuts you up with a firm kiss.

“What are you talking about?” he murmurs, caressing your face tenderly. “Of course I want to meet them.”

When your eyes light up at his confirmation, Wonwoo swears that he couldn’t be more in love.

Me [11:23]: hae, i’ve got good news~

Haewon 🪷 [11:24]: You’re bringing Mingyu with you to Jeju so we can get married?

Me [11:26]: very funny

Me [11:26]: not to spoil your delusions or anything but i’m bringing my boyfriend

Haewon 🪷 [11:30]: Omg…

Haewon 🪷 [11:30]: Rudeness aside, is it the same guy from before?

Me [11:31]: yep

Haewon 🪷 [11:32]: AAAAAAAAA

Haewon 🪷 [11:32]: I can’t wait to meet him!

Haewon 🪷 [11:34]: He better be treating you right or I’ll drop kick him off Jusangjeollidae

Me [11:40]: you’ve already met him though~

Haewon 🪷 [11:41]: ?

Haewon 🪷 [11:45]: Unnie, what do you mean…

Haewon 🪷 [12:32]: Hey!!!!

⟢ end notes: if you've made it til the end, congrats! this is the last of the doting on you! series (for now~) and i really hope you enjoyed reading through it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! special thanks to all the friends that read through this for me T T i wouldn't have done it without any of you ueueue and to everyone that has been patiently waiting for me to put up the last installment for the series, thank you for waiting <3 i hope you guys continue to support me with my future work as well!

this is part of the doting on you! series.

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #svthub #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

8K notes · View notes

mingigoo · 3 months

Text

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls.

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing.

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on, bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone.

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you.

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one.

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled.

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine.

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended.

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you.

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew.

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web.

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door.

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside.

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck.

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze.

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really.

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now.

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face.

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him.

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature.

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated.

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you.

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more.

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?”

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass.

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help, struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox.

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really.

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't.

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful.

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you.

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together.

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated.

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first.

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before.

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles, but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared.

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him.

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.”

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more.

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in.

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital.

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you.

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor.

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more.

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self.

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore.

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude.

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful.

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either.

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm.

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired.

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display.

“Mhm,” you swallowed.

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised.

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare.

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him, his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg.

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath.

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either.

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see.

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub.

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin. He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated.

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks.

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear.

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see.

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous.

You breathed out, “No.”

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways.

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face.

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking.

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious.

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you.

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed.

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

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