#thank you for being concerned and patient with me!!
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A Wolf and a Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)
Chapter 5: The Tides Are Changing
A/N: Enjoy!
Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster, @ladyarchiviste, @keigo-hawks-takami-simp
Warnings: Fighting lol, physical violence, pain, almost-heart failure (?), violent thoughts, yandere shit, yapping, vaginal fingering, a liiil bit of edging
"You've got to be careful.".
Even when scolding you, Agatha always laced her voice with sweetness. You could count the number of times she was genuinely mad at you on one hand. If she was this evening, you couldn't blame her given the circumstances.
"About?".
She sighed.
"You know damn well about what, Y/N. I'm fully on your side, and I think Lord Wriothesley will be great to you. But I worry... It's normal that you are happy beyond reason with him. I fear that you lose yourself in your happiness and forget that you're not supposed to be there, at that time, with him of all people.".
Deep down, you knew she was right. The circumstance that she worried about was your approaching wedding day, which catalyzed more and more restrictions for you. Your parents let you leave the house less and were more strict regarding your behavior, way of expression, speech... Everything.
With that, sneaking out to see Wriothesley was becoming a more challenging endeavor. Once a matter of meeting at night and being back before dawn, you now had to coordinate by the hours, pray to Focalors that no secret last-minute changes required your presence, be careful of the place and who was around (Fontainians, particularly of the higher classes, were Teyvat-renown gossipers), not laughing too loudly, and on top of it all, staying vigilant, which you were becoming notoriously bad at.
You were once a little paranoid, as you should have always been. Now, both you and Wriothesley forgot your meetings' lack of approval and the danger that may ensue. More than once, you risked being late in returning home; Had Agatha not sent a hurried message reminding you that more than one servant asked about you, you would have certainly been late enough for your Father to look for you.
Though the air of your conversation was tense, you knew you had to thank her for saving your skin.
"Y/N...".
She stopped herself from speaking once she said your name. She wouldn't have called out to you if not to say something. Something was troubling her.
"Yes? What is it, Agatha?".
After an awkward minute, she looked up to you. Her eye to yours, and her brow furrowed in disapproval. The same look your mother gave you when you played the piano badly.
"Y/N, I've always cherished you, but I have to say it: This is getting out of hand. Your adventures are becoming more ridiculous by the day. I had to pull out my rosaries to pray that you would come home before Master! I haven't done so in 20 years! I never had to keep this insane vigil over you when you started seeing Lord Wriothesley, because you knew. You always kept track of yourself, and I was fine with it. But developing eye bags? Losing track of time? Corrupting novice police forces? Making me shiver and cry for your safety?!".
All your life, Agatha took your side even if it meant putting her career as a governess at risk. There was no punishment she didn't try to protect you from, even though your parents worried that she would be lenient and ruin you. She even gave Wriothesley her approval, the only adult approval you cared about. Why was her tune changing like this?
"Agatha, I said I'm sorry and you accepted it! You know how horrible my life grows by the day, all for this blond swine I'm supposed to marry! I understand your concerns, but as of now, I haven't seen him in a month, and-".
"Y/N!!!".
She got up brusquely, an uncharacteristic gesture along with yelling your name. A pit of malaise started to grow in your stomach, and you were worried that it would spread to your esophagus and make you vomit. You didn't like where this was going.
"I would be patient if your little plan would yield its output sooner. But this is taking way too long! I've known girls who ran away with their lovers faster than you have! How much more is this going to take!? How many more near heart attacks will you give me?".
"Agatha, you told me to not jump to the drastic measure! We're still trying to do things the legitimate way-".
"Legitimate way? You're already spending your allowance the same way your Father did whenever he wanted something done faster than what the commoner got! Where's the legitimacy in that? Why do you still act for it?".
She went there. The pain was spreading to the pit of your belly, and its top.
"You want to talk about legitimate matters? How about that dumbass you call your half-brother who got kicked out of this manor like a dog? How about how he lost an entirely pleasurable and easy life because he doesn't know that an illegitimate sibling should STAY hidden?".
She gasped, burst into tears and you hugged her while apologizing for getting even lower, and you both cooled off... That's what would have happened in an ideal world where the both of you weren't so stressed. Only the first action took place.
She looked down at the floor, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered whether you had gone too far, digging into such sensitive history. But that ended when she looked up, even angrier and with teary eyes.
Agatha, the sweet-voiced. Agatha, the quiet and low of tone, a constant in your life. You did not think she could yell at you like this.
"My brother? MY BROTHER?!? You can drop the nice, exceptional noble act now! You screw commoners over with rules and break them with no regard for how the rest of us will be affected! At least my brother is still a man of integrity, and he'd sooner shoot himself than take your stupid bribes! Integrity! Can your money buy you that? Can your man-dog fling buy you that, or is he too busy with shiny bracelets and fake promises?!?".
"I never tried to bribe him, Agatha! I'm courteous enough to stay away from him! What do you mean, commoners getting fucked by rules?! Don't you think that I'm getting screwed out of a life I want? And that's why I need to do this behind everyone's backs?! And unlike him, Wriothesley does not make fake promises!".
She got up and close to your face, her tears even more visible. You never feared an adult's wrathful gaze upon you as much as hers'.
"You don't get it, do you, Y/N?".
"What?".
She stopped moving, and perhaps even breathing. Then she giggled and laughed raucously as if she were an evil witch from your childhood books. Or that one tutor who laughed at you when you gave a wrong answer.
She turned to the opposite side, before turning her face so you could see it sideways. She never gave this shit-eating grin.
"At least my brother is happily bound in holy matrimony. If Wriothesley was that intent on marrying you, he would have snatched you between his teeth by now. The length of this little plan makes it clear: He's just having a bit of fun with you.".
A bit of fun.
A bit of fun.
A day where he'll grow bored, ditch you to your grey life again, and forget about you. A day where he'll marry another woman. Not you.
In the red you saw, you slapped a vase to the ground, perhaps hallucinating Agatha's face.
"AGATHA!".
In hindsight, she was making sense. Wriothesley talked day and night, paper and in person, about how much he wanted to marry you. It was clear that legitimate methods, such as lawfully convicting your fiancé, were failing. Or taking way too long. In your world, these two were one and the same. Your marriage date was not getting postponed, even if you scarred your face the day of.
Agatha was being cruel, but she wasn't wrong. He knew and kept operating like this. You wished Wriothesley was here so you could claw his eyes out. So you could grab your sword and impale the heart he swore was yours. So you could stitch his mouth closed and he'd never tell lies again. So you could embarrass him the same way she just did.
You lunged at her, but she moved out of the way. You landed on the floor, messing up your (favorite color) dress. You never thought your fate could grow crueler. Even the color to your gray was turning out to be a lie.
All you could turn to your back and sob your heart out. Maybe if you avoided Agatha's pitiful gaze... Maybe if Celestia saw your blotched face and heard your cries, she would regret what she wrote as your fate.
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You tried to distract yourself for the rest of the night. You occupied the piano only to play sad pieces and be praised for your "empathy with the composer". You snuck a piece of cake and took a bite before feeling sick again. You walked around the manor and only got a bunch of servants asking if you were alright, and your brother saying: "Don't worry. Whatever moroseness you feel will disappear when you walk down the aisle.". It took everything in you not to burst into tears on the spot.
You couldn't leave this prison you called a manor. The only place you didn't try was the low garden, even if it held the fateful moments of his appearance. Your chase. Your star-gazing. Your first kiss.
At least it wasn't enclosed in walls. It was worth a shot.
It was a night with few stars. You never liked those, because the night you met him was full of them. It was one of the loveliest sights you saw.
It seemed to you like starless nights were a time when most tragedies happened, like tonight and the night Agatha's half-brother- No, brother was exiled. Seriously, you had to correct that "half", even if it was technically true and it hurt her at the moment. You remembered when she started the story with: "My contract has an exclusive clause that I must not tell you this, so please, keep it between us.". And you did. You returned the favor and told her of damning actions that may as well be written in an exclusive clause citing harsh punishment, many of those actions being recent.
You wanted to cry again. Perhaps you still needed to calm down, you thought. Being here didn't help, so it was time to try something new. You left to the kitchen to make lavender and chamomile tea, a brew you often drank before exams or social events. You let the tea leaves steep for a little longer than you should have, hoping that the transitory act of making tea would take up a few more minutes of your miserable day. Once it was ready, you carried the mug to your room, steps as light as they have seen since you learned how to walk.
You set the mug on your desk before crashing down on your bed and taking a deep sigh. By the Archons, what a tiring mess your life was. You had a theory that every noble girl and woman could sleep for the rest of her life. It was tiring: From the acting to the constant monitoring of your actions, you felt like human beings weren't made for this. You were glad your bedroom was away and thus had less sound emerging from it. You were taught to never crash down on your bed as you did, but it was one of those little pleasures. Just like illegitimate snacks and staying up and baltering and twirling around for the pure enjoyment of seeing your skirt float up in circles ('Y/N! Be graceful, your legs are showing!!'), they were the only thing you could be grateful for now. Your governess just joined your family and society's side on how to live, and the man you loved was potentially toying with you all along.
You didn't know which mental picture bothered you more: Wriothesley laughing at your naivete, or Wriothesley courting another woman after he was done with you. It may be the second- no it was definitely the second. The first was horrible, but the second was a far bigger betrayal to you. Agatha would be right: His heart was never yours, his promises were always empty and you may have been blind at parties while he was ogling other women. If it would be because of their faces, should you slash them with a knife or curved dagger? If it were their bodies, should you cut off the parts he was ogling or the ones they liked the most about themselves? Which other women should you go after Wriothesley, if all of this is true? Did he actually prefer common women? Or perhaps... Older, more refined or mature women like your mother?
How could he possibly look at other women when he gave you your first bout of joy, the same way you expected him to give you your first orgasm? If he never wanted you, why would he start all of this?!
But was he looking at other women? During events, you could have sworn that that wasn't true. But what was true anymore? Why wasn't he telling you what was going on? What was going on, why were you the one left in the dark by both him and everyone else about your own future?
Your pained groan ended in its middle when you heard a bark. There was no dog in this room. You looked up to see Frosty on your desk. Unlike the usual, his tail wasn't wagging and he pined once you noticed him. A sad, pitiful pine that expressed you in your current entirety.
"What the- What are you here for? I didn't send Wriothesley anything, do you have something? Wait-".
The window was wide open. Frosty had something in his 'backpack' (did it have the same name for messenger dogs?), but the paper in question was much smaller than the usual letters he sent. The ink looked stronger, too. You opened it. The format of the contents was also starling:
'Y/N
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOLLOW THE PUP. I CAN'T STAND THIS.
I LOVE YOU, SO PLEASE COMPLY,
WRIOTHESLEY'
"Where to, then?".
Frosty jumped out of the window onto the ledge. Did he want you to climb? Would this be worth it??
You crawled out of the window frame, thankful that your manor's roofs were easy to climb. Most of them had stairs, and there were odd bricks you could stand on for a bit. You hoped they wouldn't renovate it anytime soon.
Frosty led you up to the highest roof, also a good spot for stargazing. You had to give it to him, being so familiar with the house. You sat down but did not wait for longer than a minute. A black gloved hand grasped the ledge, and up came Wriothesley, panting and sweating as if he had a nightmare. His expression only relaxed when it landed on you.
"My Y/N...".
You stood up and waited for him to be next to you, so he wouldn't fall off. Before he could hug you, your hand finally gathered enough force to do what you thought of for hours.
SLAP!
He fell on the bricks, holding his cheek. He looked up to you in the same pitiful, sad way Frosty looked at you. The pup pined at the sight, akin to a child seeing its parents fight.
"Y/N, please...".
You wanted to scream at him. Ask for the bitch's name, whether he liked her tits or face more, what did she have that you didn't, and how dare he prove your family's stance correct. You wanted to ask him whether he even wanted to marry you. If he didn't want to anymore, to just back off and let you go on your rampage and soil your dress with blood. Take his vision and freeze him with his own powers. Whether he saw you as a young, naive maiden and whether that made you a more fun conquest.
Instead, you turned your back to him. You sobbed as quietly as you could. And that was more scalding to Wriothesley than any of the aforementioned violent actions.
"Y/N, I need...".
He stopped and let out a guttural cry you'd only hear in emergency wards. He was hunched over again. You looked back. Was he acting, just like Archandelle?
"I need you to talk to me, my love..."
"Why are you acting as if you were in pain? I'm the one who's being fucked over.".
"Y/N, what's happening? Who hurt... hurt you? Who d-do you need me to kill?".
He had this pained look all along your interaction. He couldn't have known that you were angry at him; You didn't write to him about it, nor have you seen each other.
"What do you mean?".
"Someone hurt you. Badly. Tell me who it is. Talk to me. Give me a name to end.".
You crouched down and noticed that he was clutching the right side of his chest. His fingers were red and something was lodged in the glove. You snatched his hand to take it out. It was a pill you knew too well. You had more than a few acquaintances - all older men - who took it as the last pillar to stay alive.
Heart medicine.
"Did you get addicted to medicine while I wasn't looking?! Why are your fingers red? WHY AREN'T YOU TELLING ME ANYTHING?!? What's happening to you??".
"You... still don't know? About the bracelet?".
You looked at the wolf crest bracelet he gave you. His marking, right in front of your parents. You reached the point where you always wore it on your person, even if not on your wrist.
"What about that?".
"Flip the wolf over...".
You flipped the emblem to find the upside-down wolf, its eye glaring carmine red. Wriothesley turned the emblem on his heart, the usual blue glow replaced by that same hue.
"What the- What is that?"
"Did you forget? Maybe that's why you're in this state. Among...".
He stopped to take deep breaths as if trying to alleviate his pain. His hair was dishevelled and he was soaked in sweat. His eyes were quivered down on his matted head Even his clothes looked rumpled, and his tie done in haste. Wriothesley was always the one who sent other people to the state he was currently in. Now, something was horribly wrong.
Despite your wishes, your own heart hurt looking at him. As he breathed, you wiped the sweat off his forehead. He stopped you at the third swipe, taking your hand and kissing it.
"Among my first vows to you, I said that your pain would be mine, and my heart was yours.".
Among your false and true memories, the ones he mentioned sprung out. Your emblems' glow reduced by a little, although this sickly shade of red was on his face, both within his flesh and the glow.
"I don't understand, Wriothesley.".
"The bracelet. It transmits your pain to my heart. Sometimes I feel it a bit, but I assume that it's because of... Of your current life. And I say: 'It's okay. I'll bust her out of there soon.'. But tonight... It's like you exploded. Something way more horrible than usual has happened. Someone, maybe. I want you to talk to me. I told you before, as husband and wife, we need to communicate habitually.".
"Wriothesley, why your heart? What if you got a heart attack? What if you died? What about me and you?!".
You couldn't help the fresh wave of tears. Gosh, you hated how sentimental you were. You wanted to hate him, but how could you when he bowed to you, his own heart failing because of your state and still making it a priority to hold and kiss your hand? He linked his heart to you, for Focalors' sake! By official guidelines, this is harmful magic, 'not to be used under any circumstance' for a good reason.
"I told you, my heart is yours. Ever since my eyes landed on you, it always has been, just as your pain is mine. And if someday, you're so upset to the point where I risk death, then I would have deserved it for being a bad spouse.".
You threw your arms around him, your eyes hurting from how much you've cried. He did not hesitate in holding you back. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat, regularizing but still way too fast. You didn't want to imagine what a mess it was before he came here.
"Y/N, do you want to regulate my heartbeat? That is your choice.".
"You fucking idiot! Of c-course I do!".
"Talk to me.".
You let go of him, trying to settle down so you could talk. His ears perked up the slightest bit to listen to you, the first time in this interaction. This was good.
"...D-do you love me? Enough to want to marry me?".
Up to the sky the same ears shot, along with his eyebrows.
"What? I do, more than anything I've ever desired! Did someone make you doubt that? Who is it?".
"Wrio... Why is this taking so long? I'm getting married soon. This will be much harder once that happens. I don't want it to happen. Oh, Wriothesley, today sucked, I even got in a fight with Agatha...".
Once you mentioned her name, a barrage of your last month and beyond started. You didn't stop after recounting the fight; There were the times your parents scolded you for having a curl out of place when Archandelle was coming over. Your brother trying to console you with your 'marriage'. Staying at home for days at a time. Memorizing every nook and cranny of the manor. Having to live like a thief, from hiding your love to your late-night tea. How you feared returning to the same state you were in, years right until you met him.
One good thing happened with this. The more you talked, the dimmer the red glow became.
"... Wriothesley, I feel like any woman with some noble connection is cursed. My mother married a man she didn't love. Agatha's husband abused her and she had to pay a lot to get divorced. My grandmother even loathed her husband, but everyone married her off because he'd 'discipline' her. And I have to follow this tradition of unhappy women, but I don't want to. It feels like I have no one to talk to. I feel alone. I hate it...".
You stopped and took a breath, wondering where all this revelation was coming from. You never opened up to Agatha with this much detail and intensity. This must have been waiting for years to get out. Why did your mind pick him, of all people? Was it because you just so happened to be messy at that moment?
Wriothesley held your hand again. His eyes did not fully dry from a few tears that threatened to come out at some point in your talk.
"Wrio, are you okay? Do you want a cup of tea? Did I talk too much? I'm sorry...".
"No, don't apologize Y/N. For once, my heart feels better because you let it out. Archons, I'm so proud of you for talking...".
"No one else would have been.".
"Well, everyone else is a cruel idiot. Everyone else told you to bottle it up, but you still went against them and told me everything.".
"If I am honest with you, can you be honest with me about a few things?".
For the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. A small, sincere smile that took even more weight off of you. To you, there was nothing more beautiful, because nothing invoked as many happy memories as that curl of the lips. It was like that darned chocolate cupcake that you both reached your coming-of-age social. Part of you teasingly reminded you of your favorite new pastry, which hasn't changed since your first meeting.
"Without a doubt.".
"Is there another woman you love?".
The smile broke and he looked offended.
"So long as a woman is not named 'Y/N Balthazar', and becomes 'Y/N, Duchess of Meropide', then I couldn't care less about her.".
You tried to repress the blush; It was still too early for this.
"Is there nothing in me that you don't like? Anything that would repel you away from me?".
"In the Fontainian foster system, your father, Archandelle, Teyvat and the world, yes. Lots. In you, no.".
Your legs felt sore, so you lied down. He followed suit, by your side.
"Speaking of Archandelle, is anything happening to him or am I doomed?".
"You will not be doomed under my watch. I'm going to answer this question but first...".
He got up, steadier on his legs than he was. He cocked his head to the side, ushering you to follow him. Once you guys reached the topmost ledge of the roof (your favorite, because it loomed over the City), he handed you an item so familiar and loved, yet unseen for a long time: A wind glider.
"I was thinking of something fun to do, and your manor has some great altitude...".
"I haven't used one in ages! I forgot!".
He chuckled: "You've used it before, that's enough to know. Just trust the skies, my dear.".
He grabbed his own and jumped off, but did not fall. The wings deployed immediately, and his limbs relaxed once they spread out. His first landing spot was easy to reach. It was a lower part of your roof.
"Here! This should be a good start. Now jump!".
Sounding more panicked than you liked to admit (and risking your time), you yelled: "You didn't explain anything!! How did you get the wings? How do you- Why are you laughing at me?!".
He didn't want to make you feel insecure, but he couldn't help his laughter. You were like an adorable, helpless child, relying on him to give you the answers.
"You just have to jump, Y/N! Why would I try to get you to break an arm, huh? Just trust me on this!".
You worked hard to recount the few times you got to use a wind glider. What a horrible time becoming a pre-teen was; You were barred of so many wonderful activities, all for the sake of spending your next years securing a husband. What joy did that bring you? No, the real happiness was when you kicked your feet off the high point, spread your arms out, and floated. You were above the manor's walls, the parlor, the court's and Fontaine. It was like being a part of Teyvat itself. It was freeing.
After these long, monochrome years, your body flew again. Your heart with Wriothesley and your form into the sky, softly landing in front of him, on your feet. He smiled widely, his full and societally hated canines on show. Here was a man at least twice your size, smiling like a school boy before he knew of misery.
"You're great at this! Once we marry, you should consider competing in gliding. You'd definitely win a few medals!".
"Hey, you're the one who encouraged me. Let's pick a lower spot.".
And there was another, and another until you were far from your house's roof. It's okay, you were coming back anyway. You always came back, but he was your only betting chip for the opposite. You either had to put your hope on him, or have none at all.
During your last flight, you deactivated your wings and let yourself fall. You knew you could, you knew you wouldn't die. He caught you in his arms, carrying you by the waist.
"Hey... What was that for, my love?".
"I just wanted to skip to this part.".
Tired, you both lay down, with him encircling his arms around you. He put his head on top of your chest. His heartbeat grew slow and regular - He was safe. You were safe. While it was true that safety was but a wisp in your world, you had to cling to it while it lasted. It was the only way you'd pave a life where you could scratch his fluffy ears as slowly as you pleased, grateful to your younger self who took this risk and leave everything she knew behind.
"I didn't tell you about tomorrow yet.".
The wind gliding made you forget! You looked down at his icy eyes and heard him out.
"They're squeezing a confession out of him. I know, because I made sure 'his' cops wouldn't be at the investigation. From there on, it's free ground for him to go to prison.".
"He still has to be tried, though, no?".
"Yes, but it will only be a question of a lifetime sentence with fellow prisoners or in isolation. I feel like I don't have to ask if you're ready for the Pandora's box it will open...".
He tightened his hold. You knew what box he meant: Noble crime is pretty interconnected. It's common for nobles to see out their own class when committing something that a commoner could not get away with. Archandelle's trial and arrest would also mean that many others; lives would be ruined... Including your own father. It was amazing how they knew each other for such little time, and yet they already had several illegal connections.
"You're right. You don't have to ask. I'm looking forward to that trial.".
"So am I, Y/N. I'll be sure to kiss you in front of them after they're convicted. Maybe slobber up and show them too.".
"Eeeeewwww!".
The idea of a (publicly) slobbering Wriothesley was so uncharacteristic, but so funny.
"It's so I can spit on them! Do you think I should add more tongue for the extra scandal?".
"Honestly, just holding hands would be enough for that!".
"But I'm going all the way!".
"You're such a-!!".
What he was, you couldn't think of. Even your laughter quieted at the sight right under your chin: A fondly smiling Wriothesley, with growingly beet-red cheeks and twitching ears. You often theorized that despite him physically being a grown man with an impressive size, there was a boy who just sought out his own happiness, including that with the ones he loves. Just like you.
He leaned his head to give your jaw a long kiss, before whispering in your ear: "You are worth losing everything I've ever desired.".
"Eh?".
"Though I've remained faithful to my goal, I feel like I haven't been taking the right approach.".
He cozied up against your chest again.
"What do you mean, Wrio?".
"Well... When I first declared that I wanted you, I tried asking your father. Do you remember that?".
"How could I forget?".
"And while it's true that I was digging up dirt on Archandelle, I still tried to go the tried-and-true way. Discover some horrible crime, snitch to the Court, sue and let them punish him...".
"Yes?".
You weren't sure where he was going. You looked down to see him gazing at the moon.
"Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should have just showed up to this door and gutted his fetid body. Maybe I should have killed him during the parties.".
Deep down, you knew you wouldn't have an issue with that. In fact, you might even cheer. Why didn't he do it from the start, then? You felt like you had the partial answer in your hand, scratching it just the way he enjoyed.
He chuckled: "You really like my ears, huh?".
"Speaking of which... Is that partly why you didn't start with the violent approach? Because people are already shitty enough to lycanthropes?".
"Smart. I still remember my shock when you told me you liked lycanthrope authors. It was the first time anyone considered my kin to be something good. But there's another reason. A bigger one.".
You couldn't help but jolt up. Bigger than life-ailing discrimination? As a hybrid and noble man, Wriothesley was already a one-in-a-million case, so it would make sense that he'd want to avoid keeping stereotypes.
He broke his gaze from the moon into yours. Maybe that was part of the reason why he loved you so obsessively: Because there was no getting used to your beauty, your voice, your mannerisms, your smarts and your tenderness towards him. He never liked surprises; Routine was a good way to regulate himself and stay on the down low. Surprise was never a pleasant thing for him from his foster parents to the Beret society. But you? You always caught him off guard in some way, possibly without meaning it. You held gleeful surprise and pleasure and the joys he was constantly told about in the orphanage, but never found until he found you.
The shining look of your (eye color) orbs made him take the vow: He was never going to be passive when it came to you again.
"When I first met you, I had no way of knowing whether you would be okay with that drastic measure. Whether... You were just like me. Whether you, too, spent your life seeking out empty promises. Had you been like most people, jumping to violence would be a sure-fire way for you to hate me. Oh, how could I live being hated by you, Y/N? After everything I've been through, it would definitely break me.".
"Wriothesley...".
"The night we met, I played it passively in hopes of not scaring you away, and keeping my own status. Yes, I still get judged, but it's nowhere near as bad as what I've had before. I thought I would be better off not risking what I gained, and acting normal to you. But when I got to know you more, and when I'm risking losing you... I realized what a mistake that was. I don't like what Agatha did tonight, but she was right on one account. I should have snatched you to myself from our first roof exchange.".
He breathed, as if he's been itching to say this all along. When you first laid down, your head was above his. Now he loomed over you again, as well as his body, in a position that you could associate with a soft bed and your first night post-marriage.
Once he dipped down and kissed you, it was your turn to have an irregular heartbeat.
The world felt most beautiful when you two closed the distance between your bodies. They were like two pieces of a puzzle: Molded for each other. His hand slowly ran beyond your knee and on your thigh, the other behind your back. Your arms had to stretch to go around his wide shoulders, but it also you feel safe; He would protect you from anything, including the imposed fate you feared.
That same hand grew higher, and higher, but stopped right before your inner thigh. He broke apart to ask: "May I? I'll stop whenever you want to.".
You raised your leg, as if trying to get him closer: ".Yes..".
Was it just him, or was that more of a moan than a word? Could you even speak in this state? And why did you have to rile him up like this?
He kissed you again, his hand squeezing at the soft meat, then running over your hip. It's not that you were as sheltered as your parents would have liked, but this was your first time being touched like this. It was as if he was awakening nerves you didn't know existed. You didn't feel this sensitive when masturbating.
Getting tired of your thigh, he laced his fingers between your hip and your panties, before sliding them off. Even from there, he picked up on where most of the heat was coming from, and it wasn't your dress' fancy fabric.
He raised himself to lift your skirt up. There was your slit, coated in its own lubrication, and your legs shaking ever so slightly. He hadn't even started and you were already mewling and getting excited, your body already anticipating the orgasm. He couldn't help cooing.
"I can't wait until I make you cum."
You whined, tired of him making you wait, then wrapped an arm around him.
He ran his fingers up and down your vulva, coating them with your juices, before circling around your clit. The sensation made you squeal out. You heard it had thousands of nerves, but what was that?! It was not a cold night, but your entire body was shaking as if you were freezing.
"Ssshhh... We have to be discreet. Do you like this, sweetheart?".
"More... More, please!".
He was not expecting this vocality, but he wasn't complaining. He dipped down to leave little kisses on your collarbone and neck, while he played with your sensitive clitoris. He occasionally gave it a break, running his fingers in circles around your womanhood, flaring up whatever nerves he could find, before rubbing your nub again.
The lovely thing about neck kisses was that you could not avoid his husky-voiced whispers: "I bet he won't make you feel the way I do right now.".
His fingers slipped down to your hole, still circling around it before he would slip in.
"This lovely body and its tremors aren't his, are they?".
"N-no! I swear, they're not!".
He stopped touching you. Don't get him wrong, he loved you, but you were too cute writhing for him to not take advantage of it. He could not wait until he had you all to himself. He might even make you cry from all the pleasure he'd give you. Until then, he had to relish the limited moment he had.
"Sorry, my love, but you haven't convinced me.".
Once frigid and closed, your legs opened up even more: "Wriothesley, please!! You said it, he'll die before he even gets to see me naked, let alone touch me!".
"Oh? So you're trusting that I will take you?".
As he asked, he leaned in close, only a few inches away from kissing you. His hand was creeping back up where you wanted it.
"Yes... I'm yours, I've always been...".
His digits entered your hole. He didn't even have to look for the spot; a few rubs and you had to stop yourself from squealing. You could not stay quiet, not when you've never felt this, not when he was playing with every pleasurable nerve in your body. You were already clenching erratically around him. The more you did, the closer you were...
"Wait! Wait, I-!"
He kissed your neck again: "Let it out, baby.".
You couldn't help it. You screamed. At least you were far from your house, and it was a good type of scream. The type you felt he'd give you every night.
He helped you feel and ride out your entire orgasm, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could, while all you could do was moan out. Once you calmed down, he lowered his eyes to yours again.
"Are you alright?".
"That was amazing...".
"With the way you screamed, I sure hoped so.".
"Shut up.".
He laughed a bit, before kissing you again. This time, it was slower, softer. Tonight was eventful for both of you, after all. At some point, you two broke the kiss but remained in the same position. It was easy to hear his whisper when your foreheads were so close.
"If tomorrow doesn't work, I'll kill him before the ceremony.".
#a wolf and a snake#yandere wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x reader#yandere reader#genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin x reader#yandere fontaine x reader#genshin impact smut
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❝ PERSONAL ❞
║Y. SHIO
➲ʙᴏꜱꜱ! ꜱʜɪᴏ ʏᴏᴛꜱᴜʀᴜɢɪ x ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
⊠ Tags ➢
NSFW AHEAD, Unprofessional workplace relations, Staged public humiliation, Secret relationships, Shio being a jerk at first, Office sex, Reader wears a skirt, Oral sex (f! Receiving), Orgasm denial, Missionary, "Sir" usage as a kink name, Tongue play, Vocal kink, Rough sex, No lube, Unprotected sex, breeding, Accidental Voyeurism.
⊠ Word count ➢ 1455
You stared dully from your office at the Yotsurugi meeting room, leaning on one hand.
Having lost count how many coffees you had so far to stay awake, the boredom was driving you insane, for his own unmentioned reasons, Shio didn't allow you to attend the meeting or help him in any way concerning it despite that being your job, now that you have already finished all your work there's nothing to do but sit still and wait until your shift ends.
There came a perfect chance to admire how charming the suited man was, if he wasn't surrounded by his siblings, you would have definitely surrendered to your desires and let him have his way with you.
You suddenly yelped when your half-awake eyes locked with the oldest Yotsurugi's behind the glass window and started acting like you were searching for a file to check.
To your horror, Shio reached for his office phone to dial you, oh... that is alarming, you answered the call reluctantly trying to overlook his piercing gaze, "...Yes, Sir?"
"Cappucino, please."
That was really close, "Of course."
His eyes followed you as you went to the coffee machine and out of his sight, he wasn't a patient man and the wait have always irritated him, so from your end you had to hurriedly enter the door and place his coffee right in front of him, "Here is your cappucino... sir."
He only glanced at you from the side not even thanking you, before taking the cup and spilling it all over your shirt, you screeched in pain at the burning sensation of the hot liquid, all his brothers' eyes turned to you and the humiliation you felt burned hotter.
"Do your job better."
"Sir-"
"You may leave now."
Feeling insulted, there was no point to even get yourself to look around and left the room tearing up, you made your way to the bathroom, thinking of what you might have possibly done while you try and clean your white shirt completely stained with coffee, doing nothing ? Bringing him his cappucino ? None if those reasons sounded valid, but you knew what you were getting yourself into ever since you started working for Shio, you knew he could be hot tempered despite his usual calmness, in fact you knew that better than anybody how quickly his personality changes.
You cried your eyes out in your moment of solitude, and even thought about not coming out nor face the man again, or at least avoid him until the sense of grievance wears off.
You followed your instincts to wait for some time before heading back to your office and took the chance to wipe your tears and wear a strong face again.
When the moment felt right you walked off down the hall and tried to ignore some of his brothers' stares leaving the meeting, when you opened the door you were faced with your boss sitting on your desk and hopping off it at the sight of you.
"Listen..."
"Don't even talk to me... do you have any idea how humiliating that even was, Shio ?"
"I know, my love, i'm sorry, but i had to."
"Had to what, embarrass me for no reason ?", You tried to pass him and take your bag but a rough grip on your wrist held you still.
"Just listen to me, my brothers were getting suspicious about us and i had to-"
"To prove you're serious about your position and capable of leading the Yotsurugi family, i know all about that...", you broke free from his hold, "But that doesn't concern me, you don't get to take your anger out on me!!! Because i heard all that everyone ever speak of lately, THAT SHIO YOTSURUGI WAS REPLACED BY HIS LITTLE BROTHER AS THE FIRST BO-"
A hand ruthlessly covered your mouth and throw you against the glass before you could finish speaking, "How dare you... do you even know who you're talking to... just because i fuck you doesn't mean you get to bring up something this personal!!!!"
His breathing got rigged and his glare turned dark at the nerve you just striked, you, in the other hand, were like a deer in the headlight, and couldn't even break the eye contact, slowly his hand fell down and changed orientation to your hips bringing you closer to him.
"Shio..."
"You know what i like to be called."
"Sir...", you heard a hum of approval at that as he began kissing your neck, "...i don't think we should do it here."
"We always do it here."
"But not this time, all your siblings are...a-ah... in the building, what if they... ah- come back...", the heat was getting to your head and was making you give up to his touch.
"Don't think of them, sweetheart, think of me.", when did he even open up your shirt, or lay you on top of your desk ? You only realised what was going on as he left hickies going down from your exposed chest to your lower waist, "Mmmh sir~"
"Keep moaning for me like that."
Every touch from him was pleasurable and left you wanting more, he reached underneath your pencil skirt taking off your underwear, his lips was still exploring your chest, meanwhile, you were clenching his hair tightly as he was getting dangerously low.
Your skirt arose and the sudden breeze sent a shiver down your spine, there wasn't enough time given for adjustment befire being hit with another sensation, one of Shio's cold lips against your vagina's.
"Hnngg~"
The first lick got you squirming in your place, the second had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he just kept eating you out like a thirsty man, you couldn't suppress the sounds coming out simultaneously with his rhythmical mouth.
"S-S-Sirrr~ a-ah-ahh~", that sweet spot getting stimulated with his skilled tounge did what no sex toy ever could at the thought of him, your back arched, your legs quivering, and your tears forming, all loudly and clearly announced your orgasm.
Until Shio decided to pull his face away at the decisive moment, and remarked before you get to say a word, "You're not coming anywhere but on my cock."
His words followed with unbuckling noises of his belt, your eyes fell right to his boxers while he was about to free his massive member out.
A veiny 8-incher stood erect and throbbing before you, positioned in front of your hole without delay after its release, you swallowed your own saliva as if that thing haven't stretched you out on your lunch breaks and when he calls you for a top secret meeting, but you sensed this time was different since he usually arranges your "private sessions" during his horny hours, not as a stress relief from a personal matter like that day.
The forceful push oh his tip inside your hole proved you right, a thought came to your head that perhaps it was the lack of proper lubrication that's making the difference, but no more thoughts existed the more he squeezed himself in, your own arousal fluids helped soothe the path for him to get in all the way, he didn't care much for foreplay any further and began moving at a brutal pace.
The image of you two laying on your desk with everything knocked off of it for a quick and easy missionary, contradicted the one his siblings took of you two earlier that day from the coffee incident, and if one of them decided to come back due to the pornographic sounds you were making, there will be no way to explain it.
Shio's skin kept slamming into your heated one at an animalistical speed for god knows how long; your legs were getting sore and your face dried up from the tears running down from it, you held his collar tightly and brought him into your lips to tounge him into his edge.
You had no idea how, but he somehow managed to get faster, his scrunched up expression and sweaty palm were a visible threat for a close release; your confiscated one was reaching out too.
You felt the white painting your insides, with yours following not so long after, it was only then that you felt the suffocating weight on top of you, breathing heavily.
The brawn body backed away from you and he pulled his pants back up, "I will tell them the truth once i get my rightful place back, i promise."
You stared at him, completely worn out, then faced the light peeking in with a shadow hiding behind it, "No need, i left the door open..."
@sagephilosophie
#i write!#negai no astro smut#negai no astro x reader#negai no astro#astro royale smut#astro royale x reader#astro royale#shio yotsurugi x you#shio yotsurugi smut#shio yotsurugi x reader#shio yotsurugi#vee's
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helpful | george clarke
i just thought this was sweet, so have a little george looking after his drunk gf :3
as soon as you had said the words 'oh, it's just a casual little thing, haven't seen the girls in a while', george just knew the 'little casual thing' would end up with you plastered.
not that he minded, of course.
so when he recieved a call at one in the morning, it didn't quite surprise him. he had waited up for the 'got home safe' text, waiting patiently for you to get to your apartment safe.
"hiya, love, everything alright?" he spoke, his voice slightly thick, just coming with the fact it was a little later at night, but he wasn't too tired.
"hi george!" you giggled in response, "everything is fineee! i was just calling to see if i could come round.. was gonna uber home but then i was missing you and thought i could come pester youuu for a while," you spoke in between slight drunk hiccups.
he laughed a little down the phone in response, "sure, you can come round. you sure you're okay getting an uber, or you want me to come pick you up?" he asked, clearly a little concerned at her drunken state.
"no, no! i can uber fine, gonna share with one of my friends, just wanted to let you know before i just showed up," you murmured happily again.
"well, in future, you can show up at the flat whenever you want, you know i like your company, lovie, and i know the boys don't mind either,"
and so when half an hour later he heard stumbling through his front door, and soft laughs as he could hear her bashing herself against the wall for support, he left his bedroom, laughing at the sight of her, against the walls, trying to slip her shoes off with great struggle.
though, even plastered out of her mind, he thought she looked gorgeous.
"hey, you. need some help?" he jested slightly, and you giggled a little at the state of yourself.
"no, 'm sure i can... y'know, get em off, just these laces, who tied these damn laces?" you rambled as you slid down to the floor to try and untangle the laces that you had undoubtedly messed up earlier in the night.
george crouched down, unlacing the shoes with a lot more ease then you had, and once you had managed to pull the shoes off, you used him as a support to stand up, still giggling into the crook of his neck as you did.
"so, seems you had a good night?" he teased, and you rolled your eyes playfully with a nod.
"cocktails were two for one, so naturally i had eight," you laughed back, "don't even think 'm too drunk now, more just sleepy,"
george scoffed a little jokingly at that one, "i think you're still a little drunk, darling, but its fine. we'll get your makeup off and you into bed, hm?" he offered, and you nodded, letting him lead you into his room in the boys flat, where he had a bathroom attached.
as you stumbled through, rifling through the draw in his bathroom that had been claimed as yours for makeup remover, he laughed at the noise, before you produced it in your hands.
"i can help you take it off, if you like," george offered helpfully, and you looked at him with a drunken grin, a small nod as he gently helped you sit on the vanity, gently beginning to remove it with a damp cloth and the remover.
"thank you for being so helpful, george," you babbled out, your hands practically clasping against his arms for support as he checked to make sure all the makeup was gone.
"you've picked me up from enough pub golfs for me to owe you, trust me. plus, you know i don't mind looking after you at all," he smiled reassuringly back.
"did you eat when you were out? you want food?" he asked, but you shook your head.
"m good, got myself some drunk chips," you laughed a little, "just wanna go to sleep, to be honest,"
"thats fine, we can go to bed, don't worry, i'm just gonna get you some water, okay? you can go borrow a shirt or something to sleep in," he reassured, helping you down from the sink and watching you gently pad your way to his bed, whilst he headed into the kitchen.
when he returned, he found you, already spread on the side of his bed that had become classicly yours, in one of his shirts, head on its side on the pillow, giving him a slightly dumb smile as he placed the water on the bedside table.
"your bed always seems much comfier than mine," you murmured against the pillow, and he laughed with a shrug.
"i always thought your bed was more comfy," he said in response as he lay down, his arm going lazily to your waist, facing you as his head touched the pillow.
"yours is definitely better, it always smells like you and i like that, smells like... sweaty george," you giggled a little, and he grunted in a teasing response, rolling his eyes playfully.
the moment he was in the bed, he found it funny how you instantly curled into him, to be closer, and he pressed a small kiss against your forehead as you yawned softly.
"see? could fall asleep already, you just relax me," you murmured against his chest.
"so get some sleep then, night, love." he replied. though, he couldn't lie, the thought of him relaxing you filled his chest with a strangely warm feeling.
#george clarkey#george clarke#georgeclarkey x reader#georgeclarke x reader#george clarkey x reader#george clarke x reader
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Hey friends! As ya’ll might know me and Lacy said goodbye to our kitty last week and thats just.. one of the many nightmare scenarios that has graced our 2024 so far, So things are a little slower on my end than i’d like. but as my therapist said i have to be kind to myself.
So my updated commission timeline is now usually 2 weeks-2months from the time you put in your form. This allows me some more time to be able to work on other things and just try and cope with all of this grief and stress surrounding me. Time you wait goes on where youre at on my trello and with some comms bigger than others that slows my progress a bit. I am trying my absolute hardest to do things quickly, But i also know that this year has absolutely sucked for us and its okay for me to take things slower than i normally would. I apologize for the delay on my end. But i am trying my best, my best just happens to be… not as fast as id like!
Thank you guys for always being so patient with me and for supporting me!! As always my ask box and dms are open! So please feel free to shoot any questions or concerns at me or if you just want to talk:)
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Hi!!! I was just wondering if you were okay since you weren’t really active much❤️❤️
I am alive I promise😭 ur homie going through quarter life crisis soon LMAOOOO
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Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)
«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»
PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader
SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.
or;
in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.
GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.
PLAYLIST: right here!
WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)
Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k
masterlist
WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2
(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"
[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)
As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom.
It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin.
“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice.
You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly.
Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands.
Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers.
It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter.
“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands.
“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her.
Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?”
The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.”
To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future.
“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt.
“Sure, yeah. What is it?”
“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all”
You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway.
“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring.
“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-”
“I have class tomorrow.”
“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.”
You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now”
Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.
“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”
“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”
“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night”
With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building.
“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.
“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically.
“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down.
“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process.
Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding,
“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed.
“I’m going back to sleep.”
“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself.
He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids.
“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”
“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.
“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”
‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.”
“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.”
You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted.
The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done.
What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?
Yeah, that’s an easy conversation.
Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand.
You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way.
It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express.
You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display.
It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you.
You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night.
And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.
“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”
“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew.
“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.
“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”
You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head.
Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.
“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.”
You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe.
Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines.
You deserved to wallow in this pit.
At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath.
You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds.
Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock.
The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name.
“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond.
He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.”
Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.
You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears.
You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut.
Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call.
“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response.
“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.”
“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”
“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over.
“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows.
A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”
“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”
“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”
“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.
“You want me to put this on my face?”
“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.
“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further.
He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.
“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands.
“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.
“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.”
“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.”
It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh.
“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot.
The doorbell rings.
“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.
You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling.
“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!”
Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”
The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door.
Mingyu’s brought a girl.
Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.
Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later.
“This is my sister”
All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky.
“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”
What?
“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit.
With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.
“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge.
“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her.
“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.”
There it is.
“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence.
“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”
You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance.
Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over.
It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you.
It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister.
It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from.
That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun.
You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”.
“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder.
“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression.
“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already.
“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?”
“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!”
Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going.
“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect, “You’re better than that!”
“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away.
“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.”
“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you.
“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”
It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity.
“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.
“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.
“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you.
You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.
“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.”
“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice.
“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.”
“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.
“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination
“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice.
“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”
“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.
“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”
‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion.
“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.
“Uh, no. Is there juice?”
“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter.
You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”
Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances.
Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles.
“What? Is it bad?”
“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?”
She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.
“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.
Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?”
“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”
“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.
Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”
“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face.
Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside.
“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later.
“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her.
The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight.
The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside.
There’s no Nayeon in sight.
But there is Mingyu.
His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both.
For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears.
And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him.
“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”
There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?”
“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?”
“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”
“Yeah, remember Minji?”
“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.
“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.
“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.”
There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny.
“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.
“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest.
“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”
What the fuck.
You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up.
“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.”
The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream.
Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.”
You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral.
“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”
Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see.
“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.
“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.
“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”
There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure.
It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting.
Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality.
Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school.
You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner.
Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner.
As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.
It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose.
Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.
“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand.
Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself.
“Well? Did you?” He demands again.
“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”
“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?”
Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!”
Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland.
“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit.
There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does.
“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.
Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.”
“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”
He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.
You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.
The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form.
You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart.
“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear.
“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.
“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.
You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed.
You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite.
“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”
“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.”
He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again.
“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet.
“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”
You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you.
“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.”
Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.
“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.”
You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”
Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus.
“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”
“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.
“You know what he’s like…”
“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.
“That’s not what I meant either.”
“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.”
“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation.
“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses.
“Especially when it’s none of my business.”
“Charming.”
“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”
“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major.
“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.”
“So they need models?” You ask.
“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.”
“Are we getting paid?”
“You get to say you modeled for me.”
“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans.
You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you.
“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.
“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh.
He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?”
“Ew,” Seungcheol voices.
“I am,” You confirm.
“For what?” He sputters.
“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?”
He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question.
“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?”
“Mhm, only for the night, though.”
“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks.
“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.”
“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.”
You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.”
Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.
“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-”
He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.
“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika.
“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk.
“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.”
“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.
“Huh? Oh, I was-”
“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that.
You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table.
“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch.
Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.”
“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”
“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.”
Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers.
“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause.
“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in.
“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face.
Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”
Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face.
Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it.
“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.
“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”
“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort.
“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points.
Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!”
“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”
That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor.
Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.
You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat.
It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.
“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over.
You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite.
It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.
“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.”
“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?”
“No, but you should.”
“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”
“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes.
That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.”
“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.”
There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar.
Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance.
But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last.
The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive.
Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time.
There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.
Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all.
Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers.
You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity.
He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence.
You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week.
In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information.
There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone.
“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins.
“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.”
The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name.
“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you.
He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t.
—Kim, Mingyu.
If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes.
You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was.
“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”
You wanted to slap him.
Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here!
You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off.
Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true.
Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up.
By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him.
You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand.
There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus.
“Hey,” he says unceremoniously.
You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.”
“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually.
Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything.
“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”
Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin.
“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you.
You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?”
“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”
“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”
With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back.
Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.
“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.
“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”
“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.
“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?”
It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour.
“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”
“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”
You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?”
“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly.
“But?” You sense her apprehension.
“But, maybe you should give it a go.”
You can only blink at her with wet lashes.
“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.”
“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?”
“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.”
There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.
“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”
“No. You’re making sense.”
“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.”
“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.
Once again, you find it within yourself to nod.
Yeah. You were gonna do it.
Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared.
The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”
You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.”
“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”
You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”
“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.
You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing.
“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling.
He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is.
You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry.
You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat.
“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”
You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake.
“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.
He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.
It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human.
You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on.
It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash.
It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness.
“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.
“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch.
Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”
“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice.
“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard.
“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.
“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.
The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to.
Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.
“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.
“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else.
“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh.
The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help.
You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention.
“Huh?”
“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.
It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”
“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor.
The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her.
The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house.
The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more.
The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.
You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked.
It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down.
Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention.
“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”
“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel.
“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car.
“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further.
Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”
“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns.
There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.
It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.
“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.
“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.”
“Why didn’t you leave with her?”
“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”
“Hm. That didn’t happen.”
“It’s like I said,” you mumble.
He hums again in response, dropping the subject.
“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.
“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”
You bit your tongue. Hard.
He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed.
“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended.
“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister.
“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”
“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.”
Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.
“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.
He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.
“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat.
He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride.
“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.”
You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”
Middle school was harder than you thought.
Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip.
It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results.
You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.”
He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair.
“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done.
You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you.
“What?”
“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation.
“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?”
You look up confused. “How?”
“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.”
On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes.
“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.”
He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years.
The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night.
There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there.
You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing.
He’s probably fine.
By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu.
He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos.
“Oh, hey,” he says normally.
“Hope I’m not too late.”
“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room.
“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”
He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.”
You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.”
Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway.
“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”
“I did, do you want me to change?”
“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.”
He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you.
“You good?”
“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round.
“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”
He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”
The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour.
“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”
“Oh, cool.”
Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself.
“Let me help.”
“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.”
“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?”
“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”
Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it.
“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff.
“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.”
“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”
“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”
“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.”
You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch.
It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night.
By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car.
She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.
“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest.
“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.
That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.
“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”
“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip.
She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!”
“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks.
“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.
“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”
“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”
Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants.
“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak.
“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.
“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.”
“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.”
It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise.
The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried.
You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them.
What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room.
“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked.
“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you.
“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping.
There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it.
You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room.
“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry.
You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.
And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls.
That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.
Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots.
You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn.
“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces.
“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break.
“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”
“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time.
“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts.
“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.”
“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?”
“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.”
“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out.
“I think I need to never agree to do this again.”
“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights).
“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away.
“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.”
Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood.
“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare.
“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine.
By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.
The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today.
“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera.
“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”
He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it.
The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound.
He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket.
You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see.
You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?”
He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.”
It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least.
There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off.
By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route.
“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing.
“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.”
“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?”
“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.
“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.
He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.”
Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.
Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting.
It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends.
Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day.
The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.
It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.
You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.
Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.
Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home.
Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.
After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little.
“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!”
“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”
“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”
“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime
“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.
The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here.
“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”
“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in.
“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.”
“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”
“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm.
“Ah, I see.”
The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?”
“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”
You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.”
He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.”
“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.”
You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.”
“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection.
“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”
“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”
“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’
He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.”
“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”
He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation.
“When does your shift end?”
If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that.
“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.
“Everyday?” he asks incredulously.
“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.
You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”
He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.”
“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.
“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.”
“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”
“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.”
There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.”
“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”
The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement.
It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.
It was safe to feel.
This was horrible.
Truly.
You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention.
But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.
“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.
“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?”
“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”
“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial.
“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.”
“Seok!”
“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.
“Seokmin!”
Beep.
The bastard hung up.
“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu.
Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.
He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.
She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle.
He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.
He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy.
Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.
“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night.
“Babe?”
She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?”
“Seok just called…”
Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long.
“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word.
“Fifteen.”
Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected.
“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it.
“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”
“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.
“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?”
“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.”
Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.”
“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”
He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.”
By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms.
“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her.
“What now?” she groans.
Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.
“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.
Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.
Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!”
“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.
“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.
Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours.
“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally.
“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy.
“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up.
Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”
Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.”
Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past.
It doesn’t.
“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”
“Huh?”
“When she called just now.”
“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”
“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.” Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully.
“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice.
“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated.
“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”
“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!”
“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place.
“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!”
Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it.
“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!”
There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”
It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.
“Fine.”
Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done.
There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.
It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.
Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it.
It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project.
It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful.
Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.
In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card.
It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece.
He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.
Part 2
#mingyu#mingyu fluff#mingyu smut#mingyu fic#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#mingyu angst#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen smut#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fic#seventeen imagines#svt#svt fluff#svt angst#svt smut
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lovelorn
luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader
word count: 7004 words
summary: you and luke have been friends since the day the two of you met. you've had a crush on him since the two of you were fourteen; needless to say, he doesn't know about your feelings.
warnings?: unrequited love, oblivious luke, jealousy, falling for your best friend, reader writes songs and plays guitar, reader lowkey hating the girl luke likes, faking, heartbreak, reader is friends with everyone and juniper the dryad, use of nicknames between reader and luke (melody and charming), swearing, will loves his sister!!, platonic chris rodriguez x reader, platonic clarisse la rue x reader, and platonic silena beauregard x reader (chris calls her sunshine, clar calls reader sunny, while silena calls her love), mention of fainting and dehydration.
a/n: take note of every little thing in this first part, because i laid clues for what's gonna happen in part two.
August by Taylor Swift is the song she sings during the camp fire.
ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.
You smiled as you watched your best friend teach your younger siblings how to wield swords, which was futile, as children of Apollo tend to be better at archery than sword fighting.
But Luke was patient with your siblings, which always made you smile. Maybe it was from experience. Having a cabin full of mischievous kids tends to give experience in being patient with hyperactive children.
You were sure you could stare at him forever. Bright brown eyes full of mischief paired with a contagious, kind smile.
“Y/n, are you listening?” Dawn snapped her fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your daze. “You’re staring at Luke again, gods, you are hopeless.”
“I wasn’t staring, Dawn,” You rolled your eyes, turning your full attention to your younger sister. “Now, what were you saying?”
“You were, you ain’t fooling me,” Dawn teased, a smirk on her lips as she leaned back against the hard stone walls of the arena. “Anyway, are we singing at the campfire tonight?”
You scowled at your younger sister, your gaze landing back onto Luke. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“I know, but I’m still the best sibling you got,” Dawn grinned cheekily. “So, are we singing or not? Or are you just going to ogle at Luke the whole day?”
Your cheeks started to heat up, like being kissed by the sun in the early morning. “We’re going to sing, happy now?” you grumbled, averting your eyes away from the senior counselor of the Hermes cabin.
Dawn smiled triumphantly, rising to her feet. “I think I’m going to join Lee and Michael,”
You raised a brow at her. “You’re shit with a sword.”
“Yeah, but it’s better than watching you hopelessly be in love with him,” Dawn jerked her head in Luke's direction. “Frankly, it’s nauseating.”
“Shut up,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes.
Dawn snickered, starting to walk away. “I’ll leave you alone to daydream of Luke sweeping you off of your feet, leading you up the stairwell-”
“Shut up!” You snapped at your sister, who was still snickering.
“Is everything okay?” A voice you know oh so well spoke behind Dawn.
“Oh, it's nothing,” You quickly said before Dawn got another idea to embarrass you. “Dawn was just going to train with Lee and Michael. Right, Dawn?” You say through gritted teeth, making your sister chuckle.
“Yeah, I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” And with that, Dawn finally left, golden hair dancing in the wind.
“You okay, melody?” Luke asks, sitting beside you, concern etched on his handsome face.
“Yeah, I’m alright.” You smiled, trying to look genuine despite wanting to kiss him and run your fingers through his curls like it’s the end of the world.
You never wanted to be in love with your best friend. You knew the consequences of it—thanks to your friends from cabin ten's constant reminders, but your stupid heart just wouldn't listen.
You've known Luke since the night he and Annabeth arrived at camp when you were fourteen. You'd been assigned by Chiron and Mr. D to tend to Luke and Annabeth’s wounds and bruises, being the head of cabin seven and the best healer camp has to offer and all.
Luke was charming, you had to give him that, charmed you into letting him attend training one first day despite not being healed properly yet. And then, half an hour later after he left the infirmary, one of your siblings brought him in—one of his wounds that you patched up, bleeding and was unconscious after insisting that he was okay minutes ago. Annoyed, you put him on bed rest. When he woke up hours later, he insisted to be let go—wanting to prove he can be better than that Ares kid he sparred with.
“Come on, doc, I’m okay now!” Luke raised his arm, but winced at the pain beneath his underarm. “See?”
“You are going to lay in that bed and you are going to rest. Doctor’s orders.” You simply said, humming a song as you checked his wounds for any infection.
“But-”
“One more word out of you, and I’ll curse you with bubonic plague.” You said, stuffing a cube of ambrosia in his mouth, smiling sweetly at him.
Luke chuckled, raising his hands up—wincing through it—in defeat. “Alright, doctor melody.”
“What?” you asked, brow raised in confusion. “Melody?”
“You’ve been humming, you know, while fixing me and Annabeth up last night. And you did it again, just seconds ago.” Luke explained with a small smile. “Aren't the children of Apollo good at music too? Like, singing? Since he’s the god of music and all.”
“Yeah, he is,” You smiled, reaching to hold the sun shaped locket dangling from your neck. “Apollo, god of the sun, archery, art, music, poetry and a shit ton more.”
“Can you sing for me, melody?” Luke grinned, sitting up. “C’mon, it’ll make me feel better, promise.”
“I’m not gonna get out of this, am I?” You ask, laughing softly.
Luke shook his head. “I’m stubborn, I’ll just ask you again and again, so you might as well do it now, melody.”
You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “Aren’t you just charming,”
“I’m waiting, doc,” Luke teased. “I can’t wait for an eternity like the gods.”
You shook your head, a giggle escaping your lips. “Fine, fine, but do you promise to rest your stubborn ass for the night?”
Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Okay, here goes nothing,” You muttered, taking a deep breath. “And they called it puppy love. Oh I guess they'll never know.
How a young heart really feels and why I love him so…”
Luke started clapping his hands. “Damn, melody, that was amazing!”
“Oh, shush,” You waved a hand dismissively, feeling your cheeks heat up like the sun, as if your dad kissed you on the cheek. “I’m not that good.”
Luke raised a brow. “And I thought Apollo was the god of truth,”
“I am telling the truth,” You insisted, folding your arms over your chest.
“Whatever you say, melody.”
From then on, you and Luke have been friends. Never one without the other, the two of you made it a pact.
“Michael and Lee are getting better with swords,” Luke commented as the two of you watched your younger siblings.
“Better?” You snorted, tying your hair up in a ponytail. “They are far from getting better, charming.”
Luke reached up to mess your hair. “You saying my methods aren’t great, miss melody?” he asked, feigning annoyance.
You hit him playfully on the shoulder. “All I’m saying is those kids,” you jerked your head to Michael and Lee, who were getting ready to duel like medieval princes as Dawn laughed her ass off. “Are shit with a sword.”
“Fair point,” Luke chuckled. “Let’s just hope they learned a thing or two from me.”
“If not?” You asked with a raised brow, passing him a bottle of strawberry flavored energy drink. Your hand grazed with his, sending shivers down your spine, better than any cold could.
“At least they have you,” Luke gave you a lopsided grin, opening the bottle of red sugary liquid and bringing it to his lips to quench his thirst. You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he downed the energy drink, the beads of sweat on his forehead and neck made him even—if possible—more handsome, making you gulp and look away.
“Yeah,” You squeaked out, your eyes widening at the tone of your voice, mentally slapping yourself for it. “They’ve got the best sister.”
“Damn right, they do,” Luke agreed, capping the now empty bottle. “You are the best sister Lee, Michael, Dawn, and the rest of your siblings could have, melody.”
You smiled, pushing out a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks, charming,”
“No need to thank me, melody. I mean, it is the truth. That you are the best sister to your siblings and bestest friend to me.”
You felt your heart break a little. You wanted to be more than just being best friends with Luke. You wanted to be his muse, the girl he loves until his final breath. Maybe Aphrodite had cursed you or something, because Luke never saw you more than a friend or a sister.
“I’m the best,” You agreed, trying your best not to sound sad or anything about your feelings for him slip out.
“You hungry? I think it’s lunch time.”
You nodded, fixing your hair back up in a ponytail. “Yeah, you?”
“Starving, like I could eat a pegasus. Come on, let’s get some lunch and eat by the docks.” Luke stood up, stretching his arms and legs. “You comin’?” He asked, offering his hand to help you stand.
“Of course,” You beamed, reaching for his hand. “Let’s.”
You followed Luke out of the arena, before yelling over your shoulder. “Dawn, you’re in charge of the boys! Don’t let them die!”
“Yeah, Dawn! Don’t let ‘em die!” Luke yelled over to Dawn with a laugh as the two of you strolled away, leaving your siblings and a few other campers at the arena.
“Race you to the mess?” You challenged, a teasing grin on your face.
“Not fair, Y/n!” Luke scowled as you started to run ahead. “I just trained kids!”
“Too bad, Lukey,” You stuck out your tongue at him. “Last one there cleans the stables!”
“Oh no, you don’t!” Luke scoffed as you ran ahead of him, laughing as he easily caught up to you. “I’m not cleaning the stables!” He said, lifting you up with his strong arms and placing you on his shoulder, making you yelp.
“Put me down!” You giggled, playfully hitting his toned back.
“I don’t think so, Miss L/n,” Luke then ran towards the dining pavilion, with you still on his shoulder, screaming like an enraged harpy.
“Luke Castellan!” You shrieked, gripping his shirt for dear life, earning the amused looks of other campers. “Put me down, put me down!”
“Your voice sounds better when you aren’t screaming, you know that?” Luke commented, his pace slowing to a brisk walk.
You hit him hard on his back, again and again. “Put me down, Castellan! Now!”
“Ouch, woman, that hurt!” Luke grumbled, finally relenting and putting you down on the ground, just a meter away from the pavilion.
You pinched him on the side. “You son of a bitch!”
“Ouch!” Luke yelped, jumping slightly. “Violence is never the answer, woman!”
“Violence is never the answer,” You mocked him, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want, thank you very much.”
“Fine, fine, let’s just get food,” Luke placed his hands on his hips, catching his breath for a minute. “All that running with you on my shoulder got me extra hungry.”
“You’re the one who lifted me like I don’t weigh a thing!” You retorted, pushed him slightly. “I literally weigh like a minotaur!”
“Nah,” Luke dismissed, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “You don’t weigh that much. Stop thinking that you are.”
“Whatever,” you grumbled, making your way to the long table where all the food the dryads made for the day are served.
An array of food greets you as soon as you arrive at the table, Luke two steps behind you. There were bowls of fruit—strawberries, apples, and grapes—bread in all sorts of shapes and sizes, a container of mac and cheese (which you know has broccoli and carrots blended in to sneak vegetables in picky eaters’ food), and some other options.
“Look, there’s some waffles and pancakes,” Luke pointed to a platter of said breakfast items beside some yogurt parfaits and (tofu) sausage.
“You go get the waffles and pancakes along with some yogurt and ask Lily for some extra,” You pointed to the yellow haired dryad, Lily. “I'll go get the fruit and bread. You want some mac?”
“Nope.” Luke said, already making his way to the waffles and pancakes.
You chuckled, shaking your head before heading over to Juniper, a red haired dryad in charge of the fruit and bread.
“Hey, Junie,” You greeted, smiling at the dryad. “Got something for me?”
“Just these,” Juniper pointed to the array of pastries and bread. “Mr. D allowed the Demeter kids to get some croissants and tarts from a bakery in Manhattan.”
“Oooh,” Your mouth was already watering as you eyed the lemon and blueberry tart and those flaky croissants. “Can you put some in a picnic basket? Luke and I are going on a picnic by the docks.”
Juniper smiled brightly. “Are you and Luke going out on a date?”
You choked on your own saliva. “What?”
“You know, have you told him about your feelings yet? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now? That’s what boyfriend and girlfriend do, right? Dates?”
“Shh!” You quickly shushed your friend. “No, I haven’t told him yet! He doesn’t know!”
Juniper frowned. “It’s so obvious you like him,”
“He’s stupid, I know.” You sighed, picking up a strawberry.
“Your siblings and those Aphrodite kids figured out you liked him years ago.” Juniper said as she filled up a picnic basket with tarts and croissants along with strawberries, grapes, and apples.
“Maybe one day,” You smiled, a hopeful look in your eyes. “When Aphrodite decides to reward me with a perfect love life.”
“I’ll pray to Aphrodite for you,” Juniper smiled, boosting your confidence up. “You deserve to be loved.”
“Thanks, Junie.”
“No worries, your secret is safe with me.” Juniper chuckled, she then passed you the picnic basket filled with food, looking almost like a cornucopia. “Here you go, packed and loaded for a picnic.”
You gave Juniper a grateful nod, mouthing a quick thank you before turning to go and find Luke, the picnic basket locked in both of your hands.
You walk towards Lily the dryad’s station, but Luke wasn’t there anymore. Instead, you walked around the large dining area, eyes scanning the place for your curly haired best friend.
When you finally spot him, your heart sinks.
Luke was talking and laughing with a girl. A girl you know to be a child of Athena, a sister of Annabeth Chase.
You felt the picnic basket in your hands grow heavy, along with your heart feeling like it’s slowly sinking into a bottomless pit.
Lacy Matthews—pretty, smart, beautiful, kind, stunning, intelligent.
Nothing like me.
Luke leaned on one of the pillars of the pavilion, eyes steady on Lacy as she discussed with him about something—probably architecture, like Annabeth would always ramble to you.
Hair gold as the sun, eyes gray as stormy clouds, skin like puff pastry, and a mind sharp as blade, no wonder Luke would like her.
You contemplate, whether you walk to Luke and disturb his talk with Lacy, or just walk to the docks alone and eat the food Juniper packed as you cry your heart out. Maybe pray to Aphrodite while you’re at it.
You sigh, taking a very deep breath, before making your way to them with shaking hands.
“Luke?” You ask as soon as you’re in earshot. “You ready for the docks?”
Lacy looks at you first, smiling sweetly at you. “Oh, hi Y/n! How are you?”
You stood there, silent for a minute. Feeling a myriad of feelings all at once, taking you over like a spirit. “I’m….okay.” you answer after what felt like eons.
“Your skin hair looks amazing,” Lacy compliments you, but it feels more like bullets on skin. “I wish I had your hair.”
You give her a tight smile, turning your attention to Luke. “Docks?” you ask, hoping he’d get the gist of it.
“Oh, Y/n,” Luke scratches the back of his head, your heart breaking another of its pieces at the mention of your name. He always calls you melody, your name feels like poison out of his lips. “Can we take a rain check? Lacy and Annabeth need help with cleaning cabin six, you know, books.”
“Tonight, then?” You ask with a shaky breath. “After the bonfire?”
“Tomorrow, l guess?”
“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll see you? I guess.”
You quickly turned around, the basket of fruits and pastries still in your shaking hands as you made a beeline towards the nearest exit, your heart beating fast like pegasi galloping in the wind. Your eyes stinging like a fresh cut you wanted to just drown in antiseptic.
“Y/n?” You heard a small voice from behind, you whipped your head to see your little brother, Will Solace. “I cut my hand on a sword.” he mumbles, lower lip shaking like yours.
You kneel to his level, the basket still in your hands like they had their own minds, refusing to let it go—maybe hoping that Luke would reconsider and go with you to the docks instead, but you knew deep inside that it was a long shot.
“Okay,” your voice was hoarse, as if there were thorns blocking the back of your throat. “Let’s get you fixed, is that alright?”
Will nodded, blonde hair falling into his face, blue eyes hiding underneath them, making you chuckle. At least I have something else to think about for the meantime.
“Come on,” You reach your hand out for Will to take. “Let’s get some cute band aids for that cut.”
Crying on the docks would have to wait.
Will takes your hand as the two of you head to cabin seven where you keep a box of medical supplies just in case. You didn’t feel like going to the Infirmary, you were just too tired to do so.
“Why are you sad, sissy?” Will asks, big innocent blue eyes looking up at you.
“It’s nothing, I just have dry eyes. Think I need some eye drops.” You answered the younger boy, trying not to be, well, sad.
“I can feel that you’re sad, you don’t have to lie to me, sissy.” You look at your brother, how in Apollo’s name did he know? He was only seven, and wasn't even trained properly yet.
You sighed, pushing out the hair from Will’s face. “I’m just bummed.” you answered honestly, at least you tried to.
“Why?” He asks further. “Maybe I can help.”
You took a deep breath. How do you explain to a child that you are sad and hurt because the boy you like chose a girl over you, his best friend. “I’ll tell you when we get to our cabin, alright?”
“Okay,” Will agreed. “I’m gonna do my best to help you sissy!”
You tried suppressing a laugh, but failed miserably. Will was like a literal ball of sunshine. Since he arrived at camp a little over a year ago, he’d become a beacon of hope for you. You’d cling to your little brother when shit goes wrong for comfort, and he did the same, it was like you had an empathy link with him.
As soon as the two of you stepped onto cabin seven’s premises, you let Will run to his bed—he wanted to get the macaroni bracelet he made you—while you went to get your medical supplies.
“Look, sissy! I made this for you! I made one for Dawn too, and Lee and Michael!” Will excitedly showed you a blue and yellow colored macaroni bracelet. “Do you like it?”
You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “I love it,” You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist. “I’ll never take it off.” you promised the little boy—who was smiling from ear to ear.
“Okay, so are you gonna tell me now why you’re sad?” Will asked, straight to the point like an arrow through a bullseye.
You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you dug through your medical kit for some bandaids. “Luke and I planned earlier that we’d head to the docks to have a little picnic, but last minute…he, uh…”
“He what?” Will pushes further, peeking as you went through looking for your medical kit.
“He kinda ditched me? I don’t know if that’s the appropriate word, but instead of going with the original plan, he asked for a raincheck to go and help Lacy from cabin six clean out their cabin.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Will looked up at you as you poured antiseptic on a cotton ball, wiping it on his cut. “He’s helping others.”
“Oh, sweet baby boy,” You sighed, remembering that Will was still a child. “I like Luke—no, maybe I love him at this point. And I’m sad because I’m jealous and he chose to be with her after he asked me to a picnic that I was looking forward to, because I wanted to spend time with him.” You took a deep breath. “Even if I didn’t have romantic feelings for him, it still hurt because he picked her over me, he was my best friend first before everything.”
“What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, brow raised as you placed a bandaid on the cut.
“Are you mad at Luke? Do you wanna prank him because you are? Or curse him to be sick for a week?”
“William Andrew Solace!” You chastised, shocked at what he had suggested.
“What? He hurt you, he deserves it.”
“He hurt me, yes, but he does not deserve any of what you suggested, William.”
“He hurt my best big sissy, so he deserves it.” Will muttered under his breath.
“William,” You sighed, tucking behind a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What he did was wrong, as a friend. But I don’t have any right to be angry at him for liking Lacy, I’m just his friend, nothing more.”
Will’s face softened. “You deserve everything, sissy,” he then reached up, placing each of his hands on both of your cheeks. “You are the best sister in the whole world. You deserve to be loved, like the way you love me and everyone else.”
You smiled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes, your heart swelling with love from your little brother. You may not have the love of the boy you loved, at least you had your brother’s making up for it, masking up the heartbreak, even just for a little while.
“Alright,” You wiped away a single tear. “You’re all fixed.” you pat him on the cheek, wiping the sweat away on his forehead.
“I love you, sissy!” Will says as he wrapped his arms around you.
“I love you too, kiddo,” You chuckle, ruffling his blonde curls, kissing his forehead. “Go find Dawn, she’s at the arena. Watch Lee and Michael duel like idiots. Don’t tell them I told you that.”
Will nodded enthusiastically, before sprinting out of cabin seven. “See you later, sissy!”
You let out a shaky laugh, feeling the loneliness eat you up as quick as it left. Your eyes landed onto the basket with food still packed for two.
Luke still wasn’t going with you down to the docks.
You choked back a sob, grabbing the basket and your guitar and notebook from your bed before heading out to the docks. You might as well kill time until the bonfire, alone with your breaking heart.
You didn’t stop at anyone, walking straight to the beach with your guitar strapped onto your back and the basket wrapped between your arms. You just didn’t have the will to talk to anyone, even your friends and siblings.
The salty smell of the sea breeze infiltrated your senses as you approached the beach, the docks that you and Luke always hung out at nearing your view. You took a deep breath, letting the soft breeze take over you as you stepped onto the wooden platform, the waves crashing beneath it. You set down the basket, sitting beside it as you pulled your guitar to the front, your fingers lightly strumming a little tune—one you knew like the back of your hand, the song Luke always asked you to play.
“'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be,” You sang, trying your hardest not to just break down despite the tears you had been pushing back were threatening to spill. “Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet and you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street,” you sniffled softly. “So I'm not moving, I'm not moving.”
You can’t help but wonder what would Luke do when you leave camp for good. Would he be sad? That you, his best friend, gone with the wind? Or would he ask you to stay?
You wished that you didn’t know the answers to your own questions your own damn mind plagues you with. You wished that he knew he was all that you think about every goddamn night, that he was the reason for those teardrops on your guitar, that he was the only thing that kept you wishing on a wishing star.
You sighed, grabbing your blue notebook that you had slid inside the basket and the pen you had packed alongside it. You needed to let it out, even just on another tear streaked paper.
You hummed a little melody as you continued to write what you felt, your chest burning with untold stories.
“Hey, sunshine,” You heard a voice call from behind you, whipping your head around almost immediately, nearly dropping your notebook into the sea.
“Chris,” You gave him a small smile, adjusting the strap of your guitar.
“Mind if I join you?” Chris asks, walking closer to you but stops a few steps from you with a grin plastered on his face.
You quickly closed your notebook, stuffing it in the picnic basket. “I don’t mind,” You scooted to the side to give him some space to sit, your hair blowing in the gentle sea breeze.
Chris nods at you, making his way to the vacant spot beside you. “So, what are you up to?” he asks, leaning slightly back. “You weren’t at archery practice earlier.”
You shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Just wanted some time alone, I guess.” you turn to look at the basket sitting unopened beside you, wondering if you should offer Chris one of the pastries. “What about you?”
“Luke,” Chris chuckles, he rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Can’t stand him making out with Lacy in cabin eleven.”
“Oh.” You say, the pain and sadness slipping out in your voice, your heart, now broken completely as another fresh set of tears threatens to spill. “Well, good…good for him.”
Chris raises a brow at you, noticing the tremble in your voice. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” You lied, wiping away the tears that spilled from your eyes, hoping Chris wouldn’t notice. “Do…do you want, uh, a croissant?”
“You are not okay,” Chris says, pulling your hand away from your face. “You’re crying, what’s wrong?”
“No, no, it’s nothing,” You sniffled, trying to assure him that you were alright, but he wasn’t believing any of your attempts to cover up what you were feeling.
“C’mon, you can tell me,” Chris tells you with a soft smile. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”
You turn to look at him, your eyes now red and puffy, tears still streaming down. You felt numb, broken, and empty. You didn’t have the words to try and tell what was happening inside your heart and mind. All you could see, against your will, was the image of Luke kissing Lacy.
You wanted to scream, you wanted to jump onto your feet and storm over to Luke and hit him for hurting you this much, and you even wanted to just jump into the ocean and let the salty water fill up your lungs so you couldn’t breathe the same air as them.
“You like him, don’t you?” Chris asks, his smile fading.
You blink back your tears, Chris’ words echoing in your head. “I love him.” you whimper, wiping your tears away.
Chris sighs, scooting closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I knew it, I figured you liked him years ago. I’ve known you and Luke long enough to know how different your looks at each other are.”
You lay your head onto his shoulder, your tears spilling still as you silently sobbed. “It’s not fair,” you mumble out. “It’s not fucking fair.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, let it all out, it’s okay.” Chris soothes, rubbing your shoulder to comfort you. “You’re hurt, you deserve to cry.”
“Am I ugly? Unlovable?” You ask with a shaky breath.
“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Chris cups your tear streaked face in his hands. “You are not unlovable. You’re the kindest, most selfless, and loving person out there. You help everyone in need, you make people smile, and don’t get me started with how your music makes everyone feel. How would that make you unlovable? You are very lovable. You are loved, your siblings, your friends, everyone.”
Chris pushes strands of your hair away from your face. “And you are most certainly not ugly. You are beautiful. You are beautiful like the sun, like a sunflower, especially when you smile—radiating beauty like rays of sunshine. Luke is too fucking stupid to not realize how lucky he is to have you loving him.”
“The boy who I love is now in love with someone else,” You murmur, moving your head out of Chris’ hand, closing your eyes. “He’s the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart.”
“It’s his loss, not yours.” Chris says, rubbing circles around your back. “He’s a fucking idiot, for hurting you. Even if he doesn’t know.”
“She’s pretty, I’m n-”
“Stop it, stop,” Chris cuts you off. “You are beautiful, pretty, stunning, dazzling, whatever the hell you want to call it. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her, you are far better than her. She’s beauty and brains, but you? Beauty, brains, talent, and a big heart.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” You hiccup, wiping your tears away.
Chris scoffs playfully, shoving you slightly. “I’m trying to comfort you, woman.”
“Thanks,” You chuckle, moving your hand to the basket beside you. “Want a croissant?”
“Eating your sorrows away, huh?”
You rolled your still red and puffy eyes at him. “I’ve got a basket full of it,” You explained, bringing the basket onto your lap and opening it, the smell of the pastries mixing with the salty ocean breeze. “Luke and I planned to eat these here, but bailed on me to help Lacy.”
“That son of a bitch,” Chris grumbles, reaching for a croissant. “Wasting food and bailing on his best friend.”
“I mean, Hermes is a bitch,” You snort, picking a blueberry tart up. “So, technically…”
“Yeah, well,” Chris bites into his croissant, crumbles falling into his lap. “I’m not one to dump my best friend for a girl.”
“Not even for Clarisse?” You ask, a teasing smirk on your lips.
“Clarisse would beat me into a pulp if I did.”
You smile at Chris. “Thanks for being here, even by chance.”
“I’ll always be here for you, sunshine,” Chris ruffles your hair, making you laugh. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Thank you for making me feel important,” You took a deep breath. “I needed that.”
“You are important, never think that you aren’t.” Chris gives you an assuring smile. “So, is the tart good?”
You let out a giggle, your eyes going to the tart in your hands. “I think so,” You raise the blueberry tart to your lips for a bite, your eyes lighting up. “Mmm, gods this is good!”
Chris laughs at your reaction. “Good, huh?”
You nod, licking your lips. “It’s divine, better than cookies!” You say, taking another bite. “This is my new favorite dessert!”
“There’s the sunshine I know,” Chris chuckles, an amused look in his eyes. “The light in everyone’s lives.”
“Now you’re just fueling my ego,” You giggle, reaching for another tart.
“It’s true,” Chris insists. “Ask anyone—except Luke, ‘cause he’s an idiot—and they’ll say the same things I told you.”
You roll your eyes playfully, raising your hands in defeat. “Fine, fine,” You say through a bite of your tart. “You win.”
“I’m amazing,” Chris says with a cocky smile. “The best, even.”
You groaned playfully. “Note to self, never tell Chris Rodriguez he’s right.”
“Hey!”
You burst out laughing, nearly falling off of the dock as you leaned forward if Chris hadn’t grabbed your arm. “Sorry,” You say through fits of laughter, the sadness and hurt you felt just moments ago, fluttering away. “You get…wait,” you wheeze out, clutching your stomach. “So cocky when someone tells you you’re right, but you end up looking constipated!”
Chris gasped, feigning offense. “Take that back!”
You shook your head, laughter still coming out of your lips. “Never!”
“I hate you,“ Chris fake grumbles, an amused look twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a meanie!”
You burst out laughing, again
“Yeah, go ahead and laugh your ass off, sunshine,” Chris shoves you playfully. “It’s the best medicine out there!”
Out of breath, cheeks flushed, you leaned flat against the wood platform. “Chest hurts,” You wheezed, though still smiling.
“Well, you did laugh like a fuckin’ lunatic, sunshine.”
“How am I going to sing at the bonfire tonight?” You say through breaths, mentally kicking yourself for not bringing any water—despite being surrounded by it.
“You can do it,” Chris assured you as he laid beside you, leaving enough space that you’re not uncomfortable. “I know you can. You’re camp’s best singer, you can’t fuck up the best thing you’re good at.”
“You think so?”
“You’ve been singing for as long as we’ve been friends, sunshine,” Chris yawns, stretching his arms up. “Pretty sure, you’re gonna nail this, like you always do.
You were regretting your decision to come to the bonfire.
Here you were, sitting beside your siblings, across Luke and Lacy—arms linked together like they’d perish if they didn’t.
The mere sight of them shamelessly flirting made you want to vomit everything you ate, and maybe even your brains out. It was sickening, how Luke smiles as Lacy whispers something into his ear, her delicate fingers around his biceps.
You wanted to walk up to him and drag him by the ribbon on his left arm—which was one of Lacy’s probably, watch him burn into ashes, but decided against it. Because, one) Hestia wouldn’t approve of it, two) well, he’s still the love of your life and best friend.
It was torture for you, watching them be happy. It makes you wonder, how the hell did they get that close. They had started talking just hours ago, but now? They looked like lovers reunited after the war.
What was so special about her? You ask yourself again, even though you knew the goddamn answer. Smart, sexy, Lacy. God, she was making you crazy. Dazzling starlet, like a Bardot reincarnate. And then there you were—messy hair, paint stains everywhere, guitar string marks, flab on your belly and arms, band aids in your pockets, basically nothing like her.
Luke looks at her as if she was the sweetest thing on this side of hell, like she was the greatest thing to ever exist in this world.
Like ribbons in her blonde hair, your stomach was all in knots. She’s got the one thing that you ever wanted, wrapped around her finger without even trying.
The fire continued to burn golden-orange flames as your siblings led the song Down by the Aegean, everyone was happy and content, except for you.
Jealousy lingered around you like a moth drawn to the flame. Making it hard for you to concentrate on anything else aside from Lacy laying her head on Luke’s shoulder as he toasted marshmallows for both of them. The thought of them plagued your mind, despite trying everything to keep it away from your thoughts.
Stupid brain, stupid heart, stupid Luke, stupid Lacy, stupid love.
“Hey, sis?” A voice snapped you out of your insecure thoughts. You looked up to see Lee standing just a few inches to your right, looking at you with concern. “You okay?” He asks, his voice laced with worry. You then realized that everyone had stopped singing, and all eyes were on you—except those lovebirds who were making googly eyes at each other, as if they were the only person left on this damned world.
“Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” You say through gritted teeth, hoping no one would notice.
“It’s time for your special song, sissy.” Will nudges you from your left side.
Oh. You thought. They were waiting for you.
“Oh, right,” You chuckled nervously, reaching for your guitar from Dawn.
You didn’t know what to sing. All the thoughts and memories in your head seem to have faded into dust.
You shakily strum a chord on your guitar, your fingers gliding over the metal strings. The guitar was a gift from your dad, enchanted to play whatever you had in mind with just a few strums of your fingers.
You sigh, letting your fingers do all the work, hoping you could give the people around you your best.
I can see us lost in the memory,
August slipped away into a moment in time
‘Cause it was never mine.
And I can see us twisted in bed sheets,
August sipped away.
Like a bottle of wine 'cause you were never mine,
You sang, the words coming out of your lips so naturally, all of what you felt pouring out like water. You saw the sympathetic eyes of your friends from the other cabins—the ones who knew about your feelings for Luke.
Your siblings were trying their best not to give you the biggest hug in the whole world, especially Will, who was sitting beside you.
Some were confused as to why you were singing about some boy because you’ve never done it before. They hadn’t thought that you had feelings, too.
Back when we were still changing for the better
Wanting was enough
For me, it was enough
“Shit,” You heard someone curse from cabin nine. “The fire’s blue!”
You look up, blazing blue, meeting your eyes. Hestia’s fire had never burned blue before.
“Beckendorf, this isn’t funny!” Someone yells in the background, amongst the whispers.
“We’re not doing…..anything,” Beckendorf trails off, as if he had been silenced all of a sudden.
To everyone’s surprise, the blue—almost black—flames burning in the firepit started to get bigger and bigger, as if they were swaying to the tune as you played.
To live for the hope of it all
Cancel plans just in case you'd call
And say "Meet me behind the mall"
And finally, as you finished up the song, from the corner of your eyes, a sore sight to behold. Luke and Lacy were making out, and they couldn’t have waited to even be out of sight—barely a meter away—before devouring each other’s faces.
So much for summer love and saying "us"
'Cause you weren't mine to lose
You weren't mine to lose, no
You weren't mine to lose.
Luke grabs Lacy’s waist, pulling her closer. They looked happy, and it was tearing you apart. They were killing you slowly, like a dagger was lodged in your throat, and they were twisting it.
Cause you were never mine, never mine…
You felt tears filling your eyes like a dam, and anytime was ready to explode. But, forced them back down—at least, you tried to—hoping to save a little more dignity for your name.
Lacy has everything that you have to live without. She should hold him tight, and give him all her love. Look at him straight in those beautiful brown eyes and know she's lucky because Luke was your everything—your life, your world, everything.
As the image of them faded from your peripheral view, you stared into the blazing fire in front of you. Now, red, blue, and black flames were dancing together, almost as if Hestia could feel what you were feeling.
You sigh, placing the guitar down, feeling arms wrap around you. You look up, seeing Chris, camp necklace dangling from his neck. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs, rubbing both of your shoulders.
“You want me to put his head on my spear, Sunny?” Clarisse asks, sitting opposite of Will. “One word from you, and I’ll skewer him.”
“You’re overwhelming her, Clar,” Chris says. “You don’t deserve this, sunshine. Yet, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Do you want to spend the night with us, love?” Silena asks from beside Clarisse. “A little girls' night could help.”
You shake your head, the tears you’ve pushed aside spilling like an opened dam. “I’m okay,” you say, clearly lying. You knew your friends could always see through your lies.
“Come on, let’s take her to seven. She needs rest.” Your brother, Lee, interrupts. “She looks dehydrated; why the fuck is she dehydrated?”
“Language,” you weakly say, the view of the fire blurring. “Swearing, s’bad.”
“And delirious,” Dawn mutters beside Lee, holding Will close to her.
Before you could retort a reply, your vision slowly went dark, and faint voices were screaming before you completely passed out.
Luke was immediately jolted awake from his honeymoon daze by the sounds of frantic screams and yells, just a few steps away from him and Lacy.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Lacy asks, her delicate hands cupping his face, lips swollen from kissing just a few seconds ago.
“You heard that?” Luke asks, pushing her slightly to the side. “I heard screami-”
Luke cuts himself off at what he sees.
Chris is sprinting to the Big House with you, unconscious in his arms. Luke’s heart starts to beat rapidly—faster than ever before—as his legs subconsciously take him in your direction.
“Melody.”
Lacy stands there as Luke makes his way to you, huffing and arms crossed in annoyance. “What the hell, Luke!?” She yells after him, but it’s like he hears nothing.
taglist:
@lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons @m00ng4z3r @woodlandwrites @sflame15-blog @the-sylver-dragon @ceruleansx @evsolostheuniverse @patitotodd @jennapancake @kur0m1sblog @emryb @onecojg @caramelandvenus @y0urm0m12 @hottiewifeyyyy @7s3ven @atashiboba
#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan fanfic#luke castellan fanfiction#pjo luke#luke castellan#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan x reader fanfic#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x fem!apollo reader#luke castellan x fem!daughter of apollo#cabin seven#cabin eleven#pjo fandom#pjo#pjo series#camp half blood#unrequited love#best friends not to lovers#heartbreak#fanfiction#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x yn#charlie bushnell#x reader#angst#fanfic#pjo fanfic#percy jackson#el's writing 💘
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Could you do a smau where she’s max’s sister and dominating MotoGP the way max is f1. Maybe they have the typical annoying younger sister/protective big brother relationship and he finds out she’s dating one of the f1 drivers? Xx
cherry lip balm | oscar piastri social media au
pairing: oscar piastri x motogp!verstappen!reader
the verstappen siblings run motorsport, but the youngest's f1 allegiances may belong elsewhere
f1 and motogp
liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1,405,466 others
tagged: maxverstappen1, yourusername
f1 and motogp: happy international siblings day to max and y/n verstappen, these two have 60 wins between them 🏆
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user1: my faves i love them
user2: the way jos wasn't gonna let them kids do anything else lol
yourusername: + victoria verstappen the patron saint who puts up with both of us love you 🥰
maxverstappen: you mean putting up with you ? i'm a mature man of the world now
yourusername: girl you are fussier than all of our nephews put together mature MY ASS
maxverstappen1: i am mature and i have BOUNDARIES
yourusername: yeah you have boundaries between all your food you bland man
victoriaverstappen: i think you just proved y/n right
user3: they are the most unhinged people ever i feel so bad for victoria lol
user4: patiently waiting for y/n's championship
marcmarquez93: no marquez representation?
yourusername: you need to serve more
maxverstappen1: you guys don't have the verstappen sass
user5: someone needs to stop them 😭
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 832,771 others
yourusername: the two sides of a race week
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user6: the way she won this race and was like yeah i need that 0.5 of me drinking coffee actually
yourusername: it's a hot chocolate cause i'm a child
user7: are we all collectively ignoring the whole ass man on the last slide?
maxverstappen1: no we're not Y/N Y/M/N VERSTAPPEN CALL ME THIS INSTANT
yourusername: calm it on the all caps and maybe i'll call you
maxverstappen1: MAYBE?
yourusername: well that's not making it any better maxie
user8: i can't loose this parasocial relationship y/n get that man's hands off of you now
landonorris: y/n please pick up max's call he's threatening to throw my monza trophy PLEASE PICK UP I DON'T HAVE THAT MANY TROPHIES
yourusername: please refer to my previous comment about all caps and then come back
landonorris: y/n may you please call your beloved brother back so my very limited trophy collection does not get destroyed
yourusername: sure just for you lando ❤️
maxverstappen1: STOP FLIRTING PLEASE
yourusername: i just picked up ... and ur still commenting (plus that's not lando in the pic btw he's too skinny to be him)
landonorris: why am i getting bullied by both verstappens today, i'm just trying to help :(
maxverstappen1
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,034,661 others
tagged: yourusername
maxverstappen1: there's no party like a verstappen party and a verstappen-only party with no BOYFRIENDS because they don't exist :)
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user14: ahaha passive aggressive max is my fave
yourusername: just cause you're too much of a pussy to ask charles out so i can't have a boy friend?
maxverstappen1: what?
yourusername: what?
user15: max as overprotective brother is my new favourite thing
danielricciardo: i fear y/n is 22 years old and her own woman
yourusername: awwww thanks danny at least one man here has SENSE
maxverstappen1: how much did she pay you to comment that?
danielricciardo: she didn't pay me but my house plant currently at hers was being held at gun point
yourusername: i would never
danielricciardo: so i can delete my comment
yourusername: do that and sheila gets it
user16: i know we should be more concerned with max going insane, but daniel's choice of name for his house plant is the most pressing issue
user17: hear me out but for comedic purposes ... i need y/n's bf to be a driver
maxverstappen1: do not speak that into the universe
oscarpiastri
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 808,943 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: i like the taste of her cherry lip balm
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user22: what 😭 the 😭 fuck 😭
yourusername: you don't taste half bad either ;)
oscarpiastri: come back to bed
maxverstappen1: NO NO NO STOP RIGHT THERE OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING DON'T SAY THAT ABOUT MY SISTER
oscarpiastri: how do you know my middle name?
maxverstappen1: i called your mum, anyhow YOU ARE A DEAD MAN
oscarpiastri: how did you get my mum's number?
maxverstappen1: i'm trying to threaten you please stop asking questions
yourusername: maxy please stop trying to be scary i know you still wear footy pjamas at christmas
maxverstappen1: well i hope oscar is terrified by my christmas spirit
user23: i feel like i lose brain cells watching y/n and max talk to each other
user24: we ignoring the fact that max managed to get oscar's mum's number just to ask for his middle name PETTY KING
maxverstappen1: it was more than a middle name, i needed a character witness
yourusername: CHARACTER WITNESS? YOU WORK WITH HIM? YOUR BEST FRIEND IS HIS TEAMMATE?
maxverstappen1: i understand you are making points and no one has a bad word to say about him ... but i've got to stick to the bit now
oscarpiastri: so i'm not going to die in hungary?
maxverstappen1: no. but keep all your business to yourself, i don't need to know what lip balm my sister uses and that you own a bed
oscarpiastri: got it 🫡
user25: well that was dramatic
maxverstappen1
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,203,788 others
tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri
maxverstappen1: congrats on your first podium in f1 oscar, welcome to the family i guess ... don't take photos on my phone every again
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user28: so we can all say oscar has max's approval now?
user29: mans was like wow he challenged me in the race he has the stamp of approval now
yourusername: jokes on you we look great @oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri: and what the people don't know is that max was also doing face masks with us
maxverstappen1: not the serve you think it is i am very secure in my masculinity
yourusername: i'm glad you've gotten over your weird older brother act ... does this mean you'll both come to my next race?
oscarpiastri: i'll be there :)
maxverstappen1: i guess
yourusername: whooooooooop finally
user30: the way i am so happy for oscar i feel like i've been on this journey with him
user31: honestly rookie of the year and it's not even close
user30: i was talking about him and max... but yeah he's doing great !!!
landonorris: can i also get a pass for your next race y/n for keeping it a secret?
maxverstappen1: WHAT
yourusername: ur so dumb i actually can't
oscarpiastri: i'm not helping you here dude i just got approval
landonorris: well now i regret helping you guys
maxverstappen1: open your door lando
user32: is he dead?
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,348,300 others
tagged: maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri
yourusername: fifth win of the season, my family and the love of my life, what could be better
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user33: i feel like the shit storm of max and oscar has defo distracted us from the fact that f1 and motogp fans are suffering through a verstappen winning nearly every race
maxverstappen1: i want everyone to appreciate my character growth as i took that gross ass last photo
yourusername: thank you maxy, what a sacrifice
oscarpiastri: thanks dude, you did push me in the water right after though
maxverstappen1: uh you snooze you lose, a verstappen rule of life, you had no phone on you so fair game, i thought you wanted to be part of this family
oscarpiastri: I DO ... does this mean i can push you in next time?
maxverstappen1: absolutely not.
yourusername: do it anyway osc i'll protect you babe
oscarpiastri: idk i'm scared
yourusername: he's ticklish he's so easy to beat
maxverstappen1: THAT WAS A SECRET Y/N
user34: if you told me last season that i'd see max go from wanting to kill piastri to being brothers with him and that i'd know he wears footy pjs and is ticklish i'd laugh in ur face
maxverstappen1: ONLY AT CHRISTMAS
oscarpiastri: don't worry mate i think it's cute
maxverstappen1: okay now i prefer you over y/n
yourusername: who? what? where? when? why?
oscarpiastri: soz babe you snooze you lose
note: ahhhhh i really enjoyed writing this so i hope you enjoy i love writing comment domestics if you couldn't tell lol xx
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri instagram au#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri
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part time lover; jjk
➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader
➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au
➵ word count: 30.8k
➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.
only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.
➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk are both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).
➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !
➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot
Jeongguk, 26
Investigative journalist at Golden News Network
Less than a mile away
To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).
“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.”
“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.”
From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language.
“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.”
A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees.
Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop.
In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it?
Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam.
But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him.
“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.
“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.”
“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction.
Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.
“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff.
Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband.
Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley.
Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school.
Dear Jeon family,
Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.
It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.
Sincerely,
Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy
The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless.
“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life.
Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.”
“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school.
“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering.
“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache.
“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes.
Has she been listening all along?
“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands.
“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question.
Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person.
“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend.
“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?
Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth.
Y/N
Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library
1 mile away
Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”
“Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”
“Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh”
“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod.
Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month.
“What do you think about this guy?”
“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.”
“Okay, then what about this one?”
“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.”
“How about her? She’s pretty, right?”
“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?”
From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app.
It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority.
“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines.
“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes.
“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice.
You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.”
“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations?
“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.”
“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”
Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence.
“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.”
Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.”
Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss.
You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?
If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again.
If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.
But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is?
If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that.
Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle.
Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows �� among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are.
If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time.
But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen.
Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh.
Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring.
A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.
His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).”
Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him?
The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know.
When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone.
Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk.
“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion.
“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency.
Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet.
With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates.
“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.”
Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes.
Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood.
Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old.
It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her.
There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart.
“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?”
Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body.
Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter.
In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.
Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again.
A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body.
Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right.
They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution?
They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.
The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t.
As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down.
Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips.
Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him.
After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers.
How the hell is he going to raise a child?
He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.
There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.
“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.
“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy.
“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness.
The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there.
You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek.
“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.
“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically.
A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.
Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really.
“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.”
Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him.
“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides.
“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation.
Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.”
“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?”
“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features.
“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?”
He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.”
“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.
“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips.
“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.”
The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word.
Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands.
Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?”
It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.”
Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice.
His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks.
Dammit. He’s cute.
You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip.
Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head.
“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”
“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.”
Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single.
“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes.
“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.”
Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news.
“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”
His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment.
“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.
“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”
Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with.
“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy.
Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?”
You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled.
“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness.
“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?”
“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal.
You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?
You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it.
“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short.
“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.
Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched.
After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance?
You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions.
“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.”
Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.”
His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real.
“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?”
“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins.
“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue.
“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.”
“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?”
“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.”
“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself.
“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit.
“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.”
You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?”
“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo.
“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー”
“I’ll do it.”
You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?”
Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.”
“y/n!”
You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears.
As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag.
You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together.
“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.”
“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress.
“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief.
“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.”
“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts.
“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.”
“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!”
Ouch. That hurts.
“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses.
How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.
There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes.
You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano.
“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.
When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man?
“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint.
He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing.
You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”
“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him.
You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act.
Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!”
“And he’s hot!”
You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone.
“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later.
In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about.
“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias.
You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this.
He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it.
You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase.
Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison.
“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile.
You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close.
“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward.
Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear.
“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine.
As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes.
Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead.
“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk.
A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose.
“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head.
“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.”
“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips.
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize.
His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength.
“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.”
Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile.
“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his.
You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action.
Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.
The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close.
“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles.
“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.
With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.”
Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out.
“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.”
Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.”
“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks.
You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle.
Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?”
You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.
“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.”
“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought.
“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.”
“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question.
“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation.
“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you.
“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better.
The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.
The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions.
You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?”
“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?”
“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”
“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee.
Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had.
Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe.
He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum.
Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core).
He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever.
You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms.
“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true.
For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.
In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day.
You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange.
His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required.
Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does.
It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins.
“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours.
Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?
Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating.
But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee.
Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.”
Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.”
After all, this is just pretend.
But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner.
Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.
Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.
You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.
The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!”
During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is.
…
True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.
When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire.
Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul.
It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy.
You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table.
“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you.
“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-”
Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.”
In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system.
After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family.
When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy.
“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines.
You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”
The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump.
“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest.
Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept.
You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.”
A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?”
You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother.
“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.”
Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does.
“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall.
“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.”
You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night.
Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.”
You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book.
As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’
“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff.
“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?”
Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room.
You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos.
Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?”
“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.”
“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.
Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.”
The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip.
“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand.
“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.”
You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives.
Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.
“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway.
“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts.
“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.”
Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine.
Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo.
When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”
“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire?
With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw.
“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board.
When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.
“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes.
Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.
“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.”
“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips.
You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder.
“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.”
Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him.
When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur.
The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you.
As it seems, fate has other plans.
While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there.
“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself.
You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.
The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows.
“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.”
You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.”
You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile.
“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter.
When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to.
“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice.
Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes.
Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed.
“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-”
You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks.
Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl.
“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises.
Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table.
You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.”
“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires.
“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.”
Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying.
You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside.
It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.
“Eomma?”
It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.”
These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about?
The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you.
Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning.
You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?”
Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears.
“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts.
You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back.
“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.”
“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks.
“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-”
“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?
So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night?
You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it.
“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again.
On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception).
“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.
Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.”
Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.
In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back.
Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”
Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?”
Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned.
“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained.
“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no?
With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.”
The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again.
Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted.
“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.”
There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?”
You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him.
His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores.
“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night.
“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders.
You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.”
“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.”
You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top.
Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference.
Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now.
“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.”
Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.”
“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?”
Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day.
You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks.
“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction.
His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn.
The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life.
Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose.
“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast.
Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.
“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right?
“Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream.
“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries.
Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.”
“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?”
But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away.
…
In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe.
When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does.
For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely.
“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle.
Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?”
Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share.
Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.
“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.”
“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?”
He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.
You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?”
He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle.
You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?”
His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.”
He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers.
This is still practice… right?
As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment.
A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly.
“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful.
“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him.
He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush.
You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest.
Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?”
He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin.
Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.”
His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you.
But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic.
…
The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you.
“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action.
There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want.
“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work.
Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper.
“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.”
On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn.
As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day.
.
.
.
Dear reader,
If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.
My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.
I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right?
Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.
Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.
But lately, being with him brings me to life.
Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.
Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other.
.
.
.
Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.
Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.
Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do.
They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.
Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.
But it’s not true.
I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.
I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.
It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.
There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.
By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem.
Jeongguk is late.
He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong.
The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most?
Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat.
A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends.
Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms.
“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face.
Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking.
You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay.
So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together.
“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place?
“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.”
You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.”
He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles.
“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”
There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out.
“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.”
There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.
“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace.
After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry.
Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband.
You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator.
Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago.
Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him.
The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring.
Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time.
Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape.
Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting.
While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.”
“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.
His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm.
He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?”
You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?”
“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.”
But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it.
Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes.
Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that.
Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools.
Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing.
Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand.
You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship?
For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.
“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen.
All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while.
Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.
But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love.
“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination.
But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?”
“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question.
“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks.
“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.
“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.”
“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders.
“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs.
Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him.
“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.”
You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention?
There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess.
…
At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk.
Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.
As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex.
“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?”
You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…”
“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?”
Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-”
“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort.
“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”
You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink.
“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.”
You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice.
Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.
Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.
“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away.
“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay.
You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”
“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care.
The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better.
But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors.
Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him.
For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.
A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room.
…
The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom.
His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face.
You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist.
“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment.
He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin.
You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?”
“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?”
You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine.
“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.
He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes.
“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck.
“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”
He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.”
You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.”
Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.”
His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders.
“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.”
“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”
“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”
Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters.
There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out.
“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate.
“Jeongguk- Love?”
The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.
“I know this sounds silly-” you begin.
He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.”
A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.
“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.”
“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek.
A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.”
“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.
“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming.
You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself.
Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you.
Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?”
“M- maybe we could hold hands?”
“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders.
“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.”
“Can I suggest something?”
You nod, agreeing. “Anything.”
He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?”
You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”
“Then can I hold you?”
You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.
Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.
A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth.
“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice.
“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart.
To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips.
Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading.
“You can touch me if you want,” he offers.
You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were.
“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.
“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.”
Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control.
Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips.
“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”
The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.
“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.”
Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him.
So you do.
When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment.
His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes.
You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips.
“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions.
Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”
Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.”
He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance.
Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.
“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.”
Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?”
“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.”
You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do.
“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.
He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”
God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more.
You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to?
“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail.
“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips.
“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined.
“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”
Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him?
You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’
There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.
“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…”
“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”
“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.”
Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection.
He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?”
“C- can I?” you stutter.
“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.”
With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together.
His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.”
With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges.
“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away.
“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.”
Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him.
“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.”
Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs.
As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.”
Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through.
To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs.
A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost.
He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away.
“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”
You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist.
“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.
There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor.
His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off.
Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless.
Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest.
“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?”
His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.
Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his.
Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom.
“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.”
Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body.
What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound.
Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”
You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.”
“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides.
You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.
“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off.
Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor.
Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body.
“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours.
Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate.
“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.
Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional.
Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you.
With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love.
He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched.
You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress.
He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.
Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light.
Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.”
He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting.
The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock.
His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste.
Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.
Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.”
He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him.
He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source.
“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.
“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before?
Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third.
You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers.
“Guk- love, I-”
“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt.
At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody.
He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline.
Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head.
He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?”
“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch.
Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock.
Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.”
But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”
“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses.
“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur.
What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length.
“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”
Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him.
“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-”
You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”
Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt.
You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut.
Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.
“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans.
You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy.
“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure.
“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires.
He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.”
His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.
“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls.
But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.”
Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife.
You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him.
“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses.
“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him.
He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch.
Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes.
“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”
You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.
He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.”
You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat.
“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.
He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion.
“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion.
A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere.
“How’s it, angel?”
“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth.
“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg.
“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.”
Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess.
“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close.
Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess.
He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now.
The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow.
But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours.
Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high.
“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.”
You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions.
“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go.
He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length.
You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all.
Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four.
Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you.
“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?”
“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life.
Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel.
The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind.
“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?”
His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference.
Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives.
Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school?
So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family.
Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire).
All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment.
Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school.
The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”
She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-”
The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?”
“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper.
“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.”
“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table.
Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay.
“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.
The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask.
However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?”
You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement.
“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.”
“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills.
Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action.
“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace.
He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room.
Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.
“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.
Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle.
Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it.
“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.”
There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-”
Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you?
Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”
He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.”
Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?”
The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction.
Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did.
…
Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter.
While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey.
When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble.
This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.
“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.”
#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts scenario#bts imagine#bts x reader#bts fan fic#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fan fiction
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"Fuck, the things I wouldn't do for a cheeseburger right now,"
Beelzebub's attention is immediately on you, eyes twinkling red. "We can go to Hell's Burger after this then," he says, eager to oblige to any and all requests you make. The fact that it involves food only entices him further. You sigh and shake your head, much to his confusion.
"No, Beel, like a real burger," you say, resting your head in your hands, elbows on your desk. You're sitting at the back of the class, so your teacher doesn't notice that neither of you is particularly focused. Beelzebub's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Hell's Burger's burgers aren't real?" he mumbles and you smile apologetically at him, shaking your head.
"Sorry, Beel, I just-" You stop for a second, reminiscing about your favourite burger restaurant. Beel waits patiently for you to sort out your thoughts, although the talk of burgers has increased the never-ending rumble of his stomach.
"I just crave a human-world burger, that doesn't have the word death or poison in the name or has 4,000-year-old cheese in it," you say and pout at him. "I want a proper burger, with normal cheese and lettuce and pickles-" your rant is interrupted by the loud noise of Beel's stomach, so loud that the entire class turns to look at you for a second before realising it's just Beel. The teacher sighs and resumes the lesson. Your brows furrow in concern. "You got any lunch left, big guy?" you ask and Beel shakes his head while holding onto his stomach.
Without looking up from his book a single time, Satan, sitting in front of you, reaches down into his bag and pulls out his lunch, giving it to Beel. Beel gratefully accepts it, with a sheepish look.
"Thanks, bro."
ੈ♡˳
Your craving for a real cheeseburger doesn't go away, but you resolve to not tell Beel about it after his... expressive reaction. That's until three days later when Beels is pulling you down the street by your hand. "Beel, where are we going?" you ask, but he just smiles at you, grinning from ear to ear. "Mmmh, it's a surprise," he says. You don't realize where you are until you're standing in front of the passage that you've used a couple of times before. The seal to the human realm.
"What's going on?" you ask. Beel shrugs. "Got permission from Lucifer to take you to a real burger place," he says and you stare at him in awe. "Beel, that's really nice of you," you say and he smiles. "Yeah, yeah, thank me later,"
Before you know it, you're pulled into the passage with a squeal.
ੈ♡˳
The great thing about going out with Beel is that there is absolutely no shame when it comes to ordering food. The demon is as shameless as a baby. The more the two of you order, the more the cashier in front of you seems to pale. Pretty much every burger on the menu is ordered, several portions of fries, every single dip, 20 chili cheese tops, 3 milkshakes (one for each flavour), 2 sodas, chicken wings-
"Oh, Beel, you gotta taste this one, it's the best," you say, pointing at the menu. The cashier begrudgingly adds it to your total. "Anything else I can do for you?" they ask and you smile apologetically at them. "I think we're good for now," you say pinching Beel's arm, before he begins ordering any more. He closes his mouth and blinks at you. You wonder how long he would continue to order if you didn't stop him.
"Will you be eating here or taking it with you?" The cashier asks and they raise their brows when you tell them you'll be eating it there. Probably wondering how two people can eat that much food.
You honestly can't even blame them, but it's not like you can explain that they're dealing with the Avatar of Gluttony. Beel doesn't even seem to notice the cashier's judgment when he pulls out Lucifer's card and pays for the food.
You find a secluded table and sit down. It feels almost too normal, being back in your own world, sitting at a fast-food restaurant. Beel notes your nostalgia and grabs your hand. You smile at him. "Truly, Beel, thank you for this. I needed it," you say and once again Beel just shrugs.
"Figured it was the least I could do," he says. "You've done so much for us, always getting caught in me 'n my brother's fights," he mumbles and begins to rub soothing circles into your wrist. You sit like that in comfortable silence for a while before you lean over the table to place a chaste kiss to his lips. Beel's belly grumbles and he leans over to chase your lips, but you're interrupted when three workers come over and place an insane amount of food on your table. You smile at Beel and shrug when he makes a disappointed noise.
"We're definitely getting dessert after this right?" he asks, still oblivious to the judgemental stares from the restaurant workers, but you find yourself not caring either when you grin mischievously.
"How about I'll be your dessert?"
a/n: so i did some research and i couldn't really figure out if chili cheese tops is an international thing of just a scandinavian thing? it's fried cheeseballs with jalapeno in them and bread on the outside. is that a thing in your country?
thanks for reading! find my other stuff here.
#i'm actually vegetarian#but often times a burger king veggie burger really hits#and chili cheese tops on the side#also there's this really good burger joint 2 minutes from where i live#they have the best veggie burgers ever#so i didn't go to into descriptions about meat but you can just imagine whatever gets you going#perse fics#perse fluff#obey me#obey me fic#obey me shall we date#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#obey me beelzebub#beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub x reader#om! shall we date#om! beelzebub#obey me swd#obey me beel x reader#obey me beel fluff#obey me fluff#obey me beelzebub fluff
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SLUT! — P.JS
synopsis: experiencing love in your last year of high school was totally unexpected, especially when it’s the fact that you had fallen for the boy everyone wants. what you weren’t prepared for was the troubles that came with it. however, you were willing to pay the price just for the sake of love.
pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader
genre: acquaintances to lovers, high school au, romance, angst, coming of age (?)
warning(s): profanities, (slight) slut shaming, underage drinking and partying
wc: 6.7k
a/n: last fic of 2023! thank you for all the support 🫶 a little piece dedicated to everyone and also those who loves this song equally as much as me! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx
masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.
Finding love was the last thing you had on your list right now.
It was the final year of high school. Everyone was freaking out over the fact that they were growing older and their time in high school was over. The Californian air couldn't be any more duller after that. Senior prom and graduation preparations were already starting even though it was just the start of the year. What was stopping them anyway?
Being a teenager was art, but what they didn't tell you about growing up was the process of falling in love.
It was torture. Witnessing people in love all around you while you struggled with advancing past the talking stage. No, it wasn't fair. However, having cupid strike its bow at you unexpectedly one day was the worst of crimes.
You know the embarrassing feeling when you see your classmates outside of school? Right. That was how you felt the moment Park Jong Seong walked into your mother's clinic, your eyes widening behind the counter. Must you be responsible for the counter at this very hour?
“Hey—Y/N?”
Jay was a classmate. You didn't really know him and neither did he know much about you. It was just neutral, where you coexist in the same space until the bell rings and the day ends. You get the gist.
That doesn't exclude the point where Jay was widely known, though. He wasn't like his popular jock friends or an athlete whatsoever. Instead, he was a studious guy who kept his reputation clean. Basically, he was your typical golden boy. You knew he wasn't completely innocent to an extent, but at least he was good at hiding it.
There is no denying that everyone wants him. He was a nice guy paired with strong, distinct features. It was no secret he was also known for his looks and caring manners.
“Jay? What are you doing here?”
He was wrapped in a thick hoodie, hands hidden in his pants pocket. “Caught a cold. I thought I should drop by to see a doctor and get some medicine,”
“Oh no,” you tried your best at giving a concerned expression, though you were busy skimming through files on the laptop. “Do you have a record here?”
“I do. Not my first time,”
You tried for his full legal name instead of ‘Jay Park’ and thankfully, his record showed up. “Found it,” you glanced up just to find him staring back at you. This was probably the first time you were this close to him, enough to be able to distinguish the moles on his face.
“I'll call you in a bit,”
You did what you always do every time, inform your mother and call the patients in. But Jay wasn't just another patient to you. When you called his name, you watched as he got closer, casting you a sweet smile right before he disappeared behind the door, leaving you to your seat at the counter, overthinking the littlest details that you knew you'd have to spill to your best friend after.
Jay waited patiently by the counter once it was time to pay. His gaze followed your every move as you got his prescribed medicine and stuffed them carefully into a bag.
“Here you go,” you passed the bag over, then accepted the cash he had been holding for a while. “Thanks,” you muttered, taking the chance at avoiding eye contact when you slipped the cash into the register.
“Thank you too,” Jay said, immediately gaining your attention. He was still managing a smile even though you could tell he was shivering slightly.
“No problem. Rest well,” you took a piece of candy from your own bowl of personal sweets stash. “Here,”
“Candy?”
You nodded, humming softly.
“Thanks,” his voice was quieter, sounding as if he was in disbelief. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes twinkled, a hint of fascination lingered. “I'll see you around, Y/N.”
“See you.”
That night, you laid awake replaying the encounter you had with Jay. It was the first time you've ever talked to him, and it was barely anything, but you somehow understood why people liked him by then. Not like you didn't like him initially, you meant, romantically.
It was definitely an odd place to meet and talk to him. Out of all the possible places, it just had to be your mother’s clinic that none of your peers came to once, that was until him. But somehow, it was the right timing despite the location. It was the wrong place at the right time.
Who knew his cold and your candy would soon start something neither of you expected.
“Do you wish you made out with him or something?”
Telling Yunjin about it was probably the best and worst idea. Sure, she could be a great moral support, except she lacked filters when needed.
“What the fuck—no!” You glanced around, hoping none of the passing students heard your stupid discussions. “He's hot but not like that, at all,”
“So you admit he's hot!”
You rolled your eyes, chucking the bag of Doritos back to her. “I never said he wasn't,”
“You intended it, said you didn't get the ‘hype’ around him,”
“Until now!” You threw your hands up in surrender, only getting a cackle from Yunjin as a response. “Whatever. It's a one time thing. He's out of my league. It's a whole ‘You Belong with Me’ music video type of situation excluding me being friends with him,”
“You're yapping at this point,”
“Thanks, I know,”
“It's not that serious, Y/N. You fighting your life trying to defend yourself only makes it seem like you're in denial,” why must she always be on point?
“Whatever, whatever,” you waved her off, stubbornly ignoring what she said. “I'm at the back of the line anyway, I should be worrying about graduation and college,”
“Oh right!” Yunjin physically jumped, her backpack shook. “I need your opinion on something.”
That whole Jay discourse had swarmed your head that was currently leaning against the window. You purposely picked a seat by the window at the back of the class, hoping for some space to think since it was a class you didn't have with Yunjin.
“A dollar for your thoughts?”
To your right stood Jay, shouldering his backpack and offering a warm smile. You knew you shared this class with him, but to have him walk up to you at that very moment was something beyond unexpected.
“Hey,” you greeted rather stiffly, not knowing what to do now that you were put under the spot. “W–what are you doing standing there?” Facepalm.
“Oh—do you mind if I sit beside you?” He pointed at the empty seat next to you, and you shook your head. You usually sat with random classmates anyway, having no close friends in this class was a struggle.
Jay's face broke into a smile of relief, plotting his bag down before taking a seat. “Thanks, I don't really have anyone I know here,”
“You don't?” That's weird. You always noticed how people naturally swarmed around Jay's table, either greeting him or chatting with him.
“Not really. None of them are really my friends,”
But you were?
“You're a friend to me, though,” he added, as if reading your mind at that instant.
You were taken aback, but you hid it well, masking it with nonchalance. “Really?”
He nodded, a sincere smile that told you he meant it. You let yourself loose this time, reciprocating his smile. “I'm honoured,”
“I'm even more honoured.”
Throughout the class, you didn't miss the occasional glances from him and neither did you stop yourself from looking at him. He was much more breathtaking up close. Who were you to deny that?
By the end of the class, the bell rang and everyone started to pack up, some already rushing out in a hurry. You, on the other hand, was too caught up in your headspace to notice Jay was already done tidying up beside you and was waiting for his queue.
“Uh—Y/N?” he tapped you on your shoulder, stealing your attention at once. You stared at him expectantly, blinking with curiosity behind your eyes.
“Yeah?” You dragged the word out slightly, packing your last book into your bag.
“Would you like to go to a party this weekend?”
A party? That'd be your first.
“Where's that? Can I bring my friend too?”
“Yes and it's at Jake's house,” he winced, forgetting you're not one of those frequent party goers. “I'll text you the details—wait, I don't even have your number,” he laughed awkwardly, which only made you smile.
“Real smooth, Jay,” you signalled for his phone, and he grabbed it out of his jeans pocket without saying a word, eyes following your move as you typed in your number.
When you handed his phone back, he didn’t hesitate to press the call button. Obviously, you heard your ringtone coming from your backpack. You glanced at Jay, giving him a face that was saying ‘really?’, quite incredulous that he’d doubted you.
“Just wanted to be sure,” he smiled, scratching the back of his neck out of awkwardness. “I’ll make sure to text you,” he held his phone up, waving it a little and slowly getting up from his seat, to which you followed suit. At that moment, the classroom was already almost empty, so it was just a few lingering students with you and Jay, but it all felt like you were in a completely different universe altogether.
“Cool,”
“Cool,” Jay echoed after you, and you resisted yourself from laughing. Apparently he noticed your tight smile and smiled along with you. Wordlessly, you two communicated through each of your smiles even as you walked side by side out the door.
“Which way are you going?” he was quick to ask, eyes shining with expectations.
“I’m going that way,” you pointed to the right, down the busy corridor.
“Oh,” Jay visibly faltered, the expectations he held behind his gaze were crushed. “I’m heading that way,” he pointed to the left, the opposite direction of where you’re going.
“I guess that’s it for today,” you patted his shoulder, unbeknownst to how Jay had froze under your touch for a second. “Until our next class together, then,”
“See you,” he waved, gradually backing away.
You couldn’t help but grin. “Bye!”
You watched as he walked away, his back now fully facing you. It took you another beat before your feet were willing you away to where you were meant to go. But what you failed to realise as you concentrated on your steps was Jay turning his head back to catch a glimpse of you, his head only filled with the thoughts of you.
He’s so screwed.
Staying at the library was the last resort for you once you got to know Yunjin had an impromptu extra hour class after school. She promised she'd take you to the pool, considering the weather was only getting hotter day by day. But you suppose it'd have to wait for now.
What was worse, the heatwave or high school? Trick question.
The library was mostly empty by this hour, only a couple of students remained to either study or chill around just like you. It was one of those times where you wondered why you didn't explore more. As you wandered along the towering shelves filled with old books, you caught sight of an interesting looking one.
Instinctively, you pulled the book out of the shelf without thinking twice. But what caught your eyes wasn't the cover of the book or the book itself in general. Instead, it was the pair of eyes staring back at you through the small gap from where the book originally sat.
The most surprising bit of all was you knew and recognised who those eyes belonged to. Jay.
Your eyes widened, so did he once he saw your reaction. For some inexplicable reason, you stood up straight, unknowingly fixing your hair out of a nervous habit.
You were nervous? It's just Jay. No, wait, that's probably why. It's Jay. How were you not going to feel nervous around him?
Quick, think! Were you going to find him in the next aisle or run away. Maybe not the latter. You turned on your heel and walked forward, deciding to find Jay and greet him out of courtesy.
You were just about to turn the corner when you stumbled into the man you were looking for, perfect. Actually, not perfect. The moment you crashed into him, you stumbled into his chest and his hands flew up to catch you, the book originally in his possession dropped to the ground with a firm thud.
There you were, literally in his arms and looking frenzied. His wide eyes matched yours. It took a few beats and a moment for your mind to formulate what's happening for you to finally push yourself from him, absolutely flustered from embarrassment.
“Hey,” you dusted your front in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks.
“Hi,” he replied rather breathlessly, mirroring your rosy cheeks.
The book that fell to the ground suddenly became unimportant to Jay, but to you, it was a mark that was burning into the precious floorings. You moved fast and picked up the book, yet you weren't quick to hand it back, instead you took a look at it.
“Pride and Prejudice?” You noted from the old cover, then glanced at him, a glint of interest sparked. “Didn't know you're like that,” you extended the book out to him.
He took the book back into his possession, smiling rather sweetly. “Literature is the death of me,”
“Isn't it a selective subject?”
“It is. I was an idiot for thinking I could hold on,” he rolled his eyes, making you giggle softly.
“I'm sure you will. You're—like—Einstein smart,”
“Are you trying to stroke my ego right now?” He crossed his arms, leaning onto the bookshelf ever so casually.
“No, I'm just pointing it out. You literally rank in the top 5 every year! It's annoying,”
“Is it so?”
“Very much,”
“Should I be flattered? I'm flattered,” he bowed dramatically, unable to hide his smug smile. It was your turn to roll your eyes, shaking your head at him. He only let out a laugh at your reaction. “What are you doing here at this time anyway?”
“Oh—Yunjin, my friend, had a random impromptu class so she had to stay back. I was waiting for her since she’s bringing me to go swim, but now I don’t know if that’s happening,”
“You could always stop by my place for a swim,”
You blinked, head tilting to one side. “What?”
Jay seemed to have become embarrassed judging from the reddening tips of his ears that you were (thankfully) oblivious to. “I have a pool, and my parents are out of town for maybe a few months or so for work, so it’s practically unused,”
“What about your friends? Don’t they go over to swim?”
“They do, but they’re looking to take more advantage of it by wanting to throw a party soon since my parents are away,” he grumbled in the last part.
“Well, are you?”
“I guess? I don’t mind it,” he hummed, bright eyes flickering to you. “Will you come if I do?”
“If I’m invited,”
“Obviously you are,” Jay said matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised. “So what do you say?”
“Sure,”
“Great. I’ll hold you to it,” he snapped his fingers, and was basically beaming now. It only made you form more visible heart eyes. “But for now, I’ll see you at Jake’s party,”
“Deal.”
That day, you left the library with a lovesick smile instead of a book. You didn’t even get annoyed after knowing it was too late for a trip to the pool, and obviously Yunjin caught onto that. On the walk home, you thought about him and the party. Anxiety and anticipation were both building up, until he came up in mind again and everything disappeared.
You got lovestruck and it went straight to your head. It was almost the first time you’ve actually felt the way you’re feeling now, nobody had once made you fully experience every emotion of having a crush in your years in high school. No one was even capable of it, that was until Jay appeared into your life.
Going to bed that same night, you thought of him again. At that point, you wondered if he would materialise in your bedroom from the amount of times you had him in your head. Maybe he’d be accidentally manifested into life.
Tossing and turning, you kicked your feet at the imaginations you had of him. Upon realising your own behaviour, you covered your face with a pillow and screamed into it. Were you crazy? Oh my God, you were!
Then it hit you.
You’re admitting this now. You like Park Jong Seong.
“I can’t believe we’re here,”
Yunjin was currently having the best of her life even though nothing has happened yet and you both had just arrived at Jake’s house.
The walk in was already shocking. On the lawn of Jake’s house were knocked out drunks, then by the door were people making out and doing weird things you didn’t want to think of again. You were surprised that everything happening before you was something you’ve seen in movies and you were actually experiencing that now.
“Is this even … legal?” you glanced around, cringing at the tacky set ups and badly picked music in the background.
“No. But you’ve drunk before, so who are you to say?”
“Touche,”
Wandering further into the house, you realised there were many people here, but you weren't surprised at all. Jake was a well known footballer anyway, how could he not be popular in the first place?
"Y/N!"
At the sound of your name being called, you looked over your shoulder to see Jay approaching you. His eyes carried the same kind of brightness he has around you, the corner of his lips were curved up into a wide smile. Let's not forget how he has his hair styled up at that moment. Was he expecting you to not feel anything?
"Jay! Hey," you waved meekly at him until he was standing before you. You noticed his gaze on your friend who was standing beside you, a look of unfamiliarity clearly written in his expressions. "This is Yunjin, by the way,"
Yunjin and Jay both greeted each other amicably, though a little awkward but it was natural for it to be like that. Jay turned to look at you, eyebrows raised. "This would be a great chance to introduce my friends but—"
"Jay!"
"I take that back,"
You and your friend exchanged a brief look, stifling your laughter at Jay's demeanour. He was flailing his hand to get his friend to come closer, and by then, you could recognise who it was.
"Bro, why were you running around all night? Were you expecting someone—oh, hey," Jake, the host of the party and the popular footballer, had finally taken account of you and your friend's presence. "I'm Jake, nice to meet you,"
"Likewise, I'm Y/N,"
"Yunjin,"
"Y/N and Yunjin, you guys are new faces around here,"
"It's not really our scene," you nudged Yunjin a little, and she nodded in agreement. It's true, you and her equally preferred a night in with a romcom playing than this. But you'd make it an exception this time, and maybe the next time for Jay's party.
"You're always welcomed. Any friend's of Jay or friend's of Jay's friend are welcomed to our party," Jake patted Jay's back, while the latter only rolled his eyes at his friend.
"Jake! Your toilet's clogged—" another one you recognised to be a part of the friend group appeared out of the blue. It was Sunghoon. Star hockey player and basically every girl's crush, he was known for his wits, charming good looks, and crazy hockey skills, duh.
If you told yourself from months back that you'd somehow become friends with Jay and meet his friends, you'd think you're crazy.
"Hey, sorry," Sunghoon winced, but gave Jake a pointed look after. Jake scoffed in annoyance, then left with a huff and a wave of goodbye to you and Yunjin. "Sorry 'bout that, I'm Sunghoon,"
"I'm Yunjin," when did she become this bold? Whatever it was, you were willing to support her.
"I'm Y/N,"
"You're Y/N?" Sunghoon gasped quietly, glancing between you and Jay, interest forming in his head.
Jay slapped the back of Sunghoon's head, and in the midst of the latter's grumbles, he could only smile awkwardly at you. "Shut up," he hissed to Sunghoon.
"First, ouch. Second, whatever," Sunghoon bumped Jay roughly with his shoulder. "Wanna get some drinks?"
"I'm fine, I'll pass. Maybe Yunjin can go along with you?" You eyed Yunjin, and you saw her giving you those 'i owe you my life' type of eyes.
"Sure," Sunghoon smiled at Yunjin, but gave Jay a firm nudge, his gaze alone conveying the message. Apparently bro telepathy was a thing, because in a few seconds, he decided Jay was staying with you and wandered off along with your best friend.
"It's just us two now," you said, as if it wasn't already obvious.
"Yeah," Jay was equally stiff as you were. "Sounds crazy, but do you want to go up to the room? It's a little loud here,"
"I don't think it's 'a little' but totally, sure. Lead the way," you figured Jay was familiar with his way since it was quite literally his best friend's house.
He wordlessly took your hand and intertwined it with his. It was so casual and sudden that it was unexpected, knocking the breath out of you. He made sure you were walking in front of him the whole time, hand never leaving yours and only gripping tighter as he held you close to avoid the crowd.
In a world of boys, he was a gentleman.
He eventually brought you to a quiet room down the hall upstairs, into a bedroom that was decorated much simpler. You guessed it was the guest room, it would've made most sense.
"Do you normally bring girls here?"
Jay's face contorted into a mix of shock and disbelief, arms thrown into the air. "What—no!"
"Really?"
"What makes you think that?"
You shrugged, taking a seat on the bed. "I don't know? Well, everyone wants you—"
That was your crime.
"—you're popular, smart, cute, kind and—am I talking too much?" You paused, feeling the bed dip beneath you as Jay joined your side.
"I like it," he hummed, turning to look at you. "I like you,"
You blinked. One second. Two seconds.
"What?" Your eyes were widening, whereas Jay was just staring back calmly with an unwavering smile.
"I like you, Y/N," the confession rolled off his tongue like a secret he has been keeping for too long. The eyes that were searching for yours were filled with longing and hope.
Was this really happening right now?
"I like you too, Jay,"
It felt like the world had stopped and it was just you and him there. You were taking in his confession and so was he. It might've been silent but it was comfortable.
"Can I—" he leaned in, but stopping just an inch away from your lips. You could feel his breath on yours, noses making contact. That was how close he was.
"Yeah,"
Just before Jay could press his lips against yours, the door burst open and you jumped, literally. You heard a thud too, and realised Jay was on the floor.
You turned to look at the door, finding the culprit standing there awkwardly. It was Jake, and he, too, was self aware that he had crashed an important private moment.
"Uh—I just wanted to find Jay…"
"Jake, if you don't close that door right now, I swear—"
Jay didn't even need to finish his sentence when Jake slammed the door shut, yelling out 'sorry's and saying he'd be waiting for Jay down the hall. Talk about awkward encounters.
You locked eyes with Jay, who looked thoroughly embarrassed but also humoured. It didn't take long before you burst out laughing and he joined along. Soon, he returned to his original spot next to you too.
"That was … bad,"
"It was," you were fidgeting with your hands, suddenly nervous. "I guess the timing wasn't right,"
"It really wasn't,"
Silence fell between the two of you, and there was something in your mind that was bugging you. "Does this mean we're …?" You didn't need to finish what you were saying for Jay to get the meaning.
"I mean, do you want to try it out first? We don't need to rush into anything, don't even need to be official. I just wanted you to know how I feel,"
"I can do slow," you nodded, catching a brief glimpse of Jay.
"I'll always be waiting for you," Jay took your hand in his, and that was when you finally had the courage to meet his eyes again. "Whenever you're ready."
People say dating the popular guy was a bad idea, but for once, you were willing to let loose and give your heart a go.
Who knew the start of your newfound romance would soon blossom into a whirlwind of tears, love, and scandalous teen romance.
"So you're dating him now?"
Having Yunjin scream into your ear in the morning during the first period was not surprising. Maybe telling her everything over the phone and leaving her hanging wasn't the best idea. It wasn't your fault she was hungover anyway.
"Shush! Do you want everyone to know?"
"I'm sure everyone knows by now,"
You gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
"Jake kinda saw you guys, then he blabbered it to Sunghoon, and I guess others heard it because he was not quiet about it,"
Jake. You heaved a sigh, shaking your head a bit. "We're not boyfriend girlfriend official, but just … trying things out, you know?"
"I know," Yunjin let out a satisfied hum. "I think he'd be great for you,"
"Really?"
"He's a nice guy, Y/N. Judging from his reputation, he seems like a good man," Yunjin practically gave you her seal of approval, and it left you feeling happy for the rest of the period.
That was until lunch break where everything fell apart way too fast.
Walking out to the cafeteria, you didn't think much about anything else as you listened to Yunjin rant about her latest online purchase. But the moment you heard Jay's name along with yours in passing, your ears perked up. You thought nothing of it, leading up to Kim Minjeong confronting you head on and you knew that's when you should start worrying.
"Are you … the one with Jay?"
You glanced at Yunjin for a split second, anxiety bubbling in your stomach. "I guess?"
"You're a slut. Don't you know I have a thing for him? There's something call girl code—"
"Woah woah, wait, what? Look, we don't even know you like that," Yunjin quickly butt in upon seeing you fall silent.
"Everyone knows me! Everyone knows Jay and I had a thing! What is it you want? His popularity? Money—"
"Shut up,"
Speaking of the devil.
"You okay?" Jay appeared by your side, gaze softening once it landed on you. "I was searching for you, didn't know this is happening,"
"I—"
"Jay! What are you doing? Why are you with her—"
"Can you just quit it? We've been through this many times, Minjeong. I don't like you and I never have, why can't you just accept it?" He sounded exasperated, almost as if he had been putting up with this for ages. "Put my girl's name out of your mouth and leave her out of this. She's the one I want, not you,"
The only way you could describe Minjeong's face there was rageful. Her expressions were contorted and her lips were etched into a frown. She knew she couldn't defend herself further, so she eventually left with a huff.
It was quite unsalvageable at that point and you felt yourself breaking down from the inside out. Even when Jay called your name, you only shrugged him off and brushed past him. The worst part of all: he didn't run after you either.
Great. Now you were going to spend the rest of the day mulling in bed.
That didn't last long either. Once you got into bed, ready to sleep away from the day's incident and think back to Yunjin's pep talk, you heard your phone buzz. Not once, but multiple times. Who was sending messages at that time? Of course, it had to be him.
jjongster: hey, can we please talk?
jjongster: like right now
you: right now?
jjongster: yeah, send me wherever you're most convenient to meet
This was stupid. Sneaking out of your room when it's dark out and meeting Jay down the street from your house. All when your emotions were not stable and set yet. You've sent him the address and now he's waiting there, standing by his car like a dream.
"Hey," he called out softly as you walked closer to him.
"Hi," you hated this, the sudden stiffness and awkwardness that got between you two, you shouldn't be suffering because of it.
"Sorry for asking you to come out this late," he was quick to apologise, taking a step closer to you. He was always so nice, so kind and loving. "I–it's just eating me up, and I really wanted to tell you—speak to you—in person. I wanted to see you,"
"It's okay, I get it. I'm sorry too, for leaving so abrupt and ignoring you. That was wrong of me to do," you were feeling guilty about what you did earlier, letting your emotions get the best of you and neglecting Jay.
"I understand, don't worry. Are you feeling okay? I didn't expect that to happen, I'm sorry,"
"Don't apologise, it's not on you," you brushed away the strand of hair that constantly fell onto your face, occasionally avoiding his stare. "And I don't know. I don't know how or what to feel,"
He frowned. "Tell me, tell me what's on your mind,"
"Jay, what if this was all a bad choice? You're you, and I'm … me. You're the golden boy, everyone wants you! Now they're talking behind our backs and all I do is hear rumours that aren't true, names being called …"
"It's not a bad choice, Y/N! I want you … so much. No one else compares. Can't you see that?" Jay moved closer to you, his hands now on both your shoulders. "Don't push me away now,"
Jay was taking his chance, and you thought it was a big mistake, but he doesn’t. It might blow up in his pretty face, and you didn’t tell him straight on to do it anyway, yet you knew he was going to and he wasn’t going to care what others think.
"I could never," you shook your head, welcoming his embrace as he pulled you in, and before you knew it, the tears you held in all day started streaming down your cheeks.
He held you there on the pavement as you broke down in his arms, his hold on you never once loosened. There that night, under the starry sky and illuminating street lights was a connection and trust formed unknowingly between you and him, love that blossomed like a flower in spring.
"Gosh, I probably look stupid right now crying," you chuckled, pushing yourself slightly off of him to glance at his face.
"You look pretty, gorgeous to me," his thumb travelled to your cheeks, wiping away the tears that remained.
"I shouldn't have said that … us being a bad choice," you said quietly, cursing internally that you've even doubted it in the first place. "I trust you, Jay, I do,"
"Thank you," his hand travelled down to hold onto yours, a smile ever so soft. "We'll go at your pace. Whenever you're ready,"
"Whenever I'm ready." you repeated, unable to stop yourself from smiling either.
Jay knew he was already in deep, experiencing feelings he's never felt before in his eighteen years of life, but seeing you then, made him realise maybe young love was something to believe in. For once, he had a love to fight for.
Jay was true to his words. He, in fact, did throw a party at his place. But what he didn't tell you was the cleaning up, and boy, was it a headache.
Once everyone had filed out a little after midnight, it was only you and Jay left. It was peaceful. In an empty house that had music blasting in the background, you and Jay each struggled to pick up all the rubbish strewn. You liked this. You like him.
It might've taken a while, but eventually you had the place cleaned, or at least, rubbish-less. There was probably more deep cleaning needed (that was for the next day to worry about). However, for now, it was finally just the two of you, and a whole lot of space with nothing to do.
"Wanna go for a dip?"
"Now?" You glanced at the clock, then back at Jay, who was trying to convince you with his starry eyes and nodding his head like an overly enthusiastic puppy. "Fine."
You didn't even know why you agreed to it. It was a lucky decision you brought an extra pair of everything since you were staying over.
Jay was already in the pool, floating around when you walked out. The light coming from the pool was the only thing providing light. Blue reflection and wet messy hair made Jay increasingly dreamy, till the point where you stood there for a bit too long and he had to call for you.
"Coming!" You huffed, but the moment you reached the edge of the pool, you found yourself stuck and feeling nervous.
The sight of Jay's bare front and your lack of clothing was nerve wracking to even think about. Your mind was in a fuzz even as you accepted his hand and let him pull you in, the cool water invading your senses.
His arms came to wrap around your waist, the only thing you could hold for support was his bicep, so that was what you reached for. Jay didn't mind, he only held you tighter, a conspiring glare glazed over his eyes.
"Hey," he tilted his head, gaze travelling all over your features. You were close, very close. It was almost as if you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.
"Hi," you whispered back. Your hand was on its own journey, absentmindedly moving to his shoulder.
You should be dying out of anxiety by now, or even freak the fuck out, yet, you successfully kept your composure, in front of a hot man. Hooray!
"How's the water? I swear it's clean. I gated it off before the party,"
You laughed, remembering how Jake was so insistent on keeping the pool part of the party. He claimed that a pool party was way cooler than just a regular party. Jay was not convinced.
"It's nice. Chilly,"
Jay nodded for a bit, pursing his lips, thinking for a beat. "I'm glad you were here today,"
"Why?"
"I just like having you here, that's all,"
"You're so cheesy, it's annoying," you joked lightheartedly, knowing you secretly enjoyed this side of him.
"Whatever, you tolerate it anyway,"
He was right, you did. Over the few months, you've grown to memorise and remember every part of Jay. His habits, his likings, et cetera. It was crazy how your relationship grew with time, but the much crazier part was the fact that you two had not gone official yet.
"Against my will,"
"That's a lie,"
"Whatever you say," you said in a sing-song tone, which only made Jay roll his eyes, reaching up to pinch your cheek.
His gaze never left yours, not even once. It was trained on you, always had been and always will be. The eventual silence got to you, and it was just the distant noise of the water that filled the air.
It was one of those moments where you think 'was this real'. Spoiler: it was. He was testing the waters, you could tell, and you let him.
Jay inched a little closer, eyes flickering between you and your lips. It was obvious that he was nervous from the shaky breath and wavering confidence, but it only made you more relieved.
You let out a breath, meeting his lips halfway. At first, he was shocked, you were too, but for different reasons. Kissing him was a breath of fresh air. His lips moved against yours naturally as if it was his first instinct, like he has been waiting for this for ages, which was not entirely wrong. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and you swore you felt yourself imploding.
The moment you two finally pulled away to catch your breath, you could only stare at him and hold onto him tighter as if you were afraid he might not be real. Jay chased after your lips, pressing haste pecks and smiling into every one of them. It was infectious, everything about him was and it had you intoxicated.
You realised at that second that you’d be willing to go against the world for him if you had to. Even if someone called you a ‘slut’ again, maybe it’d be worth it for once, and you knew he’d always be right there to defend you.
“I'm ready,”
“Hm?” he was still in a haze, eyes staring back at you with more than love in them.
“I’m ready to be yours, Jay, I’m serious,”
“You are?”
He has never been so relieved and happy leading up till that moment, just having you in his arms was about to make him burst. All he needed was to see you nod and watch your lips mouthing ‘yes’ as a confirmation before lifting you up, arms tight around you.
Under the moonlit swimming pool, you’ve never been happier.
The night might’ve already ended for others, but to you and Jay, it was still ongoing, and you wished for it to not end. So, there you were, in his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he lay beside you. There was barely any space between you and him, his hand brushed against yours from time to time, neither of you dared to move from your original position.
Half asleep, you were taking your time to do something. You took the chance to move your hand closer and gently made contact with his. It didn’t even take a beat for him to lace his fingers with yours, his grip ever so firm, calloused skin against yours. You could tell Jay was equally drifting in and out of sleep as you were, mind in a haze but awake enough to comprehend that you were next to him and not a figment of his imagination.
“I’m in love with you,”
It was faint, almost a whisper, but a mumble that was audible came from Jay. You turned your head to look at him, even under the dim lights, you were able to see that smile from him. The one that always made him look like a lovesick fool, that his friend would claim he’d have whenever he talked about you; it was a smile only reserved for you, and you were the cause of it too.
“Goodnight,” he mumbled out, eyes remained shut, but the smile stayed.
“Goodnight.”
There in the bed slept two young lovers, a fresh love that was unbreakable that connected the two of you together, all of it was fated. From the clinic to now, it might’ve started at the wrong place but it surely was at the right time, and you were glad to be next to him, hand in hand, anticipating what the future had in store for you two.
( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )
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a healer's touch
pairing: Azriel x fem reader
word count: 5.8k
warnings: mentions of injury and blood, a small amount of angst, lots of fluff
summary: as a healer you meet many people as part of your profession but when you are asked to heal a certain spymaster you are unprepared for the connection that comes with it.
a/n: hello, I'm new here! I had this in my head so needed to write to down. I hope you enjoy.
It had been a regular, if somewhat busy, morning at the healer's centre in Velaris. There had been a steady queue of people coming in and out to collect medicine, ask about a rash that concerned them or even pop in to express their thanks for healing a family member. You hummed a soft, familiar tune as you mixed herbs to create a salve for one of your regular patients whose old, aching bones continuously bothered them.
It was days like this that reminded you of why you loved being a healer so much.
"Girl! Come with me. We're needed at the House of Wind." The calmness that had settled over the room was banished as Madja, the head healer, your mentor and distant aunt on your mother's side, bustled into the workroom to grab her box of salves, potions and herbs she kept on hand for moments like this.
"T-the House of Wind?" You squeaked as you set down your mortar and pestle, absentmindedly brushing your suddenly sweaty hands on your apron.
"Yes," Madja sighed, "I curse the day I gave Rhysand permission to call for me personally anytime any of his friends get themselves into trouble." The words may have been harsh, but there was a warm fondness to her tone, and you knew she fussed over the Inner Circle like they were her own children.
"But me? Are you sure?" You may have been apprenticing under Madja for nearly a century at this point, but she, your peers, and the people of Velaris consider you a skilled healer in your own right. However, this was new and somewhat scary. You had never set foot into the House of Wind and barely interacted with the Inner Circle, whom you revered and respected for the future they were building across Prythian. You knew it was irrational, but you were terrified of attending to them and your healer skills fleeing at the very moment you needed them most.
Madja stopped fussing and turned towards you, understanding flickering across her features as she took in your hands, wringing nervously in front of you.
"Y/N, you are my best student, my successor - you are ready for this." Her voice was firm in her conviction, but her smile was soft as she fondly brushed a stray strand of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, "Now come, get your things; I dread to think what they've gotten up to up there!"
The following five minutes passed in a blur as you shucked off your apron, grabbed your bag similar to the one Madja carried and met the two Illyrian lieutenants who bundled you up in their arms and flew you to the House.
From the entryway alone, you knew the House of Wind was the most beautiful home you had ever stepped foot in. Madja chuckled beside you and didn't give you time to appreciate the room's beauty before she walked ahead of you and gestured for you to follow. Your heart was thumping rapidly in your chest as you swung your head from left to right and walked through the lovely hallways, trying to capture every ornate detail that decorated the walls. You must have been staring wide-eyed because Madja gently bumped her shoulder into yours, reminding you to remain professional.
It wasn't long before she led you up a series of stairs and stepped outside into the sun's warm rays. For a moment, you let your head tip back slightly, closing your eyes to let the rays dance along your face. Down in the city, you very rarely got to feel the sun on your skin like this. There was always the long shadow of a building to obscure the sun, or you were simply too busy rushing from patient to patient to fully enjoy it.
You used the moment to centre yourself, reminding yourself of your extensive training and ability and capability to heal almost any wound. You were the head healer-in-training, and you could do this.
You let your eyes adjust to the scene before you as you took in the outside training centre. The floor was covered in what you assumed was red dust, coating the hem of your dress and clinging to the brown leather of your slippers. Racks of weapons lined the walls, a ring was set up in the centre clearly for sparring, and ropes and punch bags were littered across the space, too. You could see that the training session was still ongoing, and you could hear people shouting suggestions to each other over the sound of swords clashing, but your attention snagged on the two males you saw grumbling next to each other. You knew who they were immediately and swallowed thickly as you realised it was them you had been summoned to heal.
"What trouble have you two found yourself in now?" Madja called as she walked towards the pair of them.
"It isn't our fault!" The one you immediately recognised as Cassian exclaimed.
"It never is." Madja teased back.
"We saw the guards in the Summer Court using a new training technique, and we decided to try it out…it didn't go well."
"Evidently not. You tend to Azriel, I'll take this one." Madja sighed, already moving away from you to deal with Cassian.
You faintly heard Cassian make a witty comment behind you before it was cut off with a hiss as Madja laid a hand on the cut slicing his chest. However, you were distracted as you turned to face the other Illyrian sporting a nasty injury, and made direct eye contact with those beautiful, disconcerting, ice-cold hazel eyes. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you made your way over to him, your heart slamming into your chest.
"Hi, I'm Y/N." You cursed yourself for sounding breathless and for the blush that no doubt was creeping up your neck.
"I'm Azriel." His deep baritone voice sent a shiver of delight down your spine and knocked the rest of your breath from you.
"I know." You smiled at him, and he smiled very faintly back, a soft huff leaving his lips as you set your bag down and reached out your hand to him, "May I take a look?"
Early on in your training, you discovered that if your patient was conscious and capable of answering questions, you would ask consent to touch them and walk them through anything you were about to do. You found this calmed them down and created a sense of trust.
Azriel blinked at the question, not used to someone with such a soft demeanour looking after him. He didn't respond but simply extended his arm towards you. Gently, like he could bolt at any moment, you held his wrist in your hand and slowly tilted his arm to get a look at the gash you could see through his leathers.
A soft hum escaped your lips as you saw the slash in his leathers and the blood leaking through the cut to his skin. It didn't look too deep but would undoubtedly need healing if he needed to use any of his weapons anytime soon.
"I'm going to remove your leathers. Is that ok?" You asked, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him again, ready for the way his gaze knocked the breath out of you again. He simply nodded, and you smiled at him before you bent your head back to the task at hand.
Azriel barely breathed as he watched you unbuckle the strap at his wrists and then push the leathers off his arm. He had never experienced such softness from a healer or anyone before. He allowed himself to look at you, to let his eyes roam over your beautiful face. His eyes snagged on that strand of hair that had fallen from the bun that rested above the nape of your neck, and he had to physically stop himself from reaching out and discovering how soft your hair felt between his scarred fingers. He almost gasped when your fingers finally touched his bare skin, and a jolt of electricity zipped through his body at the contact.
"Oh, this doesn't look too deep; that's good!" you mumbled as you gently sponged away the blood from around the cut to get a better look at it. "Ok, I'm going to close the cut. You probably know this, but it may tingle."
The shadowsinger watched as your brows furrowed, and the hand that wasn't clutching his wrist hovered above the cut on his arm. Warmth spread down that cut, turning into a delightful tingle reverberating around his body. He had always hated this moment of being healed, cringing at the way his skin would knit together before him, almost against his will. However, he didn't feel anything as he watched the cut on his arm disappear and marvelled at the almost pleasant way your magic brushed against his.
"Thank you." Azriel sounded breathless.
"You are most welcome." He watched, unable to move, as your hands slipped from his forearm to gently trace the scars around his hand. Azriel was often jumpy around his hands, hating the way they looked, but he couldn't help marvelling at the way you touched them as if you weren't afraid or sad—merely curious: "Do your hands get stiff at all?"
"Sometimes after a long day of training or when it's cold." You could feel his eyes on you as you continued to examine his hands. You had noticed them when you had first looked at his injury, having heard of them through various whispers and rumours that filtered through Velaris. What you hadn't been prepared for was how beautiful they were. To you, the scars that had been left behind, were a testament to his strength.
"Hmmm, I thought as much," you said, looking up from his hands to meet his gaze. "I have a salve that will help if you would like it?"
"I would like that very much." His answer was very soft, and it caused the breath to escape your lungs once again.
"Pop down to the clinic when you're next in the city. I'll have it ready to collect from tomorrow. Or just send word, and I will ask a courier to deliver it to you. I know how busy you are!" You could tell you were rambling now, and from the quirk of his lips, you were also blushing furiously.
"I'll collect it myself, Y/N, I wouldn't want to trouble you."
"It's no trouble at all." You whispered.
"Y/N! Can you also check over this Valkyrie once you're done with the spymaster, please?" Madja's voice broke through the peaceful silence you and the spymaster were enjoying—both of you shocked but not displeased by this steady connection you seemed to have.
"Of course, I'll be right there!" You turned back to Azriel with an apologetic smile, "I'd best go; it was lovely to meet you, Azriel."
He watched as you gathered your supplies, brushing that strand of hair behind your ears, "And you, Y/N. I'll see you in the clinic."
As you walked away to tend to one of the young females who was smiling sheepishly at you, you couldn't help the butterflies that flew about in your stomach at the thought of seeing Azriel again.
…
You hadn't expected to see him walking through the door to the healer's centre the next day. So when you heard the soft tinkle of the bell above the door and turned around to greet whoever had walked through, your heart leapt into your throat, and your breath left your lungs as you beheld the Illyrian warrior who had wandered into your sanctum.
"Azriel." You whispered, similar shy smiles falling on both of your lips.
"I hope this is a good time? I wasn't sure when would be best to pop in."
"Oh no! This is great. I finished your salve an hour ago, so it's ready for you to take home." You grabbed the small bottle you had filled not long ago off the counter and passed it over to him, "Rub this liberally over your hands when they are stiff. You can also use it as a preventative measure on days you know you might need it. Let me know if you need any more and how you get on, and we can adjust some of the ingredients."
"Thank you again, Y/N," You had to hold your body incredibly still to avoid the shiver that wanted to wander down your spine at the sound of your name rolling off Azriel's tongue.
The pair of you stared at each other as silence once again settled over the room—a comfortable silence, one you didn't feel the need to fill. It was refreshing to feel that with someone, not having to say something to fill an awkward void. It was peaceful, and it surprised you to feel that with someone like Azriel, someone who was feared in every Court across Prythian, whose stories were used by parents to get their children to behave.
"When do you finish your shift?" He finally asked, breaking that comfortable silence.
"Oh! I actually finished ten minutes ago - you caught me as I was closing up."
"In that case, can I get you dinner? To say thank you for the healing yesterday and the salve." Azriel looked almost shy as he shifted on his feet, having to clear his throat a couple of times.
"Oh, you don't have to do that!" You were sure a vibrant blush was sweeping up your neck, and along your cheeks, at the soft smile the spymaster was giving you.
"I'd like to." His soft voice made your heart melt, and in that moment, you knew you'd give anything to spend even a second more in his presence.
"I would like that. I know a restaurant just a few minutes away that I've been meaning to try?"
His lips turned up into a broad smile, "Perfect. Lead the way."
…
If you had told yourself when you had joined the healer's centre all those years ago that it would lead to a friendship with your High Lord's spymaster, you would have laughed till you were hoarse. But that lovely meal you shared with Azriel in that charming restaurant along the Sidra was not the last.
Azriel had taken it upon himself a couple of times a week to drop by the centre - either just as you were about to take your lunch break or just as you were finishing up for the evening - to take you out for a meal. Together, you had explored almost every cafe, restaurant, and picnic spot on this side of the city, and each time, you had left beaming ear to ear.
He had also taken it upon himself to either call down to the centre or request you come to the House of Wind to personally attend to the injuries he received from training or whilst away on missions. You had started to suspect that he called you even for injuries he could heal himself, and you blushed furiously every time you thought about it but refused to call him out on it, even jokingly. You lived every day for those visits, for those moments between the two of you, the times after the healing when you would sit together and talk, and the easy companionship you found in Azriel.
Madja and Cassian had caught on to it, and both just smiled knowing looks when you told them you were off to the House of Wind or when you passed them in the hallway. Your frequent visits also meant that you had been introduced to Azriel's family, the Inner Circle of the Night Court. Slowly, over the months, you and Azriel developed your friendship, and you also began to cultivate friendships with the others, particularly Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian.
Cassian made you laugh with his jokes, Rhys and you bonded over your shared ambition for the future you both so desperately wanted to create, and Feyre had become a dear friend who sometimes winnowed into your small apartment in the city to have girls' nights.
You couldn't believe your luck at how your life had pivoted in the last couple of months, the happiness you now felt. All thanks to one person.
And one evening, after healing a nasty gash on Az's leg, you sat on the sofa next to him with the rest of his family scattered around you, a glass of wine in your hand and Az's wing hovering behind you to block out the cool breeze coming in through the open window you realised just much you loved him.
…
"How many times a day do I use it?" the elderly patient in front of you asked again. You gave them a soft smile before reaching for a scrap of paper and pen beside you and scribbling the instructions down for them.
"Twice a day, once when you wake up and then again before you go to bed," you handed the piece of paper over to them, and they offered you a very grateful smile. "If you see no improvements within three days, come back, and we'll try something else."
"Thank you, Y/N, truly thank you." You waved them off with a fond smile as they shuffled out of the centre.
You were just turning to offer a smile and welcome to the next person who stood in line at the large counter in the centre of the room when the main door to the centre burst open, and Cassian stood in the doorway. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. His body was heaving, and he was out of breath as if he had rushed to find you.
"It's Azriel," he thundered. Your blood ran cold, and your heart stopped dead in your chest before starting up at a thunderous pace. Immediately, you allowed your calm healer's mind to take over, silencing the roaring in your ears and the panic clawing up your throat.
"Marta! I need you to take over at the counter. If it's urgent and you can't help, call for Sara. If it's something that can wait, take note of their name and where they live, and I will personally visit them in the next couple of days. Is that ok?" You didn't wait for a reply, throwing the apron off your body and grabbing the box of supplies you always kept by your feet when on counter duty in case you needed to rush off to a patient before diving around the counter towards Cassian.
He threw an arm over your shoulder in greeting and comfort and to steer you through the crowd to a section of the street that was less occupied so he could fly you both up the House of Wind.
"How bad is it?" You mumbled as you felt his strong hands cup underneath your knees and around your back, your arms reaching up to loop around his neck.
"Bad," he grunted as he soared into the air. Being in Cassian's arms as he flew was so different from being in Azriel's. He was warm like the spymaster, but the desire to explore the air with the male wasn't there. The joy you often took in this short journey was missing.
Cassian landed heavily on the tiled floor of the entryway, back where you had stood all those months ago when you had first been summoned. The House was deathly quiet as you made the familiar walk through hallways you barely acknowledged towards the bedroom Azriel always occupied.
“Y/N.” Rhys breathed your name as you strolled towards him, and you noticed how Feyre, Mor and Nesta stood around the open door, each looking more nervous than the last.
"Rhys," you acknowledged your High Lord, someone who had become your friend in the last couple of months, "is he in there?" You asked, his head dipping in a single nod as you slipped past him into the room.
A sob almost wrenched itself from your throat as your eyes finally landed on Azriel. He was deathly pale, his body sprawled atop the covers of his bed, his wings flared out beneath him. You stared at him for a second, silently willing his chest to rise and fall with breath, and when it did, you almost screamed to whichever God would listen. A part of you couldn't help but acknowledge that he still looked handsome in this state, the proud line of his nose, the sensual curve of his lips - even as blood dripped from the huge wound in his chest and pooled on the bedsheets underneath him.
"Where is Madja?" Rhys quietly asked as you stepped into the room and dropped your supplies by the side of the bed, your hands shaking as you began to raise them to assess Azriel's condition.
"Away tending to a terminally ill family member." You tightly replied.
"Shit." Shit, indeed, you wanted to grumble, but you were also suddenly, unspeakably angry.
"With all due respect, Rhys, I have been trained personally by Madja for over a century, and I have been tending to this male's wounds personally for the last couple of months. I know his body and how it heals better than I know my own. I will take a look, and if it is beyond my capabilities, we will call for Madja, but I promise you now I will heal him." Everyone froze in the wake of your outburst, but you kept your eyes locked on the High Lord of the Night Court, a male you had grown increasingly fond of as you spent more time with Az and his family. He simply looked at you, a beat of understanding flashing in his eyes before he turned to his mate standing beside him, reaching out to take her hand and smiling softly at her before turning back to you.
"My apologies, Y/N. Please, do what you do best." His words were soft and apologetic, and you simply nodded at him before turning back to the male sprawled on the bed before you.
Your heart broke to see him in such a state, the man you had grown to love.
"What do you need?" Feyre softly asked behind you. Suddenly, you were incredibly grateful that Az had friends who cared about him so deeply and honoured that he had introduced you to them, too, and brought you into the lovely warmth of friendship.
"Two bowls of water—one warm and the other cool—and some rags, please, Fey. I also need someone to help me get him out of his leathers. Can someone close all of the curtains and drapes in this room and get some faelights in here, please?" Immediately, Cassian was in front of you, starting at the buckles on his wrists, ankles, and chest.
"Why?" Someone asked behind you, you thought it was Mor.
"His shadows. They'll help heal him, but we need to create the environment in which they thrive best: darkness." Both you and Az had tested the theory over the last couple of months and you had found he was stronger and healed quicker when his shadows were around. It was something you so desperately wanted to study further but didn't want to overstep a boundary.
Finally, between you and his best friend, you managed to wrangle Azriel out of his leathers, careful not to jostle him too much to not irritate his wound.
"How bad is it?" Cassian asked, parroting back to you the question you had asked him not ten minutes ago but what felt like hours. You ignored him for a second, taking a look at the hole in Az's chest, punched just above his heart and cutting through those beautiful Illriyan tattoos before reaching your hand out to hover over the wound to get a better feel of it.
"Bad," you mumbled, "but easily enough to heal." A series of sighs cut through the tension in the room as every member of the Inner Circle let out a breath they had all been collectively holding. "He was stabbed from the front with a blade tipped with an ash arrow, I believe. He pulled the blade from his body, but it has left some splinters behind, draining his powers and stopping him from healing. Infection has set in so I think this happened a couple of days ago, he must have gained enough strength to winnow back here before passing out."
"Do what you need to, Y/N." Rhys's voice was soft but had the undercurrent of a High Lord's command—heal my friend, he commanded. You nodded once before rolling up your sleeves and turning back to Azriel.
For hours, you worked at healing Az, praying to the Mother throughout it all that he would pull through - if only so you could tell him how much you loved him.
…
There was nothing gentle about the way Azriel surfaced to consciousness. One moment he was swimming in darkness, and the next, his eyes shot open, and he sucked in a huge faltering breath. After years of meticulous training, his senses immediately began to take in his surroundings, and his brain was already calculating his escape route. It was only when he took in the soft bed beneath him, the familiar decorations in the room, and the female sat curled up in a chair beside him that he could recognise that he was home. That he was safe.
Safe.
He felt the twinge in his chest. He knew the moment he moved, a biting pain would radiate throughout his body, so for the moment, he just lay there. His eyes stayed focused on you, on the way you had clearly pushed a chair as close as you could to his bedside. Your hair piled up in a messy bun on the top of your head—tendrils escaping and framing your beautiful face—and a damp rag hung limply from your hand.
His shadows flitted around him, whispering your name to him in a fond way he had never heard them speak of another before. They told him how you had rushed to his side, commanded the room, and stood up for yourself and your capabilities. How you had spent hours upon hours pulling splinters out of the wound and then encouraging his skin to knit together, to heal. How you had nearly spent your entire magic to save him and had then stayed and made sure he battled the infection, sponging cool water onto his skin, talking to him as if he was conscious.
“Y/N.” He whispered, his voice hoarse from misuse and lack of water. Immediately, your eyelashes fluttered and opened, scanning the room before landing on his awake form. Now that your beautiful eyes were open, he could see the smudge of purple underneath each one, and a pang vibrated through his chest at the thought of this incredible female staying by his side even when you were exhausted.
"Az." You whispered back, tears begin to shimmer in your eyes as you took in the shadowsinger finally awake. Still pale and far from healed entirely, but awake.
He winced slightly as he reached out and hesitated somewhat before gently cupping your jaw, stroking his thumb along your cheek and catching the tears slipping free.
"Thank you." You knew his shadows had whispered to him that you had almost depleted yourself for him and risked yourself to heal him.
"You scared me." His face crumpled at your words as he saw in your eyes the terror you went through for those hours you weren't sure he would make it through. Guilt ate at him for not spotting the trap that had been laid for him.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was ambushed." He continued to brush his thumb over your skin, and you let the feeling ground you and reassure you that he was here and alive.
"I don't need to know," he heard what you were saying, that you didn't want to know, "do you want to sit up?"
"Yes, please." You moved swiftly and efficiently, having done this for so many patients before Az. You gently scooped under his arms and lifted his weight so he could move to a sitting position. He winced as the movement tugged on his newly stitched-together skin, but with your expert handling, he wasn't in too much pain. "How long was I out for?"
"A day and a half."
"Shit. I need to debrief with Rhys." He made to sit up further, to swing his legs over the side of his bed, but your hand was instantly there on his shoulder - softly but firmly pushing back.
"Later. Once you've had some water and food, and I've had a chance to assess your wound again."
"Yes, ma'am." He smirked and gently took the hand that was on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and running his thumb comfortingly over your knuckles.
Another soft silence settled over you both, and Azriel found himself glancing down at your connected hands, "That day we met was the first time someone had dared to look closely at my hands. It was also the first time I saw someone examine them and not flinch."
"Your hands are beautiful, Az." Your voice was soft, still shaky from crying.
"You don't need to say that Y/N."
"No, I'm serious," you frowned, "your hands are beautiful, and they are strong - just like you." You both watched as you trailed your fingers across the back of his hands, tracing the lines of scar tissue. "I was so scared when Cassian burst into the centre, but that didn't match the terror when I saw you unconscious, and I didn't know if I would get a chance to tell you how much you mean to me." He could hear the emotion building in your voice again.
"Come here, sweetheart." His face was soft as he held his arm out and motioned for you to come closer. A sob lodged itself from your throat as you shifted, taking care of his wings and injury, to slip onto the bed and move into the warm space of Azriel's body. Immediately, you curled into his side, carefully slipping a hand around his waist to hold him closer. Az curled his arm around you, and the feeling of being in his arms, being held by him, had your heart soaring in your chest.
"Did it snap in place for you?" he asked softly, and you knew what he was asking—he was tugging at that soft thread that now sat between you.
"When I saw you lying there unconscious. You?" That moment when your eyes had landed on Azriel on his bed, true terror had speared through you as that bond had snapped into place, and you had realised it was your mate lying there in the space between life and death.
"That first day, when you held my hands so gently and offered me that salve." His voice held so much emotion, and you felt warmth trickle down that thread and disperse throughout your body as you both acknowledged the bond.
"Az." He closed his eyes at the sound of his name on your tongue, and he could never get tired of hearing the way you said it as you propped yourself up to look at him.
"We can talk about it later, about what you want to do and how we move forward. You don't have to make any decisions now." His hand stroked the skin on your exposed arm, the other finally brushing that strand of hair out of your eyes. A frown fell on your face at his words.
"I hope you are talking about how we accept the mating bond and not whether I want to accept it in the first place. I am honoured to be your mate, Azriel, and to get the chance to love you for the rest of our lives." He was sure he had stopped breathing, convinced he was still dreaming. That you would be willing to spend the rest of your life with him, to love him the way he loved you so fiercely.
"Are you sure?" His voice sounded small, and you couldn't help the smile that danced on your lips.
"I have never been more sure of something in my life, Az. You deserve this type of love. Let me give it to you." You whispered as you closed the space between you two. Your eyes scanned his face, ready to pull away if he gave the signal that he wasn't ready. But as his breath fanned your lips, your eyes locked, and the hand that had brushed your hair aside cupped your jaw firmly in his large palm, as he surged forward to capture your lips in his.
Immediately, fireworks erupted behind your eyes at the delicious feeling of his lips moving against yours, wave after wave of pleasure rolling down your spine as you tilted your head back to give him more access. A soft moan slipped past your lips when Azriel gently nibbled on your bottom lip, causing a gasp, which he swallowed expertly with his mouth. You felt Azriel's hand slip from your jaw to cup the back of your neck, holding you firmly as the kiss transformed from something sweet into something else, something more wonton, something close to fire.
Far too quickly for your liking, Azriel pulled away, gasping for air. Your eyes fluttered open as he rested his forehead against yours, a soft grin dancing on both of your lips as you made eye contact and saw the emotion swimming in both of your eyes. Azriel watched, entranced, as he swiped his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. Your eyelids fluttered as a soft moan escaped again between your lips; Azriel wondered if that was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.
"My mate. I have waited for over five hundred years for you." He whispered into the heated air between you.
"I hope I was worth the wait." You joked. Azriel couldn't help but close the space again at your words to press his lips to yours again in a soft kiss this time.
"You definitely are." Your toes curled at his tone, and as his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke.
"The healer and the spymaster… there's a story there, I think." You grinned as you brushed his hair back off his forehead, wanting to take in every inch of emotion that he was freely displaying on his face.
"And we will write it together," he promised, and you couldn't help the matching grins on your faces as you leant forward again to join your lips together in another spectacular kiss—knowing that for the rest of your very long life, you would never get tired of kissing Azriel, your mate.
#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azriel one shot#azriel imagine#azriel fanfiction#azriel x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar fanfic#azriel spymaster#acotar oneshot#acotar imagine#Rhysand#Cassian#Feyre
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“trust issues”
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
genre: strangers/friends to lovers, fluff, smut
summary: you’ve spent the past two years preaching about how much you enjoy being single and that dating was never a concern for you, until you meet jeon jungkook, the sweetest guy around, who completely changes that idea for you.
word count: 8.5k
warnings: nsfw, contains smut, alcohol consumption, unprotected s*x, oral (f receiving), brief bl*wjob, spanking, rough s*x, creampies, c*m eating, f*ngering, brief h*ndjob, heavy making out
Laughter fills the quiet room of your apartment as you and your two closest friends, Chae and Jennie, catch up on the latest gossip you had to share while sharing drinks and overall having a good time. It'd been too long since you'd went out of your way to have a full girls night, it felt good to finally have that closure as you certainly weren't receiving it from anyone else.
You were, what do they call it? Celibate, you guess you could say. You were painfully single. Dating never turned out right for you which lead you to wherever you were now, single for two years and counting. You never understood why dating was such a big fuss within your friend group, you'd been pestered multiples times to even go out and 'catch a dick' but you felt weirded out by the thought. You were a strong believer of destiny and if you were to meet someone you'd want it to reach you first instead of joining dating apps.
So when the topic of dating inevitably came up, you almost rolled your eyes unintentionally, ready to hear what every single friend of yours had been telling you for the past two years come from both Jennie and Chae's mouth as they collectively turned to you. "You know, Y/N", Jennie started, "It's been awhile since I've seen you with a man. Don't you think it's time to overcome this dating break of yours and meet someone new? You never know, your soulmate could be right around the corner."
You instantly waved her off, "Thank you, Jen, but I'm fine. I don't understand why everyone assumes you need to date to be happy, I'm just fine on my own."
"There's more to it than being happy. I mean, having a partner is like having a best friend who you can love and share affection with at the same time." Chae butts in, before adding, "and sex—most people love sex, don't deny it."
All you could do was laugh softly and scoff a little at her vulgar choice of words, you didn't disagree with her but you also brushed it off being the stubborn girl you were, you knew what you wanted and didn't feel the need to take in their words when it didn't mean anything to you. After some continuous bickering they finally decided to let the topic go after finally accepting the fact that you wouldn't budge, sharing detailed stories about their own personal lives as more laughter chimed in. You were already far gone at that point, lost in your own world and thoughts as you stared down at your feet situated on the floor, your mood had dropped slightly from the conversation prior to this one.
It wasn't that it was Chae nor Jennie's fault, it was the fact the topic of dating had been brought up countless times to you and you gave the same response each time so you never understood why you were constantly bugged.
"I'm fine by myself."
"I'm just not interested."
"Dating doesn't concern me."
Those words played in your head and while it was true you also knew deep down what the major problem surrounding you not wanting to date was.
The cause was undoubtedly your past and last relationship with your former boyfriend, Eunwoo. It all started 5 years ago when you met and even from your first interaction with him you were starstruck. He was utterly gorgeous, not only that but his personality was perfect, he was sweet, patient and caring towards you, he treated you the best you'd ever been treated and always had you feeling like you were still talking to your crush 2 years into your relationship. Then when the 3rd year hit, something in him just drastically switched, it was like he was an entirely different person around you and you couldn't bare it. He was irritable, finding all the many different reasons to somehow get mad at you and when he wasn't mad he was simply neutral, never acknowledging your affection or 'I love you's.' The most you got back in response was a nonchalant 'You too.'
Something wasn't right and you knew it, if he couldn't even bring himself to tell you he loves you then why the hell was he still with you? Your gut told you he was too busy giving someone else what he was supposed to give to you though you were too in denial. Flash forward a few weeks, you come home early from work one night and there he was, with another girl. Your heart had shattered and you resorted to kicking him out the apartment, now 2 years later and you feel like you still may be wallowing in self pity with the whole dating hiatus concept.
Honestly, fuck it. If your friends were right after all then you supposed only time would tell, you still weren't interested in looking for anyone and it was going to stay that way.
Your friends had already left by the next morning, you were stationed in the kitchen, about to make breakfast until you opened the fridge and realized you were out of eggs. "For fuck's sake", you cursed beneath your breath, shutting it again before walking towards your apartment door and pulling your jacket off the rack hanging up. Luckily for you a drive to the grocery store was about five minutes away, you hurried over to your car, unlocked it and made your way there.
You instantly scurried over to the aisle where the eggs were, grabbing the box and already preparing to walk to the cashier before a voice interrupts you, stopping you in your tracks. "In a rush, huh?" The male laughs breathlessly, you turn back around to catch a glimpse of him and—damn. He was attractive, his eyes creasing as he smiled down at you, dark bangs adorning his face and a sleeve tattoo covering his arm. You simply nodded, "Yeah, I don't need anything else, plus I'm very hungry." He paused for a moment, you assumed your little interaction was over before he continued, "That's a shame, you looked like you needed help, I was already willing." You couldn't help but smile softly at his words, shaking your head, "Nope, but I appreciate the kindness, __” “Jungkook." He quickly adds, "Jungkook." You repeat, "I'm Y/N."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N, I hope to see you around again some time", Jungkook flashes you a bunny grin and from that you can see he also has a lip piercing slightly hidden away, you must admit, it suited him. You agree with a subtle bow of your head, "You too!", and with an exchanged 'bye' you both proceeded to approach your designated areas, shaking off the cute yet awkward interaction you just had as you place the one thing you brought on the cashier's desk. You quickly paid and swiftly exited the store, completely unaware of Jungkook's gaze on your back.
"Dude, why didn't you get her number?" Jungkook's best friend, Jimin, exclaims as he nudges the younger on his shoulder before taking a sip of his drink. "I don't know, it felt strange to ask. Chances are we might meet again and hopefully in a better environment, that's when I'll shoot my shot." He shakes his head almost disappointedly before continuing to blankly stare at the TV in front of him. "Why did you even put this shit on? You know I'm not a fan of reality shows." Jungkook asks the other as 'Love Island' blasts on the TV, the loud intro resonating through the room. Jimin shrugs his shoulders and calmly responds, "It's entertaining at least, and it might help with your poor flirting skills", the last sentence earned a piercing glare from Jungkook, narrowing his eyes at Jimin before standing up and walking into the kitchen. "Whatever, I'm gonna grab a drink."
Jimin waves the other off and continues focusing his attention purely on the screen in front of him, Jungkook pouring himself a glass of water in the meantime, thoughts of you swarming his mind as he fought to get rid of them. He was finding it almost impossible, your conversation, if you could even call it that, was weeks ago and by now he knew you'd forgotten about it but he hadn't. You were just so cute, gorgeous even, he was intrigued by you and if you were in a better setting he knew by now you'd have his number in your phone and he'd be getting to know you. The literal only thing he knew about you was that you liked eggs, and that did absolutely nothing for him.
He was determined, thoughts like these weren't a normal occurrence for him so you were really special, whatever it took to meet you again, he didn't care, it was going to happen. Fuck, why didn't he give you his number? Jimin was right.
"Dude, get in here!" He heard from the living room, heading back inside with his glass of water in hand, taking a small sip before sitting back down beside the other with a questioning, raised eyebrow. "What is it?", he asked, to which Jimin replied, "We're going clubbing. You needa take your mind off this shit, maybe even find a girl whilst you're at it." Jungkook audibly scoffed, Jimin's sudden request catching him off guard although he agreed with a shrug of his shoulders, "Alright, but maybe not the last part."
You were seated on your couch, sprawled out lazily as you flicked through channels before you heard your phone ping, sitting upright to grab it off the table and read what was displayed on the screen.
chae: get ready, you're going out with us
you: when did i agree to this? and who is us?
chae: it's gonna be fun, y/n. just me, you, jen and lisa.
You sighed, it wouldn't kill to go out, right? It'd been awhile, you used to love partying but recently you've found yourself turning any invite down, something was telling you this'd be different and it'd do you good, so you sat in thought before typing a response.
you: fine, what time will u be here?
chae: 7 on the dot
Setting your phone aside, you gathered the strength to hop off your couch and make your way upstairs to your bedroom, you had a few dresses you could wear for tonight that you found pretty so you rummaged through your closet before finding an ideal one. You held it in front of your body to get a clearer perspective of how'd you look in it before stepping out of your silk pajamas and slipping the dress on, adjusting it a little before taking one last look at yourself with a wide smile. You had no clue why you hadn't worn this before, it complimented you well and hugged your curves perfectly, it wasn't too revealing but it had a slit that started mid thigh.
You took a quick glimpse at your clock as it read 6:05 pm, that gave you just under an hour to complete your makeup which you figured would be enough time considering you wanted to go for a rather simplistic look, so without another thought you swiftly took a seat in front of your mirror and got started.
Time passed by quicker than you'd expected and you were startled to hear your doorbell ringing from downstairs, luckily for you you'd already finished up your look and after one last brief moment of checking yourself out, you were taking your bag, keys and phone with you and rushing down the steps to your front door. You got into your heels before opening the door for Chae who welcomed you with a bright smile, looking like a proud sister.
"You look fucking hot, Y/N", she complimented, earning a blush from you before you shook your head at her words and pulled her in for a warm hug, "So do you, now let's get going, I wanna last awhile before my feet start hurting." She nodded in agreement and brought you to the car parked outside where your two other friends, Jennie and Lisa were situated inside, you joined them and Chae began driving shortly after.
Loud music rang through your ears as soon as the four of you entered the club, you'd forgotten how different this was but you'd be lying if you said your adrenaline wasn't already pumping, your inner party girl side really revealing itself when you quickly found yourself walking towards the bar for your first drink of the night. You weren't certain of how long you were gonna last until the alcohol kicks in and you also weren't planning on drinking a lot, but it wouldn't kill to have one or two.
Lisa came over to join you, making herself comfortable on the high stool beside you, you'd only noticed her once she greeted you with an attempted, loud, "Are you having fun?", which was almost impossible considering how much the music drowned out her words. You turned your head in her direction before offering her a contented smile, "So far, yeah. We haven’t been here long enough for me to tell.” You spoke out, glancing around the area before resting your elbow on the bar and your chin on your palm.
“You wanna take a shot of tequila?” Lisa asked, to which you blatantly agreed, “fuck it.” The both of you ordered a shot and on the count of 3, downing it as you hissed simultaneously, the burning sensation wasn’t at all pleasant. You both went on to carry a conversation after that before Lisa got up to dance after asking you if it was okay, you wanted her to have fun, you were sure you’d find someone else to hang out with either way, you were a social butterfly at heart.
Jungkook and Jimin stumbled into the club, they were hardly dressed for the occasion as they both agreed to head out as soon as Jimin proposed the idea, Jungkook scrunched his nose ever so slightly before turning to the older who seemed to already be on his way to a table. He followed after him and they took a seat, “I’ll go get us drinks”, the younger declared and got up from the seat he had hardly sat down on before making his way over to the bar.
Unnoticeably he had taken the seat beside you, you were too busy being in your own world to notice him as he ordered for him and Jimin, he gazed at the woman next to him before looking back at the bar, then doing a double take because he swore the girl seemed all too familiar. His lips parted slowly as he caught a better glimpse of you and, to his surprise, it in fact was you. He almost couldn’t believe it for some reason despite the town you lived in being relatively small and the club popular, he just didn’t think he was going to see you again.
“Y/N!” He called out beside you, catching your attention and making you face him, your lips instantly curving up into a smile as you see the male in front of you. You were slightly shocked he remembered you considering your interaction at the grocery store was awhile ago and you barely had a real conversation, but his thoughtfulness meant a lot to you.
“Hey, Jungkook! I didn’t expect to see you here. How are you?” You spoke softly but loud enough for him to hear you, “I’m good, better now you’re here.” He gave you that same smile you adored the first time you saw, his words also making you feel somewhat special. “How are you?” Jungkook added, “I’ve been okay. I was kinda forced to come to this party but hey, it’s not too bad now.” You emphasized the last part to make him aware it was about him, feeling somewhat shy.
“Not gonna lie, my friend also forced me here—well, dragged, I did agree but it wasn’t my idea”, he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he eyed the beaming room, why did every time you meet have to be in such an inconvenient place?
Jungkook then remembered he was here with Jimin, the bartender placing the drinks he’d ordered in front of him and then he gazed back at you, “I’ll be right back, don’t want him getting mad at me”, you nodded understandably and watched Jungkook scurry with the drinks in his hands to what seemed to be the table he and his friend were at. Jimin could tell just by his gaze something had happened and Jungkook was already starting as he set the drinks down, not taking a seat because he knew he’d be going back to you.
“Dude, she’s here, the girl I was telling you about. I can’t pass this opportunity up so I’m gonna get her number this time, go have fun.” Jungkook rushed back to you and Jimin just shrugged, “more drinks for me.”
He made his way through the crowd to find you still in your seat as expected, he spoke up before you could, “You wanna get out of here? I’m not really feeling it.” You nodded, already getting out of your seat, “I’m not either, but I don’t have a ride, do you?”
Jungkook took your hand and lead you out the club, his voice finally clear as he replied, “My car’s over here, I’ll take you home.” You thanked him and shuffled into the passenger’s seat as he made his way to the driver’s, starting up the car’s engine and beginning to drive off while asking you for your location and heading towards there once you gave him it. You both talked about whatever, bonding over different things this time and actually forming the chance to get to know each other more, you were warming up to Jungkook and it felt like he was the same.
His car eventually stopped outside your house, you thanked him once again before opening the door, he called out to you. Now was his chance.
“Here, give me your phone, I’m gonna give you my number just incase you ever wanna talk”, you opened your bag to take your phone out before displaying it in front of him and allowing him to type his number in, you checked back and giggled inaudibly as you read the name he’d put in for himself: “Kook.”
You waved him off goodbye, reminding him to text you when he made it home safe to which he agreed before driving away, leading you to stumble into your apartment after managing to unlock it after a few failed attempts before instantly finding your way to your couch and slumping on it, ripping your heels off that were as you expected, painfully causing your feet to ache. You’d wasted no time to switch your TV back on and play one of your comfort shows, Modern Family, as background noise while you went upstairs to change back into your comfiest pair of pajamas.
Being at home like this is what you enjoyed the most, you appreciated the small amount of time you spent at the club since it got you out with your friends and also granted you the opportunity to meet Jungkook once again, who you actually had been thinking about after that one interaction you two shared but the thought eventually slipped from your mind since you figured you maybe weren’t going to meet again like he said after all, but you were wrong.
You learned a few key details about Jungkook from the conversation you had during the car ride. He was 25, a year older than you, he lived alone and had a doberman and you so happened to be a dog lover so you bonded over that, he likes art and dancing and he’s currently single, something you were relieved about because you were the only single friend in your group and you didn’t want the joys of another taken person flaunting their relationship.
You heard your phone buzz on the table opposite your couch as you came back downstairs in your silky pajamas, biting your lip to hide your obvious smile once you saw Jungkook was the one who’d texted you.
kook: made it home safe, thank you for tonight :)
kook: he was waiting for me
kook: [attachment: image]
A picture of his dog, Bam, lights up your screen and you let out a small laugh seeing the dog laying beside the door as if he was in fact waiting for Jungkook, you respond with an ‘awww’ before thanking him yet again for the ride home, you both begin a conversation from that point until you feel yourself yawning, indicating you were tired and ready to go to bed for the night. It was already 10 pm, you’d been chatting to Jungkook through messages and exchanging silly memes with each other for so long you hadn’t even noticed how quick time passed by. You dimmed the lights in your house and made your way upstairs to your bedroom, shuffling onto your mattress and beneath the bedsheets, receiving a sweet goodnight message from Jungkook and with that you set your phone aside and closed your eyes, dozing off the happiest you’ve been in awhile.
Friday, 3:30 pm.
“Finally”, you sigh. You quickly tore your apron off and hung it up on the rack before clocking out of work for the day, you were about to leave the coffee shop before a certain someone walked in, greeting you with a wide smile and you were definitely surprised to see him. “Kook, what are you doing here?” You asked, he held his hand up to his chest, pretending to be offended, “I like coffee, you know”, you playfully rolled your eyes and you were about to turn around to take his order before he stopped you, “I’m kidding, I’m not here for coffee, I’m here to see you.” You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t flutter, you let out a small laugh, “You showed up as soon as I clocked out, that’s dedication.”
You walk out from the bar situated in front of you to stand directly in front of him, reaching up to pinch his cheek teasingly, “But I appreciate it, thank you for coming here.” He smiles and nods his head at you before speaking once again, “also, I came to ask, are you interested in going to the movies with me this weekend? I wanna see the new Guardians of the Galaxy.” His words almost earned a chuckle out of you, you weren’t the biggest fan but with his doe eyes and promising expression, you couldn’t turn him down. “Of course, Kook, I’d love to.”
Did this mean you two were going on a date? Maybe it didn’t, you don’t know how Jungkook viewed you but for now you both were just friends, and friends can go and see a movie together alone without it being a date.
Jungkook’s face lit up in excitement, he mumbled a soft ‘yes’ beneath his breath before glancing around the small coffee shop, it was particularly empty so he decided to lead you to a table for two and treat you with a coffee for yourself. You couldn’t fathom how he was so sweet, undeniably attractive and overall perfect yet still single? Jungkook was utterly charming, you found yourself involuntarily admiring him as he got up to order you a drink and you quickly snapped out of it once you realized what you were doing. There’s no way you were falling for him, right? Just months ago you were preaching about how you wanted to stay single and it was gonna stay that way and yet here Jungkook was, completely changing that for you.
You doubt Jungkook even saw you in that way, every kind gesture of his seemed to be friendly to you, unless you were just completely unaware. Perhaps you were in denial? Dating has always been such an no-go for you, it’s like you were off limits but not at the same time, you have said that when the time comes you’ll let it be and this might be the time you were referring to you’re experiencing right now. Over the past month, you and Jungkook have grown closer and closer and you’ve been texting nonstop, you know so much about him as he does with you, you haven’t had many chances to see each other though which is why you appreciated him coming to your workplace.
Now on Saturday you were finally being gifted the chance to spend a day with this man and you were most definitely excited about it, it’d maybe put your thoughts of possibly falling for him at ease.
You snapped out of it as he came back with the drink in his hand and that infamous bunny smile plastered on his face, placing it down in front of you, you offered a small ‘thank you’ before taking it in your own hand and beginning to quietly sip on it. You eventually finished and the two of you were standing up and exiting the building, calling it a day, he made sure to tell you he’d be picking you up at 5:30 tomorrow and you made a mental note of that. You rushed to your car and headed inside before driving back to your apartment after a long, boring day (aside from seeing Jungkook), and you spent a lot of time pondering about tomorrow rather than doing your usual activities.
The next morning arrived quickly, it was also the day of your ‘date’ with Jungkook, or platonic hanging out, whatever it was. You were over the moon as you got out of bed, and you were never typically a morning person so that spoke for itself. Jungkook had already sent you his daily ‘good morning’ text that he always manages to send before you wake up, his small efforts to make you happy genuinely meant a lot to you because everything he did was just so well thought out. You had a lot of time before he was going to arrive to pick you up so you didn’t need to worry, making your way downstairs and preparing your breakfast.
Jungkook was still happy over the fact you even said yes to watching this movie with him, he didn’t know you were a fan of Guardians of the Galaxy, were you?
Whatever, he thought to himself. Jungkook wasn’t going to lie, he’d been thinking about you way more often recently and it seemed like his brain was just accumulated with thoughts of nothing but you. He felt bad, almost. You had no idea about his secret crush on you, he didn’t want to say anything or make a move just yet despite you being in a friendship for quite awhile now. He couldn’t tell how you felt about him, he wanted to wait for an occasion like a date, you’d be alone and spending quality time together and that in his opinion was a great way to start something more. Jimin sometimes would urge Jungkook to take it a step further but he never complied, it’s not that he was nervous—maybe he was—he didn’t know, he was conflicted.
He wasn’t conflicted about his feelings towards you, he knows he likes you and he’s known it ever since he saw you in that grocery store, he was conflicted about your feelings towards him. You flirt over text, you compliment each other and now you’re getting ready to see a movie together, you could’ve shut him down but you didn’t. Then again, you may just see him as a friend and this could be a friendly date to you, that’s why he doesn’t know what to do.
Jungkook sighed to himself softly, he checked his phone incase there were any new texts from you before deciding to just set it down and go and take a shower, already preparing for the date 5 hours prior.
5:25 pm.
“He’s gonna be here any second now”, you mumbled to yourself, you checked your outfit in the mirror and made any necessary readjustments. You decided to wear a white crop-top and a miniskirt, throwing on your jacket to complete the look before shuffling into your shoes. That’s when you heard your doorbell ringing, quickly standing up from the couch to open it and you were met with a cheerful Jungkook, “Hi”, he spoke softly, to which you replied back, “Hey”, you gave him a smile and he helped you outside, his hand splayed on your back.
“You looked beautiful, by the way”, you heard him address, your cheeks flared with a slight tint of blush as you thanked him, he lead you to the car and began driving you two to the theatre.
You both arrived and you followed Jungkook inside as he fisted his hands inside his pockets, waiting in the small line for the tickets to the movie as you glanced at the different foods they had on the menu, Jungkook turning his head in your direction before he asked, “You want anything? Popcorn?”, you suddenly felt shy and also bad as he had already offered to pay for the movie and now additionally snacks so you shook your head.
“You sure?”, he spoke again, “I don’t mind. It’s my treat, after all.” To which you finally agreed and asked for a simple small popcorn but he still ordered you and himself a drink alongside it, paying for the tickets as well. You both walked to the designated room for the movie and took your seats, he’d picked ones that were right at the back of the theatre and you weren’t complaining because you hated sitting up close. You got the best view from back here.
After awhile, the lights dim and the screen extends, Jungkook’s already shuffling around in anticipation while occasionally taking a sip of his drink and you can’t help but find him adorable, you didn’t mean to focus on him more than the movie. You hoped he hadn’t noticed you staring so you quickly focused on the big screen in front of you. You hear laughs and different reactions from the audience at every other scene, you find yourself getting comfortable in your seat and eventually you’re drawn into the movie just like everybody else.
Jungkook was stealing glances at you as well, you looked too damn good in your outfit, he could see your curves as the skirt hugged them perfectly and then his eyes trailed further up to your lips, he wanted to kiss them. He was content just seeing you enjoying the movie, you were like his own personal movie as he found himself enjoying watching you way more. Was he being weird? Probably. Did he care? Not really.
You go to glance at him only to realize he already was, you make eye contact and for a moment it’s awkward but Jungkook just silently laughs and smiles at you, turning back to the movie. You were blushing by that point, trying to get over your own thoughts as you fixated your gaze on the screen.
By the time the movie was over, Jungkook was emotional and so were you, but he definitely expressed it more as he walked out the room with you, going on about his favorite parts of the movie and how much of a wreck it made him. You chuckled at how dramatic he was, he eventually came down from it and he yet again splayed a hand across your back, giving it a gentle rub before walking you out the theatre completely. “Thank you for seeing that with me, you’re honestly the best.”
“You’re the best for taking me, Kook. I enjoyed it a lot.” You rested your head against his shoulder tiredly, the movie was pretty damn long so by the time you two were out it was already 8 pm. He ended up taking you back home and you continuously thanked him for the amazing night, you were definitely planning on doing this again with him some time. You entered your apartment, replaying the moments in your head. He made you so happy, you couldn’t believe how much your boring life had changed upon meeting Jungkook, he appreciated you and showed you what it’s like to be cherished. He was always so sweet to you, Jungkook had a heart of gold and constantly went out of his way to do things he knew would make you happy.
He’d asked you what your favorite type of flowers were one day and after you replied with ‘roses’, he showed up at your workplace with a bouquet full of them. No guy has ever bought you flowers, not even Eunwoo, that had you thinking back on your last relationship and suddenly you were distraught again.
Eunwoo was sweet at first as well, then it went downhill. That wasn’t to say that Jungkook would be the same but this is exactly why you had trouble with dating after him, you had trust issues. You were convinced Jungkook was the sweetest guy and wouldn’t do anything to hurt you but you also felt that way with Eunwoo at first. You didn’t wanna paint Jungkook out to be any type of bad guy because he’s shown that he’s nothing but good to you, you’re just an overthinker and you can’t help but get flashbacks of your stupid ex-boyfriend whenever something like this happens to you.
You didn’t want Jungkook to have to put up with this if you ever even reached the point of a relationship. Your issues weren’t his problem, it’s not his fault you’re scared to commit.
You narrowed your eyebrows as you thought of Eunwoo again, if you never met him things would’ve been fine. Now he’s probably out there living his best life and you’re still stuck on the damage he gave you.
But when you thought of Jungkook, a whole new wave of happiness swarmed through your body and everything about him put you at ease, you felt safe around him, he treated you like you were the only girl in the world. You had to admit, you were falling for him, and that’s something you thought would never happen with anyone.
“I’m falling for him.” You declared, almost a little nervously as you glanced back and forth between Chae and Jennie.
You’re surprised when Jennie exclaims, “See! I told you so. I knew you liked him, this is perfect. I’ve always wanted you to be with someone just like Jungkook.” And you turned to Chae who only shrugs as though she was silently agreeing with Jennie. Their reactions do make you laugh but you also roll your eyes slightly because you’d been over this with them before, that you don’t want to date and you don’t need a man and here you were, a few months later, stating you’d met someone.
They knew about Jungkook already, after you left them at that party you had to apologize and Lisa caught you out, telling the whole groupchat she noticed you walking away with a guy by your side so then you had to explain the full story in detail. They were happy for you but it was also a semi “I told you so” moment which had you scoffing, you didn’t like defeat and them taunting you only made it worse. Your friends were practically like the sisters you never had, they were constantly looking out for you so if Jungkook was approved by them you figured that had to mean something good. You don’t think they’ve ever met him and if they have then you certainly don’t remember, but given the amount of stories you’ve told them, they have a good enough vision of who he is and what he acts like.
You really didn’t think in a million years you’d be here with your friends at your apartment, admitting you finally like somebody but that’s just life. You never know what’s around the corner, you certainly didn’t expect Jungkook.
Jungkook was on the same page as you, he was telling Jimin all sorts of things about you, what your favorite movie was, your favorite book, food, things to eat, songs—he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t say he was in love but he was just so infatuated by you, Jimin didn’t seem to mind Jungkook’s chattering as he was his personal wingman after all and this is what he’s always wanted for his younger friend. He loved seeing him happy even if he enjoyed teasing him about it at times.
“You’re obsessed, bro”, Jimin snorted, Jungkook shot him a glare, “I’m not, I just like her a lot. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
A few days went by, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and you instantly knew who it was, swiping upwards on your screen to open the message as a smile spread across your lips.
kook: can i come over?
kook: i miss you
You replied with a ‘yes’ and then you were sat on your couch awaiting his arrival. Jungkook had been visiting more frequently recently, your feelings for each other were still unknown but your friends most definitely knew, you both had no idea you’d been talking about how much you like one another and yet you still haven’t had the guts to say it upfront.
It wasn’t long until you heard a knock on your front door, you got up to answer and expectedly you were greeted by Jungkook, you stepped aside to welcome him in before heading back over to your place on the couch, offering him the seat beside you. He sat down and the couch slightly dipped from the added weight, he subconsciously wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you inched yourself closer towards him.
“Wanna watch a movie?” You asked as you turned to look up at him, he responded with a small hum, “Sure, do you have Netflix?” You nodded and clicked the Netflix option on your controller before flicking through different movies to watch, you just settled on a random one that seemed funny to you and Jungkook didn’t mind that. You didn’t have to necessarily be talking to him to enjoy his presence, you appreciated just silently cuddling like this on the couch while watching a movie.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched, though, moving your head from your position to gaze up at Jungkook and as you thought, you were correct. He was staring at you and he didn’t bother to look away even after you caught him, you nervously laughed and mumbled out a quiet, “what?”, to which he didn’t answer at first but after a few moments he spoke up.
“You’re just so beautiful, Y/N. And I mean that.” You swallowed harshly at his words, trying to suppress your smile but of course you failed and gave him a wide grin—he wasn’t done yet, though. “Ever since I first laid my eyes on you, I’ve felt things I’ve never felt before and I know it’s taken me awhile to say this but, I do like you.”
You didn’t even know how to respond, the only thing you could think of was to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, which you did.
Jungkook was quick to return it, you could sense his eagerness just by having his lips on yours and you loved it, you fluttered your eyes shut in contentment while deepening the kiss gradually, throwing a leg over his knee and he easily obliged, grabbing onto your thigh to forcefully prop you on top of his lap. Your lips meshed with one another’s perfectly, you let out a small gasp as he sucked on your bottom lip and slipped his tongue inside due to your mouth falling open, you slid your arms from around his neck down to his chest and finally they found a place on his cheeks.
He knitted his eyebrows slightly, pulling back to catch his breath and also mumble out, “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”
You barely made it inside your room before the door was being slammed shut and Jungkook was using his strength to pull you into his chest, leaning down to reconnect your lips into another messy kiss, you couldn’t get enough of each other. He lead you towards the bed by pushing you back step by step until you eventually stumbled and fell onto the mattress, Jungkook swiftly climbing on top of you with his lips still pressed against yours. His hands roamed your body, feeling every curve he’d been oh so desperate to touch and now he finally was, he finally had you and he wasn’t going to let you go. He’d spent months thinking about you, jerking off to the thought of you, now that you were underneath him he wanted to do everything he’d dreamed of.
Jungkook was the first to break the long lasting kiss, the both of you catching your breaths while he was already in a rush to remove his shirt, impatiently undoing the buttons one by one until he finally managed to slide it down his arms and your thighs were already clenching at just the sight of his toned abs. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, sliding a hand beneath the expanse of your back to lift you up and carefully roll your panties down your legs with the other, your skirt coming off next. You spread your legs for him, causing him to groan softly as he positioned himself in front of you with his face hovering in front of your pussy and lower body almost off the bed. “Been dreaming of this pussy for so long”, he sighed out quietly, “You don’t know how much I’ve craved to be inside of you, Y/N.”
His words made you whimper softly, you were practically begging for him at this point as you eased your pussy closer to his face and he took the hint, burying his face between your thighs and already lapping his tongue over your entire cunt. He stopped at your clit and began teasing it with the tip of his tongue at a slow pace, you whined lowly and arched your back, a hand coming down to tangle within his hair as he worked his mouth along your pussy perfectly.
“You taste so fucking sweet”, he mumbled against your cunt, sliding his tongue between your folds and collecting your essence with it before wrapping his lips around your clit and hollowing his cheeks ever so slightly as he sucked, making your pussy a complete mess. His drool seeped down his chin and landed on different parts of your cunt, meshing with your own slick and making you so unbelievably wet. Jungkook released a breathy moan at your taste, relishing in it every time he brought his tongue back up to meet your clit, his lips continuing to suck before he eventually drew back and slid his ring and middle finger inside of you.
The unexpected action caused your back to arch even higher, his fingers reached parts of you you didn’t know were capable of reaching but Jungkook made it work, curling them on every thrust in while diving back down to continue mercilessly lapping his tongue over your pussy. You were a moaning mess beneath him and you were positive his tongue would make you cum soon enough, your hand desperately grasped at his hair and you unnoticeably pushed him even further into your cunt which made him release a low chuckle.
You lost all composure when Jungkook brought a third finger up, you were so wet he managed to slide it in effortlessly and thrust them all at once in a repetitive rhythm that had you gasping for air, his tongue doing absolute wonders on your clit not making it any easier for you and before you knew it, you were clenching around his digits and cumming hard, your legs shaking intensely for a brief moment.
Jungkook was already in the process of unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants down impatiently, releasing his hard cock, taking himself in his own hand and giving himself a few pumps before sitting upright on the bed, discarding his clothes and kicking them off his ankles completely as he positioned himself in front of you.
“Shit, I need you so bad. I can’t wait any longer.” Jungkook whispered out quietly, a quiet hiss following from the pleasure he was already receiving from stroking his cock at a slow pace.
“Please”, you managed to mumble out, hands weakly coming up to slip your top off and unclip your bra, exposing yourself completely to the man in front of you. His gaze fell darker than it already was, cupping both your tits in his hands and thoroughly massaging them before releasing his grasp to dip his head down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, nuzzling his face against your breast simultaneously while sucking. You bit your lip softly and rested your hand on the back of his head, the other coming down to pump his cock for him which made him growl and draw back.
He gently removed your hand off his cock, if you jerked him off he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long and he wanted to cum inside of you. You thought he was about to enter you until you were abruptly flipped over onto your stomach, you felt a hard spank across your ass which made you dig your nails into the bedsheets and whine quietly.
“Up”, Jungkook commanded, his tone had dropped a few octaves lower which made you excited. You did as he told you, arching your back in the air for him with a sway of your hips that had him clicking his tongue. He rested a hand on your waist for support, inching himself closer to you, he was on his knees behind you and now he was dangerously close because you could feel his tip poking your entrance from behind. You were growing impatient, you were waiting him to slide into you already and—
Your thoughts were cut off as soon as you felt his thick cock filling you up, he had completely bottomed out and shoved himself into you all the way, earning a breathy, loud moan from you. He barely granted you with enough time to adjust to his size before pulling out and slamming back in again, he set this repetitive rhythm of drawing back almost all the way just to shut you up with his dick again and it had your toes curling. He hit all the right spots inside you, his hips rocking forward into yours deeply and his tip reaching your gspot effortlessly, you weren’t sure you were going to last long from how hard and well he was fucking you.
He unexpectedly struck another hard slap against your ass and you let out another needy whine, Jungkook was pounding away at your pussy and you heard him occasionally grunt beneath his breath. “Fuck”, he cursed out, “You feel so fucking good around me, so tight.” You purposely clenched at his words and it made him groan quietly, snapping his hips forward in order to forcefully fuck his way through your walls and all you could do was take it, allowing him to use you as he pleased.
Jungkook brought a hand down between where you were connected and he felt around your clit for a moment before dipping his fingers between your folds and deliberately pressing against it, rubbing your clit in a circular motion and applying pressure to make you feel it properly. The stimulation on your clit and the way his cock was ruining your insides was all too much for you, you felt another orgasm coming on and you were just going to let it happen.
He halted for a moment as he was buried all the way inside of you, teasingly rotating his hips and you swore you almost came on the spot, he proceeded with his reckless pace on your cunt and his fingers continued caressing your clit in that same circular motion and with a few more hard thrusts, you were coming undone within seconds beneath him, your pussy contracting around his cock as another orgasm hits you. Jungkook pulled out slowly and flipped you onto your back again, “Wanna see your pretty face when I cum in you”, he murmured out as he leaned down to connect your lips again, you weren’t even sure if you could call this a kiss from how messy it was as he smothered his lips against your own, his hips driving forward which lead to his cock sinking impossibly deeper into you and before you knew it, he was pounding into your cunt once again.
Jungkook traveled a hand down the expanse of your thighs before grabbing onto one and effortlessly throwing it around his waist, the new angle allowing him to thrust further into you, you moaned weakly against his lips as he quietly shushed you and gave you rough, senseless strokes. He released a string of curses as he felt his own high approaching, sitting upright and settling both hands on your waist instead, leaving your leg to dangle around his hips without any support, you weren’t sure if you could keep it up for much longer.
His head hung low, his jaw clenching tightly to suppress the loud moan aching to escape his throat, giving you precisely harder and deeper thrusts until a particular one had him reaching his high, finally spilling his cum inside your pussy with a dragged out, pleasured sigh. He felt himself gradually softening, pulling out before curling his finger in a ‘come here’ motion and you took the hint, crawling towards him on your knees, “Clean me up, baby.”
You wrapped your lips around his tip and made sure to drain the remains of his cum out, lapping them up with your tongue and swallowing all of it. You earned a breathless ‘good girl’ from him, you didn’t stop your movements on his dick and you even went as far as to push your head further down, almost turning it into a blowjob until he stopped you and collapsed beside you on the bed.
“I’m gonna need awhile to recover from that.” Jungkook joked, you giggled softly and laid next to him, hugging his larger body against yours and making yourself comfortable in his arms as he wrapped his around your shoulders like he always does.
“Y/N?” Jungkook spoke out, you hummed in question and he hesitantly continued after a small pause, “I think after that, it’s only right if I ask you the question.”
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
The wide grin on your face was enough of an answer to him, but he still felt relieved when he heard you say, “Of course I will, dummy.”
You reached up to give him a peck on the lips before resting your head against his shoulder, you both dozed off like that, cradled in each other’s arms and now official.
You never would’ve thought you’d end up in this situation.
But one thing you do know, is that you love Jungkook.
And Jungkook loves you.
#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagines#bts imagines#jungkook scenarios#bts scenarios
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hey mae! it’s been awhile since i’ve sent an ask but im always reading your work girl! i love how you write tbh. if you’re up to it do you think you could write something with poly marauders, where the reader has trouble eating and making themself eat due to poor appetite. my appetite really does come and go and ever since covid (maybe before) it’s like eating makes me feel revolted. sometimes i just don’t feel like eating bc of other things like depression, adhd, anxiety. i was just wondering if you could write something with the boys helping out the reader with finding out what sounds good, cooking, and eating if possible. sometimes having someone around to talk to and hang out with makes it so much easier to deal -🌶️
Hey Pepper, thank you sm! And thanks for being patient with me <3
cw: lack of appetite, mention of skipping meals
poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words
The sun’s going down, the last dregs of its light spilling brilliant and golden over the book in your lap, and you can feel your boyfriends starting to get restless. Well, two of them.
“If we’re missing half the ingredients,” Sirius says, trailing James into the kitchen, “it’s not going to be any good.”
James only tsks. “Ye of little faith. That’s what improvisation is for.” He starts pulling things down from the cabinet.
“You’re not even going to glance at the recipe?”
“I don’t need to. I know the general vibe.”
“Help!” Sirius calls towards the living room. “He’s gone off the rails. Remus, come fix it.”
Remus turns around to look over the back of the sofa, his shoulder brushing yours as he does. He’s sitting right up against you despite the couch being empty, not that you mind. Remus is sort of like a cat that wants to be near you but not always to be pet. His touches are often like this, passive gestures like a hand on your head or his thigh pressed against yours. It works for you just fine; you can feel the affection bleeding into you from any point of contact.
“Don’t you think we should just eat out?” Sirius asks, tilting his head and doing that thing with his eyes that you all pretend doesn’t work on you.
Impressively, Remus keeps his face impassive. “I’m having leftover brussels sprouts,” he replies, “so it’s not really my concern. Anyway, James has a good history with not following recipes.”
“Exactly,” James says, grinning at Sirius, who scowls. But then he fixes his gaze on Remus. “So why are you having that, Rem? Have what I’m making.”
“Because they’re going to go bad, and I’m not hungry enough for a big meal.” The last part is said somewhat quieter, directed towards the living room as he turns back around and picks up his own book.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James frown, but he glances at Sirius and they seem to collectively decide not to push it. Remus’ appetite isn’t much better than yours. He has his better days, but it’s not uncommon for him not to feel up to what your other boyfriends would consider a whole meal or to eat only chocolate until Sirius hounds him into something more substantial.
James looks to you hopefully. “You’ll have some, won’t you sweetheart?”
You wince, hating to let him down, and from the look on James’ face he clocks the guilt in your expression before even you get a chance to say, “I don’t think I’m really up to it tonight, either.”
James deflates, but he’s clearly trying to put on a brave face. “That’s alright. I think I’ll just save it for another night, then.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, setting your book facedown on the armrest and turning around to face him more fully. “You could still make it and just put leftovers in the freezer. Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow.” You wince again as soon as you say it. No promises, though.
The smile James gives you is comforting if not totally satisfied. “It’s okay. I’ll just make it another time, it’s not a problem.”
You return his smile, close-lipped. Sirius is looking at you with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like he’s sizing you up.
“What are you going to eat?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“What are you going to have instead?” You hesitate, and he tilts his head knowingly, a piece of hair slipping from behind his ear to drape over his shoulder. “You need to have something, especially since you didn’t have lunch.”
From the kitchen, James looks at you. “You didn’t?”
“I just…don’t feel like it.” It’s a feeble argument even to your own ears, and the look Sirius gives you says that he thinks so, too.
“You can’t miss two meals,” he says obstinately. “Even Remus is having some brussels sprouts.”
You look to Remus to be offended at the even Remus comment, but he only shrugs. You’re on your own.
“What sounds good?” he asks you.
You try not to pout. “Nothing. Everything sounds gross.”
“C’mon, baby.” Sirius leans against the countertop. “It doesn’t have to be strictly dinner food, yeah? Just anything that sounds like you’d be willing to eat it.”
You think for a minute. Remus touches the back of his hand to your leg, knuckles soothing over the skin beside your knee.
“I guess…ice cream sounds okay,” you say hesitantly. “But I know that’s not exactly nutritious…”
“Would a milkshake be close enough?” James pipes up.
You shrug. “I guess.”
He grins. “I can do that for you, love. Just gimme a sec.”
James is a loud cook. You go back to your book while cabinet doors slam and the blender whirs and you hear a muffled “oh, shit” as something is undoubtedly dropped on the floor, but a minute later he’s bringing you a glass of something thick and chocolate-y looking. You smile at the added garnish of mint and a straw, reaching for it.
“Thanks, Jamie.”
He winks. “Anytime.”
Remus is the only one courteous enough not to obviously watch while you take a sip, and you feel your eyebrows raise as you look up at James.
“This is really good,” you say. He practically glows at the praise. “I didn’t even know we had chocolate ice cream.”
Sirius barks a laugh, and James’ smile widens.
“What?” you ask.
“We don’t,” he admits. “Will it ruin your appetite if I tell you it’s not actually ice cream?”
You shake your head, sucking at the straw. “I’m already drinking it, so.”
James beams. He really is looking very proud of himself. “It’s a protein shake. A pretty balanced meal, actually.”
“Nice!” You grin at him, taking another hearty slurp mostly because you know it’ll please him. “It’s perfect, thank you.”
“Gotta keep our sweetheart fed,” he says, bending down for a kiss. Sirius and Remus’ hums of approval nearly harmonize, and you and James share an elated look while they both do their best to pretend like it didn’t happen.
“Can I try?” Remus asks, and you tilt the cup towards him in invitation.
He wraps his lips around your straw, sipping hesitantly. He looks mildly impressed.
“Could you make me one of those too?”
From the look on James’ face, he’d be delighted to. “Course, love.” He plants a smacker on Remus’ cheek and nearly knocks Sirius over as he beelines for the kitchen.
“This is just excellent,” Sirius gripes, but you see the satisfaction in his expression. “Now that you two have blown up his ego, I’ll have to eat something he makes too.”
“Correct,” James says brightly. “And you should be so lucky.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x gn!reader#gn!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#marauders era#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders x reader
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— ✧ flight of the stars
"It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake."
you go following flights to the stars, and these cars can get us home (zayn)
genre: smut (18+ / mdni), f1 au, brief high school au, angst, fluff
description: being a doctor, you think you should feel guilty when you start to enjoy the presence of a “regular” a little too much, but who can blame you for missing your patient when he's xu minghao. you know—the xu minghao: crown jewel of SECTOR Racing, top pick of the season, and possibly the one person who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.
tags: character death (not reader / hao), discussion of medical issues, descriptions of pain, pining, racer minghao, physiotherapist reader, probably inaccurate representation of physiotherapy, also featuring kwannie, sollie, cheol, wonu, & hannie
w/c: 13.3k
fic playlist
a/n: oh. always thank u to @gyuswhore for helping me w this, and special smooches to han for going over this w me too ^^
smut tags. oral (m receiving), pet names (baby)
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Cheol is going to kill Minghao when he finds out he somehow managed to screw himself over while training. Well, only if Minghao doesn’t kill himself first.
It was just supposed to be a regular session, doing some standard neck exercises with Wonwoo, his training partner. General training shit—you know, the stuff Minghao needs to do so his neck doesn’t snap in half the next time he races and then—pang! Pain flares up in his muscles when Wonwoo adjusts the controls on the harness around Minghao’s head a little harder, the latter losing his form in a moment of unexpectancy.
His hand flies up immediately Wonwoo stops, shutting off the controls and loosening the tether attached to Minghao’s harness, releasing all the tension. “Are you good?” he asks, taking a step closer as he takes in the sight of the racer.
Wonwoo’s heart sinks into his chest when he finds Minghao’s head and neck unmoving, staring straight down as his breaths begin to grow shaky, and—crap, his eyes are glossy and—oh fuck, Wonwoo might just shit his pants.
“Hao—” Wonwoo calls out again, this time his voice drenched with worry as he reaches out to try and untie the harness from around his friends head, but as his hand brushes over the back of his neck, Minghao shifts a little and that’s when Wonwoo hears it—a sharp gasp following by Minghao muttering under his breath:
“G-get the medic.”
His voice is labored and Wonwoo knows exactly what to do and nothing at the same time. His mind is racing because holy crap, SECTOR probably just lost their best racer for a few months, if not the entire racing season, and it’s all because of this stupid neck training session, and—Wonwoo stops himself from thinking about what this means for Minghao’s work and forces himself to scramble back, running out of the training room and down to the nursing hall.
Five minutes and several phone calls later, Minghao is being loaded into a stretcher. He doesn’t say a word though, doesn’t know what to say.
Five hours and even more phone calls later, Minghao is sitting up with a brace around his neck, and his manager and friends around his hospital bed (Wonwoo and Hasnsol are to his left while Seungcheol stands on his right).
“So you’re telling me I won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season?” Minghao finally scoffs out after a couple minutes’ worth of silence in tense air.
“We don’t know that yet,” Cheol responds, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the racer carefully. Minghao’s lips are curved down in a heavy frown but his eyes remain unwavering as he finally looks up at his manager.
“Fuck,” he breaths out.
“Does it hurt a lot?” Hansol asks worriedly, and Minghao knows that his friend is only just concerned for him but all the pain and frustration is already starting to bubble up inside of him.
“Like a bitch,” he mutters bitterly.
Seungcheol sighs deeply, stepping closer to the bed. He knows the situation isn’t easy for Minghao—it isn’t easy for anyone—and he’s aware of the stakes involved for the team. “Hao, you know we’ll do anything to get you back on the track as soon as possible.”
Minghao scoffs, not meeting the eyes of his manager. “Yeah. I know.”
Wonwoo nearly flinches at the stillness of his friend’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he finally says loudly, causing the other three in the room to look at him. “I messed up with the controls—it’s my fault, and I—”
“It’s fine,” Minghao huffs, tearing his eyes away from his friend. “It was an accident.”
It’s not fine. It’s not fucking fine at all and—
Deep breaths, Minghao reminds himself, but when he actually starts to think about the ache that blooms from his neck and down his spine, it gets harder and harder to keep his cool. He feels like he’s ‘bout to pop a vein from all the blood that’s rushing through his body, the only thing snapping him out of his trance being Wonwoo’s voice.
“You’ll start seeing a physiotherapist tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Best to start the recovery process early, Minghao thinks to himself, mildly calming his irritation. He purses his lips, trying to navigate the cluster of thoughts that plague his mind until he finally musters up the courage to ask, “How long is it gonna take? T-to heal?”
His friends look at him solemnly, and Minghao feels his heart sink right down to his stomach.
“We don’t know.”
“You already sa—” Minghao stops himself from saying something he might regret. “Could I actually be out the whole season?”
There’s silence until Cheol finally decides to speak up.
“There’s a chance.”
Minghao thinks he might scream.
“Hey Seungie!” you chirp, walking into the reception of your office with a bright smile. Your best friend greets you with only an eye roll as you approach his counter at the front, peeking at him from over his monitor.
“I told you to stop calling me that in public!” he whines, nose scrunched up as you laugh at the way he’s pouting.
“No one’s even here, no one’ll hear anything,” you try to reason as he huffs and turns away, refusing to look at you.
“Still!”
You sigh, putting down a brown bag on the floor before raising your hands up in surrender. “Okay fine, I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
This time, you roll your eyes. “Yes … Seungie—”
“I hate you!” Seungkwan roars as you double over laughing. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I’m officially disowning you as my best friend.”
You gasp, stepping back and picking up the brown bag again. “Are you kidding me? And here I thought I would’ve liked to share one of my Americanos with you but I guess not …” you sigh dramatically, starting to walk away as you lift the bag to wave it in Seungkwan’s face.
“I was just joking! Come back! How could I disown you as my best friend—c’mon, you know I was just joking,” he pleads from behind you.
You grin as you turn around and walk back to him with a grin. “You’re horribly unpersuasive. Like your acting skills are actually an abomination,” you tell him, pulling out one of the cups of the cold drink and handing it to Seungkwan. “You’re lucky I love you,” you continue, laughing a little as Seungkwan snatches the cup away hastily with a bashful “thanks” under his breath.
“Okay, well ditto to you too,” he barks back. “Who else would put up with you and your ugly crying over Taylor Swift music videos?”
“Hey! Wildest Dreams is a lyrical, musical, theatrical, melodcial masterpiece! ”
“Okay, first of all, melodical isn’t even a word, and even if it was—” Seungkwan is cut off by the ringing of the office phone line. “I probably need to answer this but we are not done with this conversation,” he shoots at you.
You giggle, waving him off and heading down one the hall to get to your office, barely catching what Seungkwan is saying, or who he’s even talking to. It vaguely crosses your mind that it’s a bit too early in the morning for your office to be getting work calls, but you brush it off as you slip past your door and into your little room.
It’s a nice little space you’ve made for yourself; your physiotherapy firm was set up a few years back, and you’d even recently gone through a certification process to belt yourself as one of SECTOR’s physiotherapists. Pretty exciting stuff when you think about it—being able to work with such top-notch racers (albeit under rather unfortunate circumstances), and you get to do what you love at the same time.
Now, you haven’t actually gotten any big-shot patients yet, and you’ve started to appreciate that more recently. It’s not as stressful, and you don’t have to navigate a possibly awkward doctor-patient relationship with someone who’s dealing with what might be a career-changing injury.
You wonder when you’ll stop forgetting that your luck ran out years ago.
Just as you set your bag down and slip into your chair to answer some emails, Seungkwan is knocking on your door and walking in. “Hey, uh, this is kinda important,” he tells you, pointing behind him at his desk where he was taking the call.
“What’s up?” you ask, slightly worried by Seungkwan’s quick change in demeanor from playful to serious.
“Some doctor at SECTOR’s facility just called and—” Crap, you know where this is going already. “—Xu Minghao just fucked up his neck. Like yesterday. And he’s getting discharged from the hospital in a few hours hopefully and they’re gonna send him over right away so you can take a look and start working with him.”
You press your lips together tightly, head going slightly dizzy at the mention of his name. Of course, when you finally got yourself licensed to practice under SECTOR, you were aware of the possibility of working with him, but this feels a little too real and a little too fast.
“You good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping you out of your haze. “Lost you for a second—it looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Sorry, just zoned out,” you laugh stiffly, turning on your computer and taking a shaky breath. “I’m a bit nervous I guess. I’ve never worked with a professional like him—at least not yet,” you continue to say, and it’s not entirely a lie.
You are nervous, and in any other situation you would try your best to just not think about the situation but given Xu Minghao is going to step into your office in a few hours, you figure you should get to work right away.
Seungkwan steps out soon, saying, “You got this. Seriously, you’ve been working so hard for so long and you finally get to work with one of the big shots!”
Chuckling at his optimism, you finally open the email application on your monitor. Your inbox is flooded with emails, most of which are a series of X-rays and MRI scans of your soon to be patient, and so taking a deep breath, you dive in.
“Hey Hannie, did you sanitize Room C?” you ask one of your (few) employees as he steps out from the supply room behind the reception.
“Shoot, was it supposed to be C? I’m sorry, I cleaned up B, but I can go to C and get it sanitized right now—” he starts to say, turning towards the supply room at the end of the hall.
“Hey wait no it’s okay, I just asked for C ‘cause it’s a bit bigger but it doesn't really matter. Don’t worry about it—have you had your lunch break yet?”
“Nah not yet, I was just about to step into that with Seungkwan, but he’s taken a moment to grab coffee from the cafe across the street.”
You chuckle, “Already? I got him an Americano only a few hours ago …”
Jeonghan laughs out loud at that, slipping off his cleaning gloves and patting his hands down on his scrubs. “You know how Seungkwan is with his Americanos.”
“Don’t remind me—he’s crazy. I don’t know how he ingests that much caffeine and still functions like a normal human being but—”
Seungkwan’s voice cuts you off. “I know you guys are talking about me but I’d suggest you take a break and go get ready because I swear I just saw a car with SECTOR’s logo on the back pull up onto the street right up front.”
Oh fuck. You’re already starting to feel awfully nervous.
“Shit, really? I didn’t think they’d be here as early as noon,” Jeonghan says quickly, tossing the gloves and turning to you for instruction. “Anything we need to do?”
“Guys, just chill,” you say casually. Ironic, you think to yourself, because you feel like your heart might pound right out of your chest any second now. “Just handle this like you would any other patient. I’ll probably have to talk to his manager, but while we’re doing that Jeonghan can take Xu into B and just ease him into things. Lay off the tension, you know? He’s probably stressed out as is.”
“Noted,” Jeonghan nods as he walks down the hall, and then you turn to the door of the reception where you see a group of three people walking up.
You try to make out their figures; that one on the left’s probably one of SECTOR’s health directors, and the one on the right is … that’s Choi Seungcheol isn’t it? The one who sent you the emails? He’s Xu Minghao’s manager, you’re pretty sure of it.
You straighten your back when the front door opens, clutching the clipboard full of prints of the scans you were sent earlier. Setting your eyes straight, you take a deep breath and finally take in the sight of the three people filling into the reception.
Yup, there’s Choi Seungcheol … and then Cho Miyeon following behind and she’s pushing a—shit, it’s Xu Minghao in all his glory.
Well, you’re not sure how wondrous he feels right now in that wheelchair, eyes cold as he stares at the floor. His neck’s held up in a thick brace that you can see reaches down under his shirt and over his shoulders; he doesn’t look up, and for a moment you’re grateful.
It puts off the question though, the words that linger in the back of your mind.
Will he recognize you? Well, more importantly …
Does he even remember you?
You rid yourself of the personal thoughts when Choi Seungcheol approaches you, holding out his hand to you. You shake it, strong and firm as he smiles awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, thanks for making time for us today.”
“No problem,” you reply with a nod as Jeonghan comes in from the hallway. “My assistant, Jeonghan here can take Mr. Xu to one of our rooms while I talk with you two about a few things. Does that work?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” Seungcheol nods, motioning Jeonghan to Minghao in his wheelchair behind him. The racer keeps his head down as Jeonghan brushes over and starts pushing him down the hall to Room B. You wonder if he’s even noticed you.
As Jeonghan goes off, you turn back to the other two still in the reception and point at your room. “Shall we?”
Once the three of you settle down, Seungcheol and Miyeon sit across from you, the former speaks up. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice—this all happened really quick and if you can't already tell, we’re kind of desperate to get him back in the driver’s seat as soon as possible.”
“No worries, please. These kinds of situations are exactly what I’m here for,” you tell them, and they both seem to crack a small smile of relief. “Now I spoke with the doctor that examined him at the hospital, and then briefly with Ms. Cho,” you say, motioning towards the woman on your right, “And there’s a general understanding that Mr. Xu’s suffered a pretty serious strain in his neck muscles.”
“Yeah, uh—how long is this going to take to heal?” Seungcheol pops in, and you sigh.
“I can give you a range, but it’s not so definite … I’d say between three to five months,” you tell him. “But again, it’s different for every patient. Muscle strains aren’t like a clean break or fracture where we can determine almost exactly when it’ll be healed … this stuff is going to take more time and it varies from person to person as well. It all kind of depends on Mr. Xu’s body, and that’s what I’m here for—to help figure out what works for him.”
“We understand that, thank you,” Miyeon nods, sitting straighter in her seat. “How often should he be coming in?”
“Hm, I’ll give you a definite answer after checking in with him today, but to estimate, I’d say around 2-3 times a week, while also using my suggestions outside of our sessions.”
You finish the conversation with the two after that, excusing yourself as you let them back into the reception before knocking on the door to Room B. Jeonghan opens the door from the other side and quietly closes the door behind him before pushing you a little deeper into the hallway.
“He seems like, really sad, so—”
“Well, duh. It’s a serious injury,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jeonghan clicks his lips and nudges your shoulder.
“Whatever. I’m just telling you to tread carefully,” he says as you make your way to the door. You don’t respond to Jeonghan as you slip in. Minghao’s turned away from you as he sits on his wheelchair in the middle of the room you purse your lips before taking a deep breath and nodding.
You got this. Seungkwan was right—you’ve worked too hard for too long to be rendered anxious ‘cause of a silly little overlap of your past with your patient.
“Hi Mr. Xu,” you greet, making your way to the table right by where he sits, finally seeing him up close. He doesn’t look at you. “I’m pretty sure you already have heard enough about what’s wrong with your neck right now, so let’s talk about how we can make it better, yeah?”
You hear a gruff, “Sure,” escape his lips, and you figure that given his circumstances, it’s understandable.
“The report says that when you first started feeling the pain you couldn’t move your right arm even a little without it hurting in your neck, right?” you clarify as you sit at the chair between him and your table.
“Yeah.”
“Is it better now?”
“A little. Can move my forearm but moving my shoulder still hurts.”
“Okay, this is a good sign actually—you’re getting through the initial stages of healing just like normal. The first week or so of strain like yours might be pretty painful, but it’s over quickly and the pain after that should be pretty bearable, although it’ll take more time for it to heal.” You tell him, looking away to glance at the scans.
As he stares at the ground, Minghao wants to scream. Good sign? What the fuck are you talking about—he can’t even lift his goddamn arm without it feeling like there’s daggers plunging into his neck, and you’re here sitting all calm faced, pristine, acting like this isn’t his fuckin’ career on the line. Acting like your words are gonna make a difference as long as he’s in this stupid ass brace with this stupid ass injury in this stupid ass room with—who the fuck even are you?
His head hurts, and Minghao thinks it’s partly because of his neck, but it’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking. Thinking about the worst possibilities, thinking about everything that could go wrong and—well shit, he chides himself for letting his anger get the better of himself, even if it was just in his head.
Shamefully, he presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before finally lifting his gaze and turning to face you. When you look up from your paper and finally turn back to him, you’re met with the sight of pretty brown eyes staring right back at you.
“I—” Minghao starts, but it sounds like the air got stuck in his throat as he finally takes in your figure, and then he purses his lips together and turns back away. “Nothing.” the possibilities of what he could have been thinking ruins your mind just a little.
You can see it in his eyes—Minghao remembers. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you wonder if you prefer things to stay that way.
“What time is Xu scheduled for on Wednesdays? He’ll be coming in on Wednesdays, right?” Jeonghan asks as he steps into your office.
“Uh, he’s coming in for a session from 11-2 today—which, by the way, could you set up Room C for that? I can’t remember if I already put that on the to-do list.”
“Yeah I did it yesterday after our last patient of the day, I was just wondering. You’re gonna lead it with him this time, right?”
“Yeah, since it’s the first session. You were right about him being … apprehensive—”
“Sad,” Jeonghan corrects you. “A sad, sad boy.”
“Yeah well, go figure,” you sigh out of sympathy. “Anyways, like I said, it’s understandable for him to be frustrated, so I’ll work with him at first to ease him into things and stuff. You can start taking over more of the sessions once he warms up to the whole process, and once we figure out and set a routine.”
“Okay great. Does this mean I can go out for my lunch break at 11:30?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply with a casual shrug as Jeonghan thanks you and slips away. You shift your attention back to your monitor before glancing through the initial medical reports you were sent by the hospital, and then the results of your own tests you ran during your first session with Xu Minghao.
It’s a shitty injury, you’ll have to admit. A neck strain on the muscles closest to his right shoulder, not only rendering his neck immobile for a period of time, but also hindering his abilities to move his right arm.
Must hurt like a bitch—physically and mentally—and the image of him staring down at the ground burns in the back of your mind.
With a sigh, you silently wonder if you could offer him the same solace he gave you.
Xu Minghao shows up to your office two hours later with Choi Seungcheol pushing him inside on his wheelchair, and you’re thankful to see that his stature looks much more relaxed than before. “I’ll come by at 2, right?”
“Yeah, that’ll be great. Thank you,” Jeonghan tells Mr. Choi with a smile before taking control of Minghao’s wheelchair and strolling him into the room. You’re already there and waiting for him, standing up to greet him with a smile.
“Hi Mr. Xu,” you say, thanking Jeonghan as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.
“Morning,” he says quietly, not quite meeting your gaze. The air isn’t as thick as it was the first day, but there seems to be some invisible barrier between the two.
“How’s the pain right now, Mr. Xu?” you ask, pulling out a notepad on your computer to jot down some notes.
Your patient’s eyebrows furrow, and for a second you have a feeling this might be harder than you thought, but his next words are more comforting than anything. “Uh, can you just call me Minghao? Mr. Xu is … it’s weird.”
“Y-yeah of course, sorry about that, Minghao,” you nod with a half smile. “So could you tell me how things are feeling?”
“I guess it hurts less. I don’t really move that much so I can avoid hurting myself though—kinda in this thing most of the time anyways,” he replies gruffly, hitting the left side of the wheelchair with his palm.
“Do you stand up? Walk around at all?”
“Not often.”
“Okay so I think we’re going to try and change that soon,” you tell him. “We’ll do some mobility checks today but if it doesn’t hurt to move your shoulder a little, then I think it’s best you move as much as you can without pain. Honestly, you’re going to be injured for a while and—”
You pause when you hear Minghao inhale sharply at that, making a mental note to soften your words a little.
“—and we don’t want you to be immobile. If you can move, try to. We’ll try and get you out of the wheelchair within the next two weeks, how does that sound?”
Minghao’s ears perk up at that. “Two weeks? Only?”
You nod happily at his sudden energy and the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, you know the wheelchair is just so you don’t move your upper body too much but like I said the last time we met, the initial stages are pretty painful but once it’s over, you’ll be more mobile. Of course, you won’t be able to get back to racing and training right away, but you’ll be able to be a lot more active than you are now.”
“How long will it take before I can start training again?” Minghao asks curiously, finally looking you straight in the eye with parted lips.
The desperation is painful to watch.
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, watching his shoulders deflate. “At least two months.”
“Two months?”
“At the least,” you say with a held breath.
“At the most?” Minghao asks hopefully.
You purse your lips. “At the most? … A year?”
“A year? That’s more than a whole racing season!”
“Yes but neck strains are fickle and we can’t let anything go wrong, and due to the nature of your sport, you really—”
“I think I know the nature of my own sport,” Minghao scoffs, and with the way he says it, you don’t know if you should be mad or sad or disappointed or a mix of all three.
“I—” you pause, “I understand your frustration Mr.—Minghao, but my job is to make sure you’re one hundred percent healed before you set foot on the track again, so please be patient and allow yourself to heal.”
Something about those last few words rings in Minghao’s ears, and he zones out for the rest of what you’re saying.
Allow yourself to heal. Fuck.
Minghao stays pretty much silent for the rest of the session, and you’re not quite sure if it’s out of complacency or indifference. You go through some slow mobility exercises, and figure out a good range for him to stay in for the next few days.
“Make sure you practice those movements every day,” you note once you near the end of today’s session. “I’ll send you an email listing all of them with instructions so you remember. Please try and do them every day, and it’ll hopefully speed up the recovery process.”
“Thanks,” Minghao murmurs as he carefully sits back down in his wheelchair.
“Is there anything else you’re doing in your free time right now?” you ask, trying to make casual conversation as you start to type up your list.
“Not really. I watch practice videos and stuff, I guess.”
You hum, not really responding until you finally finish the list and send it to his email. “I sent the list, you should start using it tomorrow. Anyways, I think you should try crocheting,” you tell him casually.
Minghao gives you a sideways glance as he raises an eyebrow. “… Crocheting?”
“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, finally turning around to face. “You know, with yarn and stuff.”
“I know what crocheting is.”
“I-I know,” you say awkwardly, slightly thrown off your game by his bluntness. “You won’t have to move your shoulders, only your forearms, so it’s fine.”
“But why?”
“It’s fun. And a nice way to pass time, especially when you can’t move around a lot. Plus, it’s always good to have something to distract yourself from—” You pause, thinking about how to finish your sentence. “—from shitty stuff, y’know?”
Minghao chuckles, and your heart swells a little when you finally see him break a smile. “Yeah, I guess.” There’s a long pause. “Shitty stuff, huh?”
You laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Shitty stuff.”
“You and your stupid Americanos,” you sigh, watching Seungwkan grin as the barista hands him his drink.
“Stop acting like you don’t indulge in me too. Getting me all those Americanos in the morning … I should blame you for this addiction!”
“So you admit it’s an addiction!” you exclaim triumphantly, waving your hands in the air. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, leaving you to sit at a table in one of the corners of the cafe. Laughing at his silent admission of defeat, you wait for your drink patiently.
It’s only a few more moments before the barista is back at the counter, calling out, “Honey lavender latte!” With a smile, you walk over, about to reach for the drink before a hand beats you to it.
Frowning, you look up at the man who’s holding your drink before you say, “Hey, I’m sorry, I think that’s my drink.”
“Uh, honey lavender latte? I’m pretty sure I ordered this,” he says. You look at him with a funny expression on your face, eyes darting between the drink you ordered and the drink that’s in his other hand. He catches your suspicion and shakes his head quickly. “It’s for my friend, I ordered for the both of us so I could get us a spot.”
“Oh,” you breath out, figuring that it probably isn’t a lie. “S-sorry for the misunderstanding. I just—” you chuckle, watching some of the tension from the man’s shoulders wither away. “I ordered the same thing—”
“Oh sorry, I—my friend isn’t here yet so you can just take this and I’ll wait for the other to come out,” he offers, watching your face, and you see something in his expression change. “Hey wait, you look really familiar,” he murmurs.
Your eyebrows furrow as you silently thank him when he hands you the drink. “Uh, are you sure? I’m sorry, I just—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.
The man shakes his head and laughs quietly to myself. “No, I swear I’ve seen you somewhere, but I’m just blanking on it right now—sorry this is probably so weird but—” The bell of the front door rings and he shoots his head to see who’s coming in, eyes lighting up. “Oh hey, Hao! Was just waiting for you!”
Hao? Mingh—
You lock eyes as soon as he walks in.
The man from before beams as he walks up to him as your eyes finally break away, and Minghao turns to his friend. “Hansol,” he greets with a small smile, and it’s a pleasant sight to see your patient—who’s more often monotone than not—seem a bit more at ease than before.
“How’re you doing? Was just waiting on your drink and—” the man—Hansol—points at you with eyes as wide as saucers, “—oh by the way, doesn’t she look really familiar?”
You chuckle nervously, breaking out an awkward smile and waving at Minghao who returns you by raising his left arm in a sort of half-wave before turning his attention to Hansol to give him a blank stare. “Yeah, she’s kinda like my physiotherapist dude.”
This time, you chuckle a bit more genuinely, eyes darting between the amused smirk that’s just barely there on Minghao’s lips, and Hansol’s agape stare.
“Ohh shit, yeah that’s where I saw you! Cheol and Miyeon were talking about you when they were booking you for Hao at the hospital, and I saw your picture on the screen,” Vernon explains as the realization hits him.
“Oh,” you laugh lightly. “That’s funny,” you reply as you turn your attention to Minghao, “Good to see you’re getting out of that wheelchair. I bet it feels nice to finally stretch your legs and stuff,” you say. If Minghao could move his neck without eruptions of pain, he’d nod his head.
For now though, he settles on smiling and saying, “Yeah, it’s refreshing.” His eyes wander around you, taking in how you aren’t dressed in your usual work attire, but rather clad in a cute outfit. “Is that my drink?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he points at the coffee you’ve just taken a sip of.
Hansol laughs and shakes his head. “You two got the same drink so when it came out, I just let ‘er have it, since you weren’t here yet.” He glances around before putting his drink down at a nearby table. “Shit, I think I left my laptop in my car,” he murmurs, looking at his friend. “I’m gonna go get it so I can show you those videos I was talking about.”
“Yeah, that’s chill,” Minghao agrees. Hansol smiles at you and then his friend before quickly retreating from the cafe to get to the parking lot, leaving you and the tall man standing in silence. It’s a few passing moments where you awkwardly sip on your drink before something pops in your mind.
“Hey, it’s actually really funny that you’re seeing me right now because—well it’s not funny funny, but it’s a nice coincidence so I guess that counts as funny but—anyways, look, I crocheted this cardigan.” You smile, lifting your arms a little so he can see the dark, navy blue fabric you made yourself, before turning around to show off the light blue, striped pattern on the back. “Cool, right?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty. Nice color scheme and all,” Minghao agrees.
“Thanks. Have you started crocheting? I can send you some videos to get you started,” you offer. Just as Minghao is about to reply, the barista from behind you calls out another order of your drink, causing both of you to glance back. “Oh, you wait there; I’ll get it,” you say, putting your drink down on the same table Hansol did before walking over to grab Minghao’s drink and hand it back to his left hand.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” he says as your fingers brush over each other before falling back to your side. “Isn’t your friend waiting for you?”
“Of course I have to. I’m your doctor! I can’t make you do that,” you reason before pointing back at your best friend. “And are you talking about Seungkwan? Looks like he’s having the time of his life doing—” You turn your head around to glance at him before looking back at Minghao, “—doing god knows what on his phone and—”
“Are you talking about me?” you hear Seungkwan’s voice calling from a few meters away, and the way you cringe has Minghao stifling a giggle. “All good things I hope!” he continues.
“You know it!” you shoot back sarcastically, only to be followed by Seungkwan’s rolling eyes. “That little shit. I pay his bills!” you exclaim, a faux frown making its way onto your face.
Minghao laughs, his head throwing back a little. The small movement flares up a bite of pain in his neck, causing his breath to get stuck in his throat, eyes widening as he slowly shifts back into a comfortable position.
“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly.
If Minghao could shrug without feeling like his neck would snap in half, he would. Instead, he raises his eyebrow playfully when he says, “Are you seriously apologizing for being funny?”
You roll your eyes. “I’m retracting my apology.”
It’s been around three weeks since you started working with Minghao. He’s warmed up to you a fair amount, and ever since you saw him at the cafe, the air around you two has been lighter.
It’s still a bit awkward at times—skitting around the moments where you wonder if you should say something about the elephant in the room before shaking your head and biting your tongue. Then again, given how often you see Minghao, you’ve gotten used to it.
Seungkwan stops by your office this morning when he walks into work. “Morning,” he greets, dropping a small brown bag by your desk as you file through some papers.
“Ooh, thank you,” you tell him gleefully, taking a break from your task to glance at the chocolate muffin that sits inside of the bag. “I’ve been craving this,” you admit, reaching in and picking out a small piece to stuff into your mouth.
“Your welcome,” Seungkwan sighs, sitting down on the seat in front of you. “Anyways, I found something cool that I don’t think you told me.”
You raise your eyebrows at him skeptically. “Yeah? What is it?”
“You and Xu Minghao are from the same hometown!”
You roll your eyes. “Why do you still keep calling him Xu Minghao? He’s told us to just say Minghao, and even if he didn’t, it’s awkward when you say his full name like that.”
Seungkwan scoffs at you, reaching his hand over to try and flick your forehead but you dodge. “Because he’s Xu Minghao. I can’t believe you aren’t still jumping up and down for getting to work with him, seeing how much you love SECTOR.”
“You want me to be happy that the best racer from my favorite team is injured?”
“Ugh, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Whatever,” you shrug, a small hint of a smile peeking from your lips.
“Anyways, you didn’t answer what I actually said. Why didn’t you tell me you guys are from the same area? That’s so cool!”
“I mean I guess,” you say with a shrug.
“And you guys are the same age so—wait, did you go to school together? Oh my god, are you guys like—I don’t know, long lost best friends or something?” Seungkwan’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’d be so cool—I could totally see a movie on this and—wait! If he’s your long lost best friend, where does that leave me? You better not replace me with him!”
You laugh at the progression of his thoughts, almost choking on your second bite of the muffin. “We did go to school together,” you admit. “It’s not like we crossed paths though. He kinda just, I don’t know, existed back then. So no worries for you, you’re not getting replaced any time soon … unfortunately,” you add with mischievous giggle.
“Better not …” Seungkwan huffs.
Minghao comes in a few hours later for his afternoon session. Jeonghan works with him for the first two of the three hours, and you walk in for the last hour. You go over some more mobility exercises, before finally sitting down so you can discuss his progress.
“So things are going really well,” you start to tell him, beginning to list off a couple signs of development which stood out to you. You’re about to commend him on keeping up the exercises everyday, when you notice him staring at the floor with a blank expression. “H-hey, Minghao?” you ask, clearing your voice when he doesn’t respond. “Minghao.”
His eyes shoot up to yours, shoulders tensing for a second before he lets out a deep breath. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.”
You chuckle nervously, wondering if it’s okay if you probe just a little. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Minghao replies casually, but you catch the way he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Just thinking about last night’s race.”
“Oh, Singapore?”
“Yeah.”
“I was able to catch a bit of it last night, but I passed out. It seemed intense though—you see Kim’s pit stop?”
“Yeah, it was kinda insane,” Minghao says breathily. His expression is unreadable, but he’s continuing to respond and so you choose to let things go on naturally. “He’s been living up to his talent now that his shitbox is back to what it’s supposed to be.”
“Can’t imagine how frustrating it is.” Fuck, when Minghao’s shoulders drop, it feels like you said something you probably shouldn’t have.
I can imagine, Minghao thinks after hearing your response, but he bites back the words. “Yeah,” he says dejectedly instead.
Silence. This seems like a good chance to change the topic.
“Uh—” Sorry, you want to say, but you choose to hold your breath instead. “I have good news.”
“Oh?”
“We can get you out of the neck brace today,” you tell him happily.
Minghao’s eyes light up. “Really?”
“Yeah, your progress has been great. Didn’t want to tell you earlier to get your hopes up, in case something went wrong, but everything has been looking really good and you’re at the point where we usually take any supports like braces off.”
Minghao grins, and it’s a stark contrast from the grim shadow cast on his face just moments earlier. You take a few moments to go over the procedures with him, helping him out of the foamy, firm brace with gentle hands and watchful eyes.
“How’s it feeling?” you ask, setting the brace down by one of your counters so you can dispose of it later.
Minghao lets out a low groan of what you can only assume is relief when he looks up. “Like my skin can finally breathe,” he sighs heavily, a bright smile taking over his features as you turn to face him.
“I’m happy for you,” you tell him, before beginning a quick examination process of the area under the brace and going through some quick motions.
“All done?” he asks. When you nod, he continues. “Kinda early, huh?” he say pointendly, and you both quickly glance at the clock on the wall: his session is supposed to end in 43 minutes.
“Oh yeah, uh—actually … I was wondering if you wanted to try something?” you ask tentatively, and Minghao senses your hesitation. “If you have the time.”
Raising a brow, he nods. “Yeah I don’t mind, what is it?”
“One second,” you tell him, getting up and leaving the room to grab something from your office. Shyly, you walk back in and to your seat, all while holding up a brown bag. “Just some old crocheting supplies I thought you might like,” you murmur, placing it down on the counter.
Minghao presses his lips together tightly, not expecting your words. “Oh, uh—I haven’t really … I haven’t taken up crocheting yet. Sorry, uh—”
“Oh yeah,” you say quickly, holding a hand up, using the other to show him the contents of the bag. There’s some balls of yarn and hooks in a little mess, and you reach in to take some out. “I figured—it’s pretty intimidating to take up by yourself but,” you sigh. “I think it’ll be really nice for you. I recommend it to a lot of my patients who can’t do their regular activities and hobbies … and now given your brace is off, your vision will have more range and it might be really fun for you. No pressure if you don’t like it, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show you the ropes,” you admit, holding up a ball of blue yarn.
Catching onto your pun, Minghao chuckles and replies, “Sure, why not.”
“Okay great,” you say excitedly, dropping the bag and pulling your chair up in front of him and next to the table, pulling the supplies out.
Minghao is patient as you show off the different yarns and hooks, explaining the very basics in great detail. You can’t quite tell if he’s being so obedient out of genuine interest, pity, or simply polite compliance, but for whatever reason, you’re thankful. Soon, you’re showing him how you do it yourself before handing him one of your spare hooks and the ball of yarn, letting Minghao test the waters for himself.
“Yeah, just do that and—wait,” you mutter, reaching over to adjust the way he’s holding the hook. Your soft fingers gingerly brush over his knuckles, and Minghao finds himself getting lost for a moment. As you innocently fix the position of his fingers, his stomach churns in a manner he can’t quite name. “You got that?” you ask him suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry, zoned out again. What was that?”
“Singapore really got you thinking, huh?” you muse before shaking your head and laughing it off.
“Sorry, I—”
“Don’t worry about it. Here, I was just saying you should position your thumb like this or else you might start to cramp up really fast. Happens to me like crazy but I didn’t fix my habit and now I just gotta crochet through the pain.”
Minghao looks at you with an odd expression. “Crochet … through … the pain?”
“That sounded cooler in my head, my bad.”
Minghao laughs. It’s not a tight chuckle, or a soft giggle, it’s a laugh. And it’s bright and full and tugging at your heartstrings in a way you’d rather ignore. “It’s okay.”
“Anyways … here, I’ll show you how to start off with a slip knot and then we’ll take things from there,” you instruct.
Slowly, you walk him through the steps. You learn that Minghao is a good learner. He’s intuitive, but it’s not that you expect much different—you figure no one can get to the level he’s at without being quick to pick up on things.
You’re soon showing him how to start a simple chain, the yarn and hook still in his hands as you work him through the process. “Yeah, now you just gotta yarn over like this—no, the other way, just like that … and—yeah … yeah!” you exclaim excitedly when Minghao slips the hook right through, lengthening the chain. “You got it!”
“Really?” Minghao asks. “Simpler than I thought,” he admits aloud, and you nod vigorously.
“Yeah … crocheting looks hard from afar but once you actually get the hang of it, it’s as easy as breathing,” you explain, softly taking the yarn and hook from his hands and showing how it looks once you build in more loops.
He watches you carefully—the way your fingers so gently, with such precision; how your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as you focus in on the task at hand, tongue unconsciously sticking out from the corner of your mouth, and—
“You’re really good at this,” Minghao murmurs quietly, and you swear he’s so close, his warm breath fans down on your cheeks. You gulp, pausing what you’re doing to look up at him.
“My mother taught me. It’s been a casual hobby ever since.”
You feel Minghao’s eyes bore down on yours intensely, wondering if he’ll respond. Something is screaming at you to pray he’ll keep his mouth shut.
Minghao doesn’t say a word, thankfully. Still, the possibilities of what could be running through his mind haunt you.
You think you should start feeling guilty. You think you should already be feeling guilty when you start to look forward to seeing Minghao. He’s your patient for fuck’s sake—you should be happy he’s not holed up in here everyday.
Still, there’s a weird feeling that festers in your chest when you think about him.
Minghao, and the way he’s so persistent, so patient, so attentive with all the exercises and information you tell him. Minghao, and the polite smile he throws your way at the beginning of each session. Minghao, and the way his eyes light up.
“We’re going to try some new mobility exercises today,” you tell him today with a grin, standing up from your seat. Minghao’s ears perk up as he catches the bright look on your face, and something inside of him swells with hope.
“Really?”
You smile and nod in return. “Yeah! I mean your recovery has been really great so far and I think this is a good point to move on and see if we can test out an even wider range of motion.” Minghao doesn’t really say anything in response, but the way his eyes light up when he watches you explain the exercises tells you enough.
In the hour that follows, you two walk through the exercises, trying out each one, and you’re almost three quarters through all the motions you planned today right before you show him how to angle his shoulder before a new exercise.
“How are things feeling? Anything hurting? Anywhere?” you ask anxiously as Minghao comes out of the last stretch you showed him with a pleasant look on his face.
“No, not like pain pain,” he says casually, leaning back into the chair. “Not the kinda pain from the strain, but I feel a bit of tension on my shoulder from keeping it in that position for too long.”
“Okay great,” you say, typing it down onto your digital notepad. “We’ll try and switch up that one next time so your body is completely relaxed from now on.”
“Thanks. What’s the next exercise?” Minghao asks curiously upon taking in the information. You vaguely think to yourself about how you enjoy his growing warmness—he’s been a lot more positive these past sessions with his rapid progress, and it’s bringing a much lighter atmosphere to Room C.
You explain the movement to him, explaining to him how to lift his shoulders just enough to circle them backwards without too much movement. It’s going pretty smoothly like the other exercises; you explain, Minghao listens, you adjust, Minghao lets you.
Right now you’re about to lean in, hands brushing over his shoulder blade to guide them to a more steep angle, explaining to Minghao how to fix his posture. Your fingers brush over his collarbone and jaw a few times in the process, your eyes keeping steady on making sure he doesn’t make any abrasive movements.
“There we go,” you tell him after showing him how to do the circular movement with his shoulders. “Why don’t you try it by yourself?”
Shooting you a thumbs up, Minghao complies, lifting his shoulder forward first slowly. He’s going through the motions of everything pretty normally—after all this is just like any other exercise so he doesn’t really worry that much until—fuck.
Holy shit, that quick but sharp pain stings so bad.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly when Minghao stills, his eyes widening.
So much. So fucking much, Minghao thinks to himself.
“Talk to me,” you say, moving closer to him so you can move your hands over his shoulder and lead them back down to a natural position.
“It h-hurt for a second. Really bad, but then it was gone,” Minghao says breathily. You purse your lips together and Minghao feels his heart sink to his chest when you turn around and type some stuff he can’t read from where he sits. “Is this like—” He needs to pause to collect himself so the nerves don’t get to him. “—is it bad?” When you hesitate to respond, Minghao already knows his answer. “Fuck.”
“Look, it’s just hurting in that spot for this exercise. The rest of your progress is amazing, but we’re just going to need to take it slower since you’ve probably just overexerted the muscle a little bit.”
“So I’ve been set back, basically,” Minghao says bluntly, his tone doing a full 180 from just a few moments earlier.
“Not a setback …” you sigh. “Just a sign that we need to go slower right now.” You watch him worriedly when he presses his lips together and doesn’t meet your gaze.
“So a setback.”
You gulp. “You can’t think of this like that. I told you from the start that progress is never linear and—”
“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” Minghao breaths out, and something about the way he says it with such a curt, tense tone almost makes you lose your composure. “This is—fuck, this my career okay? I can’t afford any setbacks.”
“I know that and that’s why I’m your doctor, okay?” you say, a bit more harshly than you intended.
You don’t understand why you’re letting his hostility get to your head all of sudden—it isn’t like you haven’t had frustrated patients before. Fuck, you’ve had people cry, sob, break down in this same room over slow progress but something about the way he looks so disheartened has your heart clenching.
“I’m here to help you,” you reiterate, your tone more composed than before. “But I can only do that if you let me.”
Minghao eyes flicker between your wide eyes and his hands in his lap. There’s a growing knot that ties in his throat, and he’s too afraid to open his mouth to speak, too afraid of what he might say. Instead, he just huffs and stands up.
“Sorry,” he finally musters up, eyes trained on the ground as you watch him carefully for his next move. “I’m leaving.”
You don’t stop him as he walks away.
When Minghao walks into the reception a few days later, he’s not surprised to see that you aren’t the one greeting him. He thinks back to the way your lips were pressed into a tight line when he walked out last week. It was the last time he’d seen you in the past few days, and some weird mix of worry swirls in his stomach.
Were you avoiding him? He wouldn’t blame you if you were, but he feels guilty for thinking that way. You wouldn’t let something personal get in the way of your work, Minghao knows that for sure.
Still, he bites his tongue when he briefly considers asking Jeonghan where you are. Would that be overstepping? It’s not like there haven’t been sessions where you weren’t there, but something about the thickness in the air around him tells Minghao that there’s something he should be worried about.
As if he could read Minghao’s mind, Jeonghan speaks up. “Doc’ll come in around the end. It’s her mom’s birthday so she’s out for most of the afternoon, but she’ll be back for the last half an hour,” he says casually, not really expecting to turn around to see Minghao looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
“H-her—” Her mom? Minghao wants to ask but something stops him from saying it. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not here. Something feels wrong. “That’s fine,” he mutters, pursing his lips before looking at the ground.
He can feel Jeonghan’s curious gaze burning into the back of his skull, but Minghao only doesn’t move as he keeps quiet. They soon fall into the regular pattern of starting off with mobility exercises before doing a check of his range of movement.
It’s nearing the final hour of his session when Jeonghan excuses himself for a moment. Only two minutes passes before there’s a knock at the door, and then some footsteps leading in.
“Good afternoon Minghao,” you greet softly upon walking in. The man glances up at you, eyes widening when he takes in your figure.
“Oh—uh, hey.”
Minghao wants to bash his head into the wall. Hey? Seriously? That’s all he could muster up? Hey?
“Jeonghan gave me the rundown,” you tell him, looking away as you lift a clipboard and squint to read the tiny text. “No more sharp pains … returning mobilily …”
You hum slowly as you read off the notes your assistant left for you, not meeting Minghao’s gaze. He wonders if that’s what you intended. “Seeing as things are going smoothly for now, we’ll continue with the low-risk exercises and—”
“I’m sorry,” Minghao blurts out. He wonders what compels him to do it, but when you finally meet his gaze, he realizes that he just wanted you to look at him.
“Mi—”
“I’m sorry for how I acted last time. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. I was frustrated and took it out on you, and that wasn’t okay. I’m sorry.”
Your lips are pursed by the time Minghao is finished. He’s said enough, but when he peers up at you, his eyes speak a story of their own.
“It’s okay,” you respond with no hesitation, before turning back to your clipboard, scanning over it a few more times and then setting it down.
You smooth your hands over your lab coat, and for a moment Minghao wonders what it would feel like to have your palms run down his neck, pressing into his skin so gently yet with such fervor, fingertips ghosting over—
Minghao shouldn’t think like this.
“Jeonghan told me that it’s your mom’s birthday,” he finally breaks the silence. It’s the first time either of you have actually brought it up, and the reality of it all—fuck, it’s hitting you so hard that there’s already tears pooling in yout lashline.
You silently curse yourself for forgetting to tell Jeonghan not to tell Minghao anything. It’s okay, it isn’t like he knew any better, you tell yourself as you blink rapidly, trying to shoo away the tears.
“Mhm,” you hum, hoping he doesn’t probe any deeper. You aren’t sure what you should say.
You’re silent, and Minghao itches to reach forward, to rest his hand on your shoulder, to smile at you, to say all the things he’s been thinking about you but he just can’t. All he can manage is to clear his throat, causing you to look up at him expectantly.
Fuck, what should he say? “I’m um—I’m glad. Glad that she’s uh—that everything worked out.” That’s fine, right? There’s nothing wrong with that statement, Minghao’s almost sure of it so … so why in the world are you crying?
Shoot, did he fuck up? You’re sitting in the chair right next to him, head in your hands as you cover your face and turn away; your cries are soft but just loud enough for Minghao to hear over the rush in his ears, just loud enough for him to feel the ache, just loud enough for him to get the message.
Oh.
The first time you meet Xu Minghao, you’re in middle school. Seventh grade and walking into Algebra, going to sit down on your regular seat. Five minutes into class and a new boy walks into the room, handing your teacher a slip before being directed to sit down at a spot a few tables over.
He’s got short, dark hair, cat-like eyes, and a bit of tall, lanky figure as he slinks down into the chair. Your teacher claps her hands together and announces that there’s a new student in class. His name’s “Xu Minghao,” she said.
You don’t really remember his name at first. It isn’t uncommon for there to be new students on campus. He’s not in many of your other classes you realize as the day goes on, and so he slips your mind. Maybe you work with him for a few assignments throughout the year, but not enough for you to wave at each other when you pass the other in the hallways.
Five years later and you’re in your final year of high school. Time has passed, you have changed, Xu Minghao has changed, but what remains the same is what you are to each other. Strangers.
You’re paired with a stranger for your final senior Literature project.
“Do you want to write a paper, or do the poster?” you ask as he sits down next to you once the pairing assignments. Your teacher had given you two options on how to go about the project. “I don’t really mind either or,” you admit.
Minghao hums, setting his copy of Macbeth on the table before turning to you. “Poster? I think I’ve done enough writing in this past year to last me a lifetime,” he tells you with an obvious sigh.
“Yeah,” you laugh. “Were you in Biology?”
He nods. “Regretfully.”
“Oh so you also had to write that whole research paper. Damn, that thing had to have shaved at least ten years off my life.”
“Ditto,” Minghao grumbles, running his hands over his face. “Oh god, just thinking about it is making me queasy. I’m so happy we’re in our final semester.”
“So we agree on no paper, just the poster?” you finalize.
Minghao agrees, “Yeah, that’s great.”
One week later and Minghao is at your doorstep. “Cool set up,” he notes, stepping into your room, looking down at the poster splayed out with markers all over.
You grin. “Thanks—I kind of like being artsy and stuff sometimes so I was pretty happy to do this when you said you also wanted to do the poster.”
“Seems like I made a good choice then,” he replies, sitting down on the opposite end of the poster and pulling out a notebook and his book. “I did some work and got a bunch of lines that we could use as citations in different parts.”
“That’s great,” you say, picking a pen. “Let’s get started then?”
You two get straight to work, and all goes smoothly. Minghao is a good worker, you’ve noticed. His friends are quite fun—you’ve seen him with them in the hallways sometimes—but you start to realize that Minghao doesn’t let himself sacrifice his work ethic for fun.
You make quite some progress over the next hour or two, and you’re just about to bring up one of your ideas. “So over here, I was thinking we could write out the context of the play and then—” You’re cut off by the voice of your older brother at your door. He’s looking down at his phone with his lips pressed into a tight line as he speaks.
“Mom’s starting another cycle of chemo this Thursday so—oh, sorry,” Beomgyu says quickly upon looking up and seeing you have a visitor. “Come to my room when you’re done,” he mutters before turning on his heel.
The silence that envelopes your room is deafening.
You don’t say a word as you take a deep breath and pick up a different colored marker. You clear your throat. “So back to what I was saying …”
The next time you work on the poster, it’s at Minghao’s house.
You wear a blue gown at graduation. It’s a sunny day in June, and you’re sweating a little through the silk fabric, but it’s okay.
Your father and Beomgyu are there in the stands, but your eyes can’t help but be pulled to the empty seat next to them. Your mother said she’d try to make it, but broke the news last night that it was a dream too high up to reach.
It’s okay, you had told her, but as you clutch your diploma close to your heart, all you can think is, no it’s not, no it’s not, no it’s fucking not.
You sit through the rest of the ceremony with a silence and all around you, you see your peers’ smiling faces, the encouraging words of the dean, the cheers of the crowds, and somehow you feel so lost in it all. When you’re finally dismissed, everyone claps and revels once more, but somehow you can’t find the voice in your throat to join them.
Slipping through the crowds of people who line up to take pictures with their friends, family, and all the sort, you slip out of the small stadium and into some hallway.
“Fuck!” you finally cry out, raising your hand up and whipping it forward towards the brick wall. You wince, bracing yourself for the pain, but the sting never comes. Something warm envelopes your wrist, and when you finally blink your eyes open, you see a stranger.
“I don’t understand what you’re going through,” Minghao finally says. “I won’t pretend I do either, but it’ll be okay.” He hugs you and your face is pressed into Minghao’s own blue gown that is about to turn a few shades darker.
You cry. You cry harder than you think you’ve ever cried before.
You don’t know what it is about the way he speaks. Maybe it’s the way he holds you. Maybe it’s the way he smells. Maybe it’s everything, but whatever it is or isn’t, you don’t stop crying and for a gracing moment, you bask in catharsis.
And then, you hear Beomgyu’s voice calling for you from a nearby hallway, so you pull back. Minghao presses his lips together and lets you go, hands dropping to the side as you wipe away the tears. There’s a darker blue splotch in the middle of his chest, but he says nothing of it.
You don’t say a word as you step back—the only communication you share is a nod, but you swear on every last star in the sky that he has said more words to you in that moment than anyone has told you in your entire lifetime.
You don’t see Minghao’s face until it’s seven years later and he’s plastered on the screen as SECTOR’s newest recruit. He’s got phenomenal potential as an F1 racer—greatest new talent in a while—you hear the host of the channel say, but as you look at his picture on the screen, all you see is the face of a stranger who’s held you tighter than anyone before.
The last time you saw Minghao, it was through tear-blurred vision as you scurried out of Room C—you had to tell Jeonghan through broken sniffles to wrap up the session with Minghao—that the weight of the day had gotten to your head and that you needed to take a breather.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You retreated to your office soon after, staring at the photo of you and your mother that sat at the corner of your table, and then you cried a little more.
It’s the next day when you’re back in the office. Two patients had just finished up, and you’re sitting in your office, filing through some emails when you hear the familiar ringing of the front door opening. You furrow your eyebrows to yourself, not recalling having any other patients scheduled for at least another two hours.
Had Jeonghan and Seungkwan taken their break earlier than you thought? No, that can’t be possible because they always let you know when they’re heading out and—
“Doc!” you hear Seungkwan’s voice call out to you from down the hall. “Could you come here for a sec’?”
Frowning, you close your laptop and stand up, walking out the doorway and down the hallway towards the front entrance of the clinic. “What is i—oh.” The question dies on your tongue when you see Minghao standing in the reception.
Something in your stomach churns at the sight of him—eyes slightly blown out, lips parted but somehow curved downward in a way that has your own lips frowning. The events of the past few days crashes down on you, and you bite down on your bottom lips in hopes that it’ll ground you in reality.
Seungkwan stands behind the main desk, looking at you with some sort of awry expression, and you catch Jeonghan coming down from the other hallway to catch the odd situation. Minghao doesn’t seem to mind though, eyes zoning in on you.
“I need to talk to you,” he says. You feel Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s gazes burn into the back of your skull.
Glancing at them, you point to the door. “You guys can take your lunch break now,” you tell them before turning your attention to Minghao. “Let’s go to Room C?”
He follows you in an instant, slipping into the seat that he always does as you close the door behind you and walking up to stand in front of him.
You can hear the words already coming together on his tongue—I’m sorry—and so you open your mouth before Minghao can even say it.
“I’m sorry,” you say, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”
“No, I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I had no idea you—” Minghao stops himself. He doesn’t know how much is too much.
It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he says. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since graduation.”
“Me too,” you respond in an instant. “I see so much of myself in you,” you tell him.
“Stop, I—our situations aren’t comparable and—”
“Let me be the judge of that, yeah?” you cut him off with a small smile and through tears, cupping his face. The skin over his cheek bones are soft when you run your thumbs over them. “When everything is going wrong and you’re so angry, and you’re blaming all the wrong people but you can’t help it, and it makes you feel worse and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”
“Yeah.”
You inhale steadily, feeling hot water meet your hands and trickle down to your wrists. Minghao is crying, and suddenly you are hit with waves of deja vu. “I get it, okay?” you tell him, even though you know that Minghao already knows. You get it better than anyone. “It’ll be okay.”
The echo of his words from all those years ago crashes down on you, and suddenly Minghao pulls your arms down causing you to hunch over so your face is right in front of his.
“I’ve thought about you everyday since then.” The words come out of your mouth in a soft whisper. “Even when she passed away a few months later.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, eyes closing and head titling forward so that your foreheads press against each other. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you tell him, stroking his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry—you were right. Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
“I—I’m sorry, I just—”
Something about the way Minghao says the word sorry not from his throat, but from his stomach, has your mind twisting in ways that you can’t comprehend. The sound is so guttural and heart-wrenching, and this time you want to cry because he’s got nothing to be sorry for. Not a thing.
And so you kiss him.
You kiss Minghao because he is no longer a stranger. Because he is crying for you and you might as well cry for him. Cry for him, but you have done enough crying to last you a lifetime and so you kiss him instead, because they speak the same words: I love you.
And his lips are soft, his tongue warm, his hand ghosting over your arm is gentle, and you can hear it. You hear it in the way he moves against you—he understands and you want to cry again because he’s always understood, and so you don’t cry but only kiss him deeper.
“I made you something,” he admits. “It’s in the car.”
You’re thankful you sent your two coworkers out when you did, sparring all four of you the awkwardness when you and Minghao slip out of Room C and out the clinic towards the parking lot and to his car.
He pulls a blanket out from the passenger seat. It’s hardly big enough to cover your lower half but it’s bright and blue and warm, and somehow you feel your eyes well up with tears that you can’t seem to stop this time.
“Did you—did you make this?” you choke out as Minghao stands in front of you, handing the cloth over as you run your palms over the loose threads and yarn that poke through.
“Crocheted it myself,” he tells you, standing from a couple inches above, as you marvel over his work. Minghao thinks he’s done a poor job—you could probably do better—but you clutch the blanket with such vigor that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you. “You’ve helped me so much,” he says instead.
“Fuck,” you mutter over harsh breaths. “Y-you made this.”
“You taught me,” he corrects, and that’s when the dam breaks.
And this time Minghao hugs you, and you can tell he’s being careful about his neck and in all your frenzy you almost want to push him away and say, “Don’t move so much!” but then his arms fold in on you like a blanket of their own and you crumble.
You crumble into happiness because through everything you’ve ever been through, Minghao still holds you tighter than one holds onto life itself.
“I don’t think I can come here on Sunday next week,” you tell your boyfriend as you peer down at your phone. You’re leaning over his kitchen counter going between looking at some emails and glancing at the screen.
Minghao groans, and you bite back a smile. “Are you serious? Why?”
“Yes I’m serious,” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “My brother’s visiting town for a bit.”
“And I can’t meet him, why?” Minghao asks with a raised brow.
You laugh. “Good point. I haven’t told him I’m dating yet though. Might be too big of a ball drop if I tell him I have a boyfriend right away. A boyfriend who’s SECTOR’s best racer, might I add,” you say, pouring yourself a glass of water from the fridge before joining Minghao on the couch.
“It would be a good surprise though, right?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat,” you shoot sarcastically. “But seriously. I’ll see if I can get you two to meet, but I really can’t see you on Sunday. I have to pick Beomgyu up from the airport.”
“Got it,” Minghao agrees, shuffling closer to you as you both focus on the TV. A live interview with Kim Mingyu plays on the screen, the young man talking about his recent rise in recognition. You two sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Minghao speaks up.
“I fucking hate not being able to do anything,” he groans, shifting onto your shoulder slightly. His condition’s gotten exponentially better in past couple of weeks, but you instructed for him to wait at least two more weeks before fully getting back to training.
He’s been restless ever since, you’ve started to notice. “Do I really need to wait?” he mutters, lips close to your ear as you cuddle into his embrace.
You pull back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yes! I told you—it’s a part of the process.”
“Fuck the process, I wanna drive again!”
“Too bad I guess,” you say with a shrug, turning your attention to the TV. The channel moves on from the interview to talk about some updates, and eventually somewhere in the mix, Minghao’s name comes up, and you hear the man next to you curse under his breath.
Chewing on your tongue, you debate for a few moments on what to do before reaching for the remote to shut the TV off.
“Hey! I was watching th—”
“Do you ever stop complaining?” you huff, stepping out of his embrace much to Minghao’s dismay. “Stop moving,” you order him, sliding down onto your knees in front of his legs.
“What are you do—oh.” You hear the words dry on his tongue when you nudge your body between his thighs, inching closer to his groin.
“You’re so restless,” you hum, trailing your fingers from his knees, over his thighs, and finally let the ghost over the growing tent under his sweatpants. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” you suggest, toying with the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.
“O-okay,” Minghao agrees, and you grin at the way you see his cheeks flush pink when you inch the fabric off of his pants. His cock springs out, hardening under your gaze as it slaps against his lower adobe that’s still covered by his shirt.
You think for a moment to help Minghao out of his shirt too, but with the pretty pearl of precum dribbling off his slit, veins pressing up all against the length of his cock—all of him aching just for you—you start to feel your mouth water, forgetting about anything that isn’t having Minghao’s cock in your mouth.
“Careful with the right arm, ‘kay?” you tell him, a sly smirk tugging at your lips when you bring them down, dragging them over the base of his length all the way up to the glossy tip where you place a wet kiss.
“Y-yeah—fuck baby,” Minghao grunts when you envelope your lips around his throbbing tip, tongue swirling over the slit at the top as you do so. His left arm makes its way into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp when you pull back to take a deep breath.
Saliva drips down the corner of your lips, and as you look up at Minghao with wide, glossy eyes, he thinks he might bust in on the spot. “Go on baby,” he murmurs, using his firm grip on your head to nudge your lips closer to his pink tip. “Put it in …” he instructs, and when you grin and open your lips wide once more, Minghao knows he’s too far gone to be saved.
“You’re so hard Hao,” you whisper against him, tongue tracing constellations over the base of his cock when you reach to cup his balls, massaging them under your palms.
“Fuck, just like that baby,” Minghao moans, and the sound is so guttural it has your own pussy clenching around nothing. Your skin burns when you take him into your mouth again, cock sliding further down your mouth than before.
He’s so thick, and you feel every last curve of his cock, every last vein, against your cheeks, pressing against your tongue—Minghao is all you can taste, and you might go drunk on the sensation alone.
And he isn’t faring quite well above you either—his hand in your hair has got a firm hold but if anything, Minghao is losing touch with reality. Your mouth is so soft and so warm, your tongue so meticulous with the way it’s swirling around his tip when you slip off his cock before pushing your mouth back down on him—he’s going fucking crazy.
“Baby—oh baby,” the words rumble at the base of his chest, egging you on. With every bob of your head, you start to take him down further until his fat tip is battering against the back of your throat and yeah, it’s got tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but he’s moaning and grunting and squirming all for you and you just can’t seem to fucking stop.
“Shit, shit, shit—baby, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warns when you deep throat all of him, your nose nearly pressing against his pelvis as you press your eyes tight and revel in the sound of his moans, the feeling of his hands in your hair.
You take his slice of warning as a token of advice, pulling back for only a breath before attempting to do the same thing again, shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, rubbing whatever you can’t with your palms as wetness smears all over your lips and cheeks.
“Oh—fuck, I’m—”
When Minghao cums, it’s with his chest singing your name. Breathy moans—calls for you—as you suck him through the high, hot white painting the inside of your cheeks and tongue. You pant heavily when you finally pull yourself off of him, swallowing all that is left of him in your mouth, and then he looks at you with flushed cheeks and you both grin.
And when you climb up, Minghao hugs you. He hugs you like a blanket—like the blanket he made you, the blanket you taught him to make—and you two bask in this moment because Minghao is no longer stranger, but he is here and he is in your arms and you are in is, and there isn’t any other place you’d rather be.
a/n: mika ramble time! whatever demonic sickness has been haunting me for the past 5 days will NOT get the best of me. i have been aching to get this fic out since like september and it was initially supposed to be posted on hubbie's bday but :/ unfortunately i was a bit late bc life gets in the way ;c overall i'm really happy w it! personally, i think this is among the most emotional fics i've written, and i am extremely proud of myself for some parts of this so !! yea !! if u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, pls feel free to leave comments / reblogs >_< they mean the world to me ^^
#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen angst#svt angst#minghao smut#minghao x reader#xu minghao x reader#xu minghao smut#xu minghao fanfic#xu minghao angst#minghao angst#the8 x reader#the8 angst#📝 writing#flight of the stars
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Hi, I'm a big fan of your work. Sorry if this is a dumb question, why kill the kitties? I notice it a lot in horror in general, and it completely takes me out of the story and just makes me feel bad for the cat. I feel like I'm missing something.
Not a dumb question at all - and I knew I'd be getting some of this the moment we decided to include Poe's The Black Cat in TFOTHOU. The comments sections of the world are full of accusations that I hate cats and/or hands, and - well - neither is true.
I've admittedly gotten a little flippant with my humor in the past when people have brought this up. My knee-jerk reaction is always to say something along the lines of "well, Websters defines 'horror' as..."
But honestly, as far as I'm concerned, it's just not a thing.
A brief history of cats in my work:
HUSH - Maddie's beloved cat, "Bitch," escapes the danger of a home invader completely unharmed and is alive and well at the end of the movie. The last shot of the movie is Maddie lovingly petting the cat on the porch.
THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE - Yes, a malnourished stray kitten dies within Hill House, only to be horrifically reanimated. This was done to show the horrors of Hill House, serve as a warning to the family, and foreshadow the deaths of several human beings (who would meet more horrible fates) later. Hill House is an evil place, and it killed and collected all sorts of living things... there are dead humans aplenty, and also phantom dogs, which Stephen and the kids hear several times and see in episode six. I'd argue that Hill House is an equal-opportunity horror show.
DOCTOR SLEEP - Azzie the cat is a great friend to Dan Torrance. Azzie also has a "shine" of her own, and can sense when patients at the hospice are going to die, and goes into their rooms to comfort them. Azzie is never once in any danger throughout the film and, we presume, lives a long and happy life.
MIDNIGHT MASS - All of the residents of Crockett Island, which include 157 people, a huge population of stray cats, and at least one particularly sweet dog, do not fare so well in this show. But nothing against the cats - everybody dies. The arrival of a certain evil creature marks doom for literally every living thing on the island (except for two people). And yep, it started with the cats, because they were plentiful and would not alert anyone to its presence. We see its lair full of dead rats, birds, and raccoons as well, all eaten while the creature was in hiding.
THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER - we adapted The Black Cat, written by Edgar Allan Poe. If you're familiar with the Poe story, you know that it involves the horrible death of a cat, which then seems to get revenge from beyond the grave. This is Edgar Allan Poe's story - we did not write it.
HOWEVER, we decided to make a huge change to Poe's story. At the end of our retelling, we reveal that Pluto the cat is alive and well (and still wearing the Gucci collar), and that the supposed violence against the cat existed entirely in the person's mind. Pluto 2 - the terrifying, supernatural replacement that stalked Leo - is not real either. It is just Verna, taking another form (hence the injury to VERNA'S eye). So in this show, not a single animal is harmed AT ALL.
We did that on purpose. We decided to change Poe's classic story so that the cat lived. We went out of our way to do that.
I truly don't have anything against cats. I do tell horror stories... but that's about it! I hope it doesn't make it more difficult to enjoy the story, and thank you for watching.
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