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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | seven

🐴Chapter summary: Your heart aches and you feel like you see Jimin everywhere you turn, it feels suffocating. When you suddenly get a call from your sister’s doctor saying that she never made it to her appointment, dread fills your bones. 🐴Chapter title: We Got it Wrong 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: car accident and bleeding from a head wound (I’m sorry 😢), OC is just very sad and angry, there’s a lot of angst and stupidity (thanks to the stupid misunderstanding last chapter), lol. It will get better! But not right now 🥲 And if you feel like you need a reminder where the story is heading, read this spoiler 🫶 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 9.5k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “We Got it Wrong” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: in true ‘McLeod’s Daughters’ style, we open up for all the angst in this chapter! It was tough to write, and it was hard not to cry at the end. It’s more on the sad side, but the sun will shine again— don’t you worry! ☀️

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

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“Tears for all the damage Tears for all the joy Out in the dark, alone and lost I’ll try not to destroy Any more of what we had Because we got it wrong” - ‘We Got it Wrong’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Despite the persistent yearning for Jimin that echoes in your heart and mind, the refuge you find in your work with the wild horses becomes a haven for forgetting. In their presence, you master the art of maintaining a clear mind and keeping your emotions in check.

Otherwise, the delicate dance of gaining their trust remains elusive, and your efforts to gentle them might as well be in vain.

But sometimes maintaining a clear mind becomes a challenge, especially when the echoes of Jimin’s laughter reverberate from his house.

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips, catching Yoongi’s attention as he glances your way from his perch on the fence.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Yoongi advises, enveloping you in a comforting sideways hug to emphasize his point.

You pout, your bottom lip jutting out, eyes imploring with a softness, “Easy for you to say.”

You sigh once more, a heavy breath escaping, and a profound sense of deflation washes over you. Is this truly the path your life is destined to take?

“He’ll open up to you in due time,” he reassures, and you can’t help but erupt into a manic chuckle, a blend of frustration and disbelief escaping your lips.

“You can’t be serious. It’s been weeks, and he still hasn’t uttered a word to me. I doubt that’s going to change anytime soon,” you express with a mix of disbelief and resignation.

Yoongi relents to your sour mood, descending gracefully from the fence with a resigned sigh, his boots meeting the sand with a soft thud.

Putting your lunch away, you gracefully descend, ready to immerse yourself once more in the comforting distraction of work, hoping to reclaim a few precious hours without the weight of Jimin occupying your mind.

As you stroll alongside Yoongi, you make your way back to the stables, anticipation bubbling within you to witness the progress on the chestnut mare he’s been tirelessly dedicating nearly a month to.

The expansive stable beckons, its generous proportions dwarfing yours, illuminated by a pristine, white light that banishes the garish yellow hues of your own barn. The stalls, noticeably more capacious, could easily accommodate two fully grown horses, prompting an eye roll at the absurd fixation on size—typical men.

With a swift yet gentle command, Yoongi effortlessly guides the mare out of her stall, relying solely on his body language and the cadence of his voice, a testament to the unspoken connection he shares with the spirited creature. “Come.”

His ability to command the horse without the need for a halter or rope leaves you in awe, like witnessing a magician performing an extraordinary feat. As he imparts his tricks to you, you’ve ventured to try them yourself with Mikrokosmos, turning the experience into a magical and exhilarating connection between you and the spirited mare.

Yoongi guiding the brown mare alongside you, you exit the expansive stables and make your way back down to the pens, the rhythmic echo of hooves on the stable floor harmonizing with the subtle sounds of nature surrounding you.

Your gaze shifts to Yoongi, a spark of curiosity brightening your eyes, “Have you thought of a name for her yet?”

A soft chuckle escapes him as you approach the pen, his hand reaching for the gate, “Holly.”

With the gate ajar, Yoongi ushers Holly into the pen with a deliberate calmness. In the center, she stands like a picture of patience, anticipating his gentle approach.

“That’s a cute name,” you remark, a genuine smile playing on your lips as you savor the sweet sound of the horse’s name.

You gracefully ascend, perching on the fence as if it were your throne, offering an unrivaled view of Yoongi’s equine magic.

“What are you gonna do with Holly today?” You inquire with genuine interest, your eyes fixed on the unfolding scene before you. Yoongi approaches Holly with a gentle touch, his hands navigating the contours of the horse like an artist sculpting a masterpiece, eliciting a contented whinny that adds a musical note to the serene atmosphere.

“I’m going to ride her today,” he declares with unwavering assurance, the timbre of his voice resonating with a mix of competence and excitement. As he applies gentle pressure on Holly’s back, the horse remains still, her tail swaying lazily to ward off an annoying insect.

With a graceful ease, Yoongi begins to mount Holly, his movement akin to an acrobat suspended in mid-air, creating a whimsical and amusing spectacle. He’s not fully astride her yet, more like a playful dance over her back, a sight so unique that it tugs at the corners of your lips, tempting a restrained laugh. It’s a display of horsemanship that you’ve never encountered before, leaving you both entertained and captivated.

Holly maintains her poise as Yoongi gracefully hovers on her back, and then, in a seamless motion, he descends to the sandy ground, his landing executed with a finesse that mirrors the effortless connection he shares with the gentle mare.

He recreates the move, elevating himself further on Holly’s back, until he dangles with his head swaying on the opposite side. Your grin widens, and though you’re tempted to burst into laughter, you restrain yourself, not wanting to disturb Holly’s tranquil demeanor.

He glides down once more, approaches her head, and caresses her with a tender touch. The whole interaction exudes a gentle harmony. Returning to her side, he pulls himself up onto her back, effortlessly swinging his leg over her body, finally settling into a comfortable seat.

You’re tempted to applaud, but you resist, not wanting to startle the horse. Yet, your admiration is palpable. This marks Yoongi’s inaugural ride on Holly, a momentous achievement that leaves you thoroughly impressed!

Yoongi stretches over her withers and strokes her neck affectionately, whispering, “Good girl.”

With a subtle click of his tongue and a gentle nudge of his legs, he guides her into a slow walk around the pen, no saddle, bridle, or halter in sight.

Color you thoroughly impressed.

You watch in silent awe as he maneuvers around the pen, his presence commanding such tranquility that you’re hesitant to disrupt the serene atmosphere by uttering even a breath.

In a breathtaking display, Holly transitions from a slow trot to a graceful canter, and Yoongi remains a steady figure atop her back. His legs maintain a gentle connection with her sides, while his hands rest calmly on her withers. A moment of pure trust unfolds as he releases his grip, extending his arms outward, allowing Holly to dance freely in circles within the pen.

Yoongi embodies the essence of liberation, and a yearning grows within you to share a similar bond of freedom with Mikrokosmos. His infectious smile meets your gaze as Holly releases a resounding snort, prompting a heartfelt chuckle to escape your lips.

Allowing Holly to race freely, Yoongi skillfully guides her by exerting a gentle pull on her withers, coaxing her spirited gallop into a graceful deceleration, transforming the wild rhythm into a serene and controlled stroll.

The distant rumble of an approaching car draws your attention away from the serene scene in the pen, and you reluctantly shift your gaze towards the source. To your dismay, Jimin’s girlfriend arrives, her car pulling up with an elegance that seems to mirror her captivating allure. Ugh. Why does she have to look that good? And why does she look so familiar?

You scrutinize the unfolding scene, watching with a mix of bitterness and resentment as she gracefully emerges from her car. Jimin, despite his limp, crosses the distance to warmly embrace her. The sight sends a surge of conflicting emotions through you – your heart tightens, your blood simmers, and your hands involuntarily clench, the tension palpable as your teeth grind together in silent frustration.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfs you, an uncontrollable storm raging within. The intensity of your feelings is staggering – a deep-seated resentment towards Deiji, a lingering hatred for Jimin himself, yet paradoxically, a persistent love that refuses to fade. The turbulence within you paints an intricate mosaic of conflicting emotions, leaving you helplessly caught in the tumultuous crosscurrents of your heart.

As Jimin leans in to bestow a chaste kiss upon her cheek, bitterness seeps through your veins, staining your soul with an ominous shade of black. Above you, an unseen tempest brews, dark clouds of despair hanging heavily, casting a shadow over your heart.

Time, instead of healing, has only fueled the flames of pain, hurt, anger, and sadness within you. Over two weeks have passed since the last encounter with Jimin and his girlfriend, yet the agony persists, as raw and piercing as if it were yesterday. Rather than easing, the passage of time seems to stoke the embers, transforming your emotions into a relentless storm of fury and jealousy that intensifies with each passing day.

Suppressing the bitterness welling up within, you shift your focus back to Yoongi and Holly. Dwelling on Jimin, the man who once went out of his way for you, retrieving you from the city, proves too agonizing for your fragile heart.

The nagging question persists: why won’t he engage in conversation, fight for you, like he did then?

“.... Mikrokosmos?” You snap back to the present, catching the tail end of Yoongi’s question. Offering him an apologetic look, you realize you’ve been lost in your own thoughts, missing every word he carefully uttered.

You pivot to fully engage with Yoongi, deliberately tuning out the sight of the content couple in the background. “I’m sorry, I got lost in my own world. What were you saying?” you inquire with a sheepish smile, noting that Yoongi has dismounted Holly and is now giving her affectionate pats.

Yoongi draws in a breath before repeating himself, his gaze fixed on you. “I asked if you want to work on Mikrokosmos?”

With a released breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you offer him a nod. Working on Mikrokosmos is exactly what you need. As you descend from the fence, Yoongi swings open the gate, leading Holly to a paddock where she joins the other horses, letting you both focus on the task at hand.

You stride purposefully into the stables, the familiar scent of hay and warm wood enveloping you as you approach Mikrokosmos, peacefully resting in her stall.

You swing open the stall door, the hinges creaking softly in the quiet stable. With a warm smile and a voice that echoes genuine affection, you greet Mikrokosmos, “Hi Kosmos.”

Mikrokosmos ambles over, her velvety nose brushing against your outstretched hand, and she playfully nibbles, almost giving it a gentle lick. Your laughter fills the air as you shift to pat her neck. Stepping back, she follows, and you guide her down to the pen. With a practiced motion, you swing the gate open, and as she steps inside, you secure it, sealing the quiet world between you and the rest of the bustling stable.

Perched atop the fence, Yoongi assumes his vantage point, keenly observing your every move with Mikrokosmos, a silent maestro overseeing a harmonious dance between human and horse.

You guide Mikrokosmos around the pen, allowing her to explore the boundaries with curious sniffs and gentle trots. Positioned in the center, your anticipation grows as you await the elusive connection, the ’join up’ that has eluded you thus far. A subtle worry creeps in, questioning if this profound bond will ever materialize between you and the majestic creature.

“Relax and let her come to you,” Yoongi advises from his perch on the fence, a keen awareness of the frustration simmering within you.

Another sigh escapes you, a gentle release that carries your thoughts through your body and spills out through your fingertips. Surrendering to the moment, you embrace the idea that sometimes losing control is the only way to regain it. With a deliberate clearing of your mind and a slow, calming breath, you reassure yourself that everything will indeed be fine.

You surrender to the quietude, closing your eyes as you inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

As you focus on Mikrokosmos with closed eyes, the subtle rustle of something against the fence flares your senses. Internally cursing Yoongi for disrupting your concentration, your heightened hearing captures the gradual crescendo of hoofbeats, a rhythmic melody slowing to a gentle cadence.

The hoofbeats draw nearer, and your heart matches their slow, rhythmic approach. A mysterious sensation caresses your back, creating an anticipation that hangs in the air like a delicate promise.

With a resounding whinny, Mikrokosmos echoes her presence against your back, a triumphant melody of connection. Pride surges through you like a victorious anthem. Overwhelmed with joy, you pivot slowly, locking eyes with your equine companion, and tenderly pat her forehead, sealing the bond that has blossomed between you.

As Mikrokosmos revels in her joined connection with you, a swell of pride, you become aware of Yoongi’s gratified grin. Yet, amidst the shared triumph, your eyes catch another figure— Deiji, leaning casually against the fence, her smile mirroring the prideful moment as an unexpected witness to your accomplishment.

“That was amazing!” Her voice practically squeaks with amazement, prompting an eye roll from you.

She glances between you and Yoongi, her voice carrying a sweet and eager tone as she proposes, “I was wondering if I could assist you with the horses?” Despite her happy demeanor, you can’t quite shake off the underlying discomfort you feel in her presence.

You don’t want her help. Refusing her offer with a swift and almost brusque retort, “No.�� The refusal spills from your lips with an unintended edge, its abruptness catching even Yoongi off guard. He arches an eyebrow at your firm response, a smirk playing on his lips as he finds amusement in your conviction.

Undeterred by your rejection, Jimin’s girlfriend gracefully accepts your refusal, her smile unwavering. “Okay. Please let me know if I can help you somehow,” she offers, her kindness contrasting with the tension lingering in the air.

With a hint of sarcasm, you snide at her, the forced smile on your face barely concealing the complex emotions within. You nod in acknowledgement, and as she releases her grip on the fence, she retreats gracefully towards the house, leaving you with a bittersweet taste in the air.

You stand firm in your independence, a resolute desire echoing in your mind — you don’t want assistance, especially not from her.

Yoongi gracefully descends from the fence, his presence blending seamlessly with the rhythmic strokes of your hand against Mikrokosmos, creating a moment where time seems to pause, encapsulating the essence of your shared connection with the wild horses.

“Did you really have to be so rude to her?” Yoongi chuckles beside you, his laughter a dissonant melody to the tension in the air, and you can’t help but mutter a few choice words under your breath, realizing the complexity of your emotions.

You pivot towards him, a tempest of frustration swirling in your gaze. “She is the enemy!”

His laughter persists, revealing the expanse of his gums. You exhale sharply. “I can’t have her clouding my thoughts while I’m trying to find solace in my work.”

He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Nah, I get it. You’re just yearning for that Park dick to fill you up,” he teases, winking playfully.

Your face heats up, a crimson blush spreading across your cheeks, and you shoot Yoongi an indignant glare. In a hushed tone, laced with irritation, you hiss, “Yoongi!” — wary not to disturb Mikrokosmos with your sudden outburst.

“Are we going on another epic grocery haul?” you tease with a laugh, watching Ara expertly navigate the car towards town. The anticipation builds as you approach, eager to snatch up all the essentials Jessi has meticulously scribbled down on her ever-growing list.

The town unfolds on the horizon, and a surge of excitement bubbles within you. It’s peculiar how a routine grocery trip can evoke such giddiness. Perhaps it’s the prospect of escaping the looming presence of Jimin and Deiji that adds an unexpected thrill to the mundane task.

So far, you’ve become a master of avoiding the couple. If Jimin harbors no desire for conversation, you find yourself questioning the necessity of extending the courtesy to him or his girlfriend.

Admittedly, you’re toeing the line of childish behavior, but damn it, it’s hard to resist. The complexity of your feelings for Jimin unfolds like a tangled web. While you harbor genuine affection, it feels like your chance slipped away, and he’s unwilling to grant you the opportunity to clarify or even listen. You grasp the sting of being picked last, yet you can’t help but wonder – did you fail to convey your feelings clearly enough for Jimin to comprehend?

Damn it, you wish Yoongi never kissed you. Then this wouldn’t be happening.

In a moment of exasperation, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. Despite the internal mandate to banish thoughts of Jimin from your mind, his presence permeates your thoughts once more, defying your attempts at self-control.

Ara skillfully guides the car into a coveted parking spot near the grocery store carts, strategically positioning you for an efficient grocery haul. The convenience of proximity promises a seamless transfer of bags from store to car, sparing you unnecessary hassle in loading up your supplies.

“I’ll go grab a cart,” you declare, pushing the car door handle. Ara, Soo-ah, and Ha-rin follow suit, emerging from the vehicle with shared anticipation for the shopping expedition.

As your fingers inch toward the cart handle, your attention is abruptly drawn to a familiar figure across the street.

Park Jimin.

Jimin and Deiji share a moment across the street, his whispered words causing her to blush and giggle. Even though their conversation is out of earshot, the infectious sound of her laughter echoes in your mind. With a scuff, you finally grasp the handlebar of the cart, but your attention remains fixed on Jimin.

He seems happy, a devilish smile gracing his lips, and you yearn for that happiness to be aimed in your direction. His fingers play through Deiji’s hair in a seductive dance, and the sight of her biting her bottom lip, restraining a moan you presume, ignites a surge of anger within you. Red dots line your vision as Jimin’s hand trails down to the small of her back, and all you can see is an intense shade of red.

“What’s the holdup?” Soo-ah quips from behind, but met with your silence, she traces the direction of your gaze instead.

“Oh no, sweetheart…” she murmurs, her voice tinged with sadness, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. A stifled sniff escapes you, tears threatening at the edge of your waterline.

No, crying is the last thing you want to do now. Hold it in.

Your gaze remains fixated on Jimin’s intimate gestures with Deiji, and a suffocating sensation grips your chest. It’s as if the air has grown thin, and a nauseating wave washes over you, threatening to spill an unsettling mix of emotions.

The other girls gather around you, creating a supportive barrier on either side, momentarily diverting your attention from the magnetic presence of Jimin. Their friendship acts as a shield against the emotional turmoil, offering a brief respite from the intense gravitational pull of Jimin’s figure.

“I just don’t understand,” you mumble, your gaze fixated on the ground, a wave of queasiness washing over you. As you lift your eyes, they inadvertently meet Jimin’s across the road in the parking lot. The irresistible brown orbs lock onto yours, causing your breath to hitch, and your body freezes. His expression is a tumultuous mix of anger and spite, a hurtful glare that pierces through you. A small voice in your mind begins to wonder if this spiteful display is born out of pettiness, and the question lingers – would he truly be so petty?

Your heart clenches, and your hands tighten their grip on the cart’s handlebar. Will this overwhelming ache ever dissipate, or are you destined to carry this horrible feeling forever?

Soo-ah and the rest of the girls guide you away from the cart station, gently urging you into the store. Everything inside becomes a blurry haze. A strange ringing noise echoes in your ears, its origin unclear. Your heart aches with an intensity you’ve never felt, and you start to question if you’re beginning to get sick.

“Can you manage the rest? I’m not feeling well…” Your voice carries a low, deflated tone, and the sensation of your vision spinning intensifies, leaving you dizzy. The unfamiliar feeling bewilders you. The girls nod, concern evident in their eyes, yet they allow you to leave their company.

You navigate your way out of the grocery store at a deliberate pace, locate the car, unlock it, swing the door open, and plop down in the seat. Leaving the door ajar, you take in the fresh air, hoping it might provide some relief.

Exhaling deeply, you sense your heartbeat gradually slowing down, but a nagging question lingers in your mind. Is illness creeping in, or is it the persistent ache in your chest that intensifies every time Jimin comes into view? The unexplained heaviness remains, leaving you searching for answers amid the uneasy beats of your heart.

As the girls return with a brimming cart full of groceries, you muster a wry smile. Once the car is loaded, they encircle you, offering tender hugs that carry warmth and reassurance, their silent promise echoing that, despite the current storm, everything will eventually find its way to calm waters.

You secure the seat belt, and Ha-rin takes the wheel, steering you homeward. Your head finds a resting place against the window, and you gaze out with a distant stare. The scenery, painted in hues of green, blue, and gentle yellows, unfolds like a soothing watercolor, gradually lulling your weary mind into a momentary state of tranquility.

Against the cool window, you surrender to the embrace of sleep, only to find yourself entangled in dreams where deep brown eyes pierce through you with a spiteful glare, carrying the weight of disappointment. Haunted by strands of blonde hair, your heart clenches, and amidst the fragments of slumber, you grapple with the question of how things went so awry between you and Jimin.

Every time you’re working with the wild horses, the world fades away. Jimin’s laughter, and the image of his overly joyful girlfriend, lose their vividness in the company of these majestic creatures. You don’t understand how a person can be so happy, it’s like a mystery you can’t unravel. Maybe it’s because your own mood mirrors the darkness of obsidian, overshadowing any hint of joy.

Perched atop the fence, your gaze follows Yoongi’s skilled hands at work on Holly. Today’s session involves a saddle on her back and a bridle, and you can’t help but marvel at the seamless harmony between them. Holly responds with grace, a testament to Yoongi’s expertise. In this transformative process, she inches closer to the coveted status of a fully trained stock horse, a journey Yoongi confidently assures you she’s on the brink of completing.

Your eyes trace Yoongi’s every move as he guides Holly in a mesmerizing gallop around the pen. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of calm, an unspoken understanding between rider and horse. Holly’s spirit, once untamed, now dances gracefully under Yoongi’s expert guidance, creating a scene that is both captivating and harmonious.

Yoongi’s question slices through your contemplation, catching you off guard like a sudden gust of wind. “Do you want to go for a ride?” His words, a tempting invitation, hang in the air, coaxing you to escape the confines of your thoughts and embrace the freedom that awaits on horseback.

Your eyes widen as his proposition sinks in, but you respond with a subtle nod, your silent agreement carrying the weight of anticipation.

As Holly gradually slows to a trot and then eases into a lazy walk, Yoongi reveals, “This is the final test for Holly.”

With a thoughtful expression, Yoongi shares his plan to test Holly’s adaptability in the wild. Intrigued, he proposes, “Why not venture out and seek the herd of wild horses again?”

It might just be the escape you need from this ranch and its owner, who continues to stir uncomfortable feelings within your now delicate heart.

Jumping off the fence with a renewed sense of purpose, you stride towards the gate. As Yoongi gracefully maneuvers Holly out of the pen, you secure the gate behind you. Your journey continues with determined steps, leading you to where Marshmallow patiently awaits, reins neatly fastened to the fence.

You gently release the reins, your fingers caressing Marshmallow’s neck, eliciting a contented whinny. Placing your foot in the stirrup, you effortlessly swing your leg over his sturdy white frame. The moment you settle into the saddle, a profound sense of belonging washes over you, soothing your restless soul. The inexplicable bond between you and horses never fails to astound you, creating a sanctuary of comfort with every ride.

With a tender smile, your heart lightens, and you delicately urge Marshmallow into a trot by applying subtle pressure with your legs. As you follow Yoongi, the rhythmic beat of hooves creates a symphony that resonates with the newfound tranquility within you.

Embarking on a journey over the rolling hills, the grass beneath remains an enchanting green, bathed in the warmth of lingering summer. A gradual canter carries you through the landscape, your thoughts dissipating, leaving space for the soothing breeze to play with your hair, accompanied by the rhythmic pulse of hooves that mirrors the cadence of your own heart.

Lost in the passage of time, the duration of your ride eludes you, the profound silence between you and Yoongi accentuating the harmony of nature. The mountains, standing proud and towering in the distant horizon, seem to extend warm embraces, enveloping you in a sense of belonging to this picturesque landscape.

As you traverse the landscape, the familiarity of the woods, the serene lake where laughter once echoed with Jessi, and the expansive paddocks that seem to stretch endlessly into the horizon become a poignant backdrop to the rhythm of your horse’s hooves.

The wind tousles your hair, and there’s a fleeting sense that, perhaps, everything is gradually finding its way to being alright.

Lost in the vast expanse, you ride on, the anticipation building within you, wondering if today will be another day the wild horses grace you with their presence. The landscape sprawls before you, an unfamiliar tapestry of nature’s secrets waiting to be unveiled.

As you speak, a soft melancholy smile graces your lips, “I don’t think we’ll see them today, Yoongi.” Despite the disappointment, you hold onto the hope that eluded you, a silent acknowledgment that not everything unfolds as desired—recent events serving as a poignant reminder of life’s unpredictable nature.

“I don’t even know where we are,” you sigh, bringing the horses to a gentle trot. Your gaze sweeps across the expansive landscape, a moment of shared uncertainty between you and Yoongi.

“I know where we are, don’t worry,” Yoongi assures you, confidence lacing his voice as you both come to a full stop before a vast and lush forest.

You release the reins, allowing Marshmallow to lower his head and graze on the lush grass, while Holly follows suit. Holly’s remarkable behavior on this ride surprises you; her wild and untamed nature seamlessly hidden beneath a calm exterior. If it weren’t for her untamed origins, she could easily pass as a seasoned stock horse, blending effortlessly into the peaceful scenery.

While allowing Marshmallow and Holly to graze peacefully, their heads suddenly snap up, ears perked forward in unison, attuned to a sound that hasn’t yet reached your own ears. Then, like a wave crashing over you, the familiar rhythm of hooves pounding against the earth becomes clear – a wild and untamed symphony echoing through the air.

As the herd of wild horses materializes in the distance, a charismatic dark brown stallion commands the front, orchestrating the untamed ballet of freedom. They present a majestic spectacle, embodying the essence of the wild – eyes reflecting untold stories, a blend of soulful wisdom and mischievous spirit. With a profound exhale, you find yourself immersed in a deep appreciation for these creatures and the untamed nature that surrounds you.

Holly stands poised, her gaze locked onto the passing herd, perhaps recognizing the familiar faces of her once-wild family. Despite the untamed energy coursing through the herd, she remains steadfast, mirroring your own stance, both of you immersed in silent observation.

The sight of the wild horses in full gallop is nothing short of breathtaking, and as they surge across the landscape, a surge of emotion tightens your heart in your chest, leaving you captivated by the untamed beauty unfolding before your eyes.

In a hushed and reverent tone, you marvel, “They are so beautiful,” your words barely more than a breath, yet carrying the weight of admiration. A subtle nod from Yoongi acknowledges the shared appreciation of the magnificent spectacle before you.

As your heart swells with longing, a sense of crushing desire envelops you, wishing for the freedom these majestic horses possess—to express your truth and embrace the things you yearn for in life. The ache intensifies, a silent plea echoing in the vast expanse of the open landscape.

Your hands clutch the reins, and a damp sensation draws your attention. Glancing down, you discover small droplets of water clinging to your skin. A subtle sniffle escapes you, and it dawns on you—tears cascade down your cheeks, marking your hands with the tangible evidence of your silent emotional storm.

A constriction tightens your chest, and you draw in a deep breath, hoping to ease the pressure, only to release it in a slow exhale. The rhythm of your breath echoes the emotional turbulence within.

Yoongi’s gaze gently turns in your direction, his expression a silent symphony of understanding. No words escape his lips, yet the warmth of a caring smile lingers, offering a comforting embrace in the quietude between you.

You lift a trembling hand to your face, attempting to quell the rebellious tears that seem to have a life of their own. Your breath quickens, a desperate effort to steady your heart and rein in the tumultuous tide of emotions.

With a tear-streaked face, you turn to Yoongi, your eyes carrying the weight of a profound sadness. “Have you ever loved someone so much, it feels like you’re suffocating?”

Your heart carries the weight of your confession, a mix of both burden and liberation. The unspoken truth finally escapes your lips, echoing in the quiet spaces of your soul. Your feelings for Jimin, profound and unyielding, create a storm within, rendering you incapable of coherent thought, drowning in irrationality and a bitter sea of jealousy.

“Yeah,” he utters with a weighted exhale, the weight of that single syllable hangs thick in the air, a tangible presence in the shared space between you. Compassion wells up within you, not just for him, but for your own tender heart. Silent tears continue their descent, accompanied by a subdued sniffle that punctuates the shared vulnerability in the moment.

“I’m so sorry.”

Grumbling under your breath, you meticulously tend to the veggie garden, methodically extracting weeds and inspecting the plants for any sign of ripe fruit. Kneeling on a plush mat to provide respite for your beleaguered knees, your hands adorned with protective gloves, ensuring that both your hands and fingers remain shielded as you immerse yourself in the nurturing care of the flourishing garden.

Amidst the monotony of this laborious task, you find yourself immersed in the meticulous chore of weeding, the unfortunate bearer of the short straw today. Rows of carrots and potatoes bear witness to your diligent efforts as you navigate through the verdant expanse, determined to extract every intrusive weed that dares encroach upon the fertile soil.

Lost in contemplation, the rhythmic cadence of footsteps stealthily closes in on you, their approach unheard in the sanctuary of your introspective musings.

“Hi, I’m going into town,” your sister’s sudden announcement startles you from your gardening reverie. As you look up, her intent gaze meets yours, a tapestry of confusion woven into your expression.

“Why are you heading into town? Weren’t you supposed to tackle the tax today?” you inquire, your hands continuing their task of pulling stubborn weeds from the soil.

“I have that doctor’s appointment, remember?” Her raised eyebrow prompts a silent scold for forgetting such an important detail.

Panic flickers in your eyes as you abruptly halt your weeding, staring at your sister with genuine concern. “When did you mention the doctor’s appointment? Is everything okay?” Worry lines crease your forehead, a mix of surprise and anxiety clouding your expression.

With a light chuckle, she tries to alleviate your concerns, “Just a routine checkup, no big deal!” Her laughter carries a reassuring tone, and as she waves, the softness in her expression mirrors the warmth that envelops you.

You return her smile, your gaze lingering as she strolls away toward the yard, where the cars patiently wait.

“See you later,” she calls with a wave. From your perch in the veggie garden, you observe her unlocking the car, slipping into the driver’s seat of the pickup truck. The tail lights illuminate briefly, transitioning to brake lights before shifting to the soft glow of white. Jessi maneuvers in reverse, the wheels crunching on the dirt road as she disappears toward town.

As you return to the arduous task of pulling weeds, you find yourself grappling with the relentless tendrils of frustration, a silent curse escaping your lips like a rebellious whisper. Resigned to the fate of having drawn the shortest straw, you navigate through the sea of stubborn greenery, each tug of resistance echoing the monotony of your predicament.

Beneath the blazing midday sun, gratitude washes over you for the protective refuge of your hat, casting a welcomed shadow upon both your face and neck. Yet, despite this shield, beads of perspiration dance down your forehead, a testament to the unexpected physical rigor of the task at hand. The sheer demand of the job dawns upon you, surpassing your initial expectations.

Anticipating the aftermath, you realize the likelihood of waking up tomorrow with sore arms, an inevitability intensified if you neglect the crucial post-labor ritual of stretching your fatigued muscles.

Emerging victorious from your laborious undertaking, you navigate your way into the kitchen, a sanctuary promising respite in the form of an icy glass of water. As the fridge door swings open, a cascade of cool air envelops your sweat-drenched face, offering a fleeting reprieve before you reluctantly seize the chilled jug. Your quest for relief continues as you reach for an overhead cabinet, extracting a glass that promises salvation. The sensation of the glass against your palms is a prelude to the ecstasy that follows as you pour the water, savoring its frosty embrace. With each indulgent gulp, the frigid liquid becomes a balm, soothing the searing heat that has claimed your body in this relentless weather.

Savoring the rejuvenating coolness, you lean leisurely against the countertop, the glass of water a welcome oasis in your hands. Just as the refreshing liquid begins to work its magic, Soo-ah strides into the kitchen, her expression twisted into a weird frown.

Your discerning gaze sweeps over Soo-ah’s form, a subtle intuition whispering that something is amiss, yet the unspoken question lingers on your lips. Before you can voice your inquiry, she breaks the pregnant silence, her words hanging in the air like a cryptic prelude. “Have you seen Jessi?”

A subtle tremor courses through your being as you dismissively shake your head, “She’s in town for a doctor’s appointment.”

A shadow of concern paints Soo-ah’s features as she deftly retrieves her phone from the depths of her pocket, her eyes flicking to the screen with a mixture of urgency and unease. “How long has she been gone?”

A ripple of disquiet snakes its way through you, fueled by Soo-ah’s restive demeanor. Methodically, you rewind the clock in your mind, tallying the hours since Jessi’s presence graced your sight. “About five hours,” you declare, the admission carrying a weight that coils into an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Weariness etches itself deeper into Soo-ah’s countenance, her features now a canvas painted with both fatigue and concern. Your heartbeat quickens, a subtle but undeniable jolt, as the realization takes hold—this is not merely a cause for concern, but an ominous sign that tightens its grip around your heart, intensifying the ominous gravity of the moment.

A sudden, piercing ring shatters the stillness, and your gaze instinctively darts towards the source—a resonating chime from the landline. The air tightens around you, your heartbeat accelerating into a rapid cadence, each breath shallow and tense. A palpable wave of dread courses down your spine, a cold shiver that heralds an impending revelation. Locking eyes with Soo-ah, both of you stand frozen, caught in the ominous limbo between the echoing ring and the unknown that awaits on the other end of the line.

You should pick it up dammit! A stern scolding echoing in your mind, compelling your body into animated motion that seems detached from your own will. With a sense of urgency, you traverse the space to the countertop, your hand stretching out towards the ringing phone. As your fingertips make contact with the cream-colored plastic, a surge of anxiety courses through them, a prelude to the unknown that awaits on the other end. The plastic yields beneath the pressure of your grip, and in the hushed anticipation, you lift the receiver, your voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of tension.

“Hello, Bora Ranch. How can I help you?”

The voice on the other end of the line weaves a narrative that acts like a chilling undertow, dragging your heart into an abyss of despair. Your hand involuntarily tightens around the phone, a desperate grip as if it were your sole connection to a vanishing lifeline.

The voice on the other end, that of the doctor’s receptionist, cuts through the air, delivering news that lands with a disconcerting weight.

“We’re calling to let you know that Jessi missed her appointment today, and we wanted to know if she wants to reschedule another one?”

You then realize that weird feeling you’ve been having— this isn’t good.

A furrow etches itself onto your brow, the cord winding around your other hand as if trying to anchor you in a moment slipping out of your control. “She hasn’t come home yet. Can I get back to you?”

The words hang in the air, delivered with a voice that quivers with a blend of unease and uncertainty, as you begin to grasp what this means.

The receptionist’s agreement is a somber symphony in your ears before bidding goodbye. With a heart weighed down by the gravity of the call, you delicately place the receiver back in its cradle. As your eyes shift back to Soo-ah, her visage mirrors your own unsettled state, her features etched with a shared tension, a palpable reflection of the worry that swirls between you like an unspoken storm.

A thick silence hangs in the air, pregnant with unspoken fears.

Soo-ah, unable to bear the weight any longer, shatters the tension like fragile glass. “Well, what is it?” Her words cut through the quiet, a desperate plea for answers.

You’re afraid.

Dread coils around your words, a vice grip on your throat as you grapple with the weight of unspoken fears. The hesitation lingers, but the urgency pushes you to break the silence. “Jessi never made it to her appointment…”

You observe the subtle transformation in Soo-ah’s face, a haunting dance between anguish and concern.

“Well, where is she then?” Soo-ah demands, her voice betraying an unsteady cadence that mirrors the delicate balance of the unspoken question hanging in the air, as if the answer hinges on your words. Your gaze reflects uncertainty, exhaling a breath heavy with the weight of the unknown.

“I think something bad has happened to her,” your voice wavers, the admission reluctant and laden with a vulnerability that you wish could be erased. The words, heavy with an unwelcome truth, carry the weight of a foreboding certainty that reverberates deep within your bones—an ominous resonance that refuses to be silenced.

Soo-ah, with her once sun-kissed complexion drains of its warmth, now veering into an eerie, almost gray pallor. A whisper of worry taints her words as she utters, “We should call Jungkook.”

With a solemn nod, you reach for your phone, fingers betraying a subtle tremor as you punch in Jungkook’s number. As you raise the phone to your ear, the weight of the impending conversation echoes in the hollow space between each ring.

Holding your breath, time stretches into an agonizing eternity as you strain to listen to each ring, each heartbeat resonating in the charged stillness. The suspense tightens like a coil around your chest until, finally, a tremulous exhale escapes as Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence.

“This is Kook.”

An instant paralysis grips your vocal cords, a sudden constriction that renders your throat a silent battleground, incapable of surrendering even a solitary word.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook’s inquiry pierces the heavy silence, his voice carrying a note of concern that seems to reverberate through the unspoken void on the other end of the line.

A glacial stillness descends upon you, an icy grip that renders you immobile.

Words, elusive and stubborn, refuse to surface. Soo-ah’s worried gaze lingers on you, but in a decisive sweep, she snatches the phone from your ear, her move cutting through the stasis like a sudden gust of wind disrupting a frozen landscape.

“Hi, it’s Soo-ah. We need your help,” her voice, a steady prelude to the storm brewing beneath the surface, carries the weight of urgency as she unfolds the crucial details. “Jessi left for a doctor’s appointment, but she never made it, and it’s been five hours now. We’re afraid something has happened… Will you help us search for her?”

The murmur of Jungkook’s response on the other end remains elusive to your ears, but Soo-ah, in a breathy exhale that holds a universe of gratitude, utters a heartfelt, “Thank you.” She returns your lifeline– the phone, with a subtle yet meaningful gesture, restoring it to your hands as if passing the torch for the impending journey into the unknown.

“He’ll be here in 10 minutes to pick you up,” she discloses, the gravity of her concern etching deeper creases onto her forehead.

“What are you gonna do then?” The words burst from you, riding the crest of a wave formed by a potent mix of frustration and worry, their resonance echoing in the room.

“I’m going to stay here… In case she comes home,” she reveals, her commitment to a vigil laden with unspoken hope. But then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, “or if the hospital calls.”

The weight of her last admission sends a sinking feeling through your chest, an acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Understanding settles in, and you offer a solemn nod, bracing yourself for Jungkook’s imminent arrival as the silent countdown to unravel the mystery begins.

Before the sleek silhouette of his black pickup truck materializes, the air is sliced by the cacophony of tires screeching—a desperate symphony of grip and resistance against the unforgiving dirt, an audible testament to the urgency that propels Jungkook towards the yard.

You dash outside, the urgent thud of your footsteps aligning with the accelerating heartbeat of the moment. Jungkook hurtles down the driveway, a kinetic force in his speeding vehicle that screeches to a dramatic halt before you. The window rolls down, revealing a face etched with determination, and he hollers, “Get in.”

Obediently following his command, you seize the door handle, leaping into the truck with a hurried intensity. The door barely has time to shut before Jungkook slams his foot on the accelerator, leaving a swirling cloud of sand in the wake of the roaring vehicle.

Worry etches deep lines into his face, transforming his normally composed features into a tapestry of concern. His lips press into a stern line, and his eyes, laser-sharp, pierce through the windshield, scanning the road ahead. The white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel betrays a tension that courses through him, turning his knuckles into pale anchors of anxiety.

“What the hell happened?” The words slice through the air, dripping with a demanding tone that carries an undertone of a hiss, a viper’s sharpness in each syllable.

Turning toward him, you admit with a meekness that hangs in the air, “I don’t know.” Your voice, a delicate whisper, contrasts with the clenching of your hands over your pants, while your bottom lip falls victim to the anxious bite of nerves. Fuck.

The weight of hope and fear interlaces in your thoughts—desperately wishing Jessi is safe, yet haunted by the gnawing question of why, if she is, hasn’t she reached out?

Jungkook maneuvers the vehicle like a man possessed, hurtling down the lone road that unravels into town with a velocity that borders on recklessness. This is Jessi’s path, the very route she would undoubtedly have traversed.

Your heart orchestrates a frenzied symphony of worry and fear, its rapid tempo matching the breakneck speed at which Jungkook propels the truck forward.

The uneven terrain jolts beneath the truck’s tires, a relentless assault on the vehicle as it hurtles down these rugged, neglected roads. The coarse reality of the battered path becomes starkly apparent with every bone-rattling bump, each pothole a testament to the less-than-ideal conditions.

“Slow down unless you want us to crash!” You warn him in a stern voice as desperation fuels your words and you clutch the handle at the top of the truck, your knuckles turning white as you seek stability amid the turbulent velocity.

He merely huffs, an audible dismissal that betrays the resilience of his determination. It’s evident that your words struggle to penetrate the thick armor of his focus. However, your own concerns take precedence, and the prospect of a car accident looms like an ominous specter in the midst of your search for Jessi.

“Fucking slow down or let me drive!” The urgency in your yell slices through the truck, a desperate ultimatum that demands immediate action. A tangible flinch from Jungkook, beside you, signals the impact of your words. With a reluctant release, he eases his right foot off the gas pedal, and the once-roaring speed of the vehicle unravels into a gradual deceleration.

“Thank you,” you declare with a furious edge, your gratitude tinged with the lingering urgency of the search.

Jungkook skillfully guides the turn with a precise speed, threading the needle between velocity and caution. As the vehicle emerges from the curve, the truth unravels before your eyes.

A sight that sends your heart plummeting, and an unspoken pact of dread settles between you and Jungkook, a bone-chilling silence that engulfs the interior of the truck.

There it is, the all-too-familiar white pickup truck, an unexpected apparition right before you, nestled on the side of the road. It’s not parked; it’s crumbled against a tree.

Jungkook wrenches his truck to a sudden halt, the engine silenced with a precision that echoes the urgency of the moment. In a flash, he bolts out of the car, a whirlwind of determination propelling him towards the scene. You trail closely in his wake, the echoes of your pounding heart reverberating alongside a disorienting ringing in your ears.

You sprint towards the crumpled wreckage, the front of the car wedged against the unforgiving tree. Panic fuels your frantic search for your sister amidst the twisted metal. Jungkook beats you to the driver’s side, and in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse, you tiptoe over his shoulders.

The chilling reality reveals itself—blood stains the window, and Jessi’s head, eyes closed, rests against it in an unsettling image.

Fuck.

“Jessi!” The desperate cry erupts from deep within you, a primal howl behind Jungkook, and you resort to clawing at his back in a futile attempt to let you pass. However, he remains an immovable barrier, unyielding in his protective stance.

His hand extends, a forceful gesture that wards you off, and his demanding tone slices through the charged air, declaring, “No, let me.”

You cease your futile attempt to scratch through the barrier of Jungkook’s back, relinquishing control to his judgment. Your gaze fixates on the unfolding scene as he seizes the door handle, pounding on the window while the fervent echo of your sister’s name reverberates through the stagnant air.

A leaden weight settles upon your heart, dragging it down to depths unknown, and you slump to the unforgiving ground beside the truck. The haunting question hangs in the air, an unspoken fear clawing at your consciousness—could she be dead?

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, a poignant manifestation of your helplessness, as you watch the scene unfold. The overwhelming sense of uselessness engulfs you like a suffocating shroud because Jungkook, with his determined insistence, bars you from contributing to the unfolding crisis.

Jungkook channels every ounce of his strength into wrenching the door handle, a Herculean effort that, to your dismay, yields no success. Undeterred, he pivots, striding purposefully around the car to attack the problem from the passenger’s side. The moment of truth arrives as the door finally acquiesces to his relentless determination, swinging open with a sudden release of pent-up tension. Jungkook, caught off guard by the door’s sudden compliance, is propelled backward, almost airborne, a visceral testament to the raw force he exerted in the pursuit of accessing the vehicle’s interior.

With a determined crawl into the cabin, Jungkook bridges the agonizing gap between hope and despair, finally reaching your sister. The urgency in his voice echoes through the air as he commands, “Call an ambulance!”

You rise from the unforgiving ground, a determined surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. With swift precision, you extract your phone, fingers dancing with urgency as you dial those three critical numbers.

“Is she alive?” The question hangs in the air, a fragile whisper that dares not disturb the gravity of the moment. Holding your breath, you await his answer, the air thick with the weight of an impending revelation that could reshape the contours of your reality.

“She’s breathing,” Jungkook exhales, his voice carrying the weight of relief, a momentary respite from the tension. You approach the driver’s window, eyes fixed on your sister’s form. The sight of her chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm becomes a visual anchor, a palpable reassurance that she clings to life.

Well, that’s good.

Cradling the phone to your ear, you navigate the urgent conversation, orchestrating a plea for the ambulance to converge on your dire location. The proximity of the ranch intensifies the raw reality—you aren’t that far away. A sinking feeling grips your heart as you grasp the cruel expanse of time she’s endured out here, alone and injured.

Jungkook delicately prods Jessi’s arm, a gesture pregnant with hope, yet the anticipated response remains elusive—a disheartening void that echoes the uncertainty of the situation.

“I know it looks bad, but we shouldn’t move her. It’s best to wait for the paramedics,” Jungkook utters reluctantly from the passenger’s seat.

You acknowledge the truth in his words, but your gaze lingers on Jessi, a silent witness to the vivid evidence of her injuries—blood seeping from her head. The unsettling unknown looms large, a haunting question mark etched across your thoughts—what other wounds might she be concealing beneath the shadows of her stillness?

The wait for the ambulance unfolds like a nightmarish blur until the air is pierced by the sound of a low voice. Both you and Jungkook pivot, your gazes converging on your sister, a crescendo of fear and anticipation reaching its zenith.

Jessi stirs, her murmurs threading through the air, but the coherence of her words eludes understanding. As her eyes tentatively flutter open, a feeble attempt to articulate follows, yet the utterances emerge as a nonsensical cascade, the syllables twisted into a form of gibberish.

“It’s okay. You’ve been in a car accident, and the ambulance is on its way,” Jungkook reassures, his words a tender balm delivered with a gentle caress on your sister’s cheek. Tears shimmer in his eyes, a raw display of his emotional turmoil, as his calloused fingers delicately trace the curve of her cheekbone.

Her head pivots towards you, eyes finally unveiling an unspoken distance, their luster dimmed. A pang reverberates through your chest as you meet her gaze—her eyes, once vibrant, now bear the weight of an unspoken ordeal. The visceral urge to pull her from the confinements of the wreck claws at your heart. Oh, why can’t you just extract her from this damn car, ensuring her safety and whisking away the haunting uncertainty that clings to the moment?

“It’s going to be okay,” Jungkook utters, his voice quivering with a blend of reassurance and uncertainty that reverberates through the air. His attempt at strength is palpable, yet the vulnerability seeps through the cracks as tears cascade down his face.

Yet amidst the chaos, a fervent hope takes root within you, a beacon amid the storm of uncertainty. A silent plea echoes in the depths of your being, transcending mere optimism, as you yearn—truly, desperately, for everything to unfold in a way that defies the ominous shadows cast by the present.

The wail of the ambulance siren pierces the air, heralding the arrival of salvation, and it swiftly aligns next to Jungkook’s car. A flurry of activity ensues as paramedics spill out, each armed with purposeful bags. Amidst the orchestrated urgency, some of them extract a stretcher from the belly of the ambulance.

Jungkook emerges from the car, gracefully ceding the realm to the paramedics, and approaches your side. His arm envelops your trembling frame, a silent reassurance amidst the tumult. No words pass between you as the paramedics meticulously cut the seatbelt, delicately affix a collar around Jessi’s neck, their movements choreographed in a synchronized ballet of urgency.

Within the orchestrated chaos, a paramedic deploys a machine, its mechanical whir echoing through the night, to pry open the driver’s door. Simultaneously, another paramedic stands sentinel, ensuring Jessi remains securely in place, a guardian against the imminent void that will unfold once the door is relinquished.

The scene is gruesomely vivid, and an involuntary welling of tears clouds your vision as the brutal reality sets in. Leaning into Jungkook’s unwavering presence, you find solace in the haven of his steady frame, though your sniffling breaths betray the emotional maelstrom within. As your tears mingle with his on the fabric of your shirt, a silent communion of shared vulnerability takes root.

With meticulous care, the paramedics lift Jessi from the driver’s side, each movement deliberate and measured as they lay her down on the stretcher. The air hangs heavy with collective breath, your own held in a suspended moment of agonizing anticipation. The constriction in your chest intensifies, a sensation of breathlessness seizing you. Seeking an anchor in the chaos, you find Jungkook’s hand, fingers interlocking in a tight, desperate grip—a physical manifestation of the silent plea echoing within as you navigate the precipice of uncertainty.

“We’ll transport her to the hospital in town. You can follow us if you want,” one of the paramedics offers, their words a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of emotions. Gratitude courses through you, and you manage a nod of appreciation, though the knot in your throat constricts your ability to voice your thanks.

Your gaze lingers on the departing ambulance, the doors sealing your sister’s fate within its sterile embrace. A quiet sniffle punctuates the lingering echoes of the departure. When you turn to Jungkook, his face bears the marks of tear-streaked sorrow, a testament to the profound love he harbors for your sister. The depth of his emotions mirrors the tumult within you, both bound by an unspoken yearning for everything to be right—for the fractures to heal and the shadows to dissipate in the face of an uncertain journey that now stretches before you.

The ambulance departs, leaving a gritty trail of dirt in its wake, a visual metaphor for the unsettling uncertainty now etched into your reality. Your gaze lingers on the vacated space it once occupied, a void that echoes the fear reverberating within. The future looms before you, an ominous terrain shrouded in ambiguity, and you grapple with the unrelenting questions that cast shadows on the path ahead.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

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yourstruleejn · 1 year

Text

six days of us

six days of a love story. from its beginning to its end.

⋆

pairing // kim taerae x fem! reader; other characters mentioned are hanbin and kim chaehyun on the readers side, and junhyeon and matthew on taerae’s!

genre // fluff & angst; university student! au; he fell first, she fell harder-ish; it’s based on six selected day6 songs!

word count // 14.5 k

tw // not too sure, insecurities in one’s own feelings but if there are any more lmk!

playlist // here (i recommend listening in order but i can't really tell you what to do so! have fun!)

author’s note // i‘m back!! so sorry it took so long but i genuinely loved writing this! it was so much fun, i tried to keep it kind of realistic but it’s been a while since my last relationship so i’m not too sure i succeeded lol! anyways i hope you enjoy reading and that it was worth the wait!

!!! reminder !!! everything i write about on here is entirely fictional and in no way am i saying this is how the people mentioned would act in real life! it’s all just pretend! ♡

How come when the skies turn grey, heavy clouds like curtains keeping out the light, we forget the vivid of the blue, the warmth of sun? How come when the winter months set in and the trees stand bare, we forget the rustle of the leaves as the summer wind hums the tune to July? How come when a person enters our lives, we cannot imagine our life not knowing them? But how come, once the same person leaves, everything reminds us of them, like a ghost coming back to haunt us, to remind us of what could have been?

1. hi hello

The smell of coffee, polite smiles, and the morning rush. It was usually around May when you noticed that the hot chocolates turned into iced americanos. An established tradition for your co-workers and you, was to buy the drink for the first customer who ordered it iced. A welcome to summer, a deed to make someone smile. Of course, the lot of you usually ended up giving out more than one free drink, not only because of miscommunications, but mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do. Thus, you and the other employees were more grateful than ever that your boss was as lenient as he was, usually laughing it off, and popping an ice cube in his steaming hot cappuccino as a gesture. Nevertheless, he was sure to give a stern warning (or a friendly reminder, as he liked to call them) to not give out any more free iced drinks once the first week of May had passed. You usually just smiled at your phone as the yearly text made all of your phones whistle in unison.

The first Friday of May was here and with it you had hoped a comfortably busy day at work. The weather was embracing the light mood of the university students running around near campus, and you were convinced more than one of them would crave an iced beverage of some sort.

You had been cleaning the espresso machine, making sure everything was bound to run smoothly for your next order, when the serenity of the afternoon made itself known to you: No customers were queuing for their orders, the inside-tables of the small coffee shop were empty, the ones outside just as unoccupied, which was due to the unexpectedly harsh sun, who warmed the cement for the first time, radiating it back towards the already heating air. It was to be expected, the parasols were still packed away in the storage room in the back of the shop. Sighing you rested your head on top your hands looking through the opened front as the quiet outside world was conquered by the sunrays of early May. You could feel the cool of the counter spread onto the palms of your hands, as the dooming boredom of your uneventful work afternoon towered over you.

Very quiet, you thought.

Too quiet, you complained silently.

And it was unusual that nobody was here. In the two years you had worked at the café, the only times nobody had come in was in the midst of summer, and even then, there had usually been at least one person at a time. So, this was very odd. If Chaehyun had been here, she would have told you to not question God’s gift of a minute of peace and quiet. However, this wasn’t a minute, it had been minutes. Plural. On top of everything you enjoyed working as a barista, even if it was stressful at times, at least there was always something to do. Well, apparently almost always.

At the beginning of your shift, your boss had asked you if you would be fine alone for a few hours today, you had agreed reluctantly, as it could have very well gone wrong, but now you were glad that you had not insisted on anyone else coming in. You knew Hanbin was busy with dance practice, and that Chaehyun had been excited all week for a date she was going on today. Having one of them come in unexpectedly and then do nothing all afternoon, would have been not only a waste of their time but also of your boss’ money. So, you supposed, it was fitting for this particular Friday to be slowest day ever. Even though it meant boredom for you. Oh my god, this was going to be a long afternoon.

Time was passing three times as slow as it usually did. In the past 15 minutes you had been sure three times, that it was time you started the closing duties, only to realize that merely a handful of minutes had passed. You had grown so impatient with today, that you considered turning the time forwards, so that you could close early ‘on accident’ and go home. Of course, as an amazing employee you would never do anything like this ever, but it sure crossed your head once or twice (or three times actually). Sighing at the clock once more, you retreated back to your position with your head resting on the counter as you wait for the seconds to creep by.

Immersed by the ticking of the time and so busy tapping the rhythm of the melody stuck in your head that you didn’t notice someone approaching the shop, until the bell announced his entry.

“Hi,” a rather low voice greeted as you scrambled into your usual upright position behind the counter.

“Hello!” You smiled at the young man in front of you. He must have been around your age, maybe a little bit older, but that was judging by his voice. His appearance was sweet and youthful, his smile bright, his hair a little messy, but just the right amount. Charming. He was the kind of boy that would star in a Taylor Swift music video. Classic friends-to-lovers. You had to suppress a small giggle at the thought of it.

In the moments between his greeting, your greeting and the Taylor Swift fantasies, your brain still found the time to wonder what his order would be (it worked fast like that). Maybe something classic like an iced americano? Or something unexpected like a strawberry latte? You had been so bored, alone the thought of making a drink excited you beyond reason.

“What can I get you today?” you asked with a practiced, but this time more genuine than not, smile on your face.

“Oh,” He looked a little lost, you noticed only now, fidgeting with his hands in front of him, “I was just going to ask whether or not it was okay for me to set up for busking in front of the café?” He turned around, pointing to the small open area in front of the unoccupied seats.

It was a nice spot for busking, the shade from the trees making it cool enough to perform in the summertime as well. Your eyes darted to the guitar bag slung across his shoulder, lips caught between his teeth as he expectantly waited for your answer.

“Oh. So, you don’t want a drink, huh?” You really tried to suppress the disappointment, but judging from the look on his face, you weren’t doing a good job. Well at least you would soon have some sort of entertainment. And who knows, maybe he was so good, he’d bring in some customers.

“Do I have to buy a drink to be allowed to busk?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression changing from sweet to curious.

“What? Oh, no that’s okay. You can go ahead.” You smiled at him, nodding to the small square in front of the café.

He smiled slightly, determined to satisfy your need to prepare a drink for him, “Actually, I could use a little bit of a refreshment.”

Matching his expression, your face now showcased a bright smile as you handed him the menu. You weren’t sure if he could tell how grateful you were to finally be able to do something other than stand around and check the time, but you tried to show it to him by whipping back and forth slightly, stealing glances at him as he decided. You waited patiently as he studied the menu, tongue poking out between his teeth. He was cute, in a clueless kind of way.

Some time passed, but nothing compared to the amount you had been standing around until your saviour in the form of a busker came into the café.

Finally, he lifted his head, adjusted his guitar, slung over his shoulder, and cleared his throat, “Actually, could I maybe get a bottle of water?”

You were about to cry. A whole menu full of drinks ranging from coffees to mochas to fruit teas and smoothies, and this man wants a bottle of water? You were sure he could see the disappointment written on your face once again as he looked up from the small piece of paper in his hands.

A somewhat apologetic smile rested on his lips; he knew what he did.

“Water?” you asked again, just to be sure. Just so that you didn’t misunderstand and accidentally got the man a water instead of the strawberry matcha latte he just ordered.

“Uhm… I-Is that not possible?” A nervous smile was present on his features. On any other day, you probably would have noticed that the boy in front of you was quite literally a nervous wreck; Not only would he be busking in a new area for the first time, but his friends had also convinced him to go ask the cute barista if it was okay to play in front of her café, although he knew it was more than okay and even encouraged by the owner. Still, he did it out of curtsey, and not to finally have a reason to talk to the girl. He had had several pep-talks from his friends, as well as his mother (although she didn’t know what the peptalking was for), just to stumble over his word when ordering a water? Taerae, you really can do better.

“Water is free.” That interrupted his mental face palm as you smiled politely and pointed to the jug to your right. It was filled with fresh orange and lemon slices as well as mint to give the water a little something. Usually, the taste of the fruit would not be that strong as it would get refilled and emptied quite quickly, but today it had been standing around for a while, so you were sure it would actually taste a bit like the citrus and herbs floating inside of it. You supposed the boy would be in for a treat.

“That’s nice.” That’s nice?

“Do you need a cup for it to take it outside?” As you were speaking, you already turned around, grabbing one of the paper cups and a pen ready to write his name on it. You realized it was unnecessary to do this for a mere cup of water, but in all honesty, you were just as intrigued by the man in front of you, as you had been disappointed by the lack of creative drink-ordering; You wanted to know the name of the man that gave you hope just to take it all away from you again.

“What’s your name?” you smiled innocently, already setting the pen down to write as you looked at the man through your lashes.

“Oh. Uhm Taerae.”

You chuckled, “Okay, Oh-Uhm-Taerae,” you handed him the cup, “Enjoy your water!” you winked at him, smiling as he filled it up.

Taerae was a blushing mess. How was he supposed to perform in front of the café now? And also, why would he have ordered water? Of all things, he could have ordered, he asked for water. Wow. For a moment Taerae wondered if it was more embarrassing to play in front of here now, or to just leave and never set foot into this part of the city ever again.

Taking a sip of his water he set down his guitar and finally let out a dramatic sigh, he didn’t realize needed to leave his body right this second. There was not much to his busking set up, just him and his guitar, a stool, and a small speaker. Taerae used to have a booklet with all of his favourite songs, but he knew them by heart now, so no need to hide behind the notes. Matthew always said he would hide his face behind the pages, and when he first performed without it there had been twice as many people, not because he was better, but because people could see his smile. Taerae wasn’t so sure that that was the reason.

Today he seemingly would be playing for an audience of two. Himself and you. You who had been watching his ever move during his set up, as you were wiping down the already clean tables. If he hadn’t been so nervous, he would probably say this was his favourite way to meet new people. In fact, he had met almost all of his best friends through music; be it busking or the choir at his high school, or even just bonding over their favourite artists, music had always brought people into Taerae’s life. So Junhyeon’s theory to just go and ask if it was okay to play in front of the café as to finally talk to you, should have been fool proof. Count on Taerae to mess it up though. He debated whether or not he should text the group chat and ask for some moral support and customers for the café, but ultimately decided against getting teased to death by his favourite tormentors.

The sun was getting lower and lower as Taerae procrastinated starting to play. He could feel as the anticipation radiated off of you. You had settled back behind the counter, still watching him as he pretend to tune his guitar for the nth time. Taerae couldn’t hold eye contact with you for longer than an accidental moment, if had been able to, he would have seen the amused smile on your face as you sipped on a glass of water yourself. Taerae had his ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’ titled cup sat on the ground beside him. He had blushed even more when he had realized how you had teased him and was sure you’d get along great with Junhyeon once he introduced the two of you. If he got to ever introduce to his friends.

He was sure by now you could tell he was stalling, so with one last look around the area, and one last sip of his wonderful water, he strummed his guitar.

Music attracted people like honey did flies. Over the years you learned that whenever busking was held in front of the café, the customers would float through the doors, order drinks, and relax to the live music. But as the first notes of Taerae’s singing reached your ears, you wished that nobody would come to distract you from his voice. For the first time today, you wanted nothing but be left alone with the boy and listen, maybe sway through the small room a bit. But sure enough, the first song wasn’t even over, the sun hadn’t even retreated further towards the horizon, its light still bright and strong, not yet soft, and golden, when the first couple came strolling by, and after a short moment of weighing their options, the woman sat down outside, her attention undivided on Taerae, as the man came inside to order their drinks. You sighed softly as your focus on Taerae shifted to the coffee machine, it sound muffling his voice as you grinded coffee ground after coffee ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you could already see the next person enter the shop, still half looking at the performer outside. Now, it would be busier than usual, you were sure. You smiled softly, be careful what you wish for.

Taerae was happy he could bring you some business. He was also happy that your very distracting eyes didn’t linger on him quite as intensely as they did during his first song. It had been a successful busking for him even after his first struggles. The sky had eventually turned darker and darker, and the air had gone crisp with the last goodbyes of what once was winter. With more and more people leaving it was time for him as well to wrap up. At one point there had been so many people, it was almost impossible for Taerae to see the front of the store, making it difficult for him to confirm that you were still watching, paying attention to him. The awkward interaction out of his mind, he was happy to catch you look at him during any free moment of your now busy work afternoon/evening.

When Taerae started to pack up, the café was already closed. He hadn’t seen you leave, but there had been so many people around, he easily could have missed you. Besides, there was always a chance of a back entrance or something of the like. On the one hand, it was nice that he now could relax and not worry about embarrassing himself again in front of you, on the other he really wanted to know what you thought of his songs; Whether or not you liked them, if it was okay if he came back and played again, if he could take you out to dinner. The usual after busking questions really.

Zipping up his guitar, Taerae got ready to leave. He could still feel the guitar strings giving way and embedding themselves under his fingertips, that’s how he knew it had been a good session. It was quiet now that he had stopped playing, no spectators left but the first cicadas welcoming the night-time. Taerae would have just left if it hadn’t been for jingle of keys followed by a soft “Wait a moment” that caught his attention.

He turned and sure enough there you were, bag slung over your shoulder, hair tied out of your face, revealing a smile and gleaming eyes.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hello,” Taerae reciprocated.

You handed him the takeaway cup you were carrying, adorned with a neat ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’. You smiled as he raised his eyebrows at the nickname, his own heart swelling at your chuckle.

“It’s tea,” You explained, “I figured you could use some after singing all afternoon.”

He nodded, bringing the beverage to his lips. The stark contrast of the cool May night and the heat of the tea made him realize how his body had cooled down, “Thank you. It’s nice.” There he goes again with his nice. He rolled his eyes at himself.

“Well, that’s good! I can make more than water, you know?” you smiled, “Anyways, thank you for today, you brought in more customers than any other busker has thus far. In the name of my boss and his business, I wanted to invite you back to play again. Preferably Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays in the afternoons. That’s when I work.”

Taerae should have acted cool and said something like, I’ll see if I can make it, or I will if my schedule allows it, but instead he just laughed and nodded ‘okay’. He didn’t trust his own voice right now; it would probably give away his excitement.

“Good,” You smiled satisfied, “Then I’ll see Tuesday, Oh-Uhm-Taerae.” You turned to walk away.

“Just Taerae is fine!” He was not going to have his crush call him Oh-Uhm-Taerae.

If he had been any smarter, he would have just said ‘Taerae’. In fact, if he had been smarter, he would have not stuttered saying his name in the first place. But Taerae was Taerae, and you were you.

So, turning around, but not stopping your walking backwards, you smile mischievously, “Alright then, Just-Taerae, see you Tuesday!” you could see his mouth opening and closing in retaliation, but before he could say anything more, with a slightly louder voice you said, “I’m just Y/N, by the way.”

Taerae watched as you waked away, smiling to himself, sipping on his tea, skipping on the way home. He had now been officially introduced to ‘Just-Y/N.’

2. i like you

Another Thursday, another busking event for Taerae in front of the café. It had become somewhat of a tradition for him to play at least once a week when you were working. After each time you’d come out with a cup of tea, which had evolved to iced as May progressed into June and with that spring into summer, and the chill of the nights was more welcomed as a contrast to the hot daytime. Sometimes the two of you didn’t talk much, or hang out, be it due to university or other plans, but most of the time you’d spend the better part of the night walking around, trying new food spots, or just talking and hanging out in front of the café, munching on the left-over pastries of the day. Either way, Taerae was glad to see you at least once a week, and thus the two of you went from strangers to close friends.

This Thursday in particular you had something planned, as you had let him know beforehand. Taerae was excited, a little bit nervous even, it was unusual for you to plan something, normally having Taerae decide what the two of you would eat and do. He was very good at reading people, and he’d usually figure something out that fit with both of your moods.

But not today apparently, today you had decided, and Taerae had no idea what it was so, yes, he was a tad bit nervous.

The daylight stretched until well after 8 p.m. and with the café closing at 7.30 p.m., Taerae made sure to get his guitar and busking stuff home before you were done finishing up at the café. He had been so careful with planning his schedule, that he now arrived back at the square a little early, you were still working, getting drinks to customers, preparing the last slices of cake in the soft pink take-away boxes, smiling at children, laughing at unfunny jokes customers made. He was in awe of you. How could a person be so dedicated to their part-time job? And it was not only at work that you were diligent, more than once had Taerae spent and afternoon studying with you in either your or his universities’ library. The focus you were able to uphold was something Taerae was almost jealous of. He was jealous of you because you still could concentrate, even if he was around, something he struggled with whenever you were in sight. He had also been jealous of whatever you were focusing on. What in the world could be so important for you to focus on, when he was right there next to you. When he was your… friend?

It frustrated Taerae to no end that he did not have the same effect on you, as you had on him.

Sure enough, after another few minutes of waiting the familiar jingle of keys rushed Taerae out of his head, back down to earth. Back down to real you, not head you. He liked both versions equally, so he wasn’t complaining.

You grinned at him as you made your way towards the boy, “Hi.”

“Hello,” he greeted with suspicion. The expression on your face was foreign, but it really couldn’t mean anything good for Taerae, as it reminded him too much of Junhyeon’s scheming face, you were scheming. In Taerae’s head there were only two options; Either you were planning some intricate prank with his friend, or you were planning something sweet, far from a prank, and Taerae would spontaneously confess in a waterfall of words and your newfound, yet very precious friendship, would suffer from it.

“Why do you look so anxious?” there was a somewhat nervous smile on your lips, eyebrows scrunched up in worry as you handed Taerae his post-performance-beverage.

Taerae shook his head, “I’m not. I just don’t want to get murdered by you. So, before we go, I just wanted to remind you that my voice is a gift to the world, and if you are planning on un-aliving me today, that you’d be taking it away from the whole world and everybody would be mad at you.”

You looked at him, a half scoff, half laugh escaping your lips.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’m sharing my location with Junhyeon this entire evening.” Taerae crossed his arms in front of his chest, awaiting your reassurance that in fact you were not going to kill him.

“What makes you think Junhyeon isn’t in on the plan?” you smirked, while Taerae’s expression fell.

This joking manner was one of the only times Taerae could look at you without his heart combusting or his eyes diverting as soon as they met yours. And while you were laughing at your very lame retaliation, he had time to take you in. It was beyond Taerae how someone could make him so nervous yet so at peace at the same time.

“Come on now, Taerae” you smiled leading the way towards the metro station, “have a little faith in me, yea?”

If only you knew the amount of faith he had in you. So, of course, Taerae followed.

Laughing and joking the two of you discussed all the songs Taerae played today. Thus far he had not played your request, which, like every time after a performance, you let him know by complaining excessively.

The station way bustling with people going home from work, students finding their way to their after-school-studies, and people like you; Looking for activities to end the day on a relaxing note. Out of instinct Taerae placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the sea of people towards the train as you were rambling on about this week’s songs and the lack of your favourites (although any song sung by Taerae was your favourite, but not that he needed to know that just yet).

Whenever you and him were together, you had noticed that you forgot the rest of the world existed. Not necessarily in the way, how everything else goes blurry and your focus was solely on him, but rather that real life just slows down a little bit. Whenever you were with Taerae, everything else just seemed less important, far away.

He, however, seemed always grounded. Even when you were excitedly babbling on, Taerae simultaneously smiled and made sure you weren’t in anybody’s way, yet still matched your energy and made sure to react to you. You never understood how he could be so focused on the rest of the world as well. It was especially frustrating because you could either focus on him entirely, or not at all; for you with Taerae it was an all or nothing situation.

The train was more or less ripping at its seams when you got on. You always wondered how so many people could fit in such a confined space and not get squashed. You had hoped that due to the nice weather and the rather late hour, it would have been a little emptier, but no, clearly nothing beats the AC of a subway. The hopes of a seat after a long afternoon of work had been abandoned a long time ago, as you got pushed closer and closer towards Taerae.

In all honesty, the boy was panicking. He didn’t know where to put his hands, what to hold onto as to prevent the both of you from falling at each halt the train took. His only hope was for the crowds to thin once the next big transfer point arrived. But until then? He wasn’t sure how to keep standing upright and breathe properly, with you this close.

“Y/N?” Taerae whispered barely audible.

“Hm?” You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

But just as Taerae started to speak, you saw the man behind him stand up from his seat. In an effort to not notice how close Taerae had been, you had heard him grumbling to himself how packed the train was and that he could get off at the next station and walk the rest home, but that had been three stops ago. Now that he was actually getting up, you had to act fast. The man pushed past you and in a swift motion you pushed Taerae against the seat, making him sit down with a thump.

You smiled at him triumphantly as his big eyes looked back at you. The man getting up and you pushing Taerae had happened so swiftly that, Taerae hadn’t noticed he had grabbed a hold of your hand as to not lose balance. And you hadn’t either, smiling happily to yourself as you stood in front of Taerae, shielding him from the masses.

Taerae however, would not have you stand when you had been the one working almost all day. He pulled you towards him, getting up at the same time. To spectators it might’ve looked like a twirl, a spontaneous dance on the subway. Well, as a result, you were now sitting and Taerae was leaning over you, satisfied with the change of position.

For a moment there had been a smug grin on his face, but it was soon wiped away by a blush, as he noticed a group of students squealing next to you, whispering to each other and giggling. You too had looked away from Taerae in an attempt to hide your flushed cheeks. But Taerae noticed. And he smiled.

From this moment on, the train ride seemed to go on forever. The crowd thinned as your stop approached and soon only a handful of people were in your compartment. Taerae had sat down beside you, taking one of the high-school girls’ seat once they got up and left, but only after they had made sure Taerae did in fact sit down next to you and not anybody else. It was kind of sweet. Still, you couldn’t look any of them in the eye as they got off the train.

Finally, your stop arrived and in a swift motion you got up. Taerae was excited too, he still didn’t know where exactly you were going, but now he at least knew the broad area; The stop was a little towards the edge of the city, where parks and playgrounds dominated the cemented roads. It was a nice change of scenery, and Taerae welcomed it.

Coming up above ground, he noticed how quickly the sun had set, the sky only showing remnants of the bright day at its horizon. You had stopped a few paces in front of him, finding it hard to regain orientation somewhere you hadn’t been in such a long time.

“Where to first?” Taerae asked, curious as to where you could be going this late. You had let him know beforehand that there would not be a grand meal today, and that he should eat something in between busking and your… date?

“The convenience store.” You explained, once you saw the small corner store you used to visit as a kid, “To get ice cream, naturally.”

So, the two of you made your way towards the store and after a few minutes of weighing options and discussing preferences, Taerae and you had decided on green-tea ice cream, and a caramel flavoured one.

“Okay, ice cream secured,” you smiled at Taerae exiting the shop, “Now, Mr. Kim, I shall show you one of my favourite places of all time.”

“What an honour.” He smiled as he tagged along, catching up with you as you started in the direction of a small park.

It had been a little later than you had anticipated, making it a little harder for you to find the exact spot you were looking for. The trees were practically pitch black, and although there were a few lanterns lighting the way, they were too little and too far apart to actually help a great deal. The gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you snacked on the ice cream and made your way further into the green.

“There it is!”

As soon as the small wooden pavilion was in sight you tugged on Taerae’s sleeve to hurry. He had to admit, he wasn’t sure why you were this excited about a wooden structure in a park, at the other end of the city. He thought it was adorable, nonetheless. Coming up the small hill he saw that the pavilion overviewed a small pond, where this time strategically placed light illuminated the water surface.

“Nice, is it not?” you teased, smiling up at the boy. Reacting to things with a quick ‘Nice’ had become an inside joke between the two of you, well for you mostly; It was fun for you, but Taerae usually just rolled his eyes.

“It is.” He confirmed, “But why exactly are we here? I mean don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore being squeezed together on a train for more than half an hour and then sitting in a park. I’m just wondering.”

“Careful, Taerae,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “I could still murder you and dump your body in the pond.”

He laughed., “No but seriously, what is this place?”

“I’m not sure. I just stumbled upon it one day during my first week of uni. It was strangely familiar and when I talked to my parents about it, they said we used to come here when I was a kid,” you shrugged, “It’s nothing super special but I just wanted to show you.”

Taerae smiled at you, and you smiled back. It was one of these quiet moments you shared. Your friendship thus far had been filled with laughter and music and teasing, but every once in a while, a quiet moment like this made it special. Until someone decided to break the quiet, of course.

“You should have told me; I would have brought my guitar. Properly serenated you.” He pouted.

“No more serenating, I’m growing sick of your voice Taerae, for real.” You mocked, laughing.

This only made Taerae pout more, pushing your shoulder slightly.

The sound of your laugh faded, and Taerae observed a shift in your manner. The look you gave him in that moment sent a shiver down his spine and for a moment he wondered whether or not you had been actually joking about murdering him or not. You looked so unsure and serious, Taerae had never seen you this way.

In your life, not many days had gone your way. You weren’t sure if there were going to be a lot in the future that would. But you really needed today to go your way. Needless to say, you were worried. Of course, there had been another reason you had brought Taerae here; It wasn’t simply because you wanted to show him one of your favourite places, it was a reason as well, but not the only one. But now that you had to put your plan into action, you worried. You had been scared of your body reacting this way just before this moment. Your throat had dried up and your hands were slightly shaking and your heart, oh dear, your heart was going as fast as ever. Maybe you should just cancel the original plan and just, come up with a plan B? Was this a good idea? Did you really need to do this now?

If anything, the troublesome journey here had only confirmed your plans for today. So yes, you really had to get it off your chest, you quite literally couldn’t keep it in anymore. From the moment you saw Taerae today, to you grabbing his hand and not letting go (as if that was on accident), from the highschoolers, and everyone else on the train, as well as in your co-workers and friends, seeing what was right in front of your eyes. You just really had to tell Taerae.

“Hey, actually, there’s another reason I brought you here,” you forced a reassuring smile onto your lips, as to not worry Taerae.

You were terribly failing at not worrying Taerae; As his mind raced through all his possible wrong doings so that he could predict what horrible thing you were going to say, he kept quiet and anxiously waited for you to continue.

“Well, I wanted to bring you here because, I mainly associate this place with incredibly happy memories and I just wanted that to be a good omen, I guess.” You were stalling. You knew that. Taerae probably knew that.

But Taerae also felt relief. It can’t be anything horrendous when you want this place to be a canvas for good memories right? No, right?

Taerae didn’t say anything. He watched your every move as you turned towards the dark that spread across the small body of water. He heard you let out a deep sigh.

This might go incredibly wrong. It might go amazingly right. Either way, you had to say it.

“Taerae,” you started finally turning to the boy, “There’s no going back after I say this, but just know that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just need to tell you, okay?”

A small smile spread across his face. Oh my god. He knew where this was going. He definitely wanted it to go there. He nodded for you to continue. In the moments between his motion and you starting to speak he thought about how he had failed as a musician. He sang love songs as a passion, he had been singing them as a hobby for years, he studied music at university, he was pouring out his heart to anyone who would listen, confessing to you every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday afternoon through the one language he knew, the one language that felt safe to him. Yet, here you were, about to confess to the boy who had been singing to you for weeks-

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You offered him a nervous, crooked smile. The words leaving you lips much faster than you had anticipated.

“That’s such a relief.” He answered.

“Huh?” You looked almost scared, the blood draining from your face. Was this his way of rejecting you? No, he didn’t look apologetic at all, no pity in his eyes.

“That means all the love songs I’ve been performing have not been in vain.” He smiled taking a step towards you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I like you, Y/N. And I’ve been trying to hold it in, so you can’t even begin to imagine how happy I am that I can finally tell you.”

If it were possible for human eyes to form themselves into hearts, yours would have changed by now. Whatever this man triggered within you, made your heart overflow with feelings, “Thank god.” You answered, making both him and you laugh.

In your nerves and relief and happiness, you hadn’t realized how impossibly close he was by now, even closer than he had been on the subway. You could feel his breath on your face and the warmth of his hand on your cheek. One last smile spread across Taerae’s lips before he finally leaned in to connect your lips to his. You met him in the last millimetres, eager to finally kiss.

It wasn’t perfect by normal standards; The two of you laughed and smiled into each other. You were a little awkward with your limbs, and a little too out of breath to be still considered sexy. Still, it was perfect because it was just the two of you. It was perfect because it was Taerae. It was perfect because it was you. It was perfect because you liked him, and he liked you.

The night was calm and cool when you and Taerae first shared a kiss. The sun had set, and the stars were watching, as your friendship bloomed into love.

3. when you love someone

Summer had been long and lovely, and now Autumn was just around the corner; it was so close, you wouldn’t be surprised if all the leaves had changed colour once you got off this never-ending shift. Taerae’s eyes followed your body as it moved from table to table with full drinks and plates with pastries and then back to the counter with empty dishes and new orders. The memory of the quiet café on the day the two of you first met, was a picture unimaginable, as the small interior was now buzzing with customers. To think you had wished for more customers on that fateful afternoon, when now you hoped the swarm of people would just evaporate in front of your eyes. To describe this time of the year as hectic would be an understatement; Just before university started up again, the café turned into a spot for last goodbyes between parents and now young adults, as well as spot for catching up after the long summer months for friends, who had come to return to their studies.

Taerae had been waiting for quite some time, he was lucky enough to had spot a free table, right when he arrived to pick you up. He had also been lucky since he didn’t actually have to queue for his drink; Taerae, just like all the other significant others of the employees, got the boyfriend/girlfriend treatment; Their drink of choice waiting for them as soon as they entered. By now, you were sure he had finished his drink, even though you hadn’t finished work. You were supposed to get off half an hour ago, but with the floods of people coming through your doors, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Chaehyun and Hanbin alone, feeling the responsibility as the longest and most experienced worker, as well as the burden of being a good friend heavy on your shoulders.

Not only that, but also your boss had spontaneously decided to go on vacation a week ago and had left you in charge. Although it had felt good to be entrusted with this responsibility, you had not anticipated the amount of work it would mean. You had worked almost every day, having to postpone meetups and get-togethers with not only friends and family, but with your boyfriend as well. The two of you had barely seen each other this week, and thus you wanted nothing more than to leave with Taerae and curl up on his couch just as you had planned, but apparently your customers had a different idea: Whenever you made your way over to his table, somebody asked for some special drink that only you knew how to make. Or the cash register decided to spontaneously combust. It was almost comical.

Every now and again yours and Taerae’s eyes met, and you mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’, to which he just shook his head, telling you it was okay.

In all frankness, Taerae didn’t mind waiting for you at the café.

He loved watching you. It was all the interaction he had with you for the longest time before he finally asked to busk in front of the café. He loved watching you so much that if he had to put down his three favourite things in the entire world, it would be making music, kissing you and watching you while you went on about your tasks.

There had always been something magical in the way Taerae perceived you; He had gotten to know you so well over the past three months you’ve dated, that he felt even if he was simply looking at you, he was experiencing something special, a unique feature to your relationship.

So, it was okay. He really didn’t mind waiting for you.

What he did mind though, was how stressed you seemed; How you always did everything for everyone, more than what they’d ask for, just in case they needed that little extra; How you clearly didn’t see when there was too much on your plate, and still space on someone else’s. Taerae knew that you tended to do everything by yourself, and didn’t want to worry anyone, but Taerae was worried about you. He wanted to be your resting place, to be helpful in some way.

So, when you had finally found a spare minute to come to his side, Taerae couldn’t wait to be of some comfort, to help make you feel a little better.

“Hi,” smiled softly at the man.

Instinctively Taerae’s hand snuck around your waist, pulling you closer for maximum body contact. You smiled as the familiar warmth spread inside your chest, making you instantly ease up a bit, feeling more at home on this busy day.

“Hello,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

You just smiled at each other for a moment, tanking up on some well needed calm and support, which only your boyfriend could offer. Soon enough however, your gaze was stolen away by a couple that had just joined the queue.

You sighed, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave before closing.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait, I don’t mind. We can go to my apartment after.” Taerae hoped you would agree, but he knew it was unlikely.

Your eyes were fixed on the clouds outside darkening the sky, making it seem later than it was, “Hm… Maybe you should go now before it rains. I’ll come right after locking up.” You smiled at him, cocking your head to the side. A cute habit of yours, Taerae noted, but he could still see the tiredness in your eyes.

Pulling his eyes away from you towards the looming downpour, he was almost convinced. He hesitated because he just wanted to make sure you were okay and would get home as soon as possible as well.

“Okay. But make sure to hurry once you’re done, okay? And don’t get rained on.” Taerae said while slipping on his denim jacket.

You nodded confirming his words and promising to get home as soon as possible, “The rain will be done once I’m off, I promise.” You smiled.

“Okay, weather fairy, I’ll see you at home.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek and got ready to leave, the next occupant of the table already making his way towards the empty space.

It had in fact not stopped raining by the time you had cleaned the espresso machine and wiped down most of the tables. Hanbin and Chaehyun had left a few minutes ago, running towards the subway station, in the spare moments the rain had eased up a bit, leaving you to lock up alone. Now the rain was back to its full power, slamming onto the pavement, windows, cars, and soon you as well. You were afraid the small umbrella you found in the back of the locker room would not do much to keep you dry and warm on the short walk to Taerae’s apartment, but it had to be better than nothing.

The storm was just about to regain its entire might when you left the safety of your workplace. Turning the keys, you felt the cold wind hit your exhausted legs, sending shivers up your whole body, and sending more than a few leaves on their journey towards the ground prematurely. You cursed at yourself for thinking that late-summer-thunderstorms carried the warmth, that mid-summer-ones did. Struggling to keep the umbrella upright, you wrapped the bright blue zip-up sweater you had stolen from Taerae’s closet closer over your body. If there had been any more wind, you were sure would have been blown away.

In fact, you had been so busy trying to not take off, you barely noticed a figure hurrying in your direction.

An out of breath Taerae appeared in the far distance, his silhouette not only blurred by the rain, but also the impressive velocity of his figure running towards you. In Taerae’s hand you could make out another one of his hoodies and a definitely more sturdy-looking umbrella, more than big enough to fit the two of you.

His cheeks and nose were red, even more so due to the red fabric of the umbrella, but mainly because of the unexpected cool temperatures. Taerae hadn’t been home long when he had decided to come and get you once the café closed. A decision he now noted as more than smart, having witnessed you almost fly away like Mary Poppins.

He couldn’t help the smile as he pulled you towards himself, underneath the little shelter his umbrella offered “So, this is where my favourite sweatshirt has gone to.” He pointed towards the fabric currently keeping your body just a degree away from a shiver.

Unfortunately, you had been right about your umbrella being bad at its job, the sweatshirt now thoroughly soaked, “Sorry,” You smiled innocently, “But hey, at least it’s clean now.”

Taerae shook his head, granting you refuge and additional warmth underneath his arm as he wrapped it around your body, pulling you as close as he could, “You could have texted you know?” he whispered in your ear, barely audible over the rain continuously slamming onto the thin fabric above the two of you.

“I thought my equipment would suffice,” you confessed, although you knew your umbrella would have been unlikely to hold up to this kind of weather, “I’m sorry you had to come out to rescue me.”

“It’s what I’m here for, no? Serenating and rescuing.” Taerae smiled, his hair curling itself back to its natural state, “University student and professional busker by day, personal saviour and superhero of Y/N by night.”

You chuckled; he really was your hero.

Finally inside and in dry clothes, you let yourself fall onto Taerae’s couch. As soon as your body touched the soft fabric, the sleepiness started to set in. Between the bustle of work and the adventure of running through the rain with Taerae, your body had gone from low battery to out of it completely. The only thing missing right now was your boyfriend, who was making instant noodles and a cup of tea for the both of you, insisting that you had made enough beverages today to last a lifetime, and you couldn’t agree more.

The day had been so long, and just an hour ago you had wished for nothing more than for time to pass by more quickly, but now that you had actually had time to spend with Taerae, you willed the clock to slow down for a bit.

Now in the warmth of Taerae’s apartment, you didn’t mind the weather at all; The rain was still going, tapping onto the windows nonstop, and flooding the streets outside without doubt, but what did it matter to you now that you were able to rest with your favourite person in the entire world.

Speak of the devil; Taerae set down the bowl of instant noodles in front of, followed shortly by a glass of water and a cup tea.

“That looks so good, I could kiss you right now.” You smiled looking at food in front of you.

“Do it then.” Taerae turned his head towards you, expectantly waiting on the kiss you had promised.

You placed a quick peck onto the smiling boy and then started to slurp down your meal. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you so happy. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you, period. Not counting the café this afternoon, of course, but it really had been a while since the two of you had hung out alone like this. And Taerae would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed you. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been stressed out of your mind this past week. Just like you would be lying if you said you weren’t tired right now. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed Taerae too.

“It was a really hard day today, huh?” Taerae’s voice was laced with worry, and it made you anxious. You didn’t want to worry him, there really wasn’t anything for him to worry about, he was helping as much as he could without worrying.

“It was okay,” you answered, a little too quiet for Taerae’s liking, “I’m just glad I won’t be in charge anymore next week.”

While Taerae believed that the majority of what you said was true, he wouldn’t have you downplaying your feelings like that. He sighed, “You don’t have to pretend with me, Y/N, you know? I’m here to help. I want to know when you’re stressed or feel bad or hurt.”

In the past few months that you and Taerae had been dating, it was made obvious on more than one occasion that your boyfriend’s love language was acts of service. Be it to drive you to your favourite bookstore, or to get you some medicine when you were sick. Taerae loved to just do things for you.

You smiled at your sweet boyfriend, your heart overflowing once again, “I know, it’s just… I can do this on my own. I don’t want to worry you.” You nodded to yourself, feeling a little exposed.

“I get that, but the thing is, you don’t have to,” Taerae took your hand in his, “That’s what it’s like when you love someone; I want to share the hurt and the burden and the stress. I want to do it for you, and I want you to do it for me,” his smile was faint, his eyebrows scrunched up slightly, “I’d rather worry with you, than worry for you.”

You weren’t sure what you had done to deserve someone like Taerae. Smiling you leaned into his side, resting your head into the crook of his neck, “Alright, I’m sorry.”

He kissed the top of your head as a response, triggering the warm and fuzzy feeling once again.

“Hey,” you whispered against his body, “I love you.”

Taerae hugged you tighter, engulfing you in all his warmth; the rain so loud against the window, the wind so strong, the building howled its tune, his words so soft they warmed you up from inside, “And I love you.”

4. so let’s love

Being in love was harder than you could have ever imagined. It was also simply more than what you could have ever thought it would be. It was more difficult, more intense, more complicated. But the more you felt it, the deeper, the stronger your feelings got for Taerae the more aware you got of your need for him.

Everything Taerae felt with you was new to him as well. In the past, Taerae had never had a problem figuring out how he felt, and he surely didn’t have any problems expressing his emotions. For Taerae, music had always been the easiest, most natural way to communicate. It was what brought him the most precious things in life: a purpose and you. But lately, it was difficult for him to encompass his love for you through actions or music. And he had a feeling he would struggle his entire life to put this into words.

The leaves had long turned brown, the weather had long switched from sunshine to frost, and Taerae had once more found his way home from a long day of classes, and an even longer week of not seeing you. Lately, he had felt something shift between the two of you, and he felt difficulty to raise the issue, to talk it out. He even felt difficulty to play it out, to sing it out, to just let his frustrations flow.

Of course, Taerae knew that couples fought. He knew it was normal for lovers to throw hurtful things at each other’s heads from time to time. He could list more than 10 songs that captured this exact feeling of defeat, when one hurts the person, they love the most. It was his hyperawareness of this fact, that made it all the more difficult to ignore the fact that you just did not fight.

It was not like the two of you would not have reason for conflict, but it always seemed like whenever the two of you were close to fighting, you shut down. Your passiveness got a hold of you, and you logged out of Taerae’s life until you were ready to forget about the reason you would have fought anyway. Whether or not you reflected and decided it wasn’t as big as a deal as it seemed at first, or if you just ignored the hurt, Taerae didn’t know.

What he did know however was, that this could not be healthy. Neither for you, nor for him. He refused to lose the love of his life over something such as the lack of fighting. All Taerae wanted was to love you. He wanted all that there is to a relationship, the love, the fights, the forgiving. He didn’t need perfect; he didn’t want perfect.

He was sure of his feelings for you, he had been for the longest time. Maybe he did love you more than you did him, but that didn’t even matter to Taerae. He was just worried, he’d lose you. He was so confident in his own love, he became insecure of yours.

So, on this day, on his way home from university, on his way to you, he thought about how maybe, he just wasn’t worth enough for you to fight with him. Maybe it wasn’t that you didn’t like to fight, maybe it was that he just wasn’t worth fighting with. And for the first time, these kinds of Taerae’s feelings made sense.

From the beginning of your relationship, you had been determined to give Taerae your whole heart. You wanted nothing more than to love the sweet boy to your heart’s full capacity. And the more you got to know him, the more your heart’s ability to do so grew. And with that your fear of losing him.

In your entire life, you had not really fought with anybody, ever. Of course, there had been disagreements and discussions, but most of the time you hadn’t deemed the topics worth fighting over. You had also had relationships before, none as serious as the one with Taerae, and they mostly ended amicably. Definitely nothing like any Olivia Rodrigo song. You intended to keep the number of break-ups you had had the same, although you knew realistically, the number of fights had to go up at some point, but thus far even disagreements with Taerae hadn’t proven annoying enough to fight over. All you wanted to do is love him.

You didn’t want to fight with him, or to worry him, or to hurt him. You just wanted to love Taerae.

So, on the day the temperatures had dropped as well as all the leaves, and Taerae used the spare keys you had given him to let himself into your apartment, to cook together, the last thing you had expected was to fight.

One look, out of the window and you saw the blanket of grey and white that threatened (or promised) to spill the first snow of the season. You had been waiting for Taerae to come home for some time now and had been working on some university assignments until the all too familiar jingle of keys announced his arrival. The first thing you heard right after the sound of the soft thump Taerae’s guitar case made when he set it down, was a sigh. And only then did you realize just how stressful the past month had been for the both of you. You and Taerae were both drowning in assignments and projects and that meant you spent the majority of your time in the library, as he did in the studio. It had been hard for you with work and university to find time to just be together, especially with a lot occupying both of your minds.

Communicating had never been your forte and you found it even harder to discuss your worries when the time you had together was so scarce. Taerae had been good at voicing his feelings and telling you when he was stressed but in the past days, he seemed a little closed off as well, so this sigh seemed to be a giveaway.

Still, worries aside a soft smile rested on your lips as he entered the kitchen, the table currently occupied by books and sheets of paper, your own little chaos ruling over the space.

“Looks intense,” Taerae chuckled as he made his way to you.

“It’s even worse than this looks in here,” you motioned with your finger to your head as you closed your laptop shut, standing up to hug your boyfriend hello.

Taerae kissed your cheek, taking in your scent. He noticed the hints of coffee scent in your hair, an indicator that you had worked the morning shift. He didn’t know you had worked today. You used to share your work schedule with him at the beginning of the week. Taerae knew you weren’t obligated to share your schedule with him, he wasn’t possessive like that, but just stopping to do so, irked him in some kind of way.

“You okay?” you asked as Taerae was staring off into space, and you grabbed a bottle of water.

“Yeah,” one look at you and he knew you didn’t believe a single word he just said, “it’s just the usual. Creative pressure and such.”

You cocked your head, the way you always did when processing things, thinking of what to say, “You sure that’s the only reason? You kind of seem a little off the past few days.”

He knew you didn’t mean it like an accusation. He knew that doing this, fighting, on grounds of you asking if there was anything else wrong was ridiculous. But Taerae also supposed it was as good a reason as any. Still, he didn’t mean the words to come out quite as harsh as they did.

“Yeah? You mean like how you don’t even tell me when you work these days anymore? Or what assignments you’re working on? Who you’re working on them with?”

One look and Taerae realized you were clearly taken aback by what he had said. Or how he had said it.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had to approve my schedule. I don’t mean to keep it secret Taerae, but I’m not talking about schedules or shifts, or even university. Something’s clearly bothering you.” Your brows were scrunched up and arms crossed.

Taerae scoffed silently, “Why…” he tried to gather the words in his head, to make them seem a little less ridiculous than they were, “Why won’t you fight with me?”

“Huh?” now you were taken aback. “Why won’t I fight with you? Maybe because there’s nothing to fight about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you get annoyed when I stay in the studio for too long and don’t text you when I know you’re waiting for dinner plans or something. And I - I get annoyed when you just brush things off, but you always apologize even if there’s nothing to apologize for. Sometimes– Sometimes I just want to be annoyed with you and you should be annoyed with me as well for being annoyed.”

You frowned, what he said was true, even if you weren’t sure he was making sense 100%. In any case, these things just seemed inconsequential. Whenever stuff like that occurred you had been more worried than annoyed, sad maybe, but definitely not mad.

“What do you mean? I just don’t think these things are worth fighting over.”

Taerae closed his eyes, in the way he did when he couldn’t get the right chord combination, in the way he did to coordinate his thoughts, in the way he did just before letting go of a frustrated breath.

“See? This is what I mean. I just- It just feels like that to you I’m not worth fighting with.”

Now there was hurt on your face. Taerae didn’t mean to twist your words but it just, that is what it sounded like to him. This is what it felt like to him.

“I- That’s not what I said at all, Taerae,” Your tone had also changed. It was more straight forward, more matter-of-factly. Yet your eyes seemed desperate to just clarify this situation, so, you searched in his for some sort of doubt of his last statement, “You know that that’s not true, right?”

“I don’t know! It seems like it if I’m being honest,” his voice was just below a shout. Although it definitely didn’t seem angry, it was just as desperate as the look in your eyes. He tried to understand you, the way you tried to understand him, “It feels like whatever I do, whether it’s good or bad it doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course, it matters. Taerae, you matter, so much!” You tried to hold the eye contact, but your emotions seemed to overflow, making it impossible to think and talk, but you tried anyways, “I am sorry, and don’t get me wrong, this is not me not wanting to fight right now, I’m just trying to understand- to make you understand; Never has anything you did not affected me. Be it negative or positive. I know we’ve talked about it but- you know I’m still learning, right? I just- I don’t want my feelings to be a bother to you. I don’t want me to be a reason for you to not do something. I just- I simply want to be a support for you. I don’t want you to have to worry about me and my feelings too, because I just- I so confidently want you. I just want to love you, Taerae.”

He looked at you, and you looked at him as you continued.

“Never did I mean to hurt you by not fighting with you. If you want to fight then okay, let’s fight. Let’s scream at each other and hurt each other, but I just- I just want to be able to love you through it all.”

You didn’t realize you had started to cry. And Taerae hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see you cry. So, all he did was pull you close and engulf you in a hug.

“Okay. I’m sorry, too.” He was afraid of letting you go, as the thoughts raced through his head, as he tried to turn back time. He cursed himself for not realizing how much it sucked to fight. How much it sucked to hurt the person you love the most. “Okay, let’s love, okay?”

So, when the first snow began to fall, as it covered the rooftops and bare trees like sugar did pancakes, and a peacefulness settled after the first fight, you and Taerae decided to love each other, but also fight with each other, and cry and laugh with each other, and hurt and forgive each other. The both of you just prayed that you wouldn’t lose each other.

5. i loved you

An unexpectedly cold spring night put you in an incredibly uncomfortable position.

One would think that at the end of April the temperatures would somewhat rise above 10 degrees, but to your disappointment, they had even dropped below zero. You didn’t know what had come over the city to still be as freezing as it was, but you couldn’t help but think it was your heart that had conjured up the unexpected mid-spring-ice-age.

The temperature wasn’t the only thing that made it difficult for you to get out of bed. It was also a simple lack of anything warm in your life. So, on the morning of this especially chilly spring day, you rummaged through your closet to find one of your warmest sweaters, to try and keep your body from going into hypothermia on your way to your opening shift at the café. Trying to distract you from the shivering even inside your apartment, you thought about the workday ahead, and what spices you would throw into your free morning coffee, when your hand grazed over what felt like your warmest, snuggest sweater. Satisfied with the choice, you grabbed onto the thick fabric and pulled it out, but not without a few other items falling out of your closet in the process.

Cursing at your own messiness, you at first didn’t notice that the sweater you had pulled out, was in fact, not one of your own. You had even been so distracted by the mess that was now on your bedroom floor, that you pulled the sweater over your still with sleepiness marked head, and diligently threw the stray items into the closet, shutting the door before they could fall out once again.

Only when you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, did you realize what you had just slipped onto your body. Comforted by the familiarity of the striped sweater, but startled by the memories it brought back. The scent of its owner still hung heavy in its fibre. You stopped to look at yourself in such a familiar, yet strange item of clothing.

If anyone had told you two months ago that it’d feel strange to wear Taerae’s hoodie in April you would have thought it would have been because of the warm weather, and not because Taerae had broken up with you just a couple of weeks before.

The fabric felt now heavy on your shoulders, and you sensed an all too familiar weight drop a little heavier onto your chest. You had done your best to go back to the life you had known before, but in the past two weeks you had been semi successful in achieving that: More than once had your co-workers caught you staring off into space, your gaze unintentionally fixed upon any busker in front of the café, your eyes even fixated on the spot when nobody was playing. With a gentle tap to your shoulder, Hanbin had brought you back to your task of making espresso shots, a routine that felt almost too easy to get distracted from.

You were well aware that you had had a life before Taerae. You just didn’t know you would have one after Taerae. In all honesty, you had hoped you wouldn’t have.

The most tragic part was, Taerae just hadn’t given you the closure one would need after getting broken up with by the love of their lives. He hadn’t really given you any explanation at all. Nothing more than a lot off bullshit, and a just-because. It was easy for most people in your life to go from loving to hating him, but even with the lack of sympathy for your situation, you found it difficult.

You had tried to hate him, you had tried to resent him even, but nothing had proven effective enough to erase your love for him. Taerae had been engraved into your bones. And now he expected you to just move on?

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. At least that’s what you told yourself, that’s what you told your friends who were asking why the two of you broke up. Coming up with more than absurd reason of why you should have known, when in reality you simply couldn’t have. Because even in hindsight, you never could have seen it coming.

So, on the evening of, when Taerae had told you things weren’t working for him anymore, his face straight and not showing any emotion, not showing his signature smile, or even a tear; On the evening of, when you had begged Taerae to just tell you what you had to change, what it was you had done wrong and that you would fix them, if only he’d stay; On the evening of, when even after you had cried and shouted, he just took his guitar case and left; On the evening of the break up, you hadn’t gotten an answer. And neither had you in the two weeks since.

In fact, you had not seen Taerae at all. Or heard from him, not even through friends or social media. You wondered if he was okay, if he really was as unbothered as he had seemed, even though it was unnatural for him to act the way he did. You had always deemed Taerae a gentle person, but the way he ended things, was just so unlike him. So, he had to be not okay as well, right?

The lack of answers made you do something you had never had to do before, which was speculate and wonder. Taerae had always worn his heart on his sleeve and expressed himself so diligently most of the time, if not through words, surely, he would have done so through music. So, speculating about how he must feel now, was something you had never had to do. But now you caught yourself wondering all the time. You wondered how many things he thought about before the thought of you popped into his head. You speculated what the songs he was composing these days sounded like. Were they about you?

Either way, there was no hiding from him. Not for you, not just yet.

His presence, the imprint he had left on you followed you everywhere you went. The grocery store, the library, the café. Everywhere the memories of Taerae loomed over you. You wanted to forget him, so much to the point you had seriously considered hypnosis, if that was thing. It was like you could not, not consider him. He was so engraved in your brain; he was so engraved in your everything. You weren’t sure how to erase him from your everything, you weren’t sur how to erase him from anything. You weren’t sure you actually wanted to.

Still, the hurt you had felt the first few days was overwhelming, you couldn’t eat or sleep or do anything much other than run on autopilot. It had become so bad, that some of the regular customers noticed. It was almost like all life had been sucked out of you, and in a sense it had been; A possible future life had been taken from you. A future you had hoped for ever since you had met Taerae. A future you now grieved.

So, now looking at yourself in the mirror, the striped sweater hanging from your body, keeping it warm, felt like a glimpse of what if. A glimpse of Taerae. A glimpse of the person you had been when you were with him. A person you could have been, but never would.

For a second you wondered again, Taerae well established in your mind. But in the end, it didn’t matter. There was no use wondering and retracing everything you did during the last few days of your relationship. There was no use, because you did everything you said you would: You had loved Taerae, you loved him still, with your heart’s full capacity. Over the months you had fought and made up and hurt each other and forgiven the hurt. But now none of it mattered, so you might as well try and forget, instead of dwell and grieve.

So, with a swift motion you stripped the sweater off your body, exposing yourself once more to cold of the spring morning that had even seeped through the walls of your apartment. The frost making itself known in the form of icy crystals on your window. You didn’t look for another sweater, you wanted to feel the cold.

You weren’t sure what you had done wrong. But still, you knew more than you didn’t. You knew there was nothing you could do. You knew you would hurt for some time still. You knew you would see Taerae in buskers, guitars, and iced tea. You knew you would hear him in Hi-Hellos and the jingle of keys. You knew you loved him, and you knew it’d be a long time before you stopped.

So, for now you’d try to forget.

6. you were beautiful

There was a hum in the air, a melody that made its way through the busy streets of the city. The warm weather had finally decided to stay, and it stuck to the cement like chewing gum, barely cooling down overnight.

Taerae had kept himself busy over the past month, not really wanting to slow down, but with graduation coming up, also not really being able to do so. For him there had barely been any time to just stroll around, or go to cafes with his friends, or to simply just think; These days Taerae still didn’t really knew how to function normally, how to function like he did before you. Of course, he still had to perform, write, and produce music for university, but he rarely went out to busk or did these things for joy like he used to. It was something outsiders could have never noticed; How Taerae did everything but nothing at the same time. Only the people close to him, could tell something was up. They knew of the break-up of course, but they could only guess why exactly it happened in the first place.

In any case, it was evident that Taerae had closed himself off. He didn’t really talk to any of his friends about it, and neither did his songs show any reflection of what he felt. They hadn’t become bad, they were just cliché. Some of his professors even pointed out the shift in his lyrical style. But there was nothing Taerae could do; he was both too busy and exhausted to deal with his feelings.

Walking around in the area by his apartment was one of the only times Taerae consciously searched for some down time, to sort out at least some of his thoughts. Of course, he was cautious not to stray too close to your workplace, more for his own sake than yours. As of now, Taerae wasn’t sure how his heart would react if he was to come face to face with you unexpectedly. Ever since he had decided to break it off with you, he had barely fathomed to hold a single thought about you. He simply couldn’t conjure up enough courage to deal with his own heart break. So, up until now, pushing everything away would have had to do the trick.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had ticked off his thought process to recall the day of the professor-student conversation. Maybe it was the undeniable sense of Deja-vu he felt when he spotted a young busker, surrounded by only a small group of people, who were all listening carefully to the boy’s song. Maybe it was the girl listening, who from the back looked exactly like the one he loved. It could have been either of these two or another altogether, but in any case, Taerae knew, that maybe it was time to face this inevitable heart ache, even if just for the duration of this walk.

At the beginning of each semester, music and music production majors are required to sit down with one of their supervising professors, to discuss projects for the upcoming term. Most of these conversations were easy going, and the projects subject to change, but the conversation at the start of the second semester senior year was one equally feared and anticipated.

The senior project for music and music production majors was basically the making of an entire album, with full creative freedom. Taerae had been more than excited to get started on it, in fact, he had been so eager that the songs for his album were ready for recording as soon as his supervising professor approved of them.

So, yes, Taerae was a tad bit nervous entering the professor’s office. But he was generally well-liked and so were his songs, so he was sure this meeting would go over smoothly, and he would have to do nothing more than to put in a reservation to one of the student recording studios and was good to go.

And that was the case, partly.

Everything was going well; the professor praised his compositions and skills as a lyricist. The way he had described Taerae as someone to get across any type of feeling, made Taerae’s chest swell with pride. It wasn’t until the last few minutes of the meeting, when Taerae was supposed to thank the professor in front of him and get straight to work, that everything was pushed out of his rightful trajectory.

Taerae was about to get up out of the chair he had been sitting in somewhat tensely, when the professor said something, that in hindsight, put as many things into perspective as it pushed out of it. At least for Taerae.

“This girl must be quite the experience for you as a song writer.”

“Excuse me?” Taerae had said then, distraught, and genuinely confused.

The professor had then proceeded to explain how certain people, certain experiences, determined the colours of the artists in any art form. And that you, were certainly one of these experiences that would influence Taerae a great deal, even once the next experience would come into his life.

Looking back now, Taerae wasn’t sure why he had taken what his professor said so to heart. He definitely didn’t think of you as an experience. He didn’t think of you as something temporary at all. He didn’t think that there was any more evolving for him to be done, Taerae would have been good writing songs about you for the rest of his life.

But was this how the world perceived you? As an experience? Did he, through his songs somehow reduce you to something less than what you were, something temporary, something to live through and then move on?

From this point on Taerae couldn’t help but spiral in his self-doubt. Doubt for his love for you, and doubt for his skill of song writing. Thinking back on statements his friends had made, like how they would also write songs as good as Taerae’s if they had a Y/N in their lives, only confirmed his insecurities in his own love for you. Taerae somehow had gotten way into his head about it.

In Taerae’s mind it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to make you an experience in his life. It wasn’t fair, when all you did was give, when you read his every thought and tried so hard to be better and learned with the mistakes you made, learned to love Taerae even more.

Taerae remembered that you had said you wanted nothing more than to love Taerae for the rest of your life, that he was your person. And all Taerae had done was make you an experience.

Lost in thought, a sigh heavy on his lips, Taerae hadn’t noticed the young woman listening to the busker turn around. She hadn’t yet looked at him, instead she was gushing about the music to the friend who had just joined her. Had the other joined the young woman any earlier, Taerae would have known in an instant that it was in fact you: the pink hair of your best friend and co-worker a dead giveaway. The two of you a duo Taerae found difficulty in separating, even during the days of you dating.

Chaehyun was whispering something in your ear, which made you laugh a little louder than you had anticipated, a hand coming to cover your mouth as you snickered in slight embarrassment. More than once had Taerae witnessed an interaction similar to this one, and looking at you now, made his heart ache with longing.

But he understood that that was something he wouldn’t be able to see again. He knew that he couldn’t really love you the way you deserved to be loved, so he wouldn’t try.

In the past, Taerae had always felt he was good at expressing himself. You had always promised him to get better at things, to learn the love Taerae needed. Without missing a day, you had told him you loved him. Sometimes first thing in the morning, sometimes it was the last thing he heard when he fell asleep. You had always thought of Taerae first, he had been the most important thing in your life, and Taerae had been well aware of this fact, you had told him more than once. Yet you still didn’t put pressure on the young man, you waited patiently on him in every sense. Maybe Taerae hadn’t been so good at expressing his feelings, maybe you had been the one very aware of your own feelings along.

Watching you from afar, he wondered if you thought of him as much as he did of you. He wondered if everything the two of you had been, was something of the past to you, or if everything, if he, was still present in your life, if he still was something you had to consider, even if it was just to avoid him successfully.

The warm wind grazed over you, as it did Taerae, sending your hair flying in its direction. Your head turned towards the young man standing more than a few metres away from you, gaze fixed upon you. It took you some time to remember to not stretch out your arm and wave at him in greeting. It took you even longer to remember not to make your way towards the boy to greet him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

It also took some time for Taerae to not expect any of this from happening; looking at you now, you were a stranger he still loved.

But looking at him now, you realized he was a stranger you once loved. And thus, a small smile made its way onto your face as you turned away, interlocking your arms with your friend, and walking off into the direction of your workplace.

To Taerae it had always been interesting how people forgot, once it was over, once it was done. But Taerae would never forget what it was like to love you. He would never forget what it was like to be loved by you. How it was beautiful, how you were beautiful. Taerae would aways remember, he could simply never forget. Maybe someday, he would be fortunate enough to remind you again.

yay!! you made it to the end!! i hope that you were able to enjoy it despite the somewhat sad ending!! thank you again for reading and i’d love to hear your thoughts on it!! love youuuu

this piece was written by @yourstruleejn so please don’t post on any other platforms or translate into any other languages! thank u !!!

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timidloner · 2 years

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Dark Impulses is a 18+ yandere interactive fiction story with an emphasis on horror, romance, and erotic elements. It focuses on the corruption of the main character as they become irrevocably linked with a mysterious man who takes an extreme interest in them.

Link to demo.

Spotify playlist.

Working on: Chapter 1

Words published: 8,500

You live in dangerous times. Many say that the world is ending, others claim that this is just a trial that shall pass. But not even you as a member of the High Church know what the truth is. All you know is that dangerous creatures roam the streets at night, searching to spill innocent blood, and that Father Sun won’t answer your prayers.

Each day holds a bigger trial than the last, and while your faith in Him has kept you strong through it all, you fear the day it won’t be enough… A fear that becomes true when you met a stranger in the woods.

Change is coming, will you remain pure?

Customize your MC.

Gender: male, female, and nonbinary options. Transgender options will be added in the next update.

Appearance: complexion, eye color, height, and hair (color/type/length).

Personality: fiery, playful, and genuine.

Navigate the world through strength, charisma, intellect, or skullduggery.

Learn more about the darkness around you, and decide for yourself if it means the end or a new beginning.

Choose how to overcome the trails ahead of you, not all roads lead to a happy ending.

A (male) yandere love interest.

Accept his advances, try to befriend him, or grow to hate him.

This story contains sexual themes, gore, violence, dubious morality, child abuse, rape (bad endings), death, yandere tendencies, unhealthy relationships, and optional fetish content (dubcon, predator/prey, degradation, etc...). It's NOT for everyone. Do not play this to hurt yourself in any way.

Author's note: This is my first project ever, all my previous experience writing has been with fanfiction. But while I may be an amateur writer, this is a work made with love (<3) and I plan to do my best. Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story.

#dark impulses if #yandere game #male yandere #twine if #twine interactive fiction #dark content #dark fiction

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yojeongin · 2 years

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happy together | m.l + l.dh [PART 1]

→husband!lee haechan x reader x bff!mark lee

genre: smut, angst, hurt, marriage au, love triangle, forbidden affair, friends to secret lovers, 90s au

synopsis: mark’s life is crumbling all around him too rapidly while the married life isn’t what either you and hyuck expected. taking in your husband’s best friend was meant to bring you good karma but all his presence is doing is stir the pot and worsen the cracks in each relationship.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! toxic marriage, mutual infidelity, morally grey characters, fingering, breast play, unprotected sex, car sex, oral sex (f receiving), spit kink, pet names, public sex, riding, smoking, reckless driving, mention of pet death

wc: 22.9k+ || soundtrack || ao3

finale | epilogue

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: look at that, a yojeongin update !! I enjoyed writing this too much so I hope you guys like it. btw if you want to be tagged for part 2 just lmk or fill out the taglist form in my masterlist; btw im sorry its so long 😭 I try to shorten them but they each get increasingly longer; a playlist for this does exist so listen it please <3 spotify in my masterlist

Mark never expected his life to crumble at such an early age. It was all falling out of place so rapidly that he didn’t really know what to do.

One second he was his college prodigy, opening exhibition after exhibition, and next he’s wheeling out suitcase after suitcase from this grimy taxi that he could barely afford last minute. The odor of rotting deli meats suffocating him the longer the car ride became.

Struggling to get them out of the car as the driver refused to even look his way, Mark cursed under his breath at how useless someone could be. But he bit his tongue as the words of his own father calling him such, rang through his ears. Perhaps he was right all along and his words were rather a prophecy than a silly scolding at the time.

The pavement was littered with puddles of rain and the sky threatened to make more droplets fall so once all of his items were out of the car, Mark made his way towards the well kept building, reciprocating the neglect of the driver. As he drove off some puddle water splashed onto his shoes making the young man grunt in frustration.

Life was only getting worse.

The lobby was cold and brightly lit, almost too clean but he only dirtied it with his wet shoes dragging to the elevator. A trail of his mistakes following him around. He was freezing inside but with the note on the elevator doors reading that it was broken, Mark would surely warm up with his walk up all those stairs to the fifth floor carrying all his suitcases.

After some inner complaining and cursing, Mark simply sighed, feeling his brain begin to swirl in frustration as he looked everywhere to find the staircase. The receptionist was of no help, slumped over the desk and intensely staring at the small television perched on the top counter, a drama in a language he couldn’t quite grasp, taking her entire attention.

Tiresomely, Mark finally arrived to the fifth floor, pearls of sweat decorating his pretty face and the sound of labored panting slipping through his parted lips. He could barely open the door to the floor but he managed to do so even with all the luggage handles in one hand, threatening to slip and fall down the staircase. Almost like his life.

Life was only playing joke after joke as the minute he managed to pull off the suitcases in front of him, the elevator dinged. Its doors opened widely, almost as if it was in a rush to kick out the couple that had disturbed its peaceful area.

Their loud bantering could make anyone feel crazy and at this state right now, Mark was the most easily affected.

“So now I’m crazy because I’m telling you that that bitch coworker of yours keeps flirting with you?” Your chuckle was anything but playful and joyous like he’d heard before. Trailing behind you, his best friend had nothing but a tired sunken look along with the anger that was bubbling up because of you alone.

“You’re crazy in general, you don’t have to bring her up for me to know you are.”

Mockery was delivered by the hazel haired boy that pulled at those same strands, feeling like he was pulling patches. His steps became harsher and louder to catch up to you.

Despite his initial personal frustrations, Mark was at least glad you’d two helped to lighten his mood (argument or not).

Just as vile spilled from his friend’s lips, your body swung, turning to your husband and taking his left arm onto one of your hands. Your grip tightening just by recalling his words.

“Don’t fucking call me crazy,” your eyes projected the fiery pits of hell, your burning anger too obvious to try and hide. Boring holes into Haechan’s own eyes and speaking through gritted teeth hoping that he could feel a hot wrath.

Just as he was to speak, continuing his hate filled words, your eyes averted, finally taking in the figure that stared at both of you dumbfoundedly.

“Mark!” That seeping anger from just seconds ago had dissipated into thin air, almost as if it had never been there just from seeing an old friend.

Letting go of your husband, you ran towards his best friend taking him by surprise with the force of your embrace against him. Mark only chuckled as he wrapped his own arms around your waist, pulling you in as tightly as you did him even if he felt gross from his work out up those stairs.

“Stop hogging him.” Hyuck spoke poutingly, pulling at your arm to let go of his friend. Halfway off him, Hyuck took him into his own embrace, slightly uncomfortable as you refused to let go of the older male.

“When did you get here?” Hyuck questions, taking some of the suitcases off of Mark’s hands despite his protesting.

Shaking his head while thanking him, Mark felt your hand slightly squeeze his arm letting him know it was no problem. “Literally just got here actually.” He chuckled not before showing you a tender smile as a thank you.

With the door finally unlocked, you pushed it widely to let him in. Mark was in awe with the way the apartment was decorated. He knew it was all your doing besides the desk in the corner of the living room that was hidden from view with the kitchen wall. That was surely Hyuck’s.

It was cozy and warm, just the way you always said you wanted your place to be and he was glad that you’d still held this up despite how things seemed to be looking. At least from the occasional letters you’d both write to him for updates.

In fact he still noticed that youthful joy and hope when he looked at you as of now. The pep in your step as you giggled towards the fridge and pulled out a beer for all of you.

“To celebrate your new exhibition!” Naive too.

Your smile was so wide and your eyes seemed to show how proud of him you were that he didn’t have in his heart to let you know that his life had gone downhill and his exhibition was a failure.

You had approached him with a freezing cold bottle to the point your fingers felt numb but you graciously opened it with that silly shark bottle opener with googly eyes that bounced every time a bottle was successfully opened.

He had given it to you once the three of you had gone to the local fair. A vendor had lent it to him to open a bottle of coke while the three of you had tacos for dinner,he ended up forgetting to give it back.

Seeing as you had found it adorable on the ride back to his now old apartment, Mark told you to just keep it at that point.

His eyes followed every movement of your hands, how you tried your best to move as quickly as you could when opening your own. How your hands wiped at the skirt of your dress to gain some warmth but you’d only clamp them together in pain trying to relieve some of it.

Once you deemed them to be alright to manage, you rushed back to the kitchen followed by Donghyuck’s whining on to why you hadn’t opened his only to be received with a low and angered: “Open it yourself.” Obviously, you were still very much upset with him.

Mark gave Hyuck a look, jokingly laughing at him for the favoritism displayed. His friend only shoved him playfully before taking the opener into his hands.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to go to the opening. Hyuck worked until late and you know him, I can’t be out late without him. Right, dad?” You teased, turning to glare at your husband as you set down the bowl of seasoned peanuts for Mark to enjoy. Hyuck pretended to mimic you watching as you settled at Mark’s feet right across from him.

Mark continued his silent laughter, taking a chug from his drink while demonstrating the pain the coldness of it was causing in him. “It’s fine, you wouldn’t like it either way. At least others aren’t liking it.”

Huge disappointment was laced with every word. The critics were getting to him and it was so evident in the way he spoke. With his words you looked at Hyuck questioning what was going on but he gave you no response.

“What? Why? Your work is amazing.” You comforted him, giving his knee a slight squeeze that was only received with a smile.

Shifting in his spot making sure to not give you a nudge or kick, he spoke, “It hasn’t really been the best days lately…” his sight shifted from you to his knees. “Some investments went horrible and the exhibition tanked. It’s doing really bad so yeah, everyone has their downfall and I guess this one’s mine.”

Even though he laughed to ease the tension, Mark felt it present in the room. Noting the pout on your face knowing you felt sorry for it, he gave a tight lipped smile.

“Yeah, so– yeah that’s why I’m really thankful you guys are letting me stay a while here, it means a lot.” Though you never minded if he stayed, you were still confused.

Your face a dead giveaway that was making the male panic slightly. “Stay? Hyuck didn’t say any—“

“Oh… oh shit, I can leave of course,” He rubbed a hand over his face, guilt and embarrassment embroidered in his words. “My bad I didn’t mean to just barge in.”

He chuckled nervously, shifting in a way to stand without disrupting you, yet you rushed to sit besides him, taking his arm into a tight hug while telling him not to.

“No! Oh my God. No!” Desperately you’d plead, Hyuck standing up himself to sit Mark back down, his words drowning in the ocean of your apologies.

“Nah nah, it’s fine, dude.” He was obviously tired, his eyes trying their best to not shut while trying to calm down his friend. Though drowsy, neither you or Mark missed the harsh glare he threw your way. Almost trying his best to not scold you through gritted teeth.

“I'm sorry, Mark. Hyuck just didn't tell me at all. I would've had the guest room clear for you by now, it’s full of stuff even the bed is gross—“ You stopped to catch your breath, a sigh releasing instead whilst looking at him with pleading apologetic eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mark. I’ll bring you some covers.” All you mustered was a nervous smile as you scurried off to the guest room for his sheets, leaving the two men alone.

Haechan leaned back on the molding couch, his legs spread enough for a person to sit between, and the perspiration of the bottle seeping through his slacks. The man was gone and tired but even then he tried his best to comfort his best friend. “I’m sorry about her—“ Mark tried cutting him off to no avail.

“It is my fault I forgot to tell her, I mean you saw how we came home— It’s been rocky so having a normal conversation is so foreign to us now.” Neither expected him to just minimally vent about the marriage but he needed it out. Mark only nodded, uncomfortable and with no advice at hand.

“But yeah, man— you know y/n loves you, she doesn’t mind you staying at all.” He finally cracked a smile or a laugh during this entire awkward conversation. Mark smiled in return, warm to how much love the two of you had for him.

“Thanks… It’ll be just for a bit, I promise.”

Hyuck shook his head, eyes fluttering from exhaustion. “Don’t worry about it, It’d actually be best if you just stay forever .”

Mark’s laugh was louder and genuine this time, shaking his head in denial. As of that moment, you had emerged from the guest room.

Your presence alone was draining Hyuck. His laugh faltered and so did his smile, glowering as he sipped on his drink.

But to Mark it only increased his giddiness, standing up to help you with his blankets and laughing even more when you pulled on your husband’s arm to get him off the larger couch and start arranging the sheets.

He didn’t wait until you finished, Donghyuck just sighed and looked at his surroundings before blurting out that he was heading to bed already in the process of pulling Mark in an embrace again.

You didn’t spare him a glance, smoothing up the cool fabric under your palm. The sound of it louder than the tapping of Haechan’s dress shoes on the cold tile.

Being left with you never felt like a drag, Mark always enjoyed his time with you so this didn’t feel much different when you began to speak. “I imagine you’re drained, huh?” You threw him a glance over your shoulder, shooing his hands away every time he tried to help you.

Mark just nodded, nervously smiling as he pulled his hands back, rubbing it the few times you swatted it. “I-I like the way you decorated the place by the way! Really screams ‘y/n’— it’s nice.” He stuttered, his nose scrunching in embarrassment.

“Thanks…” Your body faced him, words refusing to continue cascading whilst your eyes danced across his features. “It’s really the only thing I got going for myself as of now.”

He felt his heart shatter the moment your eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. Mark always knew you to be outspoken and firm on your desires. Before you married his best friend you were an art consultant. Hired by his company to find anything to decorate the dull walls of their building, there Donghyuck found himself drawn to you.

Every Friday he awaited impatiently, his knee bouncing just to see your beautiful smile cross the threshold of the company doors with paintings upon painting you had traveled countries to get just for his boss.

Hyuck always used the excuse that there were too many for you to have multiple trips up and down the elevator so he’d offer to help you carry them to his boss’ office.

You also looked forward to those Fridays. Back then Hyuck was loving and patient, he was playful and did anything to make you smile. Even the first times you rejected his proposals he’d come back with more potential that you ended up becoming his wife.

It’s not that you didn’t want to be with him but because of your job. You spent weeks or even months in different areas of the country or abroad so knowing this relationship would be long distance didn’t help.

By the time you had agreed, the company had terminated their business with you and you had gotten a job in the city to relax from the chaos traveling constantly would bring.

In Mark’s eyes you were always strong willed. When Haechan finally introduced you during one of Mark’s exhibitions, the older male was in awe to know Hyuck had found someone so perfect.

At the time you matched his energy very well. The both of you were outgoing yet always stood your ground. If anyone, especially your now husband did anything you didn’t like— you’d call him out on it.

Hence Mark always felt like he was walking on eggshells until he learnt that he could do no wrong in your eyes because you saw yourself in him.

The both of you had the fine arts to bond about, he was easy to talk to, and he was always supportive of your hobbies as you were of his. Hell— you even invested in some of his pieces to show you’d be there for him.

Many would side eye the relationship you had with Mark but Hyuck understood how perfect the three of you were and if his best friend would do anything for his girl, then she was the one.

Mark didn’t know how or when it happened but all he knew as of now was that Haechan managed to make you docile in a way. But he also knew he did something to piss you immensely.

Your coworkers, before he made you quit were lovely but he was convinced many of the men there had other plans for you despite many being in relationships or just nice people.

It didn’t help that his own coworkers were all venomous and envious snakes that fed him ideas. It was quite sad actually, how the people that saw that relationship bloom were the same ones trying to tear it down so here the both of you were, always seconds away from yanking at each other’s hair and clawing at their face.

It was disheartening to say the least. Everything was changing for the worse.

“Have a good night, Mark.”

Cutting his thoughts off, you squeezed his shoulder, leaving him in the dim lighting of the lamp beside him.

Not giving him the chance to reply, Mark nodded to himself with a tight lipped smile as he turned the lamp off.

Loneliness swallowed him again, his eyes adjusting to the darkness but the city lights worked as a nightlight regardless. He wouldn’t admit it but he really needed both you and Hyuck with him in that instant.

His head hit the pillow, eyelids felt heavy, allowing him to drift off to a deep yet short slumber. Mark was tired, yes, but his mind, though in pain, still ran his thoughts through. Destroying any chances of rest. His slumber lasted merely half an hour until the bright fluorescent lights and honking of the city awoke him.

In addition the whispers emitting from the main room gripped his hearing forcefully, not letting him go until he heard every vile thing you and Hyuck told each other.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude—“

“Yeah, well you could’ve tried to sound better.”

He heard the shuffling of bed sheets.

“You never told me he was staying, I could’ve cleared out the other room. Poor guy has to sleep on the stiff couch. I mean why the fuck do you need an extra room for? Your desk is in the living room and you don’t even use it.”

Exasperation was laced in your voice, he didn’t know how to entirely feel but that guilt of intruding your livelihood was horrible.

“Those postcards are collectibles, y/n. For all you know they could be worth more than this apartment in the future.”

Mark imagined you rolled your eyes before speaking. “They’re worth ten cents right now, how could they possibly be worth anything any time soon?”

A pout emerged on his lips. He wondered if that’s what people thought about his work right now but you were once the art consultant so who else is better to know the worth of something?

“Fuck, fine! Clean out the room but throw away some of your stuff you don’t need too.”

“Like what?”

He heard defiance.

“I don’t know, why don’t you start with all the paint you have? You don’t ever work on anything anymore, all you did was waste money on that stuff.”

Hyuck shifted in his spot, turning to your body now. “You haven’t finished that little ug— little painting you were working on.” He swallowed his remaining words.

You simply scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “That little ugly painting you were gonna say?”

“No.” He answered untruthfully.

“Right— I’m just going to go clean the room now.”

You tried getting off the bed before feeling his grasp on your wrist, almost begging you for forgiveness but also with the grip of an angry possessive man.

“You’re going to wake him up.” He didn’t apologize, that only cemented your determination even more.

Yanking your wrist from his grasp without first feeling that burn, you scooted towards the edge putting your slippers on before walking towards the entrance, Donghyuck watching your every move.

Managing to open the door as quietly as you could, with a leg out already, you turned to your lover. “It’s a realistic portrait of you, just so you know.” He ignores your words but you can still notice his distaste in the way his eyes gloss over. That was enough of a reaction for you.

Finally shutting the door behind you, you lower your head slightly, tired of this constant cycle. You would’ve walked towards the spare room but in the instant you lifted your head you noticed the subtle rustling of Mark’s spiked hair scurrying to hide from your sight.

Tip-toeing towards the back of the couch, you lean over seeing his back turned to the cushions. Smiling to yourself as his lids twitched showing how bad of a liar he was; you giggled softly.

“I know you’re not asleep, nosey.” Your hand reached for his cheek, squeezing it softly. Mark couldn’t contain it anymore, he just smiled as his eyes fluttered open while apologizing.

“It’s cool, nothin’ new.” Climbing over the back of the couch, Mark made space for you to lay beside. “Did you, uh… Did you hear anything?”

Settled by the edge of the couch, Mark wraps one of his arms around your shoulders hoping that’s enough to not make you fall.

“Not really.” His smile didn’t falter, not even when you gave him a stoic nod knowing he’s lying.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Lights are too bright.”

They were hitting your face as you laid beside him. Silence settled between the both of you until you got closer to him. Laying your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his torso.

You didn’t really give him time to process what had gone on since you began talking, only giving him the option of holding you as well. “You know I don’t mind that you’ll stay here, right? I love it when you come around.”

“I hope so.” He replied

You granted him laughter, “Stop, you know I do! You’ve always been so fun, Mark. Are you going to give me company these days?”

‘You’re so fun, Mark.’ The words echoed in his mind as he tried to process what to say.

“Of course. While I look for a place and an actual job as my father would say.” Though Mark tried to play it off, it was obvious he was insanely hurt.

“Do you still paint?” You deflected, he nods and asks: “Do you?” You respond with a shake of your head and a tender smile.

“We should do something tomorrow then. Rest for tonight, alright?” He nods letting you know you should too, shifting in hopes to find an angle the city lights wouldn’t bother him.

All you managed to do was close the blinds and curtains once you stood, hoping that was enough for now. For now it seemed like it was, smiling as you walked over to him one last time. Crouching down to his level, Mark smiled seeing your face one last time tonight.

Before he could scold you to get some rest, he felt your lips on his cheek whispering a sweet ‘goodnight’ once again.

Mark couldn’t form any words, he was utterly shocked and slightly confused but it was also past 2AM and you were probably just tired and slightly tipsy so he tried to ignore it— it was an innocent remark, just that…

As the weeks progressed it seemed Mark could slightly see why you had kissed him goodnight that first day.

The longer he stayed with you and Donghyuck he noticed how lonely you were. Hyuck spent most of his days in the office and when he arrived home it was already late so all he could do was shower and head straight to bed.

He’d greet Mark normally but when it came to you he could barely even look your way. If he came back tipsy after a meeting then he would kiss you as a greeting but other than that it was as if a corpse was walking amongst you.

On his days off, Hyuck would lounge on the couch while watching TV expecting you to cater to him but when it was obvious you’d continue to ignore his existence, he’d dress up and head back to the office.

Mark hated to admit it but he preferred when Haechan wasn’t home. It was a living hell when he was. You were always so lively when it was just you and him. If Hyuck came around your entire mood faltered and it was a struggle to bring it back.

He was glad that he had managed to get you to paint again. In this time together, Mark had helped you with detailing and different techniques. You had also found that oil pastel was a new medium you preferred.

Mark could now see why having a roommate or a lover was sought out so much. You and him would spend your days at the downtown markets fishing for fresh produce for home made meals you two would plan or just simply finding an excuse to escape the confinement that apartment was for you.

Mark had also learnt how to better his cooking from you and how to properly take care of plants. That is because the both of you decided to buy one and help it grow— together . To be quite honest you always thought of plants as such a huge responsibility, you simply didn’t want to do it alone.

It was going great, at least for you two. The more time he spent there the less you cared about what Hyuck was doing without you. The less you cared about Donghyuck.

But for now, those thoughts needed to disappear and you two had to think about him regardless.

Despite the horrid summer heat in September, Mark put himself in the kitchen monitoring the stew as you got dressed up for tonight's event. Whining to himself about how hot it was getting in the kitchen. But this was you– and his best friend of course– so he didn’t want to complain.

“Do you want me to turn off the stove? I think it’s starting to dry up.” Mark called out, watching the red bubbles flow from one side to another, avoiding the pieces of pork and vegetables before they’d burst.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, hey— how does it look?” Mark turned with the sound of your voice, his eyes taking a while to process how beautiful you looked before him. To say he was speechless was an understatement. It felt as if the air in his entire body had been knocked out and his voice was robbed.

“Is it too much?” You asked nervously at his silence. Trying to aid that, he shook his head with a smile on his face, taking one of your hands into his to twirl you around. Though as innocent as it was, Mark couldn’t help his wandering eyes, admiring the beauty you always have been.

He loved how the purple dress hugged your body and he loved how the lacing of your heels wrapped around your smoothen calves. They matched the nylor top coat of the dress, beaded flowers on both items.

He loved how your collarbones looked, shimmers from glittered lotion helping them. The straps tied around your neck making it a halter dress, and he loved how happy you looked.

Mark wasn’t fully sure what this brewing feeling was but he knew it wasn’t good.

Hyuck wasn’t someone Mark ever found himself being jealous of, he was his best friend after all. Mark had only loved and supported his best friend but right now it was killing him. The feeling wasn’t strong enough but he knew it could grow quickly.

It was killing him to realize he and you have spent all day preparing for tonight. Cooking Hyuck’s favorite meal and dessert, cleaning every nook and cranny of the apartment, and even buying postcards for his collection despite how you felt about it.

Even when Donghyuck has been nothing but a dipshit to you this entire time Mark’s stayed with you two; you went out of your way to make this anniversary a good one.

To be exact, Mark was jealous of Hyuck for having someone who loved him despite all he’s put you through.

“You look ravishing.” Mark let out in a breath, your concern turning into a grand smile and thanking him with a hug.

Turing to grab the pot of stew, Mark placed it on the decorated dinner table as you followed with glasses and wine.

“Okay, got everything?” He questioned one last time after wiping his hands on his jeans, making his way to the entrance door.

Looking around, you nodded as a response. Turning to the clock on the microwave, Mark grabbed his jacket, getting the clue. “Alright then, he should be here soon so just page me whenever it’s fine to come back.”

Mark smiled your way, almost as if he was excited for you when he knew he wasn’t.

Just as he was to turn and leave, a thought crossed his mind. “By the way— has he said anything?” His eyebrows furrowed and some doubt was visible but you just shrugged with an awkward smile.

“No… but he always acts like he forgets when we have anything big coming up.” You laugh to ease those nerves he’s created.

“Plus, I saw a box a while ago in one of his desk drawers and I think it’s a bracelet.” You tried to defend Hyuck, even when you nervously played with the flowers on the table. Even though you were trying to act giddy, Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for these feelings he’s created.

“Alright… have fun then!” Mark walked to you quickly, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your cheek that you received with a smile before returning it. You felt your arms tingle with the warmth of his skin, lightheaded when he removed himself from you.

The second Mark closed the door behind him, you sat with that anxious pit in your stomach waiting for your husband to arrive. You didn’t know if it was for what he had created when it came to Hyuck or for his touch– nevertheless it’s September 7th: Your anniversary. That’s all that should matter now.

You knew Hyuck arrived home late so you didn’t put it past him to do so on your wedding anniversary but the more the clock ticked and the needles cycled around with no sign of him, you felt vile begin to form in your throat.

It was coming around to be 10pm, then 11pm, and before you knew it 2am had rolled around and all that was left was the uncovered pot of stew covered by a layer of grease, wilted flowers crumbling down, and napkins full of smeared makeup and snot.

You were trying your best to not think about it much. You didn’t want to think about how foolish you were to think that despite how much you and Hyuck weren’t on the best terms as of the past months, that that love you once shared would triumph at least on your anniversary.

It was clear enough to you that he didn’t care anymore. So picking up yourself and your pride you made your way towards the restroom, wiping away the remains of your makeup and preparing for bed before paging Mark to come home.

He didn’t think twice about it when he felt the vibration against his hip, it was until he saw you sadly pour the stew into containers that he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

There was no sign of Donghyuck anywhere in the apartment and it made his blood boil. All he could do was walk your way, taking the pot and washing it while you put the container away in the fridge.

“So… wanna go on a bike ride tomorrow? We can get lunch, and then we can head to a music shop. I know you’ve been meaning to buy a CD player. Oh a picnic sounds perfect.” He knew it would do no good talking about his best friend and it was just best to ignore the subject.

You had been trying so hard to not cry this entire time that Mark offered to spend time with you but it made that barrier break and the waterworks to cascade. Mark felt guilty, as if he had said something wrong and he didn’t know what to do besides take you into and embrace and whisper apologies against your hair that he caressed as your back.

“Y/n, please. I’m so sorry if I sa—“

“No, it’s not— just— why can’t he be like you?”

Mark felt his heart ache and it got worse the more you cried against his chest, your arms tightening around his waist. He could smell the sweet scent of wine mixed into the one of your minty toothpaste. He could only assume that you had gotten drunk from despair.

“It’s okay… why don’t you go to sleep? We have a big day tomorrow, I'll finish cleaning up.” You didn’t have it in you to deny him, you were too tired and distraught from this little stunt Haechan pulled on you that you just wanted to lay down at least.

Simply nodding, you gave him a last tight squeeze before letting him go, looking up at him with a thankful smile. Perhaps it was the alcohol but the longer you stared at him, the more you noticed how much more you adored Mark. That same tingle he created earlier was presenting itself in an excruciating way.

He was the sweetest boy you’ve known, he treats you so well and expects nothing in return, and he’s always been supportive of you.

Temptation was always lurking and his rosey lips looked enticing more and more but it seems he caught onto your thoughts that he swallowed the lump in his throat. Clearing his throat, Mark smiles at you whispering a tender ‘goodnight’ that you repeated kissing his forehead before walking straight to the bedroom.

Mark felt frightened while you stared at him. Truth be told if you had kissed him, he would’ve let you and even kissed you back but right now he couldn’t. At least not when you’re so vulnerable, tipsy, and also his best friend’s wife.

Fuck… his best friend’s wife.

The second that door closed behind you, Mark let out a hampered breath, scolding himself for ever thinking about you in that aspect. They were only worsening as the days passed by.

Running his hand over his face and throwing his head back, Mark headed back to the kitchen. Though temporarily, washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen had aided him in forgetting those rising feelings. But like always they’d creep up once he was able to think freely again.

He tried to sleep that guilt away, tossing and turning hoping with every move it would shake out of his bones and leave through the open window but nothing worked. Frustrated with how easily the idea of kissing you had disturbed him, Mark grunted on his way up to the window. Taking a hold of his cigarette box that laid on the kitchen counter.

It was already 4am nearing five when he had finished cleaning for you but even so Hyuck hadn’t arrived until now when Mark leaned against the windowsill with the stick between his lips.

Lighting it, he shakes his head with a breathy laugh that makes smoke blow out of his lips. “Unbelievable.” He tells himself, eyes following the drunken moves of his friend and laughter from the men inside the car.

He counted the minutes and seconds until Donghyuck was to arrive at the apartment, his loud steps not missed.

“55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60… 1, 2—‘

The glowing red within the cigarette consuming more and more of the paper and herb, warming up where he held it, a clear sign that he should get a new one. Exactly when the warmth of the butt was becoming unbearable, Mark threw it out to the street hearing the doorknob rattle upon Haechan opening the door.

In his giddy drunken state, the young man smiled seeing his best friend, rushing to him to embrace him as he loudly greeted him.

“What are you still doing awake? Wanna have a drink?” He asks in between laughs, rushing to the fridge and grabbing two bottles, easily opening them with just the back of a knife. Mark took it without a thank you, lighting up another cigarette with so much disgust in his face the longer he looked at the state of his best friend.

Lips swollen and red, glitter littered all over his body and sticking to the sweat of his neck that was stained with rouge and purple kisses. He reeked of expensive cigarettes and alcohol and his slacks had stains that could only make him gag from just imagining.

Mark simply shook his head, scoffing at the antics of his friend. His guilt was gone seeing how much worse Hyuck could be than him. Taking a swig of the beer, Mark glared at his friend. “What is wrong with you? It’s so fucking late.” He viciously asked, inhaling smoke from his new cigarette.

Hyuck laughed, taking one from Mark’s box and lighting it to join his friend. “Okay, mom.” He replied, feeling as if he was just jesting but when Mark’s expression didn’t change he was becoming visibly frustrated. After all, what did Mark care about? He was just staying with them.

“Not for me but for y/n. She’s been waiting all day for you. You’ve really fucked her over, Donghyuck.”

Mark doesn't call him Donghyuck— ever. Only times he’s done so is when he’s angered him badly and right now he couldn’t understand why he cared so much about you and him. Putting down his bottle and turning to his friend, Hyuck’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth felt slightly agape. “What does it matter to you? It’s just another day.” His voice, gruff and deep now.

The smoke Haechan blew out made its way to Mark’s face, creating a more hostile night for the two. He wasn’t going to back down. In all his years he’s never seen you cry and he wasn’t going to let that slide.

Mark mirrored Hyuck’s dissatisfied expression, coming closer to his friend in defiance. “You smell like shit with signs of another bitch all over you on your anniversary, dipshit. Is it still just another day?”

And it crashed down upon him when Mark’s finger crushed itself against his chest, poking him as a wakeup call from the drunken daze he was in. Feeling as if a bucket of water had been dropped on him, Hyuck’s eyes widened in horror, fingers threading with his hair and yanking at it with anger like the day Mark had arrived.

“Fuck—“ He took a seat, putting off his cigarette on the ashtray. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t have a present either, what the fuck am I gonna do?”

Fear was all over his face, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep, rocky night, and the frustration from how you’d treat him for the following weeks or even months until you forgot it.

Mark didn’t care, he only focused on his statement about the gift. Angered, he finished off the second cigarette before glaring at his friend more. “She found a bracelet in your drawers, what do you mean you don’t have a gift?”

Hyuck had never seen Mark this angry before but for now he would focus on his own problems. “Who is it for? Are you fucking with me? Are you cheating on her? I love you, you're a brother to me but I will beat your ass if you fuck her over, Hyuck— promise to God I will.”

It was an eratic moment to spew such words that Hyuck’s expressions smoothened and his fright dissipated. All that was left was a twinge of curiosity the more his eyes squinted.

‘Interesting.’ He thought, the gears in his brain hating this new feeling just as Mark was hating his own new feelings as well.

“It’s for my mother’s birthday… but I guess I’ll give it to her now.” He collectively spoke, his words coming out slowly still processing Mark’s attitude. Mark didn’t seem to pick up on Hyuck’s peaking interest, shaking his head with obvious discontent.

“No, you have to get something meaningful. Something special, I mean she got you something you wanted, she spent all day preparing for you. You can’t just do something like that, Hyuck.”

“Fine, I’ll take her out to dinner tomorrow and how about you get the present?” He hoped that was good enough to get Mark off his back or at least to get his help. After all, he is his best friend.

Mark sat in complete disgust and anger. “You didn’t hear shit I just said, did you?” An angered smirk as he scoffed before finishing his beer. Hyuck grunted in frustration, his eyes screaming: ‘What more do you want from me?’ The wider they got. “Dude, I don’t have time, you know this.”

But it was useless, Mark just glared at him one last time before nodding. “Fine.” He grumbled in disapproval. “Alright, thank you.” Hyuck added with his own annoyance laced into it. Fishing for his wallet, he handed Mark one of his credit cards before silently walking to the room ending the night for both of them.

Lonely and angry.

Thankfully enough when waking, you were the ray of sunshine that made his day better. Driving almost an hour to the countryside, Mark and you spent it entirely on rented bikes.

Going to the nearest park the two of you had a picnic at, mainly focusing on how to sweeten each other’s mood and avoid thinking about last night. Though Mark drowned out the fears he had just last night, you felt them flourishing within you.

You liked that he was gentle with you and treated you nicely. If you ever argued with Mark it was over the taste of something and not about how useless he thought your likings were.

He cooked and cleaned if you weren’t in the mood. If you were he’d help, he just made sure to not let all the burden fall on you.

You liked Mark. You always had but right now the lines between platonic and loneliness were blurring. Enough that this day felt like a date and not just friends hanging out.

It didn’t matter though, at least you were glad there was someone out there to listen to you. Just as he did now the longer you talked while walking inside a small shop of antiques.

Finishing the drink you held in your hand, Mark held the door open for you. Words cascading from your lips as he admired every single one of them. Even when he took your cup to throw away before roaming around, his eyes didn’t leave your face.

The only time he was able to remove his gaze from you was the moment he heard your excited squeal while rushing towards the jewelry section and gawking at a seemingly golden locket.

The smooth metal etched with intricate vines filled with flowers, glimmering in the sunlight that shot through the vast windows behind the counter. Mark admired the shine in your eyes. How they glossed over and sparkled in adoration, almost as if this was the last thing you’d want before you died.

He supposed you could feel his intense staring that you turned to smile at him before clutching his arm, feeling you shake a bit. “It seems silly but my mom gave me one exactly like this one when I was a little kid and I always wore it,”

You shifted your leg. “But when I moved in with Hyuck it went missing. I guess you could’ve called it a warning.” You laughed trying to ease the underlying message as you continued. “Ever since I lost it things haven’t gone well, perhaps it was my lucky charm; and it’s been so difficult finding a new one that makes me feel the same as the one she gave me but it hasn’t worked out.”

Feeling your head lay on his shoulder as you stared at the piece without touching it, Mark looked down upon you. That odd feeling manifesting itself once again and tearing at his intestines.

“How much is it?” He questioned, feeling you shake a bit more. “Uh—“ You separate yourself from him, the trembling from your legs increasing and your breathing hitching in the back of your throat.

Whether it was because you had to go to the restroom or solely for the price alone. “Damn… Hyuck would kill me if I spent that much on a simple necklace.” You stated, before fully separating yourself from him and whining that you had to go to the restroom before he tried to oppose his friend’s view on spending.

Hyuck couldn’t be this frivolous, right? Well, Mark couldn’t really judge how other people spent their money, after all his reckless way of living is what has him crashing at his best friend’s place.

But this is you and Donghyuck he was talking about. Sure he wouldn’t care that his wife spent money on something so meaningful and after his arrival last night it was evident he spent his own money grossly.

Nevertheless Haechan told him to buy you a gift you’d appreciate and this was the perfect one. Whether it was too much or not, he was never given a budget and Hyuck would have to deal with it on his own.

So while you remained in the restroom, Mark rushed to the register, pleading with the cashier to quickly wrap it for a gift. While she tried her best to make it look presentable, his desperate staring was making her nervous to where she fumbled with the chain and the box.

If it wasn’t because there was a timer on how quickly you’d come out he would’ve been slightly upset at how messy it was but now that he could hear the creaking of the door far in the back inside this silent shop, he couldn’t care less how badly the presentation was. After all, he'll fix it while you get ready for tonight’s date with your husband .

The closer the tapping of your shoes got, the bigger the rush he gained while swiping the card and signing the receipts, hoping the cashier would hurry up on her end as well. Poor girl.

And when he could see your silhouette from his peripheral view whilst you looked around the rest of the knick-knacks, he shoved the box and receipt into the inner pocket of his jacket, unintentionally glaring at the girl despite thinking his gaze was apologetic.

“Ready to go?” He questioned, patting his chest hoping the imprint wasn’t visible. “Yeah…” You dragged out, a pout on your lips as your gaze turned to the display the necklace was on. At its disappearance, your eyebrows furrowed and your pout deepened.

“What?” He questioned, holding out his arm for you to grab again. “And the locket?” You ask, he was about to answer when the cashier interrupted the both of you.

“Someone had bought it before you came, they’ll be here shortly to pick it up so I just packed it. I’m so sorry if you were interested in it.” Her tender smile made your pout soften, telling her it was fine as you dragged Mark out dejectedly.

Despite knowing he had gotten it for you, Mark couldn’t let that disappointment you held go. Hopefully as of now when Hyuck was to give you the locket, that you’d feel better and forgive your husband even when he most likely didn’t deserve it.

When Hyuck had arrived and told you about his plans, it didn’t change the tense ambient that had been created upon his arrival. Though you reluctantly got ready while Hyuck moped about your mood, he was praying to all entities that you’d both let it go once the date was over. Even if deeply and unconsciously he felt put off by the both of you together— a twinge of jealousy.

The restaurant was cold and dim, dull. Though he tried making conversation and you tried to answer, that deep built up of anger was clogging your throat, choking you with its fiery vexation.

Hyuck was beginning to feel his own frustrations bubbling up the colder you became towards him. He was trying his best to make this an enjoyable night but when you’ve spent your entire days fighting— things like these become a heavy task.

When nothing else worked, Hyuck reached for the inside of his suit jacket, pulling the box Mark had handed him rushedly whilst he pushed the both of you out of the apartment in hopes the air would finally clear.

“Y/n.” He called out for you, your fork resting on the plate as you averted your gaze towards him, humming in response. His free hand reached for yours, clutching it tightly as a plea to please forgive him for all his wrong doings (As if a measly dinner could fix all his invective words).

“I know I fucked up royally last night,” Your eyebrow quirked in sarcasm. “But I’m truly sorry for ruining our day for work. I’m sorry I prioritized it over our marriage and perhaps it’s the reason we haven’t been doing so well these past couple of months along with other reasons…”

He sighed, his fingers intertwining with yours as his glossy eyes trembled trying to look into your cold muted ones. “And I know this dinner doesn’t amount to anything you deserve, so at least take this…” His hand left yours, that coldness from before remaining.

“To show I love you so much more than I can love anyone or anything.” Upon opening the box, your face lit up and you sat up straight. Your eyes are no longer cold, instead they are excited and warm.

You felt the need to cry, to weep and forgive him as it seemed he did know all along about your locket. That is until you opened your mouth. “So it was you?! You bought it from that shop?” You excitedly questioned as he stood to put it on you.

Kissing your cheek, glad you finally caved in. Standing behind you to put it on not caring if people were to see, his cold fingers graced your equally cold skin, making him slightly shiver.

“Uh, yeah. It’s really simple, nothing too special. Would’ve gotten you something prettier but I know you like things like this, found it down the street from the apartment but I thought it’d look beautiful on you.” He cleared his voice before allowing his lips to fall upon yours.

Perhaps this kiss would have meant more to you but hearing him lie about where ‘he’ had bought it was making your guts churn in pain. He truly will never stop lying to you, huh?

In the matter of seconds as he sat down and looked back at you, Hyuck couldn’t help but notice your eyes dimming again. “I see.” You’d mildly continued, giving him a small smile and dropping it.

Easy as that, a smile was enough for him to feel like he had gotten you back. Taking your hand into another grasp as he chose a dessert for you both; your returning scowl went unnoticed.

You loved Hyuck. You think you do, he is the man you married but why does he continue disappointing you so much? At what point in a relationship do the things the other person does become insufferable?

At what point do you look forward to not spending time with them and instead find comfort in someone else? It seems that you have reached this point.

Morally, it was consuming you. You were supposed to be the perfect housewife that keeps the home clean and given him a child by this point but all you were was a wreck longing for her old independent life while thinking about spending time with her husband’s best friend.

What he did to lead to what you two were now was not helping this case anymore.

After Hyuck had given himself away that he hadn’t bought the locket for you, the only person you could think about was Mark. There’s no way someone else could’ve bought it before you two just for it to end in your hands.

The inscriptive inside of the box with the shop logo was also a dead giveaway of where it was bought, something Hyuck should’ve looked at if he had fabricated his lie well. Or perhaps Mark had set him up for failure and just told him to give it to you.

A part of you wants that latter to be true, for Mark to wedge himself into the relationship to create some excitement but you knew it wouldn’t happen. Not only because he was Donghyuck’s best friend, your own close friend, and because he just isn’t that type of person .

In conclusion Mark was the only one who could’ve obtained it for you and had managed to get the cashier to lie for him. Mark is the only one who knows the meaning of your fixation on that locket. Only he would buy something that has a meaning for you to obtain.

All you were worried about was how he paid for it when he was in a crisis as of now and hoped Hyuck had paid him back as he was the one to give it to you after all.

And as the quiet car ride back to the apartment fell silent besides the hushed radio playing in the background, Hyuck walked in celebrating as if anything had truly changed.

“Wine or beer, baby?” He questioned, his hand on the fridge handle looking at the inventory. Your mind elsewhere, eyes wandering and looking for signs of Mark.

To no avail, you turned to your husband, grabbing the bottle of beer in his hand. Hyuck kissed your cheek for the second time this night, following it with a peck to your lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Is he here?” He questioned, reading your mind. You only shook your head, looking into his eyes wondering if his question was out of realizing your reasons or for his own. With your response, he smirked, his face moving closer to you. His pillowy lips found yours, taking them into a kiss full of yearning.

His hand creeped across your torso, dangerously inching up to your breast, feeling him squeeze through the fabric of your dress. It’s been a while since he’s touched you, mainly due to how often you’d both go to sleep angry at each other but right now was the chance.

Even if you were tired of his ways, you’d still let him. The feeling of lust taking over you but slowly the thought of Mark tried pushing through your brain.

Hyuck’s cold fingers found themselves under the fabric, grasping the mound and giving it a slight squeeze. Your lips continued enveloping against each other, him smirking when your breathy moan spilled against his.

He chuckled looking at your state, flushed at the steaminess of the situation, his other hand bunching up your dress enough to where he could slip his hand in between your legs easily.

“Hyuck…” you moaned, resting your forehead on his chest, the grumble from his extended chuckle making you shake. “Yeah?” He asks, his delicate fingers gracing over the warm fabric of your panties that slowly moistened the more he touched you.

You tried talking but felt your voice tremble with every syllable, barely pushing out the name that’s been manifesting itself all this time. “M-Mark—“

The moment his friend’s name came out as a moan to his ears, Hyuck stopped his assault, standing up frustratedly. “What did you say?” He questioned with darkened eyes, scared and angry that you could possibly do that to him (despite what he’s done to you.)

Despite how much you both fight each other, you both were good at reading each other’s body languages. His hostile figure made you act fast and pushed his hand back in between your legs as he reluctantly began to touch you just out of suspicion.

“I just meant that he might not be far…” you gasp, leaning closer to kiss him softly compared to the teasing, teeth-clashing ones from earlier. “So maybe, fuck—“ the pressure on your clit increasing, softly circling it.

“Maybe— hurry.” You bit your lip, his anger dissipating and that shit eating grin returning the second he opted to slip his hand inside the purple fabric of your panties, the wetness making it stick to the upside of his hand.

Hyuck chuckled at the scene before him, it had been so long since you two had been intimate and seeing how you melted onto his touch was doing things to him. Your whimpers and moans fueling his hurt ego and the further his fingers teased your entrance, thumb rubbing at your clit— it grew more and more.

“Oh? Have you been holding it the entire night? I can feel it sliding down my hand. Maybe I should get a taste?” He teased, his fingers threatening to leave your slickness and reach his lips when your speedy hands prevented any movement that wasn’t caresses to your needy cunt.

He chuckled loudly, leaning down to bite your swollen lower lip before kissing you softly. “Hyuckie, stop being such a tease!” You dragged out, becoming more forceful with the kiss. His tongue swiped against yours, the warm satin feel mirroring the wetness between your legs onto his digits.

“You haven’t called me that in a while… Ah my princess does need me!” Ecstatically his word embedded into your lips, rewarding you with a second finger that at most was just as cruelly teasing as the one before.

You whined even more hoping he’d find it in his heart to plunge his fingers deep into your crevice but knowing him and how insanely cruel he can be, the hope dwindled the more he teased your entrance with just the tips and pulling them back out to hear your glorious cries. He wanted to cave into you. He wanted to please you as he had in the past but this seemed to be the only efficient way he could actually make you pay for the way you’ve treated him for these past months.

Yet despite his vexatious actions to further embitter you and start his own sort of revenge, he couldn’t do it. Deep in his heart he knew he still loved you like he used to. He simply had to give in to you, as much as it pained him how easily he submits to you.

Determined enough with the melting of his hateful heart, Hyuck leaned in to kiss you and ease that pent up frustration. “I love you so much, y/n.” He whispered against them, your whimpers swallowing the words you couldn’t process or at least refused to believe were true.

But glory blessed you as his fingers began to prod at your labia and soon found your opening. Your moans were too loud, those demonstrating how long he’s left you to fend on your own that the simplest of touch could lead you to where you’re at.

He shushed you calmly, smiling against your mouth while you gnawed on his lips, your hands reaching for his aching erection. With the swift touch of your delicate fingers over the textile, Haechan whined, his fingers prodding deeper into your cavern. He didn’t move them yet, a third finger taunting you as you rushed to unbuckle his belt used as a reward to grant you more satisfaction.

“You’re close, honey. Almost there.” He cooed with a needy and proud smile, his free hand petting your hair to incentivize you to continue as a great reward would soon come. His third finger taunting your opening while his thumb circled your clit to create more arousal.

When your nimble fingers had finally gotten rid of the worn leather, you pulled at it, throwing it across the kitchen to the living room without a care where it fell. Hyuck granted you with an excited laugh, pulling you in for a kiss as he slowly pushed in his third finger, the tip of it softly gracing through.

“Good girl! My God you’re too good for me! ” He spoke in between kisses, your tongue asking for more, caressing his lower lip. Hyuck admired the fucked out state you were in. Your eyes hooded and dark with need, your lipstick smudge from all these kisses, and your arousal seeped from around his fingers dribbling down your legs as tears would on your cheeks.

You were so needy, anything and any movement could make you release now and though you’ve masturbated throughout this dry spell you both put yourselves through— nothing could amount to how good he makes you feel even if it’s just with fingers. So of course you were needy, of course you wanted his fingers stuffed inside you and you wanted him to finally move them inside you.

That would’ve happened, if it wasn’t for Mark.

Hyuck whispered against your lips how he’d start moving his fingers now. His pillowy lips molding against yours, pulling you by your hair closer to his starving mouth; his fingers began to slowly move and as you were beginning to feel the pleasure your husband always granted you— the front door creaked open, too fast that all you two could muster was for Hyuck to remove his fingers from inside you in a hurry as he refused to let go of your lips.

The kiss didn’t last long, for odd reasons it was you who didn’t want Mark to see more of the scene. His subtle lingering gaze on your organism made you feel small under him, as if he was exhibiting some sort of disappointment or ache. His despondent expression left immediately to one of a playful smile, almost giving you whiplash from it.

“Good night I’m guessing.” He joked, removing his jacket and putting away the box of cigarettes in his hand. “Yeah, I guess so.” Hyuck laughed, turning his back to both of you. You didn’t stop looking at Mark, hoping he’d react to what he just saw even if you knew what you wanted him to react with. He didn’t though, he just gave you a nod to acknowledge your presence.

Your husband continued to make conversation with his friend, the one trying to avoid you for his own reasons. It was odd to say the least, on both of your parts. It was odd that minutes prior you were too enthralled with the man you’re married to but right now all you want was for Mark to say something to you, you almost wanted to apologize to him for having him walk into that scene.

You didn’t want to say it or think it— as the months pass by you’ll realize it felt like you were betraying him instead and not your husband.

Mark knew what you wanted though but he would pretend it was all in his head as he is still trying to process the discovery he’s made: he’s falling for his best friend’s wife.

So for the time being he’ll do his best to keep this relationship as it has been for the past years. Simple and platonic.

“But yeah, I think the meal was good. Y/n? What did you think?” Hyuck’s voice broke you out of the void, turning to him and then Mark. “I liked it, yeah.” Simply put. Hyuck deviated the conversation, opening the fridge to pull a drink for both you and him, asking Mark if he’d like one but in order to avoid you given it was harder for him to ignore your silent cry for a pick of attention— he opted to choose the going to sleep technique to leave the setting.

Mark shook his head, opening the door to the guest room to throw in his jacket. A tender tiresome smile, “Nah, it’s cool. I’m going to sleep, you guys continue to enjoy your night.” Hyuck simply shrugged, turning to the cabinets to pick out some snacks. In the moment he had done so, you rushed towards Mark, grasping his arm to stop him from fully entering the room.

He froze at the contact, feeling the area become warmer than his remaining body. Mark’s shocked face gave him away, he wasn’t meant for this type of situation. “I just—“ you turned quickly to look at Hyuck, the man still distracted with the boxes of popcorn.

“I just want to thank you.” Your remaining hand showing him the locket, a smile forming on his lips, one you mimicked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A shit eating grin while blush krept upon his beautiful chiseled cheeks, making your chest burn up at how you enjoyed that look on him. “Right… It means quite a lot actually— again, thank you, Mark. You truly do know your way to a girl's heart.”

You whispered the words, pulling him closer towards you and kissing his cheek as he grasped your hip in fear of any more proximity. It was quick but it felt eternal for you both, the fire in both of you making it difficult for him to go inside the room.

And though you both felt a beautiful yet painful fire, Hyuck from the corner of his eye saw such action, his own fire scorching with a new found feeling he was not liking.

“Hm…” he hummed quietly to himself, a pout ensuing on his lips, pretending it was nothing. I mean, he was his best friend and you were his wife— That’s. All. There. Is.

To avoid like the rest of you were, Hyuck feigned a smile, pulling you towards his arms the moment you stepped foot into the kitchen. You reciprocated the action, going further enough to kiss him. It was good enough to feel like the kiss you’ve given to his friend's cheek was nothing— that’s all he needed.

“What do you say we continue what we started in the room, huh?” He raised his eyebrow cheekily, a giggle leaving your lips to decline the offer. Whining as to why, your husband pouted at how you only continued to giggle, your arms wrapped tightly around his slim waist.

“Y/n-ie, come one~ why not?” he cried, kissing your lips softly before your neck. His plump lips encased your throat, his tongue lapping at the warm flesh that was making you reconsider your answer but the memory of him was making you stand your ground.

Kissing him one last time and holding his face in between your hands to make him focus on your words; “Mark is still awake, Hyuck. We can’t fuck with him fully aware, walls arent very thick.” You reasoned, kissing him once again.

You failed to notice his pout turn displeased, his expression overall seeming stoic now, aggravated. The film of love over your eyes blinding you from his change in demeanor; making your way towards the couch and inviting him to it just to keep up the facade of a normal marriage.

“Come on now or I’ll pick the movie.” You threatened, picking up the remote to the TV. Hyuck shot you a tender smile, one faltering as quickly as it appeared. “Go get comfortable first, I’ll prepare here.” His voice dropping, some defeat laced on it.

You smiled at him lovingly, oblivious to the way he stared at you and the rays of hurt exuding off of him. Closing the door behind you to get ready, Hyuck leaned forward, his head falling to his hands as he clutched it hoping all those thoughts would leave his head.

Mark is his best friend and you’re his wife. You and Mark are just friends— that’s all it is. But even if he tried to fool himself, this marriage was too fragile for him to not fully worry as he always has. History can repeat itself one way or another.

One ought to think that after that night in which you and Haechan had put aside any hatred for each other, that it would remain and the fighting would subside but that night only made things worse.

Whether it was the lingering sexual tension neither of you were to relieve that night and the ones to follow or simply how you two couldn’t put away the resentment that has grown but things were bleak nonethless.

Some part of Hyuck blamed you, he didn’t know when he began feeling hate towards you instead of pity and self hatred. And the other part blamed Mark. In countless arguments you always threaten him by mentioning the possibility of storming out of the room and spending the night with his best friend as he’s the only one who doesn’t irritate you.

As any partner would do, Hyuck grunted in frustration, picking up his pillow and slamming the door behind him as he took his spot next to Mark in the guest bed. Both men awkwardly and uncomfortable on the bed trying to avoid bringing you into the conversation.

For one because your name and presence made Hyuck enraged and for Mark he could only feel guilt bubble inside him while thoughts of you clouded his mind.

Mark and you had always gotten along. You both shared a love for the arts and that only made you both closer these months. When it didn’t pertain to art, you two always teamed up to bother Haechan as a taste of his own medicine for ever bothering either of you.

Times used to be good, dinners and parties were fun but the more he indulged in his work and tried to climb whatever hierarchy ladder there was, he became such a— such a dick. The actions he took upon when you were on a work trip didn’t help either.

You should’ve taken in all the signs from whenever you met the wives of his coworkers. Their sunken faces and dead eyes staring at you with pity when he first brought you around.

Their ‘awe’s’ and ‘oh’s’ when you shared how lovely Hyuck was to you and how you two met. His persistent love for you that’s led you to where you two were at the time. Their pity should’ve been obvious, at first it was jealousy but no one knew the truth of having men in this field like they do.

So now they look at you like you were finally one of them. Your miserable and tired gaze with every single one of these dinners. How annoyed you became every time Donghyuck opened his mouth to let out a joke or just speak. You had to catch yourself from rolling your eyes most of the time for his sake but it was becoming so exhausting when he didn’t try to do anything for your sake.

“So how’s the job hunt, y/n?” A nasally pesky sound buzzed towards your ears, bringing you out of your thoughts about tomorrow's plans. Lifting your gaze with confusion, you still turned to her.

Rapidly glancing at the people around the table ready to collect their coats, you held in your sigh as their attention was now fixated on you. “I’m not looking for a job.” You answered sharply, Donghyuck helping you into your coat, buttoning it up for you to keep up the perfect husband facade he’s trying to maintain.

She cocked her head, the hairspray held cylinder bangs bouncing but never moving with gravity. “Really? Hyuckie said you were looking for a job.” God how you hated her. ‘Hyuckie’? Yes you hated his guts as of lately but he’s still your man and jealousy is inevitable.

You threw a glared at him, “Don't call me ‘Hyuckie’, Merdia.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose knowing what she’s trying to initiate. She chuckled trying to slap his arm playfully but he backed up before she could touch him at all, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“No… I’m helping a friend of ours. He’s an artist himself so we’ve been contacting old clients of mine to get references or any openings.” The group began to walk as you talked, the clicking of all your heels collecting on the marble tile. She follows along, trying to get as close to you.

“An artist, how lovely.” One of the women added, smiling towards you. “Yes, he’s quite good. We’ve been working on some pieces for a while, while we wait for some responses.” You smiled fondly at her, your smile as wide as when you used to talk about Hyuck.

“He’s amazing actually…” your smile refused to diffuse. The woman chuckled, nodding as a response while Hyuck side eyed you, stoic his face became. “Mark is a good artist.” It came out too bitter from his mouth; emphasizing the ‘is’.

Reaching the front of the restaurant with the cars from the valet already at front the couples were getting ready to bid their goodbyes. “You speak so highly of him, if he’s available for commissions please let me know. All the pieces you’ve brought for our home fit so well I’d be so interested to see his work.” Another woman spoke, holding onto to her husband who smiled at her lovingly.

This was the brightest you smiled all night, nothing fake and short of past conversations. Haechan loved your smile, he really did but to know it brought Mark into the conversation was making his heart ache.

“You should really consider coming back as a consultant for the company, y/n. Keeping an eye on Donghyuck on your part is becoming tiresome.” His boss jokes, causing the party to chuckle. “Hope he hasn’t caused more trouble like he used to.” You commented, his lips falling against your cheek to reassure you he was no trouble at all.

His boss shook his head as a response. “He’s become too boring these past years, loose him up or something.” You laughed knowing he was absolutely right, patting your husband’s hand. “Well… it was a great night, thank you all for accompanying us once again. Sunhee has something to do early tomorrow so I’ll see us out, have a great night.”

Leading his wife in front of him carefully. In the process of going down the slight hill, one of her shoulder pendants dropped to the concrete. “Mrs. Oh you dropped your—'' Trying to help, you made your way towards it but before you could the obstacle or Merdia’s foot tripped you making you fall into the large fountain for cars to surround.

You splashed around with the shock of the cold water biting your body as Hyuck rushed to your aid and some of the people in the party trying to see if you were okay. Even the staff noticing the happenings rushed to get whatever they could to free you from the breeze and dry you up.

But either way you still shivered despite the panting host handing you two warm and folded towels that Haechan secured around you. “What is wrong with you for fuck’s sake.” Hyuck finally broke out, turning to the woman who pretended to be sorry, trying her best to grab you. Merdia was at a loss for words, stammering to say it was an accident but Hyuck retaliated with the exact happenings.

“That was of such poor taste, Merdia!” One of the women exclaimed, her wrinkled skin prominent the while she frowned in disbelief. “I— I didn’t mean to…” she spoke lowley, glancing at those around her but mainly Hyuck and her boss. The poor man couldn’t make it home yet without making sure you were fine.

“We all saw you stick out your foot, give it up.” The most cynical in the group spoke up, sipping from the drink she had ordered while the host brought you towels. Sometimes you feared you and Hyuck would turn out like her and her husband. Hating each other too much it was useless to try and hide it from the world.

She couldn’t even speak, your shivers and Hyuck’s cooing too loud for her to even process the scolding she was getting. “You two go ahead. Y/n is freezing. I don't want her to get sick.” Mr. Oh directed the both of you with his hand, rushing you both to his car while Hyuck apologized but everyone else reassured him it was not his fault and he shouldn’t do so on her behalf.

All you could hear was his boss telling her he’d want to have a talk with her tomorrow morning while his wife reassured her she was too immature for her grown age. As Hyuck drove away and made sure you were fully covered to not let the breeze cool you more, all you could think about was the hatred you had for the people in his job and those who’ve crossed his path inside that building. Even if Mr and Mrs. Oh were the sweetest people there can be, you’ve found to hate them to an extent.

He patted you down with his own blazer, covering your bare legs with another one he had in the back without a care if the expensive piece would be ruined. “Are you okay?” He asks concerned, his hand rubbing your arm to warm up the area. Pulling out of the place he continued to blabber, questioning and acting like he cared. He probably did but you didn’t want to believe it.

You never answered, shivering from both cold and anger. With every second of your silence and his aching chest, Hyuck grew frustrated, not knowing well how to process such emotions. They were bubbling up inside him and the worst of him was taking over, enough to not stop his mouth.

“For fuck sake, y/n say something! I’ve been asking you the entire ride if you’re okay, speak up!” To say his scream didn’t catch you off guard was an understatement, usually during arguments no one screamed so this was still new to you.

Even when you imagined your eyes to be wide they were cold to him. “There’s nothing to say.” Your hoarse voice broke out through gritted teeth. He scoffed, palms slamming the steering wheel. “Of course because all you have to say you’ll say to Mark.” That bitterness from earlier was back, his teeth grinded with the mention of his friend.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You turn to him, disgust masked on your face. “Every argument, every discussion, any free second— you’re always with him. You tell him everything, I’m your husband, not him! You’re supposed to have trust in me!” You can hear a sob stuck in his throat, trying his best to repress it but it kept fighting to come out.

Maybe if it was another time and a past year you’d feel pity but it was only infuriating you. “How do you want me to trust you when those stupid letters are still engraved in my fucking head? All those little greeting kisses? Even the ones of Marida—“

“Don’t even bring her up, I would never be with her.” Disgust laced in his tongue. “Of course I know you wouldn't be with her. She’s old and ugly, I know you too well but that stupid seaweed girl is still—“ now it was your turn to hold in the sob. You rather not continue, you’ve tried to hide for too long that you were still hurting from the events that have led to this decaying marriage.

“Y/n please…” his hand reached for you. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You spat, moving as far as the car door would let you. The action alone caused him to emit a frustrated growl. “That was a while ago! Stop bringing her up for fuck sake.”

The speed he was driving in was only accelerating almost as if he couldn’t really stop his emotions from taking over. “So what, Hyuck? It’s not going to change the fact that you still cheated.” This time you couldn’t stop yourself, your tears forcefully spilled, your silent cry increasing in sound the second your head bowed and hand reached your forehead.

You hated this, you really hated that he was seeing you this vulnerable but it did really hurt you to see the man that went out of his way to have you throw it all out for an ounce of attention.

It had started a year and a half ago, though brief, the wound is still very fresh in your heart. With just two years of marriage, Hyuck began to act more loving than usual. In any case that would’ve been fine but if you hadn’t temporarily gone back to work at the same company you’d never know it was due to a short haired redhead that would give him seaweed treats every time the company called her catering services.

She was sweet and kind. Every time he came around she’d blush and wasn’t able to hide it. Though his flirtation was innocent at first (as it always is) he began to like the attention she gave him. She was detailed about everything, from the color of her catering plates to the tiny designs on every treat but his specifically.

It went on for a while with just flirtation remarks and gifts, after a while they’d accidentally cross paths at the park where he’d walk the dog you shared and soon became their hang out spot where they’d talk and talk for hours until the sun would set and he’d have to walk her home. Sometimes he’d simply spend the night…

She’d tell him good night with a shy hug and a kiss to the cheek progressively getting closer to the corner of his mouth. Soon came the letters, the ones of her professing her love for him and how passionately she felt about him asking him to not speak of his own feelings just yet as she wasn’t ready for a response.

And when she had finally gotten emotionally prepared for a response, a divine intervention came. On the day you had come back from a trip for a piece to place at the front of the company— the catering team had been called.

With the table set and the treats and meals prepared, the employees came along. Anxiously waiting for his entrance with a plate of the same seaweed treats she’s been making him all these months, her face brightened up when he came into the picture.

You still recall the scene before you: Have forgotten your coat, Hyuck had offered to give you one of his he had kept in his office granting him to let you walk to the lounge area with the rest of the employees.

At the moment you had been standing with a few of his female coworkers catching you up on all the gossip you missed while out of town and working at a different company, laughing along to whatever they were saying when he had just walked in with his coat in hand searching for you but being stopped by that same red head.

You wouldn’t have thought anything of it was it not for how she excitedly pulled him in, her lips gracefully falling to the corner of his mouth given he turned his head so it wouldn’t have. She seemed to dismiss that as she handed him the treats and he thanked her.

She was rambling for a while making him grow a bit exasperated but she placed down any other plate and removed her gloves begging him to follow her outside the lounge. Looking around in hopes no one else caught what you had, you excused yourself to look for him in hopes the other two women around you didn’t follow.

You had ended outside the door, hidden behind the protruding wall to listen into their conversation but it was a grave mistake.

“I-I wrote you another letter.” She handed it to him, a shy smile along. “Don’t read it right now, I just want to make this quick because it’s eating me alive, but—“ she sighs nervously, hands beginning to shake and sweat.

Exhaling through her lips, “I’m at a point where it hurts so much being around you daily. I really like you, Donghyuck. I’ve made it clear in all these letters and with this one more. I dream of kissing you more than I already do, I want all of you and I finally want to know if you want me too.” Her voice was as shaky as her hands.

Hyuck was at a loss for words, he knew what he wanted to say but he knew he couldn’t, not when he loved you more than her. He could’ve said something but his initial thought was to take her into an embrace giving her false hope when she reciprocated it, smiling and sighing to herself the tighter she pulled him in. Her hands caressing his back like you always do.

The sight and confession was eating you alive, the lump in your throat was too heavy and hard, it was choking you. This was all killing you but you’ll be damned if you were to let anyone get him after your vows have been made.

Fighting with that lump you finally swallowed it, turning on your heel and walking towards them with determination and anger in your body.

“Hyuckie! What’s taking you so long?” Your voice as fierce as always, it’s a quality they all liked about you. “I— um well.” If he was to be truthful, he was shitting bricks in this instance.

“I’m cold, come— feel.” Your lips puckered up pecking him and your hands reached his cheeks making him laugh into the kiss. All the catering girl could do was look at the both of you dumbfoundedly, eyes large as her heart broke into million pieces.

“Yeah, I see— honey this is… well. She caters for the company.” Oh he was so full of shit. Turning to the girl in front of you two as he wraps his arms around your waist, your back to his chest. “This is my wife, Y/n. She’s an art consultant here.”

Poor girl, she just nodded as a response, meekly speaking her ‘nice to meet you’s’ before excusing herself before her throat fully closed up and the waterworks began.

When she was earshot away, you turned to him. The fire in your eyes turned soft and sad as your fists found themselves against his chest. “I leave you alone for three months and you do this to me?” The air was scarce around you, he didn’t make it better the more he tried to pull you in and his apologies spewed from his lips.

When he had finally taken a tight hold of you, you did your best to relax. Labored breaths against his chest, his apologies never ending followed by kisses that you tried to avoid.

“When we get home you’re giving me every single one of those fucking letters and trust if I see her again here or wherever the fuck you two are seeing each other, I will make sure you’ll be the one to wish you had never tried this stupid game.”

Hyuck knew of your status in the company and in his own field alone. Even if you didn’t have that leverage, a scandal like this was enough to ruin his career. As an increasingly important member he couldn’t afford an affair scandal, it wasn’t going well for any of his other coworkers.

So when he swore to never let it happen you rushed him to the lounge, taking the coat, putting it on, and walking to the washroom hoping the red head would be there. Lord knows you’d rather cry in one than let anyone in the building see you a sobbing mess.

But you’re always right, so upon opening the doors to the black marbled washroom, leaning against the matching sink— she tries to stop letting her tears spill. When the door harshly slammed, she turned around scared , only to continue her pained cries when she saw your face.

“I didn’t know he was married if that’s what you wanted to ask.” She hiccuped, trying her best to stop. “I know.” You answer, standing next to her in front of the other sink.

With your finger you clean up the smeared lipstick from the kiss, a reminder to her of what you can freely do whenever you want and all she could respond with was another sob. “Did he sweet talk you until you finally agreed to go out with him or something?”

She shook her head, wiping away some loose tears. “I was the one to start it all, he was just flirty so I thought he liked me back.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with a paper towel. “That’s just how he is. He playfully flirts with everyone.” That didn’t seem to make her feel any better, it was making her feel worse.

Angered at the turn of events, she looked at you with desperation. She could see why he wouldn’t leave you for her. You were beautiful, the way you carried yourself was so enticing and pleasant.

You were charismatic, confident, and it seemed like everyone loved you by the way people greeted you upon entering the lounge before him. Of course he wasn’t going to leave you, you were a diamond in the rough.

“Why are you here?” She questioned desperately, feeling more tears coming this time. With your lipstick at hand, you threw her a glance ignoring her as you retouched the color. When you had finished you turned to her, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t blame you, you didn’t know he was married and the bastard was just having his little fun while I was away at your expense. But now you do know he’s married so I better not see you near him again.” The clicking of yours heels bold as your words upon reaching the golden handle.

Turning to her waiting for a response. “You’re not sorry about it, right?” You smiled at her, genuine curiosity upon the question. “Why should I be? You said it yourself. He was having his fun at my expense… Maybe just for you.” She sniffled again, clutching the paper towel to her chest.

“Smart girl.” With a final nod, you made your way out, dropping the facade and rushing to the elevator down to the basement and to your car. Just like she had, you allowed your tears to flow while leaning on the steering wheel, your hands slamming full force against the dashboard the louder your sobs became.

Everything from that point on went downhill. The dog perhaps had felt the atmosphere and months later had died leaving you alone to fend off your repressed emotions on your own. A month after that Hyuck had made you leave the company you worked at, given your state, along telling you he needed more time with you and perhaps nothing would’ve happened if you didn’t travel out the country for months on end. It all led to where you were at now.

If it wasn’t for Mark being around, you’d still be moping about the situation. How can someone that’s done everything in his power to be with you and love you more than he loves himself do that to you?

How can he, after four years together, allow something like this to happen when you’re not home and then blame you for the happenings? If you hadn’t interrupted them, he would’ve confessed he also felt something for her. Not as strong as he feels for you but he would still feel an attachment.

“Just, please…” He pleaded, fear in his voice. “I keep telling myself not to write to you all the time, but the mere thought of you is so strong, but I can’t help writing thousands of letters to you everyday and every second. I hope you like the seaweed treats, and make them all for you.’ I hope you like the seaweed treats. I make them all for you.' You fucking hate, seaweed Hyuck.”

He was more amazed that you memorized all that but knowing how you were you had probably fixated on that part of each letter that entire week he gave them to you. “I read over your letters day and night. Can’t stop thinking about you and I know I’ve told you multiple times not to tell me how you feel, a part of me can tell how you feel from all your letters and the way you touch me.”

“Y/n, stop!” Hyuck yelled at you. He didn’t really understand if he was more angry that you still brought it up or that you kept reciting stuff you were keeping away from him. “I wish the cheek kisses were more than just that, sometimes I really wish I could kiss you but for now I’ll settle for this.’ That’s before you your last few letters by the way.“

He was driving recklessly at this point, the car, either speeding or swerving, but neither of you could care much. Before you knew what he had pulled up to the basement of your apartment complex, parking in the assigned spot.

Neither of you got out of the car. He just sat there in silence basking in the uncomfortable atmosphere that both of you created.

“You know I still think about that cheek kiss, and how many more there have been.

“Probably just as many as the ones you’ve been giving Mark.”

It was your time to scoff offendedly, looking at him with disgust and anger in your eyes. “Aw fuck you! Mark and I have always been platonic! And yes I do tell him everything, he listens to me, he remembers the small things, he actually tries to be of comfort unlike you.”

Your fists found your thighs, the textile of his coat sliding off to the floor of the car. “By the way, really? Sending him to buy the gift?” Pulling at the locket, you show it to him. “You’re sad you’re not the man I met…” You slumped back against the car seat, unbuckling yourself ready to get out.

“Well neither are you! You’re not that lively girl anymore—“

“Because you ruined me! You make everyone around you miserable! Mark and I have a great time until you come home and bring us down with you! You suck like the life out of people, Hyuck. Even the dog died because of what you started!”

That was enough for the both of you. Glaring each other down in silence as the animosity settled around you, suffocating you both to the point you just shook your heads and threw the towels and remaining coats to the back of the car while stepping out, slamming the car door and leaving him be, hearing his screams as he slammed his fists on the wheel and dashboard while you walked away.

Just like the day that started all this, you rushed to the elevator allowing your sobs to become louder. With every rising number, your pleas to stop the tears followed suit in case Mark was still awake.

You didn’t want him to see you like this. It already pains you enough that Haechan was able to see you crumble because of him, you didn’t want Mark to see how vulnerable you could be again.

But what you didn’t know is that Mark has already seen your vulnerability besides your anniversary night. With every passing month he’s stayed with you, you granted him an open window of what else you could offer and he liked that more and more as the days passed.

Entering the threshold of the apartment and leaving the door unlocked for when Donhyuck decided to come in, your feet waltzed towards Mark’s room. The faintest of music could be heard, you couldn’t hear him but you could hear the song.

‘Someday you will ache like I ache…’

Sang in a loop, spinning inside your head the closer you got to the door. Hyuck was right, you did want to open the door and tell Mark tonight’s happenings. You wanted him to take you into an embrace and comfort you but you didn’t want Hyuck to be right and your initial thoughts on your vulnerability weren’t allowing it either.

There was nothing else to do but head towards your bedroom, throwing Hyuck’s pillow to the living room before finally locking the door behind you. The song kept repeating itself as you prepared yourself for bed, the volume in your head increasing with every movement you made up until your head hit your cold lonesome pillow.

The stupid song was only making you want Mark to be right beside you, to at least see him before you slept so you could end the night in a good note and not the bitterness your husband made you endure.

So now that your face wasn’t as puffy from the crying and only the tingling remained, you jumped from the bed rushing to his room glad Hyuck was taking his time in the garage.

The pitter-patter of your feet against the tile was loud for you, the creaking of his door making you wince as it screeched at you, and the song was even more loud to you than it already was.

Illuminated by a desk lamp and the city lights while his curtains remained slightly ajar, you approached his resting body. He looked so peaceful in this position, holding tightly to one of the pillows. It’s decor fur rustling with the whistles of his silent snores. Aside from peaceful, he looked beautiful.

The image of him was making your chest twist and turn; crouching down to eye level when your hand subconsciously fell to his face. Caressing the growing stubble he tried so hard to remove but you loved so much.

He wasn’t much of a deep sleeper, the touch alone waking him up much to your fright. Ready to remove your hand from his face, his hand held it in place as the other rubbed at his eyes. With you in front of him and the placement of your hands, Mark quizzically looked at you, still squinting away his slumber.

“What’s up?” Was all he could muster, trying his best to smile but found it too tedious. You shook your head, returning the smile. “Did the music bother you? Let me just turn it of—“

“The music is fine.” You stopped him from bolting up. The last thing you wanted was for him to lose his comfort. This time around he was finally waking up, well slightly given he nodded with one eye closed and the other open, still trying hard to smile.

“Scoot over.” Patting the pillow, he follows your orders tossing it to the other side and freeing a spot for you. When able to, you climbed on the bed beside him, facing him and taking his arm to wrap around your waist as if you were that pillow.

Mark felt shaky at the situation, his hands becoming clammy and trying his best for you to not figure out how nervous you were making him. “So… It’s your turn to sleep here tonight?” He joked, his smile finally showing.

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head, causing him to chuckle. “He’d rather see me sleeping on the road than being in bed with another man.” Noticing his rising fright, your finger pressed against your lip, signaling that it’ll be your little secret to which he nodded trying his best to have that smile return.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a good night again?” His eyes fixated on the way your face muscles contorted. “It is now!” You laugh, taking a hold of his hand squeezing it between your hands. Mark reciprocated the laugh, his body unconsciously getting closer to yours.

“Wanna talk about it?” You shook your head. “I do want to talk about my favorite person right now, though.” You turn to him, cupping his cheek in your now free hand. He smiled shyly, eyes shutting tight the more overwhelmed he became.

“Is tomorrow’s interview still on?” As told to the wives of Hyuck’s coworkers, you had been helping Mark during his job hunt. Contacting old bosses of yours and art lovers in hopes they’d take him in and help him gain that passion for the arts on a commercial level.

Though things were radio silent these months, finally someone had called him back and asked if he could go in for an interview in hopes of hiring him for some installations for a new chain of restaurants the man was soon to open and maybe a position at one of his studios.

With the mention of the interview, his already wide eyes grew and a coat glossed over the moment he began to excitedly ramble about his ideas and just genuine happiness of finally going back into a studio.

He was adorable to say the least; the unintentional stammering, his slipping laughs from joy, and his unconscious emotional movements the more he got excited over this opportunity. To say the least perhaps Mark and you weren’t too far with how you felt and you weren’t much better than Hyuck.

Nevertheless, if he was going to be selfish then you would too.

“Then make sure to get a goodnight sleep so you can look refreshed and ready. Prayers, you'll get it!” You exclaimed excitedly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for a hug.

He didn’t hesitate this time, arms tightening around you. His hands begin to roam against your skin and his exhales landing on your hair, rustling them like ferns in a windy gloom beach. It felt too familiar yet foreign as the sensation was new but the visual wasn’t.

“Night.” He whispered against your ear, his long fingers tracing patterns against your flesh to the point goosebumps formed. Mark smiled at the reaction, his lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, fighting to not inch closer to the swollen lips.

“Night…” you whispered back when he let you go, staring at each other whilst you struggled to get out of his bed, the smell and warmth of you intoxicating him tonight.

“By the way, Hyuck is still in the car. Do you mind getting him if he doesn’t come back by the time you go to sleep?” There the moment went at the mention of his best friend, your husband. His smile dropped but he nodded.

Finally being able to close the door behind you, your feet rushed to lock the apartment door then your shared bedroom with Haechan who even now had not returned not thinking about how the mention of him had drastically changed Mark’s demeanor.

Situated in your cold bed once again, the city lights being the only source of illumination and the mixture of Mark’s song with the water pipes lulled you into the night. The thoughts of how history was only repeating itself with the exception that it was your turn to get a lick of Happiness.

Mark did make you happy and his actions tonight only worked as reassurance that he saw you the same way you were seeing him now. As fucked as this entire situation is, it’s only fair that Hyuck aches like you have been these years.

Morning came and all that was left of Hyuck was his pillow right next to your head, his smell lingering in the sheets when you woke and his spot still warm. Maybe he hadn’t spent the night in Mark’s room or he had paid you a visit while you slept but you still couldn’t let your anger subside.

As in for Mark, you both ignored any lingering attraction, his chirpy self hyping the possibilities of getting the job. That’s what you liked about Mark, even when in a rut he was trying his best to act positive.

With the goal of getting through that interview, you sat in the waiting room, idly flipping through the magazines as he talked with your old friend. Prayers in your tongue, sliding around and hoping he’d get it.

So when he walked out through the white doors, smiling and laughing along to the jokes of the man beside him, things only looked as bright as him. His tie was a mess, flimsy and slightly undone. The button of his shirt undone and showing enough clavicle, smudges of graphite mixing in with sweat. His dress pants were worse off, splatter of oil paint in the bottom and drying stoneware seeping in.

Disturbance in your face overpowered the smile you tried to give him, insanely frustrated for how much trouble it would be to remove all those stains. But it later dawned on you that he did his own laundry and often told you to not do these things for him.

On one end it was nice that he assured you he didn’t depend on you but on the other you wanted him to— you were getting too used to the life Hyuck and you have been living… god, you seem to have forgotten all the times you’ve fought with him to do laundry as well, now you just do it for both of you.

“Don’t look so gloom, darling. I didn’t beat him.” The older man told you, your muscles relaxing at his soft voice. “You did add trouble to the laundry load, Yasuki.” Your fingers ran across the stained spots, not quite noticing how Mark flexed his muscles from your touch, nervously laughing at the happenings.

If you could see how you were looking at him you’d probably slap yourself. Your eyes glistened at the sight of him, his brown locks tamed back but that strand of hair still managed to fall over and play with his vision. It didn’t help that he was sweaty and his shirt was showing you a bit more skin than expected.

“So how did he do?” You question straightening Mark’s sleeves. “That’s for him to tell you,” he winked at you, noticing he had a brush in hand to which he tapped against his leg. “I’d like to catch up but I have a meeting in five, so please excuse me.” His mustache ruffled a bit with every movement of his lip.

You found it endearing how charismatic the old man was. He was so jolly that as he parted ways from you both, he skipped towards his office, that same brush tapping on his knees twice with each step. In a better life you’d want to be that happy.

“So?” You question Mark, hand reaching to wipe his forehead and rid of his sweat. “So?” He mimicked, a bright smile that could only make you mirror it with every step you two took towards the elevator.

The ding was heard and the doors ungraciously opened, both stepping in. “Come on~” you whined at his lack of response, Mark laughing quietly at how desperate you sounded.

“Well how would you think I did?” He asks, stepping out the elevator once the doors opened, following after you. You shrugged on the way to the car, letting him speed his step to open the door for you.

“You have to give me more than that if you expect an answer.” He cheekily smiles down on you, closing the passenger’s door and walking over to the driver's side. “Judging from how you came back, I’d say he had you working quite hard so he probably liked your style!” Excitement laced your voice, turning to him after buckling up.

“Ding ding ding!” You look at him with joy. “So you got the job?!” Your voice was now squeaky, eyes almost bulging out. “Yes and no… he gave me some options first.” Cocking an eyebrow and leaning your head to the side, you looked at him with huge curiosity.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, tongue nervously swiping across his bottom lip, eyes averting to avoid yours. “One… if I want to continue with my own mediums, I’d have to relocate to his studio in a different city. It’s not as far, maybe two hours or so but far for a daily trip it is.”

You felt your world crumble and he had only given you the first option, you felt it stab your chest repeatedly. “Or two— his studio an hour away but it’s strictly digital art and design. It’s much closer and maybe if I take the express lines at the highway it’ll be faster but— I have no clue how digital art works so I’d be quite behind than the rest of the team.”

Mark was more concerned with his options that he failed to see the bigger image. With whatever option he took, he’d have to leave you regardless and that’s what was killing you right now. Your excitement was gone and right now you regretted recommending him.

“What? What’s wrong?” He finally stopped his blabbering, noticing the look on your face was the same one you gave Hyuck when he hurt you. If there was something Mark didn’t want was to be compared to his best friend.

“You’ll be moving out won't you?”

“Well yeah…”

You shift on your spot, head hanging low.

“Please don’t. I promise we don’t mind you staying, actually it’s been the best thing to happen to me.” He dismissed the fact that you were talking about yourself, not wanting to make illusions out of it.

“Y/n,” he softly chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek and making you turn to him. “I can’t commute daily for one-to-two hours, honey.”

Oh… that wasn’t good.

The sweet adoring look in his eyes wasn’t helping either. “Come on, I did tell you I’d stay for only a little bit didn’t I?” He tenderly smiled, thumb playing with the corner of your lips, all you could do was pout at him.

“I didn’t expect it to be too short, I like you around. It’d be better if you just stayed with us.” He found your protruding lower lip adorable, unconsciously rubbing his thumb across it. “Thanks, but you guys are married, I can’t just third wheel all the time. Maybe if you two were just dating it’d be different but you're not and sooner or later you’ll form a family, I’d just stick out like a sore thumb.”

A family with Donghyuck? God, you put that thought in the back burner for too long after the incident that the words were making you ill now. Even when you two were dating, the idea of a family wasn’t something pleasant.

Mark took your silence as you still being sad about him possibly leaving, patting your arm and stretching his arms to take you in an embrace. “Don’t be so pouty, it won’t do us any good.” He spoke against your ear once his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

He felt warm, his musk even more prominent than last night. Your own arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer even when the shift stick was in between.

“Just really wish you wouldn’t leave us…” you pulled away slightly, enough to make him turn to look at you. “Wouldn’t leave me.” In a whisper, the words hit his lips.

Mark’s lips parted, shaky breaths leaving as he noticed how close you were. When the lingering stares didn’t subside until you leaned in to what he assumed was a kiss to his cheek; it took him by surprise when your lips fell upon his.

His eyes widened in shock but the flavor of your cherry stain was too sweet and the taste of you was intoxicating. He’d be a liar if he said wanted to pull away but just with all temptation, Mark fell into it.

His arms tightened around you, his eyes shutting and finally reciprocating the kiss you initiated. He loved the small whines that spilled from your lips. He swallowed them all with every passing that he’d part his, deepening the kiss and both your hands began to roam.

You felt it in your core, that excruciating desire when his nimble fingers danced around the hem of your shirt, finding an opening so he could stick his hand under it. Your flesh was cold against his, aching at how his fingers cooled with just a touch.

Your hands had unraveled from his waist, now playing with the buckle of his belt. Popping it open, and continuing the quest with his pants. He’d harden with every touch of yours, your palm rubbing his cock over the strained textile that only made him ache more.

His warm fingers felt like fire against your freezing flesh, they danced across your back, caressing it until they met with the strap of your bra. Playing with the clasp until he was able to unbuckle it and his hands rushed to your breasts, kneading the mounds that seemed to be made for his hands. A perfect fit.

Your moans loudly cascaded into his mouth, his tongue enveloping yours with every passing kiss. When your hands managed to pull at the hem of his briefs and finally grasp his hardened shaft; his own moans became present.

Eyes shut tightly, he bit your lower lip pleasurably painful. Your hands had warmed up in the process of touching him, that warmth making him feel like pity under your grasp with every pump you gave his cock.

“I want to taste you.” Your voice broke him out of his daze, your lips finding solace in his neck, licking and nipping at the flesh. Mark moans vibrating through his throat, making you ravish his neck even more, your hand moving at a rhythm that was causing him to shake under you.

Upon opening his eyes, it had dawned on him that you two were still in the parking lot of the studio. A wave of freight flooded him and a gasp left his lips along a worried ‘fuck’.

“Wait, stop, stop!” His abruptness confused you and almost scared you. If he was regretting this already you didn’t know how to take it. “We can’t do it here, I think I saw a lake not far from here.” But he put your mind at ease making your concerned frown turn into a smile, leaning in to kiss him as he tucked himself back in.

Looking around to make sure no one had seen anything, Mark rushed out of the parking lot. Your labored breaths faintly mixing with the radio conductor mentioning to make plans for the new millennium and enjoy the last months of this year.

Some were frightened and others were scared. As for you, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that Mark arrived to you months before the 2000s. Maybe that’s the new beginning everyone is talking about.

Minutes later, you’d arrive at the lake he was talking about. Maybe it was because he was speeding from his excessive desire but he found a spot in which you’d both be hidden from the public. Rushing out and towards you; Mark made sure to cramp both of you inside the backseat.

From how rushedly you both went in, some bumps along the way weren’t missed, making you both whine but forget about it when looking at each other. Hyuck wasn’t present in Mark’s mind but he was in yours.

You were really doing this and remorse was difficult to find.

“God, I’m so glad I can have you like this.” His lips spewed after each of his kisses on you. They were warm with every passing peck, attaching themselves to yours. Your hips began rutting against his groin, the thin piece of skirt doing nothing to hold off.

Instantly Mark could feel the wet patch, groaning at how warm it was. Fuck, he wanted you badly.

Upon pulling away from the kiss you two were too enthralled in, Mark looked at you through hooded dark eyes. He looked at you as if you were prey, the one who’d succumb to him and the way his grip on your waist tightened told you so.

Patting your ass while bunching up your skirt, “Lay on your back, I wanna eat you out.” His voice had dropped an octave, the huskiness making you shiver as you unbutton your blouse, the bra falling gracefully once free from the confinement of the buttons.

Curses spilled from his lips looking at you on his journey to kneel on the floor of the car, trying his best to push up the front seats to give him enough space. His once dark eyes glistened at the view of you, all that was left was the tiny fabric of your panties and the bunch around your waist.

He caressed your thighs, leaning in to leave tiny wet kisses against the flesh that caused your eyelids to flutter from how close he was to your cunt. You could feel his breath fanning over the area, your legs twitching as he inched closer and closer.

When his lips hovered over your clothed cunt, Mark looked at you through his lashes, smirking at the state he had left you, blowing on your aching mound. “Stop fucking around.” You whined, hands clutching onto your breast, fingers twirling around your perked buds.

Mark chuckled, nodding in response before his fingers pushed aside the fabric of your panties. Moans erupting from his throat with every strand of your arousal stuck to your panties. He didn’t take much to please you, his own want taking over his being.

Mark felt too happy about having you that he didn’t think about anything, not even the fact that he was betraying his best friend. Essentially his brother.

His tongue came in contact with your slit, swiping upwards to meet your clit and continue the process of enticing kitty licks. You’ve been starved for so long that just the simple caress of his warm muscle was making you wither underneath him.

Your fingers danced across your skin, leaving warm trails on the frozen canvas. You couldn’t stop looking at him, progressively divulging further the more he fell obsessed with the taste of you. Mark ravaged the cavern between your legs, his lips glossed over by your juices that dripped down his chin.

He looked beautiful.His eyes screwed shut as he savored you, tongue laying flat when it wasn’t on your clit, his fingers grappling your thighs tightly enough to not let you go, and his lips refusing to let their suction go from you clit.

Your moans cascaded out your lips like a siren’s song, reeling him deeper and deeper into your trap. He didn’t mind, if he was to die at your hands then so be it, at least he’ll die blissfully.

Enveloping his rosy lips on your clit, he latched onto it for dear life. Suctioning with force, much to your pleasure, Mark basked in the whimpers you let out. Withering under his touch and crying when he only kept granting you more pleasure.

It didn’t help he teased your entrance with his fingers, making you cry over how much you wanted to feel full. In that instance, he parted from you, allowing you to spew your angry whimpers.

“Look at me.” He patted your thigh forcefully enough to leave a sting behind. “Come on.” He demanded, repositioning himself closer to you, a perfect fit between his face and your cunt.

When you were finally able to open your eyes, you breathed out at the experience he was granting. “Don’t look away or close your eyes. I’ll stop if you do.” He menacingly spoke, smirking at how you responded with a frown and a nod.

“Good girl. ” Fuck.

Breaking eye contact with you; Mark puckered his lips, accumulating spit that as of now he was letting slide down his tongue and onto your cunt. That same muscle poking out to spread it across your labia and clit.

A hand came up to your mouth, trying your best to muffle the cry he caused. It didn’t help he found your frustrations amusing and his chuckles made a vibration that sent you overboard even more.

You’d both could end up dying at each other’s hands.

His tongue lapped at your clit, collecting his spit and your arousal around the mound each time he was to suck on it. Mark knew you liked it, your body always reacted by shaking and your fingers threading onto his hair.

He liked the sting from when you pulled on his locks. He liked when you shoved his face closer to the point you began to ride his face while his tongue penetrated you, licking upon every inch of your walls. It didn’t help that he tried his best to not break eye contact. With every moment and action, you’d both look at each other like your life depended on it.

“Mark please… please let me finish, fuck—“ it came out strangled. His fingers clung to your skin, rubbing your clit each time his lips left it to allow his tongue to fuck you.

He hummed against your cunt, warm breath fanning over it before kissing it passionately again. Mark didn’t respond but he did give you a show. With the way he sensually stuck out his tongue to caress your slit upon allowing his lips to land on your mound, you couldn’t help but feel that excruciating pit in your stomach flow to core, tingling painfully.

He teased you each time. When he laid his tongue flat, he’d throw you a glance before shutting his eyes and swallowing your essence, fully intoxicated by it.

“Mark!” You whined, a chilling tantrum to ensue. “Alright, alright, you big baby.” He laughed, swiveling his tongue flat against you. You felt your eyes roll and when he thought you were disobeying his one request, he nipped your thigh, causing you to squeal at the shock.

“What did I tell you?” He cocked his eyebrow, teeth clenching around your sensitive flesh. “I’m looking, I’m looking.” You reassured, a look of despair on your face. A silent snort left him before resuming his activities.

All that was heard was the mixture of labored breaths, cries, his deep moans, and the squelching between your cunt and his mouth. You couldn’t hold back much longer, it was becoming overstimulating and Mark didn’t hold back off much with how he worked his tongue.

He seemed to sense your frustrations. His fingers picked up the pace on your bud, pressing down for more friction while his tongue entered you. Pistoning in and out, collecting every drop and making sure it didn’t spill to the car seat.

You couldn’t hold much longer, your thighs clenched around his face, causing him to look directly at you while your body gave out on you. He pressed down on your lower abdomen with his free hand. In a matter of seconds, you twisted under him. A coil unraveling where he held you and a loud moan leaving as a cry, your essence gushing out, covering his facial lower half.

He made sure to not let a single drop go, his tongue overstimulating you to no end but nevertheless stopped his assault. Your eyes were fixated on his, desperate want making you pull him by the neck, ravishing his lips with yours.

The sweet nectar of you clinging to his tongue, the same tongue that waltzed around with yours. In the process of holding onto him for dear life, Mark kicked off his pants, shimming out of them and his briefs. Bare beneath, he pulled you over his aching cock, the tip gracing your lower half enough to make you squirm desperately.

“Fill me whole…” You whispered against his lips, biting them from time to time to signal how much you needed him. “Shit, looking at you is going to make me cum already.” You laughed along with him, connecting your lips again while your hips rutted against his cock.

The silk of your walls rubbing against him, groaning in despair with every single of your movement, and he couldn’t even hold you or he’d make you go faster. He needed to be inside of you badly or he’d probably end up splattering all over his stomach.

“Yeah?” You questioned, face leaning against your shoulder, gripping his shirt so tightly it could leave wrinkles on it. “I want to paint your walls and feel it all ooze down them while I fuck it into you.” Mark’s words made you feel lightheaded, speeding up your pace and your fingernails to cling onto his shoulder blades.

He winced at the sting, removing your hands before pulling off his shirt, sweat drenching his bare chest. His proportions were insane; his slim physique enticing you to wrap your arms around him, holding tightly to his small waist as his abs clenched with the feeling of you against him.

“Lift your ass up a bit.” He commanded, holding your lower back while pumping his shaft, letting his precum collect at the tip. You took this as an opportunity to kiss the exposed skin of his neck. Your tongue licking stripes along his clavicle while it made its way to his jaw, leaving kisses all along it.

You could feel his disgruntled moans vibrating against your lips the more he jerked himself off, leaving you dry and needy with occasionally taunting of his tip rubbing against your cunt causing you to whine against his ear for him to laugh at your misery.

“Mark, stop teasing!” You cried against his chest, your hands clinging onto him. Your hips began rutting against him again, lowering them until he’d smack his large hand across your flesh— reacting with a jolt and a gasp of arousal, your cunt never failed to clench around air.

“You’re so needy, princess. I guess I can’t keep you waiting.” His lower lip pushed out in faux apologies, a smirk creeping out when you rolled your eyes at him. He only laughed, kissing you while aligning his cock with your cunt, eagerly ready to dive in.

He didn’t tease you anymore. Taking a grasp by your waist, Mark aided you to sink onto his cock, the stretch of his girth making you mewl like a wounded cat. You didn’t imagine him to be this big even when you held him you didn’t think much of it but now that he was fully in you and gravity was only making him fill you to the hilt, you fully felt his volume.

His hands caressed your face and hair, patting down the strands while you tried your best to become comfortable around him. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult, maybe it was because of your lack of sexual life with Hyuck that any intrusion was foreign but God were you starting to enjoy the pain mixed with pleasure his best friend was sprawling within you.

“You good?” He wondered, eyes fighting to keep open and experience your every movement fearing the moment would be gone if he didn’t keep himself fixated on you. “Yeah— fuck me, please…” you begged, your hips beginning to move against his. His lips fell ajar, his curses spilling in a prayer, fingers denting your skin the tighter his grip became.

He created scratch marks along the flesh; his hips met your rhythm and your silent pleads became audible when you felt the angry tip of his cock kiss upon your walls leaving its gratitude in the form of gratification.

As for him, he felt your walls tighten around him, ready to clear him of all his cum— claiming him as your own. It wasn’t helpful that you were also holding onto him not wanting to let him go, your lips enticing him with every caress you gave.

“You drive me insane, y/n…” he began, the sound of skin slapping against skin fading any other besides your labored breaths. His breath danced across your cheek, ruffling the hair that stuck to the sweat you produced. “I never thought we’d end up in this predicament but it feels as if it was meant to be— you for me and—“ your lips encased his, not letting him finish his sentence.

Whatever it was that he was trying to clear out was long forgotten the second your hips picked up their speed and the rhythm of your swiveling pelvis made him groan into the kiss. “I can’t get enough of you and this is only the beginning.” He laughed in between pauses, you shushed him in the process.

You didn’t want to hear him talk besides his obscenities and praises, that’s all. It wasn’t time to bring in the reality you two will face or that awaits you. All that was precious at the moment was his cock stuffed inside your cunt causing both of you unimaginable pleasure.

His eyes left yours, looking in between both of you. Mark lowered his head, accumulating spit in his mouth before letting the string of saliva fall onto your cunt. He took some of the spit that fell between you both and took it upon your clit.

Biting his lower lip, pushing his hair back a bit— Mark continued to thrust his hips, fingers starting to circle at your clit clockwise. His grunts became louder just like yours with the amount of friction between you both. When his pelvic bone rubbed in between your bodies as his fingers went hard at your clit, you couldn’t help but feel your legs shake.

The image of his spit dribbling down the tip of his tongue onto where you two connected was engraved in your mind, head throwing back by mere memory. “Do it in my mouth.” You told him, hand cupping his cheek. “Spit in it?” He questioned, you nodded, sticking your tongue out much to his pleasure.

Puckering his lips, Mark saw the string of saliva land perfectly on your red muscle. You held it out for him to see as he thrusted into you, the pool rippled and threatened to fall with each of these jolts. Closing your mouth to swallow his residue, you stuck your tongue out again to show him you had taken all of it, simulating what you could do if it was his cum.

He groaned at the image before him, the glistening of your sweaty chest blinding him as he pulled you closer to him by your cheeks. His fingers dug dents into your flesh as he held them tightly.

“You’re so hot, fuck!” A guttural groan left him, this time his spit was angry by the way it splattered in your mouth. This time he didn’t let you swallow it, his lips softly collided against yours, hot and angry was the plump flesh that ravished yours, nipping in hopes to receive more of your wanton noises.

His tongue felt soft against yours, like that of satin and velvet rubbed against each other with the warmest of liquid coating them both. Sloppy the kiss was becoming, enough to let air in and make it last longer. You loved the taste of him, whether it was the mint-iness of his toothpaste or the blueberry tea he drank before leaving the apartment— it was driving you crazy how obsessed you were becoming.

Mark was so near, with how hard he was thrusting within you, walls warm and clenching around his bare cock— all he wished for was to cum, to cum on you, in you, or over you— it didn’t matter. He just wanted to cum and now he couldn’t really help himself.

“I can’t hold it any longer.” He warned you, removing his fingers from your clit, hands now holding tightly onto your hips. “Mark…” you whimpered, eyes barely opened, sweat accumulating at your neck making it all so sticky but it seemed to be over quite soon. Your forehead pressed against his, hand holding onto his neck.

“Huh?” He’d respond, moving his hips once again, his pace only increased when you didn’t continue talking. “God, keep going.” You finally answered him, a soft chuckle leaving his lips before his head dipped down and kissed you once again. His lips soon trailed down your neck, tongue lapping at the thin flesh between your collarbones holding back to not leave any marks.

It was eating him alive. Not because of Hyuck but because he wanted a mark on you to know this wasn’t a dream that he was actually fucking you and that you had chose him. But all he could muster was licking your flesh, savoring you to at least have that memory. Even the marks his teeth made disappeared quickly, taunting him and his credibility.

You pulled his hair to make him look at you again, a pained yelp leaving his open mouth. He looked so pretty it could make you cry. In that instance you took him in for another kiss, just like him this was the only memory you could have.

The kiss worked to muffle your increasing moans while he thrusted within you. By how close your bodies were, his lower half began rubbing at your sensitive clit. He seemed to know how sensitive you were down below as he only kept going faster and harder, allowing your fingers to dig deeper into his shoulders.

You were so close, he knew it. Mark knew how close you were and it didn’t help him at all. Your lips parted from his as yours mewls became highly audible, lips slightly agape. Mark couldn’t help but wonder how your lips covered in cum would look like. Just the imagery of the warm cloudy substance on your swollen lips made him hold onto your waist to fuck further more into you.

“I can feel you so deep inside me,” you laughed against his neck, lips gracing his delicate flesh. “You’re twitching so much, just let go, Markie...” Your words sent him into a frenzy. His eyes screwed shut, his fingers refusing to let go of you and it wasn’t of much help that his sensitive tip was rubbing up against your warm walls. Kissing his cock with every thrust and squeezing in frustration every time it threatened to leave them.

Oh, fuck he couldn’t help himself. With one last thrust and on the verge of cumming; Mark pushed you further down his cock as much as he could despite how much he’s abused your cunt with this same action alone. You clenched around him from the friction, your pleasured cries from the impact locking inside his ears making his cock leak like an angry water hose in the horrid summer trying to release everyone from the heat.

You felt the spurts shoot painfully within you, a new wave of pleasure that shocked you from how long you haven't felt cum coat your cavern. The instance he did, your own eyes bulged out, lips forming a perfect ‘O’ that graced against his.

Both shared moans, swallowing them while trying to breathe and in the process you felt that same flush of pleasure in your lower abdomen. You chased your orgasm, continuing your movement against his cock, overstimulating him to the point he felt an ache with each stroke but if it meant you were feeling good, then so be it.

It wasn’t much longer until you felt that ache as well, slowing down the movement of your hips, your grip loosening from him but his didn’t on you. Upon stopping your actions, Mark brought you face closer, his lips leaving sloppy kisses along your temple and side of the face, while his praises spilled like a lullaby.

“ You did so good …” He huffed out, kisses on your cheek. “ You did so good for me, princess .” He swallowed trying to regain his breath, forehead connecting with yours in the process of trying to calm yourself down as well.

“You’re so good to me, y/n. You’re too good to me, you were made for me, you’re mine.” He chuckled, patting your cheek to make sure your fluttering eyes looked into his round doe ones. You didn’t respond, he didn’t give you an opportunity to do so.

With a quick and final kiss from him, Mark took you into an embrace, arms tightly around you with no way to free yourself from it (not like you wanted to at the moment) leaving you to simply return the gesture and hold onto him tightly. His cock still buried in you.

You could hear his heartbeat fighting to calm down but having you this close to him wasn’t much help. In that instance it all came crashing down on you and him. His once happy smile fell the moment clarity came in and the trees outside rustled. Their wind chimes slipping in between branches and leaves, repeating the same thing he’s already processing. There was some shame but no guilt or regret. He felt pity for Hyuck and the friendship they had. It all came to one conclusion:

He’s betrayed his brother.

if you liked 'happy together' then you'll like: airbag

please let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2 or fill out the taglist form in the masterlist! no blank or ageless blogs!

taglist: @haknyeonsju @bbymatz

#neohub #nct-writers #nctcreations18 #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #mark lee smut #haechan smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark lee #haechan #mark lee x reader #mark lee x you #haechan x you #haechan x reader #nct fic

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tarabyte3 · 2 months

Text

The Fear Has Gripped Me, but Here I Go

(13.4k)

Fandom: The Accused (BBC)

Pairing: Liam Black/F!Reader

Summary: It was so easy to develop a crush on Liam Black. He's sweet, handsome, funny, and all of your conversations feel effortless. How could you not? Maybe it was too easy because you're starting to fall a little deeper and you can't stop calling him whenever you need a taxi.

Warnings: Explicit rating, sex, car sex, semi public sex, unprotected sex, adultery, cheating, lying, mutual pinning, romance, angst

A/N: This is a fic about the character Liam Black played by Andy Serkis in the BBC anthology show The Accused. In the show, he breaks into a woman's house, steals from her, stalks her, uses that information to get her to like him, interferes with her life, etc. None of that is shown or stated in this fic, but if you’ve watched the show, you can infer a LOT about their interactions. In the show, he also cheats on his wife and lies to both her and the other woman. That IS in this fic. Unfortunately, Liam Black is one of my poor little meow meows, so this story is also intended to be romantic. I do not condone cheating (obviously). This is fiction. It's just that Liam is a sympathetic creep, but also I want to kiss him. (Andy Serkis has rotted my brain.) | Work title is from “Breezeblocks” by alt-J.

Playlist | AO3

It's distressingly easy to get sucked into the gravity of Liam Black. The way he looks at you—stolen glances in the rearview mirror when he thinks you won't notice—makes you feel special. Beautiful.

Something worth marveling at.

That should be a red flag, but you can't remember the last time someone looked at you like that. It's more than being appreciated for your appearance or checked out by a stranger. It's as if your presence is a bright spot in his day. In the same way he might stop to appreciate the view of a valley brimming with flowers or a sunrise after a particularly long night. His expression, one of awe.

Every bit of conversation between the two of you feels so natural, too. Effortless. Like meeting up with an old friend only to pick up right where you left off years ago. And he makes you laugh in a way you haven't in so long, as if he knows the exact thing to say to get you to smile. Even when you've had a rotten day.

Especially when you've had a rotten day.

So you keep calling him when you need a ride.

After all, Liam gave you his number for that very reason, you tell yourself. It's much easier than arranging a taxi because you deal with him directly. You know it will be him showing up at your door, and he already knows where you live and is familiar with the drive. Why wouldn't you call him?

At least that's how it started. Weeks ago.

Eventually any small excuse became a reason to phone him instead of driving yourself. “Parking will be a nightmare.” “I'd rather not fight with traffic.” “What if I want to have a drink during dinner with my friends?” “I swear my car made a strange noise this morning. I shouldn't drive it until I can get it looked at, and the shop is booked out a week.”

Deep down you know it's because you want that connection. You want his attention on you. You want to catch those blue eyes in the mirror. To see the profile of his nose and warm smile from the backseat. The greying scruff of his beard. The casual flex of his arms on the steering wheel—far more muscular than you would have expected from a driver and deceptively so under his polos because the way the fabric stretches around his biceps is…enticing.

It's just a crush, you tell yourself. Nothing more than a passing fancy. It's nice to have something to indulge in. It's perfectly harmless.

But then one night, you're in Liam’s taxi because you're headed to meet some friends to see a play—your favorite play—only to discover it's his favorite play, too.

So the two of you talk enthusiastically about it the entire drive there, quoting lines and debating character motivations and themes. Once you arrive at the theater, you find that you're very disappointed to be getting out of the car. You were enjoying yourself so much that it went by too fast.

“If you need a ride home afterwards, just let me know, love.” He turns in his seat to smile at you, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that's endearing. Earnest.

“It'll be awfully late.” You can't help but smile back, even as you wave off his suggestion. “I can just flag a taxi.”

“I'll already be out. It's no trouble, really,” he insists while holding up a placating hand. Then his expression softens. “A lovely woman like you shouldn't be waiting that late by yourself anyway. It's dangerous.”

You want to protest further. To say your friends will be there, too, and you'll hardly be alone. That you don't want to be a bother. But, god, he called you lovely and he looks so hopeful. Those blue eyes bore into yours and pierce your defenses. The words die on your lips.

You relent.

You'll text him from the lobby after the show, you agree. He'll come get you then.

You've never texted him before. Somehow that feels more intimate than calling him and hearing the rough timbre of his voice.

The play is wonderful.

Your favorite character was perfectly cast, and his delivery of a line makes you think of Liam—the way he quoted it from the driver's seat a mere hour before, the parody of a serious expression on his face that made you laugh. He smiled at you then, all unmasked adoration, and your heart flutters at the memory.

When it's over, you text him before you've even left your seat.

As you resist the urge to impatiently push your way through the throng of people heading for the lobby, you tell your friends you couldn't possibly go out for drinks afterwards. You're tired and you have an early morning, but you'll take that rain check! Next time, you promise. You'll even buy a round! And that seems to placate them enough that they're on their way without you.

Before they can see you getting into his cab. Before they can look too closely and see what you're trying so desperately to deny to yourself: That you're more excited to see him than you are at the thought of spending time with them.

That you want this thing you shouldn't want.

He must have been close because he's already idling in wait as you exit the building. Your expression brightens at the sight of him waving at you from the driver's window, his face bathed in the marquee lights. The bulbs reflect in his eyes, tiny pin pricks like stars, and it sets your heart racing.

Christ, he's handsome.

You briefly wonder if he stayed in the area just for you. You can't deny you like the thought, even as you try to bury it down. That's something you can dig back up and indulge in later. When you're alone.

“How was the play, love?” He asks back at you once you've settled in and closed the door. The sounds outside become muted, trapping an artificial intimacy in with you.

“Fantastic! Oh, you would have loved it,” you sigh as you buckle yourself in. “You really should get tickets while it's still going.”

“Maybe I should.” He glances one last time out the window at the people still spilling from the front doors before slowly pulling away from the curb. “I might fit in better with the matinee crowd, though.”

Your head snaps up towards him. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I'm just a lowly taxi driver. Not really night at the theater material.”

“Nonsense.” You furrow your brows at him, as though you're offended on his behalf. “You aren't just anything, and there's nothing lowly about being a taxi driver. Plus, there are no requirements for going to see a play. Art is for everyone.”

He smiles to himself, almost amused by your reaction. “It'd still be sad, yeah? A man going to the theater all by himself.”

“Not at all!” You try to ignore the thrill in your chest at the implication that he doesn't have a partner. It's something you've suspected based on past conversations, but refused to ask outright. That would have been too much like showing real interest. “I've gone by myself loads of times.”

“Really?” There's a note of disbelief in his voice, and he glances up at you in the mirror. “A beautiful woman like you, without a date?”

A heat creeps over your cheeks. You bite at your bottom lip and glance out the window to hide it. You're suddenly glad for the late hour so he can't see the bashfulness in your reflection.

“Now you sound like my mother,” you tease, trying to deflect the comment.

His laughter rings out through the car. “Oh god, I take it back!”

“Besides, it's not always easy to get a date last minute, romantic or platonic. Is it?” You raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. “Why don't you take one?”

This is the closest you've come to prying because, now that he's alluded to the fact that he's available, you can't help yourself. You have to know. Whether that's to satisfy some curiosity or because a part of you has a vested interest in his answer, you're not sure.

“If you can't get one last minute, then what hope does a washed up old driver like myself have?”

And now you know. Which actually makes all of this feel so much worse because, under the serene veil of passing street lights and quiet roads, the lines are beginning to blur.

You also want to open your mouth and say something stupid like, “Then they're idiots,” or “You’re far from washed up,” and maybe even “I’d go with you.” But you know the second that you do, it pushes this beyond the bounds of rides and cautious flirting.

You don't even know if Liam would want that. What if he's only being nice? You don't know how he talks to his other passengers. Maybe he finds the flirting fun and harmless, too, and he's not actually interested in anything more. Maybe he enjoys being your friend.

Or maybe you’re only projecting what you want to see because you're lonely and he’s easy to talk to—the first man to really pay attention to you in longer than you’d care to admit. You might just end up embarrassing yourself.

Instead, you scoff and say, “Well, it doesn't matter anyway because it's perfectly acceptable to go alone and have a lovely time.”

Regret pools in your stomach. You can't help but feel you missed an opportunity. It's too late now, though. As he chuckles warmly from the front seat and shifts his attention to the road, you know the moment has passed. Bringing it up again, saying those words out loud, will give you away.

There's a silence after that, which stretches on for several minutes. A few weeks ago it might have been comfortable, but now you can't stand it. You only get a few of these moments with him and you're nearly halfway home already. It might be a while before you see him again after this. You're wasting it!

“God, I wish I had walked the block to get a takeout after the show. I'm suddenly starving,” you blurt out, lacking anything else to say, but desperate for any chance at small talk to close the gap between you.

“Want me to stop off somewhere?” He glances up at you in the mirror.

“No!” You immediately protest, a little embarrassed. You had expected this to turn into a conversation about your favorite kinds of takeout or foods so you could learn more about him. You hadn't expected him to offer anything. “No, it's fine. It was just a terrible attempt at making conversation. I swear I'll live.”

“I can if you’d like.”

“It's already so late. Don't trouble yourself. Really!” You aren't even hungry.

When did this become so difficult? When did you go from enjoying his attention to craving it this much?

“I don't have another ride after this.” His voice lowers, barely audible now over the hum of the engine. “And I've already told you, love. For you it's never any trouble.”

Oh. The uncertainty gives way to a warmth in your chest. It settles deep into your ribs and wraps itself around your heart. How could you possibly say no now?

You also know the answer to your questions then: It became difficult when, somewhere along the way, this stopped being just a simple, harmless crush.

“Okay.” Then you hurry to add, “But only if you're sure!”

“Positive.” His profile shifts as he smiles at the road, pleased you’ve accepted his offer.

“There's Chinese on the way. Over by the old Tesco? The one that closed a few months ago?”

“I know it.”

“It's not the best, but it's open until eleven. I can order it now so you don't have to wait too long.” Then you get an idea. “Do you like noodles? Or maybe fried rice? My treat.” You hold up a finger at him when he opens his mouth to protest. “You’re nice enough to stop when you don't have to, it's the least I can do to say thank you.”

“Alright,” he sighs, his shoulders going slack with acceptance. There's something tender in his expression as his smile widens, which only makes your heart constrict further. “Yeah, I'd love some noodles.”

“Then noodles it is.” You place the order on your phone as a silence settles back over the car.

All that fuss and your attempt at conversation didn't even work.

At least you get to buy him dinner, technically speaking. But you're going to do everything you can not to dwell on that right now. Especially now that you’ve realized how far this has evolved.

A few minutes and a short detour later, and he's pulling alongside the curb once again.

“I'll be right back,” you promise before hurrying out into the night.

You feel oddly self conscious of every step as you cross the street because you can feel his eyes on you the entire way. Watching you.

He probably wants to make sure you don't get mugged or something, you tell yourself. He’s keeping an eye on you. That's all. There's no reason for your pulse to be this high.

And yet, if there's a bit more sway to your hips as you walk in the hopes it draws his gaze lower…that's just more fun, harmless flirting. Isn't it?

You're not sure anymore.

At this hour, so near to closing, the restaurant is empty. There's even someone taking down tables in the dining area. The sight of it makes you feel guilty as you give them a nod of greeting. Your disastrous attempt at small talk probably prevented the kitchen from being in the same half cleaned state as well. Just add it to the list of inconveniences, you think.

It only takes a few more minutes for your order to be finished, much to your relief. You’d hate to keep Liam waiting because it's already fourteen to eleven, and you don't want him to start regretting being nice. It also means you don't have time to stand there and start second guessing yourself either, which is the last thing you need right now.

When you exit the restaurant, you notice the air has shifted. It smells damp now, like it might rain. Even the night sky is quickly growing darker as the stars are swallowed by clouds, all the telltale signs of an encroaching late summer storm. So you jog back towards the cab, clutching the takeout bag and praying it holds off.

But as your fingers brush the door handle, you hesitate.

It's late and there's not another car or soul on the street. It's just the two of you, and you've gotten both of you food. It seems almost silly to sit in the backseat now, or to pretend there's much of a separation anymore. Even as friends.

That's what you tell yourself as you head to the passenger door instead.

Liam doesn't say anything. He just watches you climb into the front seat of his taxi. When you finally meet his eyes, you can see uncertainty on his face, but of what you're not sure.

“Is this okay?” You keep the door held open in doubt, giving yourself the option of escape. “I thought it would be easier...you know, with the food.”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, and the wary, low gravel of it matches his expression. He glances down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, it's fine.”

Far too late you wonder if you've made a mistake.

“I'm sorry,” you gasp as you move for the door. “I should have asked first. I can get in back.”

“Wait!” His hand shoots out as if he wants to grab your arm—to keep you there—but he stops just short of touching you, still keeping that distance. He lets it hover for a second, hesitant, before lowering it back to his seat, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. Your skin tingles at the near contact. “Stay. Please.”

You take a moment to study his face, to make sure it's actually what he wants. That he isn't just being polite now that you're already in, despite his own comfort.

The genuine plea you see there makes your heart ache.

“Okay,” you say softly.

You shut the door.

Then it's quiet once again except for the rustling of the bag as you settle it on your lap. Except now there's a tension in the air that's never been there before. It's as if you brought the storm into the cab with you and have just sealed it inside. Maybe you have made a mistake.

This had always been so easy.

When there was the clear separation of a car seat between you, you both knew where you stood. Liam up front, you in back. Driver and passenger. The physical distance kept things safe. Without that, you feel unsteady, too—unsure of how to act and unsure where this is going.

You think about that heavy scent of ozone and warm concrete on the breeze outside—about the possibility of rain—and suddenly you know what you want. You know why you got in front and what your heart has been telling you all night: You want to see your possibility. What this thing between you could be.

Despite your nerves, you want him. All you have to do is continue closing the distance.

You're pretty sure that you can't make things any more awkward than they already are, at the very least. Even if you somehow manage it, you doubt he’ll throw you out of his taxi. Why would he? He’s only ever been sweet to you. So the worst he can say is no, you think, as if that wouldn't break your heart.

“I don't know how you feel about food in your cab, but we could sit here and eat before it gets cold. Together. If you want.” You try to sound casual, but hope bleeds into your voice and betrays the truth of what you're really offering him: you. Something more.

You spent weeks being careful to never cross that line while telling yourself that's what you actually wanted. That you were fine simply having something to indulge in. But now that you've finally done it, you don't know why it took you so long or how you’ve been so blind. Because as you look at him, with his snug polo, trimmed hair and beard, his full lips, and his hooded blue eyes, you wouldn't take it back for anything.

Only…that uncertainty reappears on his face. An internal struggle which deepens the lines on his forehead, pinches his brow, and causes his mouth to thin into a frown. He knows agreeing to this would mean crossing that line with you and moving forward. Except where you have hope, he seems conflicted by the possibility.

You wonder if all the flirting and stolen glances felt harmless to him, too, because he never dreamed you’d want him back. And now that you do…

“You don't need to be getting home? It's late," he says helplessly. Half-heartedly. That's when you realize: he thinks he should tell you no, but he just can't bring himself to say it. So he's offering you an excuse instead, hoping that you’ll do it for him.

Of all the ways you saw this going, you never imagined this—that he would want you and still reject you.

You want so badly to ask why, to understand, but this hurts more than a simple no would, and the fear of what he might say stills your tongue. It could just be self-deprecation on his part, the ingrained belief that he's a washed up old driver…but what if the reason is you? Imagining the pity on his face as he tries to let you down gently turns your stomach.

Despite that, you find you can't say no either. Now that you've finally realized that you want this, how do you let it go? To be the one to end it before it's even begun. You don't have the strength.

You suppose that makes the both of you cowards.

“I've got nowhere to be tomorrow, but if you do, that's alright, Liam,” you offer instead. A lie the two of you can cling to. “I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have.”

He shakes his head. “That's not it.”

Oh.

“Either way, don't worry about it,” you quickly blurt out to stop him from saying anything more. “Forget I said—”

“No!” His voice breaks as he interrupts you, stunning you to silence. “No.”

He struggles for a moment to find the words while searching your face, as if he might find the answer there. As if you might make it easier for him somehow. He must find something because then he's staring at you with the determination of a man who's made a decision, consequences be damned, and you let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you’d been holding.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Oh.

Your heart falters for a moment, lurching with violence against your ribcage, before it stutters with renewed hope.

There's a rumble of thunder outside—the sound of possibility shifting into inevitability.

“Me either,” you whisper.

“Then, yeah.” His face softens. And he’s back to looking at you in a way you’re used to, the way he secretly would in his rearview mirror, but something between you has shifted. There's a new intensity to his gaze that takes your breath away. “I’d love to.”

“I’m glad.” Feeling bold at that look in his eyes and desperate to ease some of the lingering tension, you add, “Besides, this is much better than eating reheated takeout alone in my apartment. The company is far better.”

You can tell it works when he relaxes further in his seat.

“Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah.”

“And I suppose it does smell really good, yeah? Be a shame to waste it.”

“It really does.” You huff out a laugh as you dig into the bag, relieved to have something to do with your hands that isn't clenching them uselessly in your lap. “Plus, now you don't have to listen to my stomach growl for the rest of the drive.”

He laughs along with you, but it quickly turns into a teasing grin. “Well, I’m glad I could save you the embarrassment.”

“My hero,” you say playfully, which finally earns you a full, real smile. The kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat. Before you can get distracted staring at him, you pull out the disposable utensils and hold them up between you. “Now, fork or chopsticks?"

He sheepishly takes the fork, and it's your turn to give him a teasing grin.

You fall back into easy conversation as you both tuck into your takeout containers. The tension between you is gone now, having dissipated under the familiar—though it'll be impossible to forget just how close he is or the way he lingers in your field of vision no matter where you look.

You’ve positioned yourself in your seat so you're half facing him, and you notice he's removed his seatbelt and done the same. There's an intimacy to the way both of your knees are turned in towards each other, unable to touch but still seeking one another out.

There it is again, you think. The gravity of him, pulling you in. You bend to him like light.

While you eat, it begins to rain. Or rather, it begins to downpour, the drops thumping and echoing off the metal body of the taxi. They coat the windows in streaks, leaving the world outside blurred—a hazy refraction of streetlights and muted color.

The combination of darkness and being shut inside the car already made it feel like there was a barrier separating the two of you from the outside, but now you feel even more cocooned from the rest of the world. In fact, you’re finding it hard to remember anything else exists beyond the interior of this cab. This moment.

Him.

Another silence settles over you as you eat and listen to the rain, but this one is comforting. As though just existing next to each other is enough. It's easy in a way that makes your heart sing.

He breaks it by clearing his throat.

“Seriously, how do you use those? I’ve never gotten the hang of it.” He gestures to your hand holding the chopsticks.

You pause mid bite, your food frozen in the air as you look up at him. “Do you want me to show you?”

“You can try, but I should warn you, I'm all thumbs when it comes to that,” he laughs and looks away, self-conscious.

You’ve seen that expression on his face a few times now. Glimpses past the easy smiles and the effortless conversations into how he sees himself. You wonder again if that was the reason he hesitated earlier. Suddenly you want to show him the man you see. The one that’s attentive when you speak and makes you feel seen. Who always cheers you up with his presence and went out of his way when you said you were hungry. The man who's never said no to you, even when you’ve called him at the last minute and were certain he was busy.

You wish you could find the way to say all of that out loud.

Instead, you raise an eyebrow and stick the uneaten bite back into the container. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“It's really not,” he says with a helpless laugh, but you're determined now.

You get a fresh set for him. Then you go about demonstrating the placement in your hand and the way you use your fingers to manipulate the utensils to pick up your food. He copies you, though his own movements are stiff and awkward. There's also a vulnerability to the way he keeps glancing up at you to see if he's doing it correctly and looking for approval.

“You’ve almost got it! It just takes practice,” you reassure him. He gives you a small smile in return, his blue eyes full of gratitude. When he tries again, he’s more relaxed and confident, and the chopsticks move with far more ease.

It's a much better look on him, you think.

You also spend the entire time resisting the urge to reach out and shape his fingers around the thin pieces of wood. Because if you touched his hands, god help you, you might not be able to stop. The idea is so tempting, though, and it only gets worse the longer you focus on the curve and press of his thick fingers.

You imagine what it would be like to have them grazing over your cheek and down your neck, or dipping along your inner thigh and dragging against your slit. There's a sudden throb of need between your legs at the thought. Now the air of the cab feels stifling, electric with a different energy, but he's so focused on what he's doing, he doesn't seem to notice the way you squirm in your seat.

Instead, you offer tips to help him get it right—from a distance, where it's safe for the time being and you're less likely to do something brash, like grab him and kiss him.

After some more practice, he makes a few unsuccessful attempts to eat and has to stop to pick dropped noodles off of his shirt and lap with a sigh while you giggle next to him. Until, finally, an entire bite makes it from the takeout container to his mouth without spilling.

“I did it!” He beams proudly at you as he chews, those blue eyes now wide and lit up with excitement. And god, it's adorable…except there's a bit of noodle stuck in his beard. You press your lips together to keep from bursting into laughter at him in his moment of triumph. He catches on anyway, and his face falls slightly in confusion. "What?"

"You've got some noodle. Right here." You point at your own face.

He quickly runs a hand over his mouth to wipe it away, but all that does is push the noodle farther down his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No!" You snort out a sharp laugh at his look of panic. So he sets his takeout carton on the center console near the gearshift for a more serious attempt, but his palm scrapes uselessly at his face again. “It's lower now.”

“Glad you're enjoying this.” He tries to sound offended, but there's a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he feels around for the elusive bit of food, betraying how much he’s enjoying this, too.

"Here." You set your takeout next to his. And then you don't think before you lean across the center console, your hand stretched out and reaching towards him. "It's right…"

You genuinely meant to help and put him out of his misery, but by the time you realize what you're doing, your fingertips are already brushing through the coarse hair of his beard, the why of it completely forgotten. Now you can no longer help yourself. You’ve finally touched him, and he feels so warm and alive beneath your hand.

Your fingers curl against his chin. Then, almost with a mind of their own, they inch towards his jaw, seeking more. You want to run them over his cheeks. His temple. His smile lines. Along the bridge of his nose. His lips. You want to feel out every bit of his face and commit it to memory.

You don't want to let go.

And you nearly don’t stop until a heavy exhale from him sends you crashing back to reality. The one where you're basically groping him instead of helping. You also notice the noodle bit has long since fallen away and landed somewhere unseen onto his lap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You gasp in horror. You start to pull away to search for it because, after that, you're too embarrassed to even look at him. But you’ve barely removed your hand when he grabs your wrist, firmly keeping you in place just inches from his face. Your eyes snap up to meet his.

Neither of you moves. Or speaks.

For several tense seconds, the only sound in the car is the rhythmic patter of rain and your heavy breathing as you stare at each other.

The moment stretches between you like a wire, thick and coiled taut, and you're terrified to pull away. Or push closer. As if doing so might snap the tension and ruin whatever this is. Instead, you sit there, frozen at the way his eyes become half-lidded, barely lessening the now undisguised longing in his gaze.

Just when you think it's become too much and you're going to break under the intensity of it all, his thumb brushes against the delicate skin of your wrist, directly over your pulse, sending a shiver through you. And that small touch alone is enough to make all of this profoundly, achingly, real. Distantly you wonder if he can feel the frantic drumming of your heart. Because by now it's pounding so hard with anticipation, your ribs flex with every beat.

He brings your hand back towards his face and rests it against his cheek. As he does, you're mortified to realize you're trembling in his grasp. He must notice as well because, without a word, he flattens his own hand over yours, anchoring and calming between beard and flesh. His eyes dip nearly closed at the sensation, and he nuzzles into your touch, letting the corner of his mouth graze your palm.

You watch as there's the slightest purse of his lips, a shade of a kiss onto your skin, and you suck in a gasp.

He reaches out for you, then. You think he's going to mimic the gesture and cup your face, but instead his knuckles graze along your cheek. He takes a moment to trace and explore the contour of your cheekbone in awe before continuing on, gliding past the shell of your ear, until he's cupping the back of your neck instead with his thumb resting on your jaw. His hand feels massive as it envelops you, the span of it completely covering your nape, making you feel bird-boned in his grasp. But everything about his touch is so tender, so affectionate, that it never occurs to you to feel vulnerable.

Quite the opposite. Combined with his captivated expression, which is so intense that it borders on grief, he's found a new way to make you feel special.

Wanted.

Gently, he begins to guide you towards him as he leans in and stares at your lips. There's no doubting his intentions.

You go willingly. Lead to him. Pulled to him. Sucked so far into that gravity, you’d still be moving even if he let go.

"Liam," you exhale into the shrinking space between you, finally giving voice to your desire.

His fingers flex against your neck at the sound of his name, but he still doesn't stop or speak. His hand continues to guide you closer. Slow and steady. As if he's giving you plenty of time to put an end to this. To pull away and tell him you don't want it. But you do. You want it so much that you almost forget to breathe.

As his lips ghost against yours, your eyes flutter shut. You instinctively push forward, trying to close the distance between you, but he moves away before you can fully capture his mouth. Then he goes back to brushing his lips over yours, cutting off your protest and taking in your sighs and quivers.

It's almost teasing, the way he's taking his time and savoring every step of this—of you—and there's a confidence to his movements you weren't expecting. As if, now that he's gotten you, he knows exactly what he wants to do with you while you're swept along in his wake.

Except you’ve thought about this moment so many times. Indulged in the fantasy of what it might feel like to have his lips against you as his tongue eagerly explores the heat of your mouth. Now you're so close to getting what you want, too, and the anticipation is building into an agonized yearning every second he’s just out of reach.

You're on the verge of whimpering or pleading when he finally, truly, kisses you.

Any thought you might have had is gone. The pressure of his lips, his mouth slotting against yours, his relieved exhale across your skin—the combination makes you dizzy with need. A moan is torn from your throat.

The sound breaks whatever gentle spell had a hold of him because, just like that, his arms are around you, and he's kissing you hungrily.

At first it's desperate. Nothing more than a messy searching of lips before you find your rhythm. Then every bit of it is better than you imagined—the scrape of his beard, his nose nudging into yours, a brief graze of his tongue along your bottom lip before it retreats, leaving you wanting more. And god, do you want more.

As if he knows what you're thinking—or maybe you've said it out loud—he tightens his hold around you and pulls you towards his seat, his mouth never leaving yours. But you don't have time to admire how strong he is as you scramble blindly to get your legs under you. In your haste, your knee hits one of the takeout containers, which sends it toppling over.

You break the kiss to gasp out, "I think it spilled."

"I don't care," he murmurs and captures your mouth again. This time his tongue lingers at the seam of your lips. As you open up to him and taste him for the first time, you decide you don't care either.

You finish climbing into his lap. Every movement is clumsy in the limited space, all groping hands and fumbling limbs. You have to squeeze past the steering wheel and keep your head low so you don't bump it into the roof of the cab. The position is also a bit awkward as you try to find enough purchase to settle your knees on either side of his hips. You even have to adjust your dress to keep it from getting in the way, which forces the hem mid thigh.

None of that matters once you're finally settled. Because, when you lower your weight into his lap, you find him rock hard beneath you. And the only thing separating your bare sex from that impressive bulge in his pants is a pair of lacy panties. You can almost feel the warmth of his cock radiating through the denim.

"Fuck, Liam," you hiss.

You can't start grinding onto him just yet, though, because he quickly reaches between you to adjust himself over his jeans. It's something so intimate and casual—something he has to do because of you—that it's devastatingly sexy. That alone is enough to make your cheeks and neck burn. But when his hand grips over the tented fabric and slides along his length, for a brief moment it sharpens the outline of his erection in his fist, and it sends heat racing between your thighs, leaving you aching. Your hips shift involuntarily at the sudden pressure.

“Better,” he sighs in relief. Then his hands squeeze around your waist to drag you down as his hips roll up to meet you, and you see stars.

Before you’ve even recovered, he draws you back in for another heated kiss. You're so fixated on his mouth, so ravenous for him, you don't notice when he blindly gropes between the seat and the door. So when the seat tilts back all the way without warning, you barely catch yourself with your hands at the last minute to stop from falling forward and smashing your face into his. The motion is such a jolt that you cry out in surprise against his lips. You feel his curl into a smile.

It doesn't last long. The new angle gives your hips the freedom of movement to slide over the full length of him, and the friction makes your arousal thrum with anticipation. His eyes roll shut with a groan.

While he’s distracted, you take a moment to appreciate him like this—the flutter of his eyelashes, his kiss swollen lips, and the way the rain dappled streetlight bathes over his flushed skin. When he opens his eyes again and catches you staring, his expression softens.

Your breath hitches at the sight. Christ, he’s so fucking handsome.

You suddenly realize you don't have to just look anymore. Despite the heat of this moment, you can finally satisfy the urge to run your fingers over his face. So, without hesitation, you reach out and touch his jaw again. Only this time, you don't stop. You gently map out all of his lines and wrinkles, relish the contrast in softness between his skin and beard, and trace along his lips—all while he stares up at you in half-lidded awe.

“God, you're amazing, love.” His voice is low and gravelly as he nuzzles up against your jaw. “The most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

Your eyes fall closed with a shiver, letting the vibrations of it wash over you, but you don't respond. How can you? What could you possibly say to that?

His thumb caresses over your cheek.

“Look at me,” he coaxes in a soft tone. You slowly open your eyes again to meet his. When you do, he gives you a gentle smile. “I mean it. I've wanted you from the moment you got into my cab.”

Oh.

“I want you, too, Liam,” you finally admit quietly, your own voice thick with emotion.

“I'm still trying to let that sink in.” He shakes his head. “That someone as incredible as you could want someone like me.”

“Of course I do. How could I not?” You sound defensive, but you can't help it. You feel that familiar need to make him see himself the way you do. “I think you're amazing, too.”

“Jesus.” He lets out a heavy sigh. Then he glances down between you, seemingly overwhelmed by your statement.

“Why do you think I kept calling you?” You chuckle breathlessly. “I’ve been making plans and finding any excuse I could just so I had a reason to see you and be in your cab. You had to have suspected I didn't actually need that many rides.”

“I hoped.” His eyes meet yours again and that intensity is back. The muscle in his jaw clenches, making your heart skip a beat. “God, did I hope.”

“It took me far too long to realize just how much.” You lean in to place a slightly heated kiss onto his lips. Then, in a husky voice, you add, “I should have done this ages ago.”

"I don't deserve this," he groans as his hand tightens with rekindling lust around your waist, “but I could never say no to you.”

"Don't I deserve it?" He sucks in a breath beneath you. You let the tip of your nose brush against his as you lower to a whisper. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do, Liam. So please…make me feel even better."

His arms engulf you to capture your lips, just as you start to move over him again.

You continue to kiss as you ride that bulge in his jeans, the stiffness and friction sending delicious sparks up through your core while desire pools between your legs. Every roll of your hips draws needy sounds from your throat and little grunts from his as he rocks up to meet you.

His hands never stop roaming. Up your thighs, a quick squeeze of your ass, and tracing the curve of your waist. Then flattening to drag across your back, stroking along your ribs, and teasing with uncertainty over the swell of your breasts before cupping your cheeks. He leaves flames in his wake.

Yours never stop either. You want to finally run your fingers through his hair. To feel the thickness of his neck and the way the tendons in his jaw flex as he kisses you before wandering lower. And god, those fucking polos do him no favors because underneath you can feel the hard muscle of his chest and shoulders. They've softened somewhat with age, especially at his belly, but it just makes him feel solid beneath you. Steady. Like something you could hold onto.

Every new part of him you touch only makes you want him more.

All of your heavy breathing is trapped inside the taxi, making the air feel thick with humidity. With nowhere to go, condensation is starting to gather on the windows and settle across any exposed skin. It's stifling. You have to keep reminding yourself that you're in a car to stop from ripping your dress off. A part of you still thinks it's a wonderful idea.

Another part reminds you that you don't need to take it off.

You break the kiss.

"I want you, Liam,” you lean in to whisper in his ear. “Right here. Right now."

He shudders with a groan. Then he gently guides you back by the shoulder so he can look into your face. “Right here? You're sure?”

You nod. “It's dark and I've waited long enough. I want you inside of me.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and his cock throbs beneath you. “I told you I could never say no to you.”

You gather the hem of your dress, pulling it back and out of the way so both of you can see the way you're pressed against his straining erection. Your need for him is liquid. It's been pouring from you. By now it's completely drenched your underwear, soaking them through. Only it didn't stop there because there's also a rather large damp spot on his jeans from all of your grinding. He groans helplessly again at the sight of it.

“See?” You purr down to him.

“Christ, love,” he chokes out. “Look at you.”

He grasps your bare thighs, kneading at your flesh before sliding them higher and making you shiver—until those large hands are framing your barely covered sex. He takes a second to admire you further through half-lidded eyes. Then he hooks a thumb into your panties and pulls them aside. When your arousal is exposed, a moan gets strangled in his throat, and his clothed hips buck towards you, desperate to bury himself in you already.

Your hands shoot to the fly of his jeans to fight with the button, eager to uncover him as well…just as a thumb brushes over your slit. Instead, your whole body jerks at the contact and you nearly collapse against him. Your grip goes slack.

His expression turns smug at your reaction. So he does it again—harder this time—and the tip of his thumb slips easily past your folds, making you cry out. Then he teases circles at your entrance, smearing through your slick, and you nearly sob into his shirt.

“You feel so good already.” He sounds distracted now, as though he's more focused on what he's doing than how you’re responding. He presses again, sinking until he's knuckle deep, and his lips part with a gasp, enthralled by the way his thumb vanishes inside of you. And, god, even the thickness of that leaves you breathless and writhing. Then he teases you some more at this depth, testing how your walls flutter greedily around him, before slowly drawing back out and dragging some of your fluids over your clit. Your hips pitch forward into his hand with a moan. “Can't wait to get my cock in you.”

“Please,” you beg. All of his teasing and petting has left you helpless, and your trembling fingers move uselessly over his fly, “I can't…”

That seems to get his attention.

He removes his hand and you whimper at the loss…until he takes over for you, making fast, if a bit fumbled, work of his button and zip. Then you're eager to have something even better buried inside of you. So you quickly make room for him as he lifts up and pushes his pants and underwear down to his knees.

When he settles, you finally get to have a look at what you’ve only felt up to this point, and the sight of him makes you feel weak. Because he’s sitting beneath you in his polo, and his hard cock is resting over the fabric still covering his belly.

He’s thick and uncut and twitching under your gaze, and you just know wrapping your hand around him would make you feel small by comparison. Your fingers itch to find out. You can also see a trail of hair disappearing under the hem of his shirt.

You're fighting with the urge to rip the offending piece of clothing up over his head to see just how far up it goes and whether or not it connects with that greying tuft of curls peeking out of the top when he wraps a hand around himself.

Your mind blanks.

You watch, dumbfound, as he begins stroking—working his length until the foreskin slides back to reveal the head, flushed and swollen and leaking in want of you.

The sudden stab of arousal in your core is dagger sharp, leaving you breathless.

“Fuck,” you rasp out, and it sounds as shaky as you feel, “I need you.”

His hand grasps at the base of his erection, keeping the foreskin drawn back and holding himself steady in invitation. When he meets your eyes, you see months of longing and need on his face. How he’s ached for this—would beg to have it if you asked.

You don't hesitate. You make sure your panties stay pulled to the side as you raise yourself to your knees. You wish you had taken them off, but you're far too impatient to stop now. How could you when he's right there, throbbing in his own fist and practically begging you to take him?

With one hand bunched in the fabric of your dress and one braced on his shoulder, you shift into position over him. His tip nudges against you, effortlessly gliding through your folds until he catches at your entrance. Exactly where you need him.

You lower onto him. There's a brief moment of resistance and adjustment at the unfamiliar angle. Then the head of his cock breeches your opening as you both let out twin gasps.

Slowly, you sink onto his length, your walls stretching around him as he fills you, inch by agonizing inch.

He makes it past the halfway point before his patience runs out. He grabs your hips, fingers and thumbs spearing into flesh, and pulls you the rest of the way down onto his cock.

The sound that leaves your mouth is almost as filthy as the one that leaves his.

He keeps you there, unmoving and fully sheathed while he twitches inside of you, and a sob of relief escapes his throat. His eyes are heavy lidded, those full lips are pouting and parted, and his brows are scrunched together in an expression akin to agony.

You're certain you’ll never forget the sight of him in that moment, undone by your cunt.

You drop the skirt of your dress so you can brace against his chest. The fabric falls back into place, hiding the evidence of where you're joined. It’s not unlike when you were just sitting in his lap, grinding over your clothes. Only this time you’re straddling his bare hips and stretched full of him.

You start to move.

The rain has stopped, but outside the drops still linger, glistening and clinging to every surface. Inside, the condensation is now fully coating the glass from your hot breath coming out in sharp pants as you ride his cock. It leaves the world beyond the cab opaque, only leaking through in the trails left by heavy beads of moisture.

He braces himself by planting his feet on the floor of the cab and leaning back against the headrest, using the pressure as extra leverage. Then he's lifting to meet your hips.

"I’ve dreamed of this," he moans as he ruts into you. He doesn't stop staring up into your face—taking in every expression and quiver and noise you make with those intense, blue eyes. His mouth falls open for a moment before he gasps out, “God, your cunt is so sweet.”

You’ve never felt so seen. Wanted. In that moment, you're so utterly sucked in by the gravity of him that you crash your lips against his, desperate to be closer.

His hands bite into your hips as he forces you to keep rocking onto him. You distantly realize the car is rocking with you—that anyone could see and know what's happening—but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when you have him whimpering and groaning into your mouth with his cock inside of you.

Everything about this is fast and messy, but the buildup alone has left both of you nearly frantic with need. You're not even sure how long you’ve been doing this. It's been hours since he kissed you. It's been minutes since he kissed you.

Your overworked thighs are burning, but you refuse to stop. Pressure is building and intensifying quickly inside your core, driving you on and beckoning you to keep moving until you find your release.

His grasp has gotten so tight that his fingers are nearly digging into bone, and he's no longer holding back every whimper or stutter that works its way to his throat. You know he's close, too.

A hand finds your thigh and disappears under the fabric of your dress. He clasps the bend of your hip, and then that thumb that drove you nearly mad earlier is rubbing circles over your clit. You're gutted by the sudden pleasure.

“Want you to come for me, love,” he murmurs up to you as he moves faster between your legs, his hips and thumb working together to destroy you. “Never wanted anything more.”

“Don't stop!” You gasp. You're trembling now. Your thighs are quivering against his hips and the movement has become hard to control, leaving your pace jerky and uneven as you rock over him. “Please!”

“Could never say no to you.” His voice is hoarse and strained as he struggles to hold himself back until you come undone first.

“Liam!” Your hands clutch at his shirt.

“That’s it. Let me see you.”

That last bit of friction is all you need to send warmth exploding through you, and then you’re coming on his cock. You throw your head back with a wail. It scrapes against the roof of the taxi, but you barely notice. Every part of you is consumed with that numbing relief. The way your stretched walls convulse around him. The sound that spills out of him.

If he wasn't holding you up and forcing you to keep moving out of desperation, you’d dissolve in his hands.

Every muscle in his body is taut, strained as he keeps driving into your still pulsing heat. There's ruin on his face when his hips begin to stutter beneath you. Then he slams you onto his cock with a moan and finally comes inside of you.

The throbbing warmth of it fills you with more than a physical gratification. Your heart skips a beat at the way he lethargically works through his orgasm, rocking deep within you. At how his face is now slackened with pleasure, that contentment only broken by the occasional hiss and a shudder from aftershocks—when the sensation of you becomes too much.

You could get addicted to this feeling.

Once both of you are spent and still, you sit there in his lap, gasping for air. His stomach rises and falls against yours while his thumb draws a mindless pattern near the bend in your hip. His touch is warm, even against the ambient heat of the taxi.

Sweat pools along your hairline and back and runs between your breasts. Your body is covered in it, and his skin is similarly glistening. As you’re watching, a drop rolls past the hollow of his throat before disappearing into that tantalizing mess of chest hair left uncovered by his undone top buttons. You wonder what it would be like to nuzzle into it and inhale the masculine scent of sweat and sex before dragging your tongue along his sternum to taste it.

“You okay?” He pants up at you, pulling you out of your daze.

You huff out a laugh as you nod. “Pretty fantastic, actually.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, still breathless.

“Yeah.”

You want to lay against him, snuggle your head under his chin, and stay like that for hours, relishing in this newfound connection. But now that the high is wearing off, you’re very aware you’ve just had sex in the driver's seat of a car. You didn't even move to the backseat or drive to a secluded parking lot! It's a position that’s not only quite public despite the opaque windows, but would require you to contort your body into an uncomfortable shape to do so. Which, regrettably, isn't very ideal for cuddling.

You hadn't been thinking that far ahead at the time.

You give him one last lingering kiss, reluctant to part from him, even as you know you have to at some point anyway. Then you lift yourself off of his lap while swallowing a whimper at both the loss and the surge of wetness between your legs now getting half caught in your askew underwear.

Climbing back into the passenger seat is a slow process because your legs are weak and wobbly, but he gives you a steady hand to lean into. One that engulfs your smaller hand as it wraps around you. You try not to imagine him holding you like this, fingers laced and palms kissing, or else you might not let go.

You both stop to laugh when you bump your head on the roof of the cab.

As you get settled and somewhat put back together, an awkward silence encompasses the taxi. It's not tense like when you got into the front seat. Rather, it's unsure in a different way. It's as if both of you want to say something, but you can't find the right words. Or maybe, without the haze of arousal, they don't come as easily despite the way they build and sit in the back of your throat.

Instead, you take a moment to survey the damage from your earlier fumbling. Thankfully, the takeout spill was minor with only a few of the noodles escaping the carton. He quickly picks them up, and you toss the containers back into the bag.

He rolls down the windows, letting the rain cooled air in to clear the fogged glass and the heavy musk of sex. It feels heavenly on your skin. You lean back in your seat, basking in the light breeze, the weightlessness in your chest, the burning in your thighs, and, most of all, the ache and damp between your legs.

You both still maintain that quiet the rest of the drive with only the low din of the radio in the background. None of the songs register, though, because your mind is too busy racing with thoughts of what happens next.

There's an unbidden hope blooming inside of you that this was more than just sex. You try to rein it in before it takes over and suffocates you with expectation because some part of you is still terrified you’ll end up heartbroken. But every time you glance over at him—take in the profile of his nose and lips, the strong curve of his jaw, the wisp of his eyelashes—you know it's far too late for that.

Instead, you sit there with your heart pounding, wishing you could read his mind and admiring the way the light dances across his face whenever you pass under a streetlight. You can tell when he catches you because he turns to give you a lopsided smile. One he used to shoot back at you in the reflection of his rearview mirror, and the full force of it makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter before it's too much and you have to look away.

Each time that hope digs in a little more.

Eventually, he pulls the cab along the curb in front of your building. It's the same spot he’s parked in dozens of times, but it looks almost foreign now from the front seat. Or maybe it just feels that way because everything about this situation is so new.

He shuts off the engine, leaving the space in silence as he glances over at you.

This is where you usually part ways. Where you thank him for the ride and pay. Then you climb out, tell him you hope he has a lovely evening, and you leave.

None of that feels right, though. Not after what’s happened between you. More than that, you don't want to walk away as though nothing's changed. Because for you everything has.

So what do you do now? Do you thank him for the wonderful sex? Ask him to dinner? Do you kiss him goodnight and tell him you'll call him later? It's what you would do with anyone else, but with him it's not enough.

Now that you have him, you don't want to let go.

"Would you…" You trail off, suddenly timid. Even though your underwear and thighs are still smeared with this man's come, you know there's so much left unspoken between you. Things you want to give voice to so that the two of you can continue to move forward towards something more intimate and meaningful than car sex. However, doing so is another opportunity to get hurt if he doesn't feel the same way.

Except now you’ve opened your mouth and he's staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. But more importantly: on his face you see that same look of hope reflected back at you.

He wants this, too.

Your anxiety evaporates.

"Would you like to come in?”

His smile is both relieved and tender. He nods.

That's how you end up in your bed with Liam on top of you, entrenched between your legs, cock buried inside of you, and taking you again.

It's different this time. Slower. While the fever and desperation are gone, there's a heavier need churning in their wake. Something between you that was left unsatisfied before.

Now you're wrapped up in each other—a calf tucked behind his knee, and your thigh gripping his hip where he's bent over you. One of his hands is stroking along your hair, and the other is squeezing your waist, holding you in place as his fingers dig divots into your flesh. Your own palms cradle his jaw, cupping him like water to your parched lips.

Through it all, his forehead is pressed to yours, and he gazes down into your eyes from beneath hungry lids. Even if you wanted to, you can't look away from that blue. You're held there, pinned to the bed from the weight of it because even the physical weight of him is nothing compared to the longing you see in those depths.

In the taxi, your closeness was a given. It was overwhelming in the small space, thick like the humidity of your breath, hanging in the air and pressing back in on you. Now it's suffocating in a different way. In the openness of your bedroom, it clings to you. Needy. Touch starved. Terrified that one of you will vanish at the slightest give.

The two of you are so close, you can feel his heavy breath on your face. You can hear the voiceless sounds he makes whenever he buries himself inside of you at just the right angle, each one right there and so loud in the silence.

It's different in that way, too: Neither of you has said a word since you took his hand and stumbled to your bedroom. No pleas or praise. Not when you tore each other's clothes off and finally saw what was waiting for you underneath—the hard panes and curves of him, tan lines and hair, a freckle on his chest, the way his cock hangs thick between his thighs and twitches in your hand. Not even when his fingers dragged over your still wet folds with a groan. Instead, your voices are replaced with sighs and moans and each slick press into your heat.

You don't think you could speak anyway.

He’s fucking you completely breathless. Not from the effort. Not from the way his core flexes and his back rounds every time he thrusts into you. Each steady plunge, a slide and drag of bodies—his chest hair across your nipples, his stomach against yours, his groin grinding into your clit in a maddening friction. No, it's the unmasked passion of it that leaves your heart pounding and your breath caught in your throat.

He fucks you like he watches you: with a sense of reverence. Like he can't believe he has the privilege.

Maybe fuck isn't the right word, then. Because the way his hand moves to cradle the back of your head, thumb grazing behind your ear, feels more like an act of worship than your desperate coupling in the driver's seat of his cab, takeout spilled across the center console.

You've never had sex like this before. Not even with the few people you've whispered I love yous to. The word for it hovers, nameless and heady in the inch of space between you. He breathes it out over your skin, and then you catch it and inhale it into your lungs. As it passes your lips, you can taste it on the tip of your tongue.

You're so close to figuring it out when he angles your head to the side, baring your neck to him and nuzzling his face into the exposed flesh, and your thoughts evaporate. He takes a moment to nose over your pulse, inhaling your scent and warmth with a moan. Then, finally, he’s placing hungry, open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. It feels so much like he's trying to devour you, that you brace for a sinking of teeth which never comes.

Instead, the scratch of his beard sends a shiver through you, leaving you quivering and covered in goosebumps beneath him. It's too much—sensation, tension, emotion.

It's not enough.

You roll your hips to meet his rhythm, and he lets out a ragged groan—pain and pleasure spilling from his chest. His next plunge is deeper. Harder. Something sparks inside of you.

“Liam,” you gasp, breaking the silence.

Then he’s kissing you, his tongue chasing the sound of his own name into the wet heat of your mouth. So you offer it to him again, a plea for more.

He relents.

He grabs one of your legs and bends it towards your chest, folding you and opening you further to him. This new angle completely traps your clit in the friction of his thrusts.

You grasp at anything you can reach to ground yourself against the onslaught. One of your hands fists your sheet, bunching the fabric in a tight knuckled grip. The other curls through the trimmed hair at the base of his skull. But there isn't enough there to hold onto, and your fingers claw uselessly at his scalp.

The effect it has on him is immediate.

Your nails drag a moan and a full bodied shudder from him. Suddenly his pace becomes urgent, each thrust now punctuated by the joining of skin on skin and a slight shifting along the mattress.

You can feel how close he is from the way he’s tensing against the pleasure building inside of him. From the way he whimpers and clutches back at you, trying to hold on as well. To keep this going just a little longer.

Knowing that his loss of control, that sense of desperation, is because of you, sends you reeling. It isn't long before your legs are quaking against him and your chest is stuttering from your shallow gasps. Every rock of his hips coaxes you further from your control. You can feel your grasp of it slipping, pulling you off balance as you sink deeper into him.

You arch off the mattress—bending as if drawn to him—while every muscle in your body is locked in that moment between tension and release. Then one more moan from him as he rubs against your clit, and you finally break.

Your orgasm shatters white hot at your core, splintering up to churn in your gut and burn through your chest, before resonating outward along every one of your nerve endings, only to recede and start all over again.

As you come, the only thought in your lust fogged brain is him on top of you. Inside of you. The grip he has on your waist. So when your mouth falls open to suck air into your strangled lungs, on the exhale his name spills from your lips.

He looks wrecked by the sound. He buries himself into your fluttering cunt, needing to feel how your walls tighten and clench around him. You protest the sudden loss of friction before your body instinctively seeks it out. You mindlessly grind your hips up against him, riding out the last of your orgasm on his cock until he can't take it anymore.

He grabs you and fucks you, just as mindlessly grunting and rutting into you as he chases his own release. He stares down between you to where his body is joined with yours, watching the way his cock disappears into your folds, his expression stern with concentration. Under the light of the street lamp leaking through your window, sweat glistens on his forehead.

A deep rumble starts in his chest, something half caught between a growl and a whine. His pace quickly becomes erratic, and every time his hips meet yours, you can feel the way he's trembling. You know he's moments from letting go.

You bring your fingers to his chin and force his attention up until his eyes find yours. And god they're so blue, even unfocused in the dim streetlight. Though you're still dazed, you’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“Look at me, Liam,” you breathe out. “I want to see you.”

That's all it takes. His face crumples in agony, and he comes with a sob of relief. He manages a few final thrusts, shuddering and panting his way through each one, until he's finally spent. All the while, his cock twitches and throbs as he fills you for a second time.

You’ve done this once already tonight, but it was different then. The distance was still there while you untangled yourself from his lap, climbed back into the passenger seat, and adjusted your dress. In the way he quietly righted the container of noodles as you struggled to find the words to fill the silence.

This time you don't part.

Instead, he settles in close, pulls you to him, and lays his head on your shoulder with a sigh. In return, you kiss his hair, taking a moment to savor the scent of him—sweat and shampoo and lingering cigarette smoke—and the softness of the thick waves over your lips, before resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

There's nothing between you now. No car seat, no clothes, no more distance.

This is what was missing before in the taxi. This is what you both wanted—what you should have had instead—because this is so easy. As easy as laughter or smiles shared in his rearview mirror.

And it all feels so right. Even though you’ve made yourself vulnerable in his arms, the way he holds you and caresses your palm with his fingertips keeps any further uncertainty or doubt about what this is between you at bay. You know what this is.

You’ve spent months falling for this man, bit by bit. Every time you called him for a ride. Every glance, every simple gesture, every time he made you laugh or lean forward in your seat to find some way to be closer to him. It all sucked you in a little more each time, pulled you into depths you couldn't fathom—more than a crush or attraction or something as simple as affection—and it took you far too long to notice. Now your eyes and your chest burn with the realization.

As if he can sense what you're thinking, he pulls back to place a trail of feather light kisses along the side of your face. You close your eyes, letting the tenderness of it wash over you.

“Stay.” The wave of emotion chokes your voice to a whisper. It's a plea. A hope.

“There's nowhere I'd rather be, love,” he whispers back against your temple. Then he hugs you tight, and there's nowhere you’d rather be either than there in his arms, lulled to sleep by his steady heartbeat and his even breaths across your skin.

It's when he thinks you're asleep that Liam untangles himself, and then sneaks out of your bed and steps into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind him.

At first you think he's gone to use the bathroom and doesn't want to wake you. Which is sweet! In fact, you're smiling over just how sweet and considerate he is—how content and blissful he’s made you feel—when you hear his voice from down the hall.

It sounds as if he's having a hushed conversation with someone, but that's impossible. There's no one else here. Is he talking to himself then?

You’ve never heard his voice sound like this before, either. He’s frustrated. Annoyed, almost. Nothing like the man that smiles at you from the front seat and asks about your day.

You nearly sit up and call out to him in confusion when—Oh. Wait. No. He’s on the phone, you realize.

At nearly half one in the morning.

He's being quiet enough that, if you were asleep, you probably would have slept through it. On top of that, his words are muffled by the door. So, even though you strain to listen, you don't catch everything he says.

You still hear plenty.

He makes up a story about driving someone…somewhere outside of the city. A request he couldn't say no to, apparently, but you miss his explanation as to why. It's not a big deal, he insists. It's not.

At the end of the call, he says he'll be home in the morning. That you catch.

Then silence falls over you once again.

None of that is true. Obviously. He’s standing naked in your hall, and he’s going to spend the night in your bed, decidedly not driving anywhere.

Which means he was lying on the phone.

You quickly piece together that means he lied to you, too. And the only reason he would have to lie at all, to keep you a secret, is if he isn't actually single. Which also means—

He made you the other woman.

Suddenly, the way he struggled with all of this makes perfect, horrible sense. It was never about you. He always wanted you. It was about his decision to say yes, to give in to what he wanted, despite the consequences and what it would mean.

You're still letting that sink in when he slips back into the room, and you have no idea what to do about it. You need a minute to fucking think. So you try to appear exactly as he left you: undisturbed, curled on your side, and facing the wall. Asleep.

On the inside, however, your heart is breaking.

It happens slowly. At first you're so numb from the shock, and the ache in your chest is so sharp, that the pain takes a moment to register. Like slicing your palm open with a knife and waiting for the wound to bleed. When it finally does, the agony leaves you breathless. You can feel it twisting in your gut, searing through your fingers, and clawing its way up your throat until you're choking on it. Your eyes sting from the pain.

Through it all, you focus on keeping your breathing deep and even to calm your frantic nerves and the trembling of your bottom lip.

He crawls quietly back into bed behind you, clearly believing you're still asleep and trying not to wake you. You try not to stiffen in response.

You're not even sure why you're faking anymore. Perhaps you're still working to get over the shock from the hurt and betrayal. Maybe you want to believe you misunderstood the conversation, even though you know you didn't. Or maybe you’re still trying to figure out what to even say to him.

He lied to you.

Worse, you thought you found something real and lasting with a man that made you smile and feel special—one you felt a connection to. In retrospect, you should have known it was too good to be true, but you wanted it to be. You wanted that so badly. Wanted him.

You feel like such an idiot.

What was this, then? Did he just use you for sex? Were all of those glances and smiles over the course of months faked just for this? How could he have faked even a moment of what you just experienced? The way he looked into your eyes as he… God, even remembering it causes your heart to flutter and heat to pool in your stomach, despite your emotional anguish. You swallow down a sob.

Instead of tucking back into bed, though, he sits there and watches you sleep. You can feel his heavy gaze on the side of your face and the way it lingers before trailing down the outline of your body under the blanket, oblivious to your inner grief or how you lay there bleeding. It lasts several long minutes—longer than you would have thought was possible to watch someone sleep. But it's as if he’s content at the sight of you.

Just when you're finally ready to open your eyes and confront him, to demand the truth, his hand reaches out to stroke over your temple and your cheek. His touch is delicate. He’s still being careful not to wake you as his fingertips ghost across your skin. Then he sighs and it sounds like your name. You didn't think a single breath could carry so much awe and longing.

You didn't think your name could ever sound like that.

He continues to explore and caress you further, gently mapping out the curve of your jaw and the shell of your ear…all while he thinks you're still sleeping. When you couldn't possibly know what he's doing and there's no need for a performance.

Which means he's doing it because he wants to touch you like this.

And every second of it is far more gentle than his voice was the entire time he was on the phone. The voice he didn't say “I love you” in before he hung up, you realize. You're not sure what it means, but it feels important to note.

Because maybe…maybe he wasn't faking anything. Not about how he feels, at least. Not about you.

As your thoughts race, you realize he never actually said he was single either, just that he couldn't get a date to the play or would have to go alone. Sure, the implication was there, and it was a fair assumption to make, but he never said the words out loud. You also wonder what else that means for the state of his relationship, and whether or not it makes any difference. Assuming he was telling the truth at all. Though something about the way he said it makes you believe that part, at least, wasn't a lie.

What are you doing? You know your mental gymnastics and excuses are pathetic. You should have some self respect! Hell, you should kick him out of your apartment and your life for what he's done! But…you just can't bring yourself to do it.

Despite everything, you're still caught in the gravity of him.

Finally, he lays down in the bed and wraps an arm around you, curling himself against your back. His hand splays across your belly, keeping you held to him as he scoots in closer. He's warm and solid, and you can't help but melt into him, skin on skin, as he snuggles into your neck. You love the way his nose instinctively finds all of the sensitive spots that make you gasp, as if he's done this before. As if he knows you.

You fit together perfectly.

You want to stay there, surrounded by him—to let him alleviate the pain he’s caused you and fall asleep for real. Instead, you roll over in his arms.

Your eyes are open now so you can look at him. After all of this, you need to see him in this new light and face the truth of him. You have to know if you can.

When your eyes meet his, there's an expression of yearning and hope on his face that's so profound, your heart aches again, but for a much different reason.

He’s looking at you as though he's a damned man and you're his salvation.

“Sorry if I woke you, love,” he whispers. He cups your jaw in his hand, and his thumb soothes over your cheek in apology.

It's not the apology you need. Not yet. You’ll get that in the morning. Then, afterwards, you’ll have the talk about where you go from here and how he's going to fix this.

Because, as he leans forward to kiss your forehead, his contented sigh warm on your skin, you realize you’ve already made a decision.

“It's okay, Liam,” you reply in a whisper. “I don't care, just as long as you come back to me.”

A/N: I left the play vague for Reader Insert/Choose Your Own Adventure purposes, but the one I had in mind for ME, because it's my absolute favorite, is The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (it was actually, in a strange way, also one of my inspirations while writing this). Which is about a man that leads a double life and pretends to be someone he isn't, only to discover at the end of the play that he essentially IS the man he's been pretending to be and has been all along without knowing. There are parts of Liam that are real and earnest, he just doesn't believe they're enough. He despises his life and the man he's become so much, is so desperate to escape them, that he can't imagine anyone else not feeling the same way about the real him. Except, in this story with this slightly different version of Liam (who's been removed from the events of the episode), that connection IS real. He never needed to lie to get Reader to laugh and fall for him or see a glimmer of the real him. But Liam is a sad, wet, desperate little shit of a man and does anyway. (He’s lucky he's hot.) Fingers crossed that he, too, learns the vital importance of being earnest. Also Earnest's eyes are blue. 😌

#liam black #liam black x reader #liam black x f!reader #x reader #the fear has gripped me but here i go fic #the accused #the accused (bbc)#andy serkis #fanfiction

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my-own-walker · 7 months

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Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

10.

Summer had officially taken her last bow. I felt genuinely chilly standing outside the KLG house on Sunday morning. The mid-morning sun shone just barely through the large willow tree in the front yard, the branches preventing it from sharing its warmth with me. The dress, sheer tights, and cardigan I wore did nothing to insulate me, either. I checked the time on my phone. 10:27 am.

We agreed to meet at 10:30, but of course, I was early. I felt rather foolish for waiting the way I was, trying too hard not to stare at the house expectantly. In an attempt to look disinterested, I placed headphones in my ears, putting my playlist on shuffle. I turned to face the street, rather than the yard, and a Two Door Cinema Club song began to play.

"There's a spanner in the works, you know."

Boy, was that the truth. Hannah, the perpetual spanner in the works, standing in the way of herself.

The hours leading up to the date, from Thursday night until Sunday at 10:27, well, now 10:28 am, I went back and forth with myself. Contemplating every damn aspect of the meetup. Was it a joke? Was he out to get me? I didn't actually develop feelings for a frat guy, did I? The part of myself that was obsessed with my own morals and hatred toward all things Greek life died a little when I thought too hard about it all.

The spanner in the works. Standing in the way of myself, preventing things from happening smoothly, ever.

My ego wouldn't even let me tell Lily about this. My best friend. The girl I told everything. Part of me felt anti-woman for not gossiping, giggling, and kicking my feet with my friend over this. Instead, I internalized it all. I kept the dismay in. A burden shared is a burden halved, but I refused to look weak.

Life has a way of falling into place. Things have a way of working out. For everyone. Everyone except me and the people around me. The events that are supposed to go off without a hitch like a well-oiled machine come sputtering to an awkward stop on account of me. The spanner in the works. Hannah the spanner.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I jumped and spun around, tearing an earbud out of my ear, jostled free from the grip of my thoughts.

"Hey," Kyle breathed, smiling. He panted slightly, making clear that he had jogged to me from the door. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I laughed, grabbing his arm for stability, hinging at the hips slightly. "Christ, I was miles away," I managed. I started walking in the direction of Sleepwalker Coffee Co. (my choice, clearly), still holding onto Kyle. He followed suit.

"What were you thinking about?" he inquired, looking down and sideways at me with a smirk on his rosy face. The cherubic expression made my stomach turn.

"Do you want the honest answer?"

"Nothing but."

I let the silence drag on for a moment as we walked along, the sun finally peeking through the trees enough to warm my bones. I dropped my arm back down to my side, no longer holding on to Kyle.

"Music," I replied, simply. A small lie, but I was at least listening to music. That made it partly honest.

"Anything about music in particular?" Kyle pressed. "Or just the complex, vast theory of sound itself?" His tone dripped with sarcasm, which I'll admit, got a pretty hearty laugh out of me.

"I guess, but I can't remember," I lied again. We rounded the corner at the end of the street, turning onto the street the coffee shop was on. We had just a few more blocks to walk to get there.

"Well, okay," he sighed, redirecting. "What's your favorite song, then?"

"Oh, you can't ask that!" I exclaimed, pausing my stride to look him in the eyes. "How can I boil it down to just one song? That's cruel."

"I can tell you mine, it's easy." Kyle kicked a small rock and it skittered across the pavement, landing in the street. He definitely would have continued kicking it down the street had it not landed too far out of his way.

"Oh yeah?" I challenged. "What is it, then?"

"Just tell me one song you like, and I'll tell you," he bargained.

"You're unreal," I chuckled, continuing to walk. "I like Sweet Jane. Velvet Underground. I don't know." My replies felt really flippant coming out of my mouth, but I couldn't help it. Part of me still disliked him, or maybe, wanted to seem cool.

"Ooh," he cooed, jogging slightly to catch up to me on the sidewalk. "Sweet Jaaaaane," he sang grabbing my hand and lacing his fingers with mine.

"Ah, so you know it then," I laughed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Suddenly all too aware that the two of us were holding hands, I took stock. It was slightly rough but strong. His fingers were long and laced between mine like vines woven around themselves.

"I know it well," he smiled. "I love Lonesome Cowboy Bill. The Velvet Underground are so good."

"I don't think I know that one," I said, noticing that we were coming upon the coffee shop. I stopped right next to the stairs leading up to the door, effectively blocking his path. "Now you have to tell me your favorite song. Of all time. Since you can pick one."

His expression brightened. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled slightly, eyes twinkling with precious delight. "Oh! You Pretty Things. David Bowie," he grinned. My stomach lurched.

"You like David Bowie?" I asked, with a bit too much giddy excitement in my tone.

"Yes, he's only like, my favorite artist," he answered.

"We have a LOT in common," I gushed, grabbing his arm. He looked down at the small touch for a beat, then snaked an arm around my shoulder to guide me inside the shop.

We spoke about everything under the sun over the course of a few hours and a couple of coffees. I was so entranced by him that I actually let my drink get cold, rendering it undrinkable when I finally remembered its existence.

Not only did we have music tastes in common, but we also shared a lot of the same tastes in film and food. I, being less experienced in the realm of movie-watching, though, agreed to let him show me a few of his favorite films. In fact, we headed straight back to his house afterward to watch one of said movies.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but Kyle had proven himself trustworthy of not trying any funny business. Even still, I couldn't quiet the thoughts of him possibly thinking I was weird, or worse, that I might be falling for him.

All of those thoughts were silenced, though, when he closed the door to his room behind him. It felt different this time. I wasn't there out of pure obligation or drunken irresponsibility. This time, I wanted to be there.

"Which one did I say we were watching, again?" Kyle asked, crossing the room over to the TV, switching it on using the button on the side. He slid a small basket out of the stand and pulled out a disc binder full of movies. I flopped down onto the sofa, crossing my legs.

"Wow, you're serious about film," I laughed, kicking myself for how stupid the sentence sounded as soon as it left my mouth. "You said Catch Me If You Can, I'm pretty sure."

"Right, right," he murmured, flipping the binder open, letting the left side land on the ground with a loud thump. He thumbed through the discs, the casings making a plasticky crinkling sound as they moved. "Wait, I totally forgot about this one."

"Which one?"

"The Lost Boys. You seen it?" he asked, an excited tone creeping in.

"Yes! But I will happily watch it again, Kyle," I exclaimed. "Tis the season, right? Vampires and fall go hand in hand."

He slid the disc out of the casing and threw it in the DVD player, then crossed the room to join me on the couch. He sat close, but not too close, and used the remote to start the film. The space between us felt like a canyon. In the silence waiting for the movie to start, it was so quiet, it was hard to tell if I was alive.

The feeling came out of nowhere, knocking me in the stomach and making it hard to breathe. As if, all at once, smoke filled the room and replaced all the clean air with a stifling smog. I needed to come up for air, and the only way I figured I could was in the safety of Kyle's touch. It was a sudden and intense thirst.

I couldn't even focus on the movie. I couldn't focus on anything. I couldn't even breathe. The only movement I could rally was one of my eyes, letting them dart to the side to look at Kyle in my periphery. I had never known anything like it. Just complete paralysis at the hands of an indescribable need. A need for him and only him to simply touch me.

His hand twitched on his knee. I watched him shift out of the corner of my eye. I don't think I had taken a full breath since he sat down next to me. Then, he spoke.

"Hannah," he rasped. My name sounded so beautiful coming from his lips. I turned to face him and without delay his lips were on mine. I froze, unsure if it was real life. Unsure if he was actually kissing me. Unsure if I was actually enjoying it. But in an instant, I could breathe again. I could fill my lungs with fresh, new air that made me dizzy. I relaxed into him.

He stopped. "Wait, Hannah, is this oka-" he whispered, interrupted by my mouth reconnecting with his. My hand felt its way up to his hair, my fingers lacing tightly in his blonde curls. I slid closer to him and paused, looking him deeply in his eyes before continuing.

His breaths came out ragged and loud between kisses. Our foreheads rested together. My hand moved down from his hair to his chest. I could feel his heart positively racing beneath my palm. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, if that was even possible. I was practically sitting in his lap. I drank in the moment so furiously I felt I might drown.

I felt like I was on fire. Like someone had set a slow and steady match beneath my center, deep in the pit of my stomach.

What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck is happening? my brain screamed, but my heart wanted more, and I wouldn't let cerebral obstacles prevent me from continuing to be that close to him.

He reached up and cupped the side of my face in his palm, deepening the kisses to something more, his tongue creeping its way inside my mouth. The warmth of the contact spread throughout my entire body, rendering me almost drunk. Kyle consumed my senses.

I pulled away. Both of us sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes. The movie played quietly in the background. My heart beat so hard I was sure he could hear it.

"Wow," he panted, placing a hand over mine, which was still resting on his chest. A flush crept across my cheeks. "Was that real?"

Previous Part | Next Part

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x reader #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer imagine #kyle spencer fanfic #ahs coven #evan peters x female reader #evan peters oneshot

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khiita · 2 years

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this is a warning to tumblr and twitter artists + people in the interactive fiction fandom about my experience with faeinthefog/ElouanVT. faeinthefog seems to be a polish person that goes by the names Anna/Andi/Anka. they are also associated with the acct names AnnabelleShep13, sapphovonchat, andi-the-cat, and their username in AO3 is Mephale.

if you are an artist and have been commissioned by FAEINTHEFOG / ELOUANVT / ANNA or ANKA W**** in the past year, please contact me. there is a 99.9% chance that you unknowingly drew an original character that they stole from me. the other 00.1% chance is that it was stolen from someone else. for the record, at least two of the artists i managed to contact are involved in the mo dao zu shi / the untamed fandom.

i didn’t know that this person existed, hadn’t ever–knowingly–interacted with them in my life until yesterday (august 22nd), when i found out that they had been stealing my art and every single detail about my ocs for months. but what they did to me goes way deeper than that, so here it goes:

this all started yesterday morning, when scrolling through tumblr i saw that a friend had reblogged a commission of a main character for The Nameless that looked startlingly like my oc, Euridi. Euridi is a character i first created in 2013 and, just like with all my ocs, everything about her is deeply personal to me–i’ve drawn vent art featuring her plenty of times, so i immediately felt sick seeing that she was stolen, and contacted the artist.

while i was trying not to freak out and waiting for them to reply (which they did, and they were very kind and understanding–took everything down, cleared up some things for me) my friends started digging into faeinthefog, and everything went to shit after they found their twitter account, ElouanVT. in it, this person seemed to have frankensteined a fake personality, using selfies of a small polish influencer called igarosa as their face, and they posted not only the Euridi commission, claiming she was their oc and not bothering to even change her name, but they also posted my own art, claiming it was theirs, as well as multiple other commissions they had gotten of my characters.

besides this artist, who had done three commissions for faeinthefog, my friends and i were able to find four more of them. i’ve heard back from two of them so far, and i want to clarify that none of the artists seem to have known that the characters were stolen, and they are not to blame for what faeinthefog had been doing. it seems that the way faeinthefog would commission the artists was sending them profiles and descriptions they had copy-pasted from my blog, as well as sending them picrews that i had previously posted. both of the artists i talked to confirmed this. i believe faeinthefog started stalking me and stealing my creations about 9 months ago, since that was when they created their (now deleted) account on notebook.ai where they had uploaded at least 15 of my characters, if not all (i felt too fucking nauseous about it all to scroll through everything).

the reason that this freak shit flew under the radar for so long despite the considerably small size of the IF fandom is that when faeinthefog posted the commissions on tumblr, they never once said the oc’s name and rarely credited the artist responsible. meanwhile, on twitter they not only name-dropped my characters, but also (in my opinion) seemed to claim that each interactive fiction that features the characters is a story of their own making, as seen in the way they talked about Parker's The Nameless in their tweet featuring Euridi. it should be noted that in their tumblr blog description they referred to themself as a “game dev”, i've yet to find anything they have actually made themselves besides my trauma, however. here are examples of commissions they’ve gotten of my characters and the way they talked about Attollo, Body Count, Swan Song and Andromeda 6 as if those stories were their own work.

not only did faeinthefog steal my designs, my art and any word i’d typed about my characters, they also stole my oc spotify playlists as well as my pinterest boards, pin by pin. before they deleted their pinterest account, i saw that the last time they’d pinned something was two weeks ago. truly fucking insane behavior.

i have noticed that they even copied who my ocs were in a relationship with in each game. furthermore, whenever this person posted my art on twitter, each and every single time they would also copy the exact caption i had written on tumblr. even if it made no sense at all out of context. when it came to posting my ocs as their own, they also used quotes that i had already used in my own profiles.

i want to add that i am either friends, in semi-regular contact, or alpha-reading for five out of the ten authors i mentioned, and from what i gathered none of them were truly aware of this person or what they were doing either. the authors who had reblogged commissions that faeinthefog posted were kind enough to delete them after they found out as well.

speaking of friends though!!! as if all of this creepy bullshit wasn’t enough, besides reposting my art, faeinthefog would repost gift art i’ve received from my friends, claiming it had been made for them by their friends–without changing any names. i also found at least one instance of them reposting art i’ve made for artfight, name-dropping the giftee even when i hadn’t, which meant they had to go digging through other people’s blogs to get them.

(the embed for this one broke and i couldn’t include the picture, but the repost was of this art i made last year during artfight for tumblr user @/whoreromancer, with my signature cut out.)

as you can see, this person had been blatantly stealing from me for months, claiming to have made the things i’ve created and claiming the people i love had any sort of relationship with them. i honestly can’t find any other explanation for this behavior + the fact that they commissioned my characters multiple times other that calling it an obsession with me (after some digging done by my friends, we haven’t seen them steal from anyone else, for better or worse) and honestly, fucking insanity. as i have stated before all of this hurt me deeply and freaked both me and my friends out a lot. anyone who knows me knows how much love and dedication i put into everything i make, including my pinterest boards and playlists, so thankfully i received a lot of love and support from my community.

it does make me wonder though, whether faeinthefog targeted me thinking i had a small blog and no one would notice/care? wherever this person is now that they’ve deleted the accounts i knew about, i have no doubt in my mind that their behavior won’t change, and if they don’t continue to rip me off, they might invent themself a new personality and pick someone else. my friends and i have reason to believe that (despite their clear lack of imagination) this person is willing to switch identities in order to have an online presence, and we have no reason to believe that they won’t come back. i hope the IF fandom continues to watch out for each other. i added watermarks to all my art, which i think might be a good idea for everyone to do? i never thought someone would steal my art/ocs and yet here we are.

thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who helped me and supported me during this mess.

#signal boost #interactive fiction #choice of games #itchio #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #the untamed #faeinthefog #sapphovonchat #art theft #i think those r enough tags #i've also known them to be in the critical role fandom ftr. so idk if anyone finds more comms let me know and otherwise be careful !!#ari.txt

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v3x-y0urs3lf · 3 months

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Alright, Because Cyril is my favourite character I’ve been binging through his playlist and have made new headcanons and/or want to accentuate what’s been implied/canon. (Also I want another try to make my last headcanons more accurate. I fear I mis-characterised him.)

I think a good one to start off with is that Cyril low-key admits to reading a bit of everything.. as in everything. In my head, the first thing I thought was dark romance, smut and I want to say he’s looked at some fan-fiction of some sort.

During his ninth audio he apparently has to ‘tidy’ some things. I severely doubt it’s actually dirty because.. It’s Cyril. I can imagine some dishes in the sink or an empty bottle or two lying around due to overworking but compared to like, Rival/Dove’s(who’s name I only recently discovered.) ‘Overflowing trash bin’ in audio 3 then it’s pretty good. (That’s my headcanon.)

I really want to say that it’s something considered ‘normal’ to the average person like ‘Unique’ types of literature or even just some dirty clothes in the corner of the room. Or hell, even just a bin full of used tissues from ‘allergies’ that he’s embarrassed about because he has a reputation to uphold.

Going back to the ninth audio, I noticed he mentioned an institute apartment and I got a bit of an unlikely but not impossible idea for that. I don’t think Faustin or Reuben are necessarily abusive to Cyril or anyone, I just don’t think Cyril enjoyed living under their roof and so he instead rented a room in the institute apartment. I don’t think it’s completely impossible that Cyril just felt like moving out and into an apartment near his work, if anything it does sound like something he’d do.. I just think it’s a little too plain of an idea and no character can be completely happy. I can’t help but also want to mention that Cyril apparently refers to Reuben enough as ‘Reuben’ that Dove/Rival has been able to read and understand when somethings happened between them. Again, not strange that Cyril doesn’t call him ‘Papa’ or anything alike, Especially in the workplace. It just happens enough that Dove/Rival notice when somethings happened between them.

Also, For the longest time I didn't realise Faustin, Reuben and Cyril were all related (Until I found the post of everyone's last names.) and somewhere in Audio 3 Cyril almost slips up and calls Faustin 'Father' which - no comment, Just thought it was really cute and really neat.

#cyril lauriet #reverie audios #fan headcanons #i do not own these images #not my character #credits to original owner #I want to post more stuff but I feel like there's only so much I can post before this gets excessive

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gothcsz · 13 days

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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VII.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Our main character gets further involved with her other love interest. Javier gets jealous.

WORD COUNT: ~9k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mentions of religion, i'll say it once and i'll say it again: slow burn, officer!Javi P because i think that's like really hot, Jealous!Javi too, some lore is explained, love triangle, mutual pining, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: hiiiii here's this week's chapter! i just love love LOVE this world and these characters, i rlly hope you all feel the same (: if u see any typos... uhhh... pretend u didn't :p anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

True to her word, Paloma fulfills her promise and chauffeurs Sloane home the following afternoon. Their journey is smooth sailing, filled with belting out songs and animated chatter, so much so it seems as though they reach their destination in the blink of an eye.

Nestled far into the horizon, the house resides amidst a vast expanse of parched grassland. Its isolation strikes her immediately, as if it's purposefully distanced from any signs of civilization. The last notable landmark has faded into the rearview mirror, easily twenty minutes behind them.

“ It’s so far from everythin’, how did August know this woman again? ” As they draw nearer, she casts her gaze upon the home, curiosity guiding her observations.

Initially, the house appears unassuming, boasting a generous Southern size. Yet as her eyes trace its contours, the subtle hints of antiquity emerge, revealing its longstanding presence in the landscape. The intricate detailing, weathered by time, whispering tales of decades past. A testament to its timeless appearance.

Amidst her admiration, a wave of relief washes over her; it’s a stark improvement from the dreary confines of the motel where her friend was staying at.

“ He looked after her way back when she lived in Fayette. ” Slo answers plainly, releasing her seatbelt as the car halts, its engine settling into a quiet then nonexistent hum. With a fluid motion, she swings the door ajar and gracefully steps out onto the gravel, stretching her limbs.

Paloma mirrors Slo's action, sliding on her sunglasses as the sun casts its unyielding rays upon them. The sky stretches endlessly, devoid of any clouds to offer respite. Already, the heat sears against her skin causing beads of sweat to form, clinging to her like a damp embrace.

Immersed in her surroundings, she takes in the scenery when August's familiar voice draws near. Her attention shifts and a radiant smile illuminates her face as he closes the distance and envelops her in a heartfelt embrace.

“ Looks like you hit the jackpot. ” She tells him once they pull away, banking on her sunglasses to conceal her admiring gaze as it traces the intricate tattoos adorning his bare arms. His thin undershirt offers a canvas for her to wander, inviting her eyes to linger on the myriad designs. A glimmer of gold catches her attention—a simple chain draping from his neck, the pendant dangling with a symbol unfamiliar to her.

“ I keep thinkin’ they made a mistake. M’waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. ” He remarks, his head subtly shaking as his blond hair catches the sunlight, casting a radiant glow around him.

“ Just enjoy it while it lasts then, ” She teases, her hands enfolding his arm as he guides her towards the house. “ But seriously, this is a blessin’. Now y’all can all be together again. ” He’s told her about the struggles his group has faced. Constantly displaced and unable to be together for months.

Their unconventional religious beliefs had made them outcasts in many narrow-minded towns, branded as some sort of demonic cult by most. It’s quite ridiculous.

“ M’gonna go take a shower. You good? ” Sloane asks Paloma once they’re inside, a hint of a smirk on her face at her friend’s growing closeness with August.

“ I’m fine and in very capable hands. ” She jests, playfully nudging him.

With a gracious sweep of his hand, August leads her on the grand tour, showing her all around the property. The outward appearance of this home is deceiving, as its interior dimensions far exceed expectations. It’s fully furnished, with the majority of bedrooms already claimed by members of August's collective.

She still doesn’t know much about them, only acquainted with the sparse details he's disclosed to her.

Seeking purpose, these wandering spirits have weathered the scrutiny of their communities for deviating from societal norms. Many among them are runaways or troubled youth, adrift with nowhere else to turn.

August possessed a unique talent for uniting fragmented souls. He wielded his philosophies and unconventional perspectives like a beacon, illuminating pathways to security and a profound sense of belonging for those who agreed to walk alongside him.

Not quite family, but a bond akin to it—a group of individuals capable of rescuing one another.

“ Were you two related? ” She inquires with a curious tilt of her head as they descend the large staircase, her hand still encircling his bicep.

“ Nah. I used to work at the grocery store back home and she would come in all the time needin’ a lotta help. After a few visits, she asked if I wanted a side gig. Basically just mowin’ her lawn, fixin’ things around her house and what not. I agreed and did that for a few years till she moved away. Hadn’t heard from from her till recently when I was passin’ through Fayette. Her lawyer tracked me down and told me she left all this,” Gestures to everything around them, “ To me. With a small fortune, too. Turns out she had no other family so she wrote me into her will shortly after I started workin’ for her. ”

Paloma absorbs all this information, engrossed entirely. “ That’s quite the story. Crazy how an act of kindness years ago ended up in all this. There’s a lesson in there somewhere. ” She remarks as they step into the spacious central area of the house, offering a panoramic view of both the front and back yards.

“ What goes around comes around, yeah? ” A beguiling smile plays across his face as he leads her into the backyard, and her eyes widen in astonishment.

The landscape is strikingly manicured, adorned with tastefully arranged outdoor furniture and a meticulously crafted stone fountain serving as its centerpiece. Not far off lies a sprawling garden, brimming with an array of crops and vegetables. Adjacent to it stands a quaint barn, completing the picturesque scene.

“ This is beautiful. Add a few farm animals and this place could be self-sustaining. ” She understands the immense effort required to maintain a place like this, but judging by its current state, it seems to have been well cared for. Now that they're here, she's confident that August harbors ambitious aspirations to elevate this space into something remarkable.

“ We got some pigs, a cow and a few chickens in the barn. ” He reveals to her, as if reading her mind, and she’s itching to get a look. She wishes she and her father had the time and resources to have farm animals of their own. Hell they have the land for it.

Just then, a young girl, her demeanor hesitant, approaches August and tells him he’s needed inside.

Paloma's gaze holds onto her, her appearance suggesting late adolescence. A slight ache grips her heart as she recalls the weighty traumas that drew these individuals together. The realization that someone so youthful has endured immense suffering tugs at Paloma's sentimentality.

“ Be right back. Feel free to look around. ” She nods as he separates from her, following the soft spoken girl inside the house.

Driven by curiosity, Paloma wanders about, stooping down to scrutinize the garden's burgeoning offerings. The sight of the fresh produce ignites a twinge of envy within her. Vegetables have never been her forte, explaining why her home garden mainly boasts an array of flowers.

Suddenly, a flicker of motion catches her attention nearby. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes narrow in curiosity before widening with delight as she discovers a playful kitten leisurely exploring its surroundings.

A large, goofy smile tugs at her lips as she attempts to scoop the animal into her arms to no avail. It scurries away before she can even reach for it.

“ C’mere little kitty… ” Her voice trails after it as she chases it around, weaving through the area until it darts towards the cellar of the house. Paloma nearly grasps it, but the kitten slips away into the thicket of bushes. Just as she resigns herself to letting it go, a faint voice drifts from behind the weighty cellar doors.

“ Hello? Is someone there? Please help me… ”

Her brows crease in confusion, struggling to decipher the person's muffled words. She leans in closer, on the verge of speaking, when the touch on her forearm interrupts her impending words.

A sound of surprise pushes past Paloma's lips as she swiftly turns her head, her eyes locking onto August. His brows knit together in a puzzled frown as he regards her, then his gaze flicks toward the cellar.

“ Whatcha doin’, sweetheart? ” He asks, loosening his grip on her arm and she pulls it to her side, straightening her posture.

“ I thought I heard, uh, someone askin’ for help. ” She stammers, gesturing towards the basement, a sudden unease settling at the base of her spine.

He hums in acknowledgement, eyes not leaving hers. “ S’probably someone workin’ on the busted pipe this place came with. Gabriel! ” He calls for his friend, who appears seemingly out of nowhere. “ Go see if they need anythin’. Paloma heard someone callin’ for help. ”

The two men share a silent exchange, their eyes conveying a conversation of their own. Then, with a nod from Gabe, he departs as swiftly as he arrived.

“ There’s somethin’ special I wanna show you. ” August starts to speak, drawing her focus away from the imposing cellar doors and extending his hand toward her.

She nods in agreement, no longer feeling uneased, intertwining their fingers as he guides her back toward the backyard, but this time leading her to a sprawling greenhouse.

A soft gasp escapes her as the structure comes into view, its presence previously unnoticed. He chuckles softly at her surprised reaction, enjoying her astonishment.

“ You like? ” He queries as they step inside, and her response is an eager nod, her gaze sweeping across the diverse assortment of plants and flowers with fascination.

Paloma finds herself unable to contain her excitement, delving into a torrent of facts and anecdotes about his greenery. It's only when she's passionately discussing azaleas and the challenges she’s facing nurturing the ones she planted earlier in the season that she abruptly pauses, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she realizes she's been carried away, “ Sorry, I didn’t mean t’get all rambly…. ”

“ Don’t apologize little dove. You look so cute like this. ” As his fingertips delicately tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she instinctively leans into his tender touch. The endearment he uses makes her heart flutter, her thoughts briefly flickering to Javi as she nervously nibbles on the inside of her cheek.

Not now, Paloma.

“ Let me take you out one night baby. ” He suddenly says and her eyes widen in surprise.

“ You want to go out with me? ” She asks, for some reason not believing him.

“ Of course. Thought I had made it obvious with the way I’ve been throwin’ myself at you. ”

Her bottom lip finds itself caught between her teeth, not oblivious to the way he has been coming on to her. Since she had someone else on her mind, she hadn’t really reciprocated any of his advances.

But after the kiss that never happened and the silence that followed, she figures this is exactly what she needs to get over the sting of Javier’s wordless rejection.

“ I would love to but everyone in town talks too much and if my dad got word that I was out on a date… ”

An undertone of irritation seeps into her words, noticeable even to him, and something flickers in his eyes as he catches onto it.

“ Don’t worry about that, okay? I’ll handle it. You just worry about gettin’ all pretty for me, which won’t take much considerin’ how perfect you are. ”

A flutter of warmth dances in her stomach at his sweet words.

“ Okay… then yes, I’d love to go out with you. ”

A handsome expression takes over his countenance, “ Perfect. Gotta get some stuff straightened out around here but I’ll call you. Hope I can talk to you before then, though? ”

“ Slo has my number… if you call and daddy answers just hang up and try again later. Don’t want him goin’ on one of his little tangents. ”

A smirk dances on August's lips, his mischievous urge to test the limits and provoke the sheriff evident. Yet, despite his inclination, he restrains himself, recognizing the strides he's making with her and unwilling to jeopardize the progress.

“ Yes ma’am, anythin’ else I need t’be made aware of? I like my manhood and would like to keep it attached to my person. ” He jokes about being castrated by her father and she snorts, rolling her eyes.

“ S’all. Don’t take too long ‘straightening things out’. If not I might lose interest. ”

His eyes darken at her words despite her playful tone, “ You won’t. ” August says with a conviction that has her rubbing her thighs together.

“ Then it’s a date. ” She nods, and they exchange an amorous stare, “ I should probably head back. Got some chores I gotta get done but I appreciate you showin’ me around. This is a beautiful place, you’ve really been blessed, August. It’s only up from here. ”

“ Any time. M’glad you came by today... Oh, and Paloma? ” He begins and she looks at him puzzledly.

“ Yeah? ”

“ I think it’s best if we keep this visit a secret between us. We’ve finally got some peace and quiet to be ourselves without being ostracized by the community and we’d like to keep it that way. Many of us ain’t ever had a place to call home so losing this… feeling uncomfortable here would negate all we’ve been working towards. ”

She nods, fully understanding how big of a deal this is to all of them and she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin their solace.

“ Of course. I won’t tell a soul. The only person I’d consider tellin’ already lives here. ” She giggles and his lip quirks up into a small smile.

He leads her back to her car, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, sending a wave of warmth through her. They bid farewell, and as August leans in to place a tender kiss on her cheek, she can't help but become flustered in response, gazing up at him with a hint of playful affection.

“ Don’t forget to call. ” She tells him, sliding into the driver's seat.

He closes the door, leaning down to talk to her through the rolled down window, “ I won’t. Just make sure you’re around to answer. ” He winks at her, slapping his palm against the top of her car. “ Drive safe, little dove. ”

Departing from the house, she carries a blend of excitement and nervousness. It'll be her first genuine date in years, igniting both giddiness and apprehension within her. Throughout the entire ride home, her mind swirls with fantasies about his plans for the evening and the possible outcomes of their time together. Javier pushed to the back of her mind entirely.

–––––––––––––––––––

When she gets home, Paloma is determined to make the most of the remainder of her day. However, her plans are momentarily halted as she notices a vividly colored piece of paper taped to the front door.

POWER OUTAGE IN IMMEDIATE AREA.

RESTORATION APPROX. 9PM.

Well shit , that's still hours away, and Paloma refuses to suffer through this heat at home with no air conditioning. So, she gathers all the laundry from the house and loads it into her car, making sure to grab her CD player, a book and her journal to stave off boredom. She’ll hang out at the laundromat until tonight, maybe even stop by to visit her father at the station in order to kill time.

The mere thought of encountering Javier sends a whirlwind of thoughts swirling through her mind, momentarily disrupting her focus. Despite the anticipation of potential awkwardness, Paloma resolves to maintain her composure. She makes a silent vow to herself to hold an air of nonchalance, determined to act as if nothing had transpired between them and she wasn't the least bit affected by their days of silence.

She pulls into the small parking lot of the laundromat, doing her best to haul everything inside in one trip. She struggles at first, her progress hindered by a persistent strand of hair that’s fallen loose from her ponytail. Despite her efforts to brush it aside, the unruly strand stubbornly resettles in front of her face each time. Frustration mounts, prompting a colorful stream of curses to escape her lips.

Using her ass to nudge the door open, she stumbles inside, careful not to topple over entirely and make a fool out of herself.

Once she’s in the small building, a refreshing wave of cool air washes over her, causing goosebumps to form on her skin despite the perspiration from the scorching weather outside.

Turning around, she doesn't anticipate encountering anyone and nearly loses her grip on everything she's carrying when she locks eyes with a familiar pair of deep, brown eyes staring back at her.

Javier. Of-fucking-course .

Paloma maintains her silence, averting her gaze swiftly. She busies herself with locating a spot on the opposite side from where he stands, this time managing to move her belongings without difficulty.

The gentle hum of the washing machines and dryers in operation fills the space, accompanied by the soft murmur of a soap opera emanating from the small, boxy television perched high in the corner.

Despite the distractions, a palpable tension lingers in the air, accentuated by the weight of his gaze boring into her back as she starts loading one of the machines.

" It's rude to stare, y'know, " She finally speaks up, unable to resist addressing his intense scrutiny. Turning to face him after finishing her task, she meets his gaze head-on.

Javier knew better than to openly gawk at her the moment she entered, but her unexpected presence caught him off guard. Their lack of interaction since that night at the fair only added to the uneasy atmosphere.

Immersing himself in his work, Javier threw himself into overhauling the department. With Romeo preoccupied by the missing persons case and other matters, Javier took it upon himself to revamp everything . Implementing a new filing system, acquiring better equipment, and updating certain procedures are just a few tasks amongst the many that became his primary focus. It was a deliberate effort to keep from pursuing her, however he found himself thoroughly enjoying the reorganization because he is good at it.

He had convinced himself that distancing from Paloma was the wisest choice. Initially, the flirtation had been manageable, but as their connection deepened and the lines of intimacy blurred, it became overwhelming.

While it was the rational decision, it wasn't without its challenges. Despite having plenty to occupy his mind, there remained a palpable void in the absence of her presence. Javier found himself yearning for their casual conversations and lighthearted banter, missing everything about their relationship beyond its romantic aspect.

Amidst his conflicted emotions, Javier grapples with a sense of guilt for harboring feelings towards the daughter of a man he now considers a friend. He witnesses firsthand the toll that the unsolved cases have taken on the sheriff, observing his friend's weariness and frustration. Javier dreads the possible fallout if his involvement with Paloma were ever to come to light; it would undoubtedly wreak havoc.

Yet as he stands there, charmed by the sight of her in her denim shorts and tied-up blouse, he finds himself unable to look away. Despite the weight of his conscience, he can't help but admire her beauty.

“ You’re right. Sorry querida . ”

She feels a flutter in her chest as he speaks to her, frustrated that she still reacts like a smitten teenager.

“ I’m surprised you even remember me. Figured we were strangers again. ” Her words drip with sarcasm, a tinge of bitterness creeping in. That little vow she’d made to herself to keep things nonchalant now swiftly tossed out the window.

“ I've been tied up at the station. ” He begins to explain, which isn’t a lie but also not the entire truth.

Paloma's soft hum fills the air as her eyes trace the contours of his figure, from the crown of his head to the tips of his boots, and a sigh as delicate as a whisper escapes her. The sight of him clad in the effortless ensemble of a plain t-shirt and denim jeans ignites a warmth within her, stirring a faint pulse between her legs.

How ridiculous it is for her to have vowed to keep her distance, agreeing to a date with another man just hours before; only to find herself standing here, unable to resist Javier's magnetic pull and being drawn back to him by the sheer force of his irresistible attractiveness.

“ So you’re not avoidin’ me ‘cause we almost kissed? ” Subtly be damned, she allows her words to linger, floating like weightless clouds in the space that separates them. Across the compact room, they share a gaze, locked in a suspended moment pregnant with anticipation where unspoken sentiments hover like ethereal whispers.

She can practically hear Sloane fussing at her, their last conversation about him still fresh on her mind.

It’s obvious what typa man he is. Flirty, handsome, charismatic. Sex on legs–– a long trail of broken hearts follow that man.

A subtle twitch dances along his jawline as she acknowledges the fleeting moment, “ S’that what all this is about, hermosa ? You think I’m ignoring you because we almost kissed? ” Despite that being the case, he maintains a composed facade, a humorless chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head. “ If you missed me, you can just say that. ” He teases, testing the waters in attempts to lighten the mood.

Paloma emits a soft snort, a reflex to mask the warmth flooding her cheeks as she averts her gaze, ensuring he doesn't catch sight of the gentle blush coloring her features.“ As if. Just kinda rude to be a part of a friend’s big moment then ice ‘em out after a heat of the moment mishap. ”

His tongue glides over his teeth, a simple gesture as his gaze remains fixed on hers, unwavering. “ I wasn’t icin’ you out, princesa . ” Javier states smoothly, his words flowing effortlessly despite it still being a lie, “ I've genuinely been busy as hell. Redoin’ the infrastructure of the department, helping your pops out with the cases. Shitty timing but I’m not dodging you on purpose. ”

Paloma contemplates his words, her gaze fixed on his features, searching for any telltale signs of deception. A growing sense of embarrassment floods over her as she reflects on how wrongly she had interpreted his silence. It dawns on her that Javier had merely been occupied with his responsibilities—it was his job , after all. Considering her father's recent transition to overnight shifts, she can envision how deeply absorbed Javier must be in the process of reevaluating everything.

She conceals her embarrassment. Though inwardly, she chastises herself for allowing her emotions to cloud her judgment, berating her heart for leading the way instead of her (sometimes not so) rational mind.

“ So things aren’t weird between us? ”

“ Not in the slightest. ”

“ Water under the bridge? ”

“ Water under the bridge. ”

A smile curves Paloma's lips as she pushes herself away from the running washing machine, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her denim shorts. She saunters over to him, each step purposeful, exuding a quiet yet growing confidence.

“ Okay. I guess I mighta jumped the gun a bit… ” She admits and he flashes her a knowing smile.

“ Just a little. ”

It's unexpectedly simple for them to lie to themselves and each other about the nature of their connection. Whatever the manner it takes to get them to this fragile sense of peace; he’ll take

Finally, Javier can free himself from dwelling on the petty dysfunction between them, self-conscious about his recognition of how much he’s missed having her around.

It was only a week of silence. Can they be any more pathetic?

As she approaches him, however, Javier can’t help but let those pesky explicit thoughts infiltrate his mind. How he’d love to pull her flush against him, cover her mouth with his and kiss her until they’re both breathless. Grab a handful of her plump ass and perch her on top of one of these machines, feeling her fingers run through his hair as his dug into her hips.

He’d be content with just that, feeling her inviting lips, tasting her lip gloss and nipping at the soft skin until the flesh is swollen due to the passionate exchange.

It’s thoughts like these that make it hard for him to conceal his feelings. Why he initially sought to create space between them, only to find that maintaining distance was more challenging than simply being in her presence.

“ Y’know, I actually missed makin’ fun of you. ”

“ Is that all I am to you? Someone to poke fun at solely for your entertainment? ”

“ Uh, yeah. I thought that was a mutual understandin’? ” She snickers and the tension dissolves entirely as they fall back into their usual limbo.

Javier reassures himself that he can handle this situation with normalcy as he engages in conversation with Paloma while they attend to their laundry. He convinces himself that he can exercise self-restraint and maintain a romantic distance while remaining close to her in a platonic sense. Recognizing their mutual maturity, he sees no reason to let something as trivial as a crush disrupt the budding friendship they both clearly cherish.

He can totally just be friends with a bewitching and irresistible woman like her. He can shed his reputation as a womanizer. Think with something other than his dick for once.

“ Do you dance, cowboy? ” She inquires, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she presses play on the CD player, flooding the room with the twang of a country song.

“ Yeah, why? ” He responds, his gaze fixed on her as she gracefully maneuvers in the confined, open area at the rear of the shop.

“ ‘Cause they’re havin’ a little line dance event on Saturday before I play. Figured you’d swing by and join in on the fun. ” She explains, her movements syncing with the rhythm of the song as she executes a simple two-step before spinning. Javier finds himself unknowingly grinning as his thumb brushes against the corner of his lip after gliding over his mustache.

“ I dance but not line dancing. S’not my thing. ” He admits, though he'll make an exception, just to watch her have fun.

“ Well it can be your thing for one night. Get that stick outta your ass, viejo . ” She giggles softly, her feet effortlessly finding the beat as she kicks them out in perfect rhythm. With a fluid motion, she sways her hips, his attention drawn to the exposed skin of her midriff before looking back up at her.

“ You gotta teach me then, ‘cause I don’t know a single fucking one of those dances. ” This has her halting her movements entirely, extending her arms outward and motioning for him to join her.

He approaches her with deliberate steps, and she guides him to stand exactly where she desires, her touch on his bicep igniting volts of energy to flash through him.

“ It’s very easy. I’ll make sure to request one of the beginner songs just for you. They usually reserve those for the kiddos. ” She jests, licking her lips.

Javier chuckles, releasing a breath through his nose and shaking his head in amusement.

She takes the lead, gently leading him through each step of the country dance, her giggles tinkling like music when he stumbles. Their occasional collisions only deepen their shared laughter, weaving a tender bond between them with each clumsy misstep.

Her presence has a revitalizing effect on Javier, coaxing forth a lighter, more carefree aspect of his personality that had become obscured during his years in Colombia. Once cynical and self-centered, he had morphed into a man driven by ambition, his reputation tainted by arrogance and a propensity for hedonism. He was known as a whore and a volatile agent, his temper often preceding him like a dark cloud.

Despite his notorious reputation, he made unparalleled strides, surpassing all others in his field. Though he grew increasingly daring toward the end, it was the sacrifice of his character and morals that enabled the DEA to take out Escobar and propel their efforts towards dismantling the Cali cartel.

With the turmoil behind him, Javier stands at a crossroads, presented with the opportunity to reconstruct himself anew. He's determined to chart a new course for his future, to discern how he desires to navigate the remainder of his life. Aspiring to become the man he knows he is capable of being.

It’s going to take a lot of fucking work, requiring him to confront the discomfort of self-reflection head-on. Yet, he realizes that the initial stride involves acknowledging the imperative need for change. Without it, he risks being ensnared in a future filled with cynicism and dread.

Inadvertently, Paloma aids him in this rediscovery journey of his; finding and polishing all the good aspects of his character, valiantly putting them on display.

She evokes feelings of joy and normalcy within him, a stark contrast to his usual reserved nature. It’s why he finds it challenging to suppress his feelings for her, why his heart and mind become entwined in a beautiful chaos whenever she crosses his path.

–––––––––––––––––––

“ Peña! Over here! ” She exclaims the moment she spots him, beckoning him eagerly from her position by the pool table

In the midst of the crowd, Paloma effortlessly commands attention. Her hair is elegantly tousled into a stylish updo with wisps of hair gracefully framing her face, her oversized hoop earrings glisten in the soft glow of the bar lights. Adorned in a snug denim jumpsuit, it contours to her every curve, accentuating her figure. As he draws nearer, he finds his gaze irresistibly drawn to her silhouette, particularly to the gentle curve of her ass.

His eyes quickly shift as he notices her father poised over the velvet-covered table, cue in hand, striking the white ball amidst a chaotic scattering of others.

Fortunately, he hadn't caught Javier openly eye-fucking his daughter. That would have undoubtedly led to an uncomfortable conversation.

“ Wasn’t aware you’d be here, Romeo. ” Javi says as the two men greet each other in a friendly handshake.

“ First weekend off in ages and this one convinced me I needed to get out and relieve some stress. ”

Paloma leans over, her concentration evident as she assesses her next move, closing one eye to refine her aim. With a confident swing, she propels the cue ball forward, skillfully sinking two of her own colored balls into separate pockets. She celebrates her achievement with cheerful exuberance.

“ Though ain’t no stress bein’ relieved with the way she’s whoopin’ my ass. ” The older man grunts.

“ You literally taught me how to play. ” She retorts with a playful roll of her eyes, chalking her pool stick.

“ Maybe he’ll have better luck at it then me. M’goin’ to get somethin’ drink. Y’all want anythin’? ” He asks, handing the cue stick over to Javier.

Paloma orders her usual mocktail and Javier orders a plain beer, deviating from his typical whiskey neat.

He casually removes his leather jacket, revealing a red button-up shirt with the top buttons left undone, a habitual style choice. She quickly averts her gaze, preempting any chance of him catching her admiring stare and sporting that smug grin on his devilishly attractive face.

“ Don’t get your hopes up, I’ll probably beat you at it too. ” She rounds the table, nearing him as he takes his turn, just barely missing the corner pocket.

He blames her close proximity.

“ Oh, so close. ” She teases, patronizingly nudging him aside to take her position. As she leans forward, she brushes against him, and he takes a lengthy step back before his hand instinctively comes down to grab at her waist.

Paloma purposefully arches her back as she’s bent over the table, feeling his gaze on her. It’s fun riling men up because it’s so easy –– as if she hadn’t just been on the verge of drooling when he shrugged his jacket off.

Another success as her balls fall into the pockets, she flashes him a victorious grin over her shoulder.

“ Told you . ” She repeats his words back to him, remembering how smug he’d gotten after knocking down all the bottles with the baseball.

“ You’re playin’ a dangerous game here princesa . ” They gravitate closer, as if entering a trance that keeps them from remembering that this is what they’re both trying to avoid.

“ Am I? ” She challenges, gazing up at him with a playful glint in her eyes, framed by her thick lashes.

Romeo reappears with perfect timing, distributing drinks as they settle into the rhythm of their evening. The first part of their night unfolds amidst friendly competition, with Paloma emerging victorious in nearly every game against the two men. However, there's a solitary exception when she graciously allows them a victory. A mercy win of sorts

By this point, the bar begins to buzz with activity. When the familiar strains of country music fill the air, Paloma's face lights up with a wide smile as she beckons Javier to join her with an inviting gesture.

“ Alright now, cowboy, hope you’ve been practicin’ those moves I showed ya. ” He exchanges a look with the sheriff, an amused expression on his face.

“ She’s roped you into it, huh? Feels good to no longer be her only victim, ” The sheriff jokes which prompts her to roll her eyes and for Javier to genuinely laugh.

“ Both of you are no fun, but I reckon this one here has no choice but to join me. ”

He allows her to pull him towards the open area of the dance floor, a crowd gathering around them but he’s only focused on her .

They synchronize their movements, the steps simple enough for him to have retained in the days that followed her little lesson at the laundromat. He acknowledges internally the genuine effort he's putting into dancing with her, despite his initial reluctance.

The radiant smile on her face makes every effort worthwhile.

Across the bar, Sloane observes the affectionate scene with interest, prompting her to excuse herself momentarily to make a phone call.

When the song ends, Paloma turns to him. “ See? That wasn’t so bad. You did really good! ”

“ Well, I did have a great dance instructor. ” He quips, and she suppresses a grin by biting her lip. She's probably beaming like the damn Cheshire Cat right now.

Upon rejoining Romeo, he's teasing Javier about his dancing.

“ Oh daddy, don’t be such a bully. ” Though her attention is diverted by the fresh tray of loaded fries resting on the edge of their pool table, and she takes a forkful; practically scarfing them down.

“ Slow down, they’re not goin’ anywhere. ” Her father comments as she devours the entirety of the appetizer.

“ I haven’t eaten all day and loaded fries are the best thing to ever be invented. ”

“ Just like fried oreos? ” Javier can't resist the opportunity to tease her, shooting her a playful glance over the brim of his beer glass as he takes a sip.

She shoots him a sharp look, “ Don’t. ” Though she smiles softly, part of her wishing she could relive the entirety of that night. Sans the ferris wheel ride.

Shortly after finishing, Paloma heads off to prepare for her gig.

“ Been meanin’ to ask… ” The older man begins as they make their way to the usual table they sit at, “ How was the trip to Dallas? You got back damn near the next mornin’. ”

Javier tenses briefly but recovers, reaching for his trusty pack of cigarettes so he can puff on one while he does his best to recount that night without incriminating himself.

“ It was great. She had a lotta fun… would have been back earlier but she insisted on staying to enjoy the fair. She can be very persistent. ” He lights the stick, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out through his nose.

“ Tell me about it. M’just glad she enjoyed herself. She deserves it, my sweet girl. ” The adoration on his eyes is clear as day, that guilt Javi feels for pining after his daughter intensifies in the moment but it’s quickly dispersed as Paloma joins the stage.

The night unfolds in its usual manner, with her infectious energy and unmatched talent captivating the audience. Amidst a break between songs, she takes a sip of water, her gaze drifting across the crowd until it lands on August. A smile tugs at her lips as she realizes that he's never seen her perform before. With her heart racing at the thought, she caps her water bottle and steps up to the microphone, clearing her throat in preparation.

“ This next song has become one of my favorites after bein’ introduced to it by a very special friend. ” Her eyes meet August’s and they twinkle underneath the stage lights. He raises his hand in a subtle wave as they acknowledge one another. “ This is Creep by Radiohead. ”

♫

The song commences, and as expected, she delivers it perfectly. Javier becomes utterly entranced by her, mesmerized by the power of her voice. He's so absorbed in her presence that he barely notices when the sheriff and some of his friends step outside, leaving him alone at the table with a fresh cigarette nestled between his lips.

Whatever makes you happy.

Whatever you want.

You’re so very special.

I wish I was special.

In the midst of the crowd, a man emerges, clutching a vibrant bouquet of flowers that he carefully places on the stage near Paloma. Their eyes meet, and a surge of butterflies fills Paloma's stomach as she realizes he's brought her azaleas, recalling her disappointment since her own hadn't bloomed properly.

A trace of her excitement seeps into her singing, a gentle giggle interwoven with the lyrics as August winks at her before departing.

Javier finds himself frowning as he observes the exchange, a dangerous wave of jealousy sweeping over him. It's only when the man begins to depart that Javier recognizes him.

Augustus fucking Dixon.

–––––––––––––––––––

For the remainder of the night and well into the following morning, Javier's mind is consumed by that interaction. He replays it over and over again – Paloma's mention of August as a "special friend," the bouquet of flowers he had left for her.

The memory of her smile, her laughter directed at him , and the song she sang, seemingly just for him , echoes relentlessly in his thoughts.

Javier can't shake the pinched feeling in his chest. He berates himself for his irrational jealousy. After all, he has no claim over Paloma in any way, shape, or form. She's a young, beautiful, and talented woman, free to be with anyone she damn pleases.

But to get involved with August? Javier can't help but feel a surge of frustration. He's pored over the guy’s file, seen the litany of petty crimes and the years he's spent behind bars as a result. In Javier's eyes, Paloma deserves better – so much better. Someone who will treat her with the respect and admiration she deserves.

It's unfair of him to react this way, he knows. Yet, try as he might to quell the rising tide of envy, he finds himself struggling against the tumultuous waves of the emotion.

Paloma needs to be adored like the shining star she is, to be with someone who'll kiss the ground she walks on and and treat her like fucking royalty.

What she doesn’t need is to be entangled with a petty criminal adorned in tattoos, sporting a questionable haircut, and roaring around on a motorcycle.

What–– was he going to be the one to treat her as well as she deserves? The man with a jaded past and inability to commit? Yeah, right. He’s delusional for even letting that thought cross his mind.

Javier lets out a soft scoff, exhaling a stream of smoke through the cracked window of his cruiser. He sits parked in front of the church building where mass is currently being held.

He finds himself here after finding out that Gabriel Torres is employed as a groundskeeper for the property. It gives reason as to why he was around the day of Nina Thorton’s funeral, but doesn't quite explain why he paused to stare at her picture in deep thought before leaving.

A nagging sense of intrigue gnaws at Javier as he considers the situation. There's an underlying connection here, he senses it, yet he struggles to pinpoint exactly what it might be. Nina and Gabriel come from different towns, and Gabriel's nomadic lifestyle suggests he's been traversing the state for a while. From what Javi has gleaned about the deceased girl, Nina wasn't one to associate with the ‘wrong crowd’. Still, he acknowledges the disparity between stating she wasn't that type and the possibility that appearances can be deceiving.

Driven by his spark of jealousy, Javier intends to delve deeper into the group that includes Gabriel, August, and Sloane. Returning to his place last night, he poured over their files and any other pertinent information he could find at that moment.

With sparse details at his disposal, he relies on the hearsay from the locals and a single notable arrest involving the trio. In this incident, they were apprehended for setting a cross ablaze in the heart of the woods. The resulting fire grew out of control, warranting all three of them to serve two years in jail.

Driven by a fierce determination, Javier resolves to unearth more information, to transform the whispers and rumors into concrete knowledge. He wants to unravel the enigma of August, to understand why someone as riveting as Paloma would choose to align herself with someone like him .

Javier remains steadfast in his pursuit, refusing to relent until he can definitively eliminate this group from his (almost nonexistent) roster of suspects. He won’t dismiss them entirely until he's thoroughly convinced of their innocence. Moreover, he harbors no intention of divulging his personal investigation to the sheriff. After all, he had dismissed them months ago without a second thought, and Javier sees no reason to involve him now.

Unless he finds something of use, that is.

He gets out of his cruiser in his full sheriff deputy getup, snubbing out the finished cigarette with the bottom of his boot. Javier readjusts the gun that’s tucked against his lower back, plucking out a piece of spearmint gum to rid him of the nicotine taste that lingers in his mouth.

He rounds the building until he’s at the graveyard nestled on the grounds, approaching the younger male who is in the midst of digging a hole into the ground.

“ Gabriel Torres? ” Javier announces himself, lazily chewing on his gum as the guy turns to face him with a skeptical look on his face.

No words are exchanged, but Javi catches the subtle nod of acknowledgment directed his way.

“ Javier Peña with Seminary’s Sheriff’s Department. Got a second to answer some questions. ” He states, his gaze focused intently on the man's face, searching for any subtle clues in his expression. After a beat of silence, he continues, “ You’re not in any kind of trouble or anythin’. I’m just curious about the things I’ve been hearin’ about this group you’re part of. ” Another analytical look follows, his amber-tinted shades not obscuring the intent behind his gaze.

Gabe drives the sharp end of the shovel deep into the soft earth, using it as a support as he leans against it. His gaze shifts to the officer before him, his expression thoughtful as he weighs the decision of whether speaking to him is wise or not.

“ What is it? ”

Javier’s hands fall to his waist, resting atop of his utility belt that has all his equipment on it.

“ You’re not really sacrificin’ goats and eating newborns, right? ” He chuckles dryly. As absurd as it may sound, it was verbatim to what a group of elderly woman had told him not long ago. Obviously, Javier treated it with a healthy dose of skepticism, but he realizes the importance of approaching this conversation with an open mind, not wanting to intimidate Gabriel into clamming up.

Given the number of arrests involving Gabriel and his two companions, Javier is acutely aware that they may not have the best relationship with authority. Consequently, he opts to adopt a more amicable approach, aiming to play the role of the ‘good cop’.

Gabriel dismisses the notion with a shake of his head. “ Nah, man, we ain't doing all that. ” He replies. August had practically drilled everyone in their group on how to handle police interactions. Normally, Gabriel would stay silent and brush off an officer altogether, but he's aware of Javier's significance, especially regarding August's interest in Paloma.

Sloane has kept them informed about her growing feelings for the older man and how that can be a hindrance to the overarching goal the group has.

“ Kinda fuckin’ annoyin’ that people spew that bullshit without knowin’ how we actually operate. S’like the second they can’t wrap their narrow-minded brains around somethin’–– the first thing they do is shout devil and other obscenities. Pointin’ fingers and grabbin’ their torches and pitchforks. ”

Javier remains silent, allowing Gabriel to voice his thoughts without interruption. Yet, behind his outward calmness, his mind is sharp, absorbing every syllable uttered and analyzing the subtle nuances of Gabe’s demeanor. Observation is a skill honed over years of experience, and Javier excels in deciphering the unspoken language of body cues.

As Gabriel speaks, frustration emanates from him like a palpable force, evident in the tension of his posture and the earnestness in his voice. Javier takes note of every detail, recognizing the authenticity behind the words.

“ It’s why we move around so damn much. Each time we think we found a place to settle in at, they’re runnin’ us off… Y’know, for claiming to be such compassionate people–– they sure are hateful. ”

Javier finds resonance in Gabriel's sentiment. Hypocrisy often cloaks itself in the guise of piety, a facade worn by many he has encountered. The irony is not lost on him as he reflects on the dichotomy between professed faith and heinous deeds.

In his mind's eye, Javier recalls the sanctimonious cartels in Colombia, adorned with religious iconography that belied their nefarious activities. Their clandestine operations, stained with bloodshed and violence, stood in stark contradiction to the sanctity they purportedly revered.

“ Pretty shitty that you all have had to go through that… Has anyone ever attempted to retaliate? Some kind of revenge for constantly being pushed away? ” Javi probes, earning a narrowed gaze from Gabe before their conversation is interrupted by another figure joining in.

“ Chattin’ up a narc ? ” The insult rolls off August’s tongue with purpose as he approaches and Javier’s jaw ticks at the sound of his voice.

The two of them size each other up. August is a few inches taller than Javier though the discrepancy hardly matters given Javier's hardened demeanor and inability to appear weak .

Now that he’s got a closer look at the guy, he really can’t fathom what it is that Paloma sees in him.

“ He was just askin’ about the group. Tryin’ to discern if we’re actually killin’ babies ‘round here. ” They share a laugh but Javier remains stone faced, annoyed at August’s interference.

“ Ah, well, officer, I can assure you that none of that is happenin’. We’re a peaceful bunch... don’t bother no one. Keep to ourselves. Sure we’ve all done some pretty fucked up things but that’s all behind us. I created the Paragons of the Sacrificed with one goal: to unite and rehabilitate broken souls without the influence of organized religion. S’been workin’ so far–– most of our members have stayed outta trouble, others following through with their sobriety. ”

Javier remains skeptical of August's supposed rehabilitation, a sentiment perhaps colored by his personal dislike for the man. With little else to say, he simply grunts in acknowledgment. The name of the group now revealed and stored away in his mind.

“ Sounds like a good thing, then. Wonder why everyone is so insistent that you’re all trouble. ”

“ ‘Cause of the childish shit we used to do. S’quite simple. They also feel threatened by the worship of something that isn't their precious God. ”

“ So what is it that you devote yourself to then? ” Javier maintains unwavering eye contact with August as he poses the question, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Amid the tense silence, Javier's attention is diverted by a sudden commotion emanating from inside the church.

“ Seems like you’re needed elsewhere, Officer Peña . ” August remarks with a tilt of his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. Javier feels the temptation to reply with a snarky comment, but he restrains himself.

He's determined to maintain the fragile rapport he's building with Gabriel. He senses that he might be the one to provide the answers he seeks. Javier isn't confident in Sloane's ability to keep his sleuthing quiet around Paloma, and he certainly doesn't trust August.

With a pointed glance at both of them, Javi excuses himself, now determined to investigate the unfolding disturbance.

Upon entering the stuffy church, his stomach sinks as he witnesses the chaotic scene unfolding in the tranquil atmosphere of the Sunday mass.

Mr. Thorton, his face contorted with grief and fueled by alcohol, stumbles down the aisle, his slurred words echoing through the hallowed space. The congregation shifts uncomfortably in their seats as he spews venomous words about his deceased daughter, casting blame upon the town for its perceived failure to bring her justice.

With practiced calm, Javier steps forward, his authoritative presence attempting to quell the rising tension. He approaches Mr. Thorton, who sways unsteadily on his feet, his sorrow morphing into rage. Despite his inebriated state, Mr. Thorton's words cut through the air like knives, each one laced with pain and bitterness.

As Javier attempts to diffuse the situation, Mr. Thorton's desperation reaches a fever pitch. In a moment of reckless anguish, he lunges towards Paloma, his grip fierce and unyielding. The gasps of the onlookers mingle with Paloma's startled cry as Javier moves swiftly to intervene, his strong arms encircling Mr. Thorton and pulling him back with firm force.

The sheriff looks like he might kill the man for putting his hands on his daughter.

In that fraught moment, Javier feels for the broken man before him, his own frustration mirrored in Mr. Thorton's anguished cries. But duty compels him to maintain order. And so, with resolve in his eyes and compassion in his heart, Javier guides Mr. Thorton’s wrists behind his back to cuff him and redirect him away from the congregation.

His steps are heavy with the burden of sorrow that hangs in the air. “ Alright, let’s go. ” Javier murmurs, dragging the babbling man down the aisle and out the door.

Concerned whispers fill the room as a few people gather around Paloma, their eyes reflecting worry and sympathy. She offers them a reassuring smile, her hand absently rubbing at her sore forearm where Mr. Thorton's grip had been firm and unforgiving. Beneath the surface, she can feel the faint stirrings of pain, a precursor to the bruises that will inevitably bloom in the days to come.

Despite the suddenness, Paloma's focus remained fixed on Javier through the entirety of the situation. His entrance had been a beacon of stability in the midst of disruption, his authoritative presence a comforting anchor in the turmoil. She watched as he moved through the room with practiced ease, his gaze sweeping over the congregation with a blend of vigilance and concern.

When their eyes met, Paloma felt a rush of gratitude wash over her. And though her arm may bear the physical imprint of Mr. Thorton's aggression, she finds solace in the man who jumped into action.

Because it’s his job, Paloma. Stop overthinking every little interaction you have with him!

Despite the chaos of the moment, Paloma couldn’t help but be entranced by Javier's presence. There's something undeniably sexy about him in his uniform, the way he rushed to her side with a sense of protective urgency that set her heart racing. As he strides out of the church, his silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, her gaze lingers on the gun tucked into the back of his pants.

For a brief, exhilarating moment, she's overwhelmed by the rush of emotions that flood her senses. The sight of him, strong and resolute in the face of conflict, stirs something deep within her, igniting a spark of longing that she struggles to contain. But then reality comes crashing back in, reminding her of the solemn setting of the church and the prying eyes of the congregation.

With a rueful shake of her head, Paloma pushes aside her fleeting infatuation, burying it beneath a veil of composure. She knows that now is not the time nor the place for such thoughts, not with her father and the watchful eyes of their community bearing down on her. And so, with a determined resolve, she squares her shoulders and turns her attention back to the proceedings, pushing aside her wayward emotions in favor of the solemnity of the moment.

The Thorton family's sorrow weighs heavily on Paloma's heart in the aftermath of their tragic loss. It's evident that the death of their daughter has left them shattered, each member of the family bearing the scars of grief in their own way. Mr. Thorton's descent into alcoholism and his wife's spiral into depression paint a poignant picture of their collective anguish.

She finds herself contemplating whether she should reach out to them, offering a small gesture of solace in the face of their immense pain. The idea of stopping by their house, perhaps with a comforting dish in hand, crosses her mind as she ponders ways to alleviate their suffering, even if only for a fleeting moment. Yet, she knows deep down that no amount of well-intentioned gestures can ever fully mend the brokenness that has consumed their family.

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kimvvantae · 2 years

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gravity ▸ knj (m)

➜ 5 months after the breakup, you're still gravitating around each other, no matter how hard you try not to. the only way to finally free yourselves from this pull is to let your orbits collide one last time.

pairing: namjoon x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst • exes au, porn with plot

warnings: infidelity. explicit sexual content (rough sex, oral (m receiving, throat fucking), fingering, spitting, hair pulling, ass slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, nj has a gigantic d). alcohol consumption. smoking. brief mentions of vomiting. let me repeat: INFIDELITY, do not read if this type of content makes you uncomfortable!. basically sad porn

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 11k

A/N: this is a work of fiction, i do not glorify the actions of the characters. other than that, please feast some sad porn! special thanks to my brother abel tesfaye for inspiring me into writing this mess. as usual, feedback is MUCH MUCH appreciated!

➜ MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST | FEEDBACK

It’s ridiculous that Namjoon immediately spotted you as soon as you walked in.

It happened again. He thought he was over it already - over you. The magnetism. There’s no other word to describe the phenomenon that happens whenever you are around. Like a tiny, stupid planet being attracted to a heavy gravitational spot… a star. You. Indeed, the brightest star in this crowded room, so crowded that it’s almost impossible to cross it without bumping into someone.

It’s like a sick joke. Why did he have to notice you so quickly? Why suddenly, as soon as he laid his eyes on you, everything else seemed pale and uninteresting in comparison? The loud music isn’t as exciting anymore, nor the chat he was having with his friends a mere second ago. The beer he just swallowed suddenly tastes like iron as it slides down his throat. Everything and everyone becomes distant - only noises in the back of his head, only blurred faces.

Except you.

He can see you in detail.

The tight, short black dress. So tight. It enhances every curve of your body. Namjoon doesn’t recognize this dress, which means you bought it after the break up. He loves it - the sight makes him hold the bottle of beer a little tighter. You wear a leather jacket over it, though, to protect you from the chilly night out there, which makes him a little disappointed - he’d like to see your figure in the dress, in all its glory, without anything to hide it.

The hairstyle and perfect makeup… Namjoon just knows you took hours to look as good as you look right now - although, in his opinion, you look just as incredible without any of it. He remembers all the times you went out together, you texting him that you were “almost done” when in fact you hadn’t even showered yet - which sometimes annoyed him, but the final result was always worth the wait, and he always made sure to show how he appreciated your efforts afterwards. He can almost see you in front of the bathroom mirror, angrily searching for the foundation bottle you lost again, until you’d ask if he’d just watch and laugh or would help you find it.

How many memories can flood his mind in such short seconds?

It’s been five months. Five months without seeing you. No hearing the sound of your laughter, no texts, no dates, no touching or tasting you. Five months of not seeing each other after three years of seeing each other almost every day.

When you took the decision to break up, his most optimistic friends - and his family - called it freedom. Namjoon, however, faced it as punishment. Torture. It was painful to live away from you. The endless fights seemed meaningless in comparison. No… deep down, Namjoon knows he's lying to himself. He misses the fights. Like a drug addict in abstinence, he can’t help but miss the things that harmed him.

You were a drug. You made him high. For three years, he was intoxicated by your face, your body, your voice; your fun side, your focused side, your caring side, your intelligent side. Your awful side. The unjustified jealousy. The bad temper. The disagreements and arguments. The sex. God - no one else made him feel that way. It’s like you memorized his body like a map; you knew exactly what to do, where to touch. One look from across the room was enough to make his body get a fever. The fun sex when you were on your better weeks and the angry sex when you were on your worst ones.

At some point, the awful side became much more apparent than all the others in his point of view. And yet, he carried on with this relationship as much as he could, because he was addicted - he needed the adrenaline and bliss to stay alive. Until it got unsustainable. Until you finally decided to let go.

And, as soon as you gave the final word, Namjoon realized he’s a masochist. No sane person would miss a relationship so broken like that; not when the fights became much more frequent than any happy moment. But he couldn’t help missing you badly. Even though he did every possible effort to avoid meeting you, even though he blocked you on every social media - it didn’t work. Going on dates with other girls didn’t work. Not to say they weren’t pretty enough, interesting enough or that the sex wasn’t good enough… but they weren’t you.

Namjoon is just a stupid, tiny planet, stuck in your gravitational orbit. He is reminded of this fact the moment he sees you. He was never healed from you. He never detoxified from you.

You, on the other hand, seem to be doing much better than him.

One second after stepping in, he walks in too, fingers intertwined with yours.

Namjoon heard the rumors from common friends. He brushed it off with faked disinterest, but he was too weak to not care. Unblocking your Instagram profile for the first time in months was enough. He saw the picture.

Mark. He knows this guy. An easy-going, extroverted type of guy. Apparently a good person.

By all accounts - considering how his life felt like literal hell at some point while you were together -, Namjoon should hope you found someone that would make you feel as bad as you made him feel. Yes, he could be vengeful like that. Or… he still has feelings for you, that’s undeniable - so, from this standpoint, he should hope Mark was a good guy to you, hope he would treat you right… how could he wish something bad upon someone he cared for?

Wait.

No.

Namjoon shouldn’t care for whoever his ex was dating at all. It shouldn’t affect him anymore.

But it does.

The sight of this Mark guy holding your hand and smiling at you - and you smiling back - irks him up. The realization that you spent hours getting ready for him irks him. You look happy.

Namjoon is a damn addict. A pathetic junkie. A tiny, stupid planet orbiting around you.

Although he just got here, he knows he needs to leave. His night is over anyway. It’d be better if he managed to leave before you could notice him - like this, at least, he’d still have a little bit of dignity intact.

However - what Namjoon doesn’t know is that, despite appearances, this magnetism is a two way road.

Because you spot him almost immediately, too.

When your eyes meet his, the smile fails. You stand there, frozen, shocked, before Mark puts his hand on your waist, totally unaware of the situation.

You avoid Namjoon’s gaze and look back at your current boyfriend. Smile again. This smile is an act, though. Namjoon can read you like an open book.

Namjoon gulps.

He should probably leave.

But he won’t. He can’t. He knows it.

Your gravitational field forces him to stay.

He’s just a stupid little planet, after all. How could he fight against the pull of a star?

Babe, I want to leave.

It’s what you want to say as soon as you see Namjoon sitting there. You want to grab Mark’s hand and walk away. But fuck - how can you, when this is Mark’s best friend’s party? He’s been talking about it for days. You can’t ask him to leave, nor can you leave without him.

You don’t want to stay in the same place as him. No, no, no. Just no.

How could you know he’d be here? You've been avoiding him so carefully for the past five months. You always made sure that Namjoon wouldn’t be at the places you planned to go beforehand - especially parties like this one, because hell, Namjoon knows too many people. But you failed this time. You didn’t expect Namjoon to be here at all. It seemed that Mark and Namjoon didn’t have common friends, which was honestly a relief.

You were wrong, obviously.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You feel Mark’s hand on the small of your back as he introduces you to his friends, but your mind isn’t really here as you greet them, and you don’t feel butterflies in your stomach when Mark makes it clear you're his girlfriend. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. You were excited to meet his friends and to be called girlfriend. But all you can feel right now is a chilling cold inside your stomach - not in a good way.

He's literally right there, sitting a few meters away from you.

Shit.

Mark has a happy smile as he leans in, bringing his lips closer to your ear so he can be heard over the loud music: "Do you wanna drink anything, babe?"

No, you want to say. I want to leave. But it's the excited gleam in his eyes that holds you back.

"Yes." Before Mark can walk away on his own to bring you a drink, you grab his hand. "Let's take a drink."

There's no way you're leaving Mark's side with him around.

Not because you're afraid of Namjoon - he might have many flaws, but you never felt unsafe in the slightest around him. No… it's another problem.

You might not be strong enough to face him.

Not at all.

It seems that five months of distance weren't enough. You thought you'd be indifferent to his presence at this point; you thought you got over him. Fuck, you're literally holding your boyfriend's hand. Yet… the moment you noticed Namjoon's in the same room as you, it's like all of your senses went crazy.

You still feel his eyes on you. It's enough to make your cheeks burn. Three years of dating and it never changed - the way a single look of his could put you at ease, how he could make you nervous and giddy and excited. You always loved his look of approval. Namjoon made you feel wanted. That's why you never measured efforts to look as good as possible whenever he was around, even though he always complimented your beauty, with makeup and good clothes or not.

That's not fair.

Mark is talking about something with his friends, but you're not paying attention to anything anymore. The loud music resonates on your stomach and makes you feel nauseous. Fuck. Your night is ruined - and it didn't even begin yet.

You still feel his eyes on you. Shit, you shouldn't. But for the briefest moment, you lift your gaze to look at him again.

Shit shit shit shit.

His black hair is cut short in that way he knows you love. He's wearing the loose black leather jacket you helped him choose, and you realize in shock that your outfits are matching. He's sitting carelessly on the couch in a comfortable position, legs spread, as some guy you don't know is invested in telling him something you can't hear from this distance, but Namjoon is barely paying attention, his eyes focused on you instead. Though you hadn't exchanged a word, his single gaze - the way his eyebrows are softly knitted, his clenched jaw, the way he presses his tongue inside his cheek, how he tilts his head and runs his hand over his mouth for a moment - tell everything you need to know:

He's angry.

He checks your body up and down, and you shiver, even though it's hot inside this crowded house.

You know him too damn well.

This is also his look of I want you.

You gulp and immediately avoid his gaze again in a desperate attempt to pay attention to anything else.

But you know yourself very well, too. You know the way you unconsciously squeeze your thighs on one another, the way your breathing quickens and your heart races.

And you don't know if you're strong enough to resist his gravitational pull.

This is a disaster.

Not only because he is here, which single-handedly was able to bring your mood down. Your legs hurt. No amount of trying to engage in a conversation seems to excite you, your cheeks already hurt from holding that fake smile. The loud music and screaming and chatting only increases your annoyance (and your headache); you can’t even bring yourself to drink anything, having finished only two bottles of beer.

On top of all that - Mark is a lightweight.

You scowl, tapping his back lightly, as Mark throws up sitting on his knees in front of the toilet. The bathroom door is wide open to a crowded corridor; two of Mark’s friends, Chris and Jungwoo, stand in front of the door, watching him and laughing. Maybe if you weren’t in such a bad mood you’d be thinking this is kind of comical too, but right now, you have to control yourself to not roll your eyes.

He coughs and you fixate your eyes on a single tile on the wall (if you look too much at him, you’ll end up vomiting, too). You tap his back a little more strongly. “Put it all out, Mark. You’ll feel better.” You can’t even fake that reassuring tone anymore, sounding straight up annoyed instead.

Mark lifts his head to say something, but ends up coughing and then his face is inside the toilet again, as you just scowl.

“Come on, Mark. You’ll end up getting Y/N dirty.” Chris says in disapproval.

“I would be embarrassed if I were him.” Jungwoo says, tilting his head. “First time he brings his girl over… and look at his state.”

You look at them, forcing a lip-tightened smile. “I don’t mind, guys. He was just having fun… he’s been so stressed because of his finals.”

You do mind, actually.

Because you know Mark’s alcohol tolerance is ridiculously low. You asked him, over and over again, to slow down with his drinks. You weren’t trying to be the boring, controlling girlfriend - as a certain someone used to call you in the past -; you were just worried about him. Besides, babysitting a drunk grown ass man is anything but nice.

Yet - here you are, doing exactly so.

As if this night wasn’t awful already.

“Y-You see? That’s why I like her. She gets me.” Mark stutters, smiling at you. You didn’t think he was even listening.

Yeah, but you don’t get me, the evil side of your brain whispers.

The good side of your brain is quick to scold you: stop that. You said you would change, remember?

Yes. You’re trying to be better. Mark just didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, that’s all. He’s never done anything like this before, he just got a little excited.

It’s like your brain is programmed to want to pick up a fight. But that’s not happening with Mark, not today.

You put some toilet paper on his hand so he can clean his mouth. He’s clearly not even seeing you straight. It looks like he already threw out everything inside his stomach.

“Time to go home, then, hm?” You say.

“What? Go home, at this hour? No way.” Chris says, placing his beer bottle over the sink and walking over to Mark.

You frown. “Can’t you see his state? I’m taking him home so he can sleep.” You try.

“Don’t bother, Y/N. He can sleep in my room for a while, I’m not letting you drive home this late at night.” Chris reaffirms strongly. “Jungwoo, help me pick him up.”

Jungwoo enters the bathroom as well, while you get up on your feet again, doing your best not to scowl at them. “It’s alright, I can drive! I’m totally sober!” You try. You really are sober - it’d need much more than two beer bottles to knock you out.

“No, Mark would kill us if he knew that we let his girlfriend carry him around at night like that. Let us be hospitable, ‘kay?” Jungwoo says, sending a charming smile at you.

The two men help a babbling Mark get to his feet, carrying him out of the bathroom towards Chris’ room at the end of the corridor, and you follow them shortly. Thankfully, the second floor of the house is a little less crowded. Chris’ house is enormous, to be honest. You knew he had some money, but you weren’t expecting this. With some difficulty, they manage to get inside the bedroom and lay Mark on the bed.

“Here, idiot. Get some rest.” Jungwoo says, tapping Mark’s head playfully. He whines in protest. “Shit, he’s gonna be so embarrassed tomorrow…”

“You staying with him, Y/N?” Chris asks, already standing at the door.

You look at the pathetic - and cute - image of your boyfriend laid on the bed like that.

“Yeah.” You nod. “For a bit.”

“Meet us downstairs later, then.” Jungwoo says, leaving the bedroom too. “Don’t waste your night babysitting this fucker.”

If you didn’t know how close they are, you’d think he’s being rude, but both of them look at the younger and drunk male with affection. You nod, reassuring that you’ll definitely go downstairs, and they finally close the door, leaving you both alone.

You cross your arms.

Sure, they were trying to be “hospitable” - and yes, it was a nice gesture of them -, but fuck, they just destroyed your only chance of getting out of here.

You’re angrier now.

“Y/N…” Mark calls in a whiny voice that makes you roll your eyes.

You sit by his side on the bed. His eyes are barely even opened. “What?”

He somehow manages to open them, and a silly drunken smile appears on his lips. “You’re soooo pretty. The prettiest girl… I’ve ever seen. D-Did you know that?”

You can’t help but chuckle. It’s hard to get angry at Mark; you feel that he can get away with anything - a cute smile of his is enough to melt your heart in a second. You’ve been dating for a little over a month now, and it’s been a great month, to be honest. It’s been a while since someone made you feel butterflies in your stomach like that, made you smile just thinking of them. It’s like when you started dating Nam-

Shit.

You shake your head frantically, as if doing so will make the intrusive thoughts fly away. It’s ridiculous that you unconsciously end up comparing Mark to that certain someone. You’ve been trying your best not to. Mark is different - his personality is pretty much the opposite of that other person; he’s bubbly, funny, he makes you genuinely enjoy your time with him. It’s the first time you date someone a little bit younger than you, and you didn’t think it’d be this good. All your friends told you the same: you make a great couple. You look so happy with him. I’m so happy for you.

You like Mark.

You really do.

So why does your mind keep gravitating over Namjoon from time to time? Why does it keep comparing them?

You dated him for three years, you try to rationalize. It was a messy and long relationship. It’s just natural that you’d make comparisons now that you’re with a different person.

Yes. That must be it.

You pass your hands through Mark’s blonde hair and he smiles happily, closing his eyes. There’s blush all over his face. “You should really rest now.” You say quietly.

It seems that Mark is trying to say something - but his voice dies mid-snore.

A chuckle escapes through your lips again. He also falls asleep very fast.

You still stare at his sleeping form for a while.

Fuck.

You need to smoke.

You sigh heavily before getting up, careful to not make any noise as you walk out of the bedroom and close the door quietly. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the loud music coming from downstairs. You try to keep a fast pace as you walk out of the house, avoiding the people you know and rapidly greeting the ones you can’t avoid. When you finally manage to get out, you’re annoyed all over again. The cold nightly breeze makes you tighten the jacket around your body and regret coming with this short dress - it’s like your legs are about to freeze. Small steam clouds form in front of your face at each breath.

You angrily march towards your car, parked at least four houses down the street (both sides are fully parked with Chris’ guests’ cars, this was the closest spot you could find). The music and screaming becomes distant, which is honestly a relief. You open the door rather roughly, reaching for the glove box, to get the pack of cigarettes you keep “hidden” there. Hidden from yourself, more specifically. You’ve been promising to stop smoking for a few years now - and in an attempt to stop, you purposefully “hide” the packs in places that will be inconvenient for you (it was very inconvenient to have to walk out of the house just to smoke, when you could’ve kept in your purse). Of course, you should stop buying cigarettes for all, but… well, maybe later.

You take one cigarette from the pack and put it between your lips, impatiently groping for the lighter. But… it’s not in the glove box. You get up again, putting your purse over the car’s roof, searching for its contents. Lip gloss… your wallet… phone… you groan.

“Where the fuck is it?!” You stomp angrily as if it’ll be of any use.

Then, you catch something with the corner of your eye - and you immediately freeze.

Someone handing their lighter to you.

You look to your left side, finally realizing there was someone standing there all this time.

And it’s infuriating that your heart nearly stops.

Namjoon.

He’s not looking at you, eyes glued on his shoes instead, as he places a cigarette on his own lips with the other hand. You hate that your eyes are widened at the sight of him so close after five months. You hate that your first immediate thought is he looks so good, he’s dressed the way you like, as if he knew you’d be here. You hate that your heart is already racing at the mere proximity.

You take so long to move that Namjoon finally looks at you, quirking one eyebrow up. “Are you taking it or not?”

Shit. His voice. You missed it so bad.

“What are you doing here?” You also can’t help the defensive tone. Whenever he’s around, you immediately square up. Always ready to pick up a fight. “Are you following me?”

Namjoon chuckles in a mocking tone, shaking his head. “Following you? That’s literally my car. I’m not following anyone.”

You blink, stretching your neck to see better. It really is his car, parked in front of yours. How didn’t you notice when you arrived?

You gulp, avoiding his gaze for a moment.

Namjoon clicks his tongue, calling your attention. His arm is still extended, lighter in hand.

You shouldn’t. Don’t do it. Deny it.

Hesitantly, you take it from his hand. Your cold fingers brush against his warm ones. You shiver.

Fuck!

You light up your cigarette, inhaling it deeply, before putting it back in his hand. Namjoon also lights his up and exhales smoke from his nose.

Silence.

You can almost see the tension in the air around you.

“Thought you were trying to stop smoking.” He says quietly after a while. Both of his hands in the pockets of the jacket, he still looks down with his eyebrows knitted in a serious - slightly annoyed - expression. You hate yourself for admiring his side profile like that. You shouldn’t even be breathing the same air as him, let alone admire him.

“I am.” Your voice is also quiet. Namjoon chuckles.

More silence.

There’s some yelling at Chris’ house. Both of you look in that direction at the same time. It doesn’t sound like a fight, so your eyes focus on the car roof again. You hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, exhaling smoke.

“I didn’t know you’re Chris’ friend.” You say. Why are you even trying to make small talk?

“He’s not exactly a friend. We had some classes together during college.” He explains. Oh. Right.

Silence.

You hug yourself again as another freezing breeze crosses your body. This is so incredibly awkward. It’s even hard to believe you know this man intimately, that you were in a relationship for three whole years. Right now, he just feels… foreign. It was never this way. Never.

Namjoon sighs and inhales the last bit of his cigarette, before throwing it on the floor and stomping on it. “I… saw you with your boyfriend-”

“Stop.” You say abruptly, lifting your palm towards him before he can finish the sentence. “Just stop. We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” But he’s lifting his eyebrow again, and you know he’s getting sarcastic in the way you hate the most. “I was just going to say how happy you looked… babysitting him, I mean.”

You angrily throw the cigarette on the floor, stomping on it, and glare at him, feeling all of your nerves heating up with the familiar anger only Namjoon is able to ignite. “Fuck off, Namjoon."

“What? Am I lying?” He shrugs, the shadow of a mocking smirk on his lips. “Where is he right now? Passed out in some corner of the house?”

Anger immediately bubbles up within you, heating your cold body in a second. You roll your eyes, exhaling heavily, as you take the purse from over the roof again. “Don’t even know why I’m wasting my time with you anyways…”

You’re about to walk away from him - but Namjoon acts quicker.

He places his arm on the car roof, blocking your way; you feel his body close to you. Close enough for you to feel waves of heat emanating from his body, but still not touching you. Dangerously close.

You freeze in place.

You look up at him, surprised at his sudden movement… only to be met by the hooded gaze you’re very familiar with. The gaze that makes immediate goosebumps roam your skin.

He lowers his head a little bit to speak closer to your ear. Adrenaline starts to make your heart race. You remember how you always loved how tall he is, how he towers over you, how he had to lower his head to kiss you, or you’d have to tiptoe to reach his lips, how easily he could lift you up in his arms.

You remember and you gulp.

“You’re wrong, Y/N.” His voice is quiet and deep and shit he’s talking like that, he’s talking with that voice that means I want you right here and right now, and heat spreads through your body with that alone. “I never made you waste your time. I wouldn’t leave you alone… not when you look like this.”

He licks his lips slowly, looking you up and down. You can’t move. Your breath hitches.

You should’ve flinched or pushed him away when he leans his face closer to your neck, but you can’t. Not because you’re scared. Because a part of you is so used to this - the proximity, the heat - that you cannot react at all.

Namjoon closes his eyes for a moment and smirks.

“You’re using it. The perfume I gave you.” You widen your eyes, unconsciously putting your hand in the back of your neck, as you feel your cheeks burn. “So… you didn’t really forget me.”

You frown, once again getting defensive. “It’s just a perfume. It means nothing.”

Namjoon tilts his head. “It scares me how similar we are.”

“What?” But you shouldn’t have asked what, because you know Namjoon - and if you give him a single cue, he’ll use it. You should’ve cut the conversation short, but you didn’t.

“You’ve been lying to yourself all this time, too.”

Your jaw drops. You stare back at him, feeling anger bubbling in your chest again. “You think you know me so well, right, Namjoon? If you knew me so well, we’d still be together.”

“No. We’re not together because we know each other too well.” You hate this. You hate how right he is. Namjoon has always been extremely smart about everything, quick to analyze any situation he’s in. And yes, you used to hate how he would analyze your feelings as if you’re a thing, not a person.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “What do you want with this, huh, Namjoon? Are you trying to get into another argument?”

And then he’s smirking again - the sight of his dimples appearing making you feel weak.

“I kind of am. You know I like when you’re angry at me.”

You avoid his gaze, feeling that heat spread from your cheeks to your neck, but Namjoon tilts his head to the side, trying to keep eye contact with you. “Namjoon, let me go.”

“I’m not holding you, baby. Not even touching you.”

Baby.

Your legs feel even weaker at the familiar pet name. It’s been so long since you heard this…

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“You can walk away if you want… but you don’t want to, right?” He chuckles darkly.

“Namjoon, for fuck’s sake…” You put your hand over his muscular chest, pushing him away slightly, as you look around with worry. “Mark’s friends are literally right there. What if someone sees us?”

“Oh. So you’re worried about getting caught, not that your boyfriend is passed out somewhere, not having a clue that you’re here with me… interesting.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” You tighten your fists. “What do you want, huh, Namjoon? Is this how you try to make up with me?”

Namjoon eyes you seriously, jaw clenched - and again, you feel that you can’t breathe.

“I don’t want to make up with you.” His quiet, gravely voice echoes within your stomach. “I want to fuck you.”

You shiver.

Even after five months, your body never forgot him. How shameless and obscene he is with his words. How easy it is for him to get you worked up. It’s like his deep sultry voice is already stripping you down, even if he didn’t even touch you.

"T-That's not happening." But your voice doesn't sound as firm as you wanted it to sound, and your heart is beating fast, certainly not because you're angry… and you already feel the very familiar heat between your legs despite the chilly night.

Namjoon clenches his jaw and lowers his head again, his face dangerously close to your ear.

"I miss you so bad, baby." Your fists unconsciously tighten. Your chest heavens as your breathing gets deeper. His voice is serious and deep and quiet and pleading. You press your thighs on one another. "Shit… look at you. Every guy's been checking you out all night… but you're with the one that cares the least about you."

"Shut up." You finally look back at him, anger making you frown. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" He quirks one eyebrow up. "I don't know? Baby, I wouldn't waste my time getting drunk. You know that, right? If you were with me… shit…" he chuckles darkly. "Everyone in that goddamn party would be listening to you screaming my name right now."

"Namjoon..." You try to say in a warning tone, but your body doesn't agree with your brain; the warmth spreading from your face to your neck to your intimacy, the fast beating of your heart, the way your lips are slightly parted, how your body is literally melting.

"Those pretty lips of yours around my cock…" He closes his eyes for a moment, slowly getting closer to you - and you can't move away. "You always take me so well, baby…"

"Namjoon." You try again, but it seems that he's is having a lot of fun with your reactions. He licks his lips and smirks.

"Tell me, Y/N… is this… Mark… treating you well?" Your body freezes and melts at the same time when his large hand rests on your waist. "Is he fucking you good the way you like? The way you deserve?" Holy shit - you can barely breathe. "Does he put you on your fours the way you like it? Can he fuck you all night the way I do?"

He's leaning closer, eyes glued to your lips.

Your own gaze drops to his lips, too.

Then, you remember that you're on the sidewalk, four houses down the street from where your boyfriend and his friends are - and it snaps you back to reality.

You step away from him, yanking his hand off your waist. "Fuck off!"

You press the purse close to your body and walk away with firm and quick steps without looking back.

Your heartbeat thunders inside your ribcage, your mouth is dry; even your fingers shake slightly, the chilly breeze does little to refresh your high inner temperature. You shouldn't have talked to him. You should've walked away from him straight away. Why did you let his sultry voice get to your ears and down to your already throbbing core? You were absolutely right; you're not strong enough to face him, not at all.

Because you also miss him badly.

You miss his grip on you and his tongue on you and you miss his taste in your mouth, you miss feeling him deep inside your throat and then deep inside your cunt, stretching you and filling you up like no one else can - not even Mark.

You miss him so bad that your legs are already wobbly, even though he just touched your waist. You miss him so bad that it's hard to fake the crazed look in your eyes and to hold a smile when you get back inside the house, once again trying your best to pass imperceptible by everyone, trying not to engage in any conversation. The loud music and yelling bothers your ears, having to squeeze yourself between bodies and more bodies annoys you. It doesn't help that you don't know almost anyone in this house, mostly your fault, because your bad mood didn't let you socialize the way you usually would.

You just march to the second floor, towards the room Mark is sleeping in. You have to anchor your senses again; being anywhere near him will make you go insane. You need to remind yourself that this is the party your current boyfriend brought you to, the boyfriend you like very much, the guy that treats you well and is obviously in love with you. Namjoon is your past, Mark is your present. You can't hurt his feelings like that.

You can't.

But your body can't lie, either.

Because when you're about to hold the doorknob to Mark's room, you feel a familiar grip on your elbow. You do not fight this grip as it quickly pulls you inside the next guest room, and you do not flinch as the door is swiftly closed shut and your body is pressed against it, and you are not surprised when the light is turned on and you face Namjoon.

You do not push him away when his lips clash on yours.

The kiss tastes like tobacco; your senses are overwhelmed by his perfume, the one he knows you love. Namjoon doesn't try to be gentle or slow because he knows you don't like it. His tongue entangles in yours, one hand grips the hair at the back of your head while the other squeezes your ass, making you moan within the kiss. You grip his hair as well, the other arm going around his shoulders, as you tiptoe, kissing him back eagerly.

You're panting and your chest heavens as you finally break the kiss for a moment. Your mind is clouded by his perfume and his hands and his mouth, now leaving wet kisses on your neck, sucking on it softly and making you whimper.

"N-Namjoon…" you try to call his attention, but it's too late; your voice is breathy and whiny in the way that makes him go insane. "We shouldn't…"

It's ridiculous that you're saying this as his hands are on you and his mouth is on you and every inch of your body is screaming for him. This is wrong - this is nasty, ugly, unacceptable. Your boyfriend is sleeping in the room next to this. His friends are downstairs. Yes, you are well aware of all that.

And still - you don't push him away. You don't want him to stop.

"Yes, we shouldn't." His voice is also breathy. He kisses your lips eagerly again. "But you want this, Y/N. And I want it, too. Fuck, I need you, baby…" He presses his body against you strongly, and you feel his clothed erection against your stomach; it's enough to make your mouth water. He passes his tongue on your bottom slip slowly, before kissing you again; your legs are already weakened by this action. "Need you around me… I know you want this, too, baby… let me fuck you good, just this last time…"

Your breath comes out shaky when his hand lifts your tight dress up to your hips to squeeze your ass. As one arm circles around your waist, the other hand that was on your ass shamelessly travels to rest over your panties, his palm pressing on your warm pussy. He caresses your intimacy, making you moan quietly and unconsciously buck your hips with the movement of his hand. Namjoon smirks and hums, hypnotized by the way you bite your bottom lip, these begging eyes he knows so well.

"You're always so ready for me, baby… look at how wet you already are..." he chuckles darkly, sending shivers down your spine. He presses his palm more firmly on your clit, making you let out a slightly louder moan, closing your eyes for a moment. He pushes your jacket away with his other hand, letting a trail of kisses on your shoulder. "But I can stop if you want to…"

"No." You blurt out in a pleading voice, once again making him smirk. "Don't you dare stop."

Yes - you are very well aware of how wrong this is.

You are very well aware that guilt will crush you later.

But right now, you decide to shut everything else but him. All of your problems and guilts and regrets stand out of this room, waiting to greet you as soon as you walk out. They're distant and muffled, just like the loud music downstairs, asleep just like your drunk boyfriend, barely a wall away from you.

You decide to ignore all of that.

What exists right now is Namjoon and your insatiable lust.

Your hand searches for the key and you turn it, locking the door.

"Why you gotta do this to me, Namjoon?" You whine in a pleading voice, before holding his face with both hands and forcing him to kiss you - which he reciprocates eagerly. "Why… why you gotta make my life so difficult?"

He bites your bottom lip and chuckles. "I already said… I love it when you're mad at me." His palm keeps pressing on your intimacy, making circular movements over your clit, and you purr in delight, throwing your head back. "And you love it too, don't you, baby? I know you too well… You’re so nasty for me.”

“Shit…” You curse under your breath, feeling your inner temperature increase each second. You grab the fabric of the jacket on his shoulders and start to buck your hips on his hand more frantically. “Shit, I need you inside of me…”

Namjoon growls on your ear and presses your body against the door with his own, forcing you to stop bucking your hips. “Not so soon, baby. This won’t be quick. It’s been five months… I’m gonna take my time with you.” He kisses you, and when he leans away, there’s the smirk again. “I will make you come good, baby… but first, let me fuck this pretty mouth of yours, will you?”

Excitement bubbles up within you, and you bite your bottom lip, nodding. The things Namjoon makes you do… it’s like you become a different person around him when you two have sex.

He takes his hand off your pussy and you immediately miss his touch, but you know it’ll be worth it later. “Take this shit off, I want to see you.” He growls, grabbing the collar of your jacket and rather aggressively making you take it off, throwing it on the floor with your purse. That smirk of approval… it’s enough to make you press your thighs together again. “Fuck, how can that guy not want to fuck your brains out when you look so delicious in this dress?”

You feel a glimpse of discomfort at Namjoon’s words - you don’t want to be reminded of Mark, of how ugly your actions are, or you’ll want to stop. But he doesn’t give you time to think too much about it, because his hand rests at the top of your head and he looks into your eyes darkly.

“On your knees.”

You smirk, obeying him without complaints. You keep intense eye contact as Namjoon works on his belt, finally freeing his hardened member from his boxers - and your mouth immediately waters. He’s so big. Your pussy throbs in anticipation, at the mere thought that soon, his thick and veiny cock will be slamming inside of you after five months.

“Let me see if you still remember how to do it.” He says in a challenging tone, cocking one eyebrow up and smirking, and you have to gulp at the sight of him grabbing his own cock, pumping it up and down slowly.

"Of course I do." You say, batting your lashes prettily at him. "I'm the only one that can take you."

Namjoon chuckles, but his chuckle dies in a hiss when you hold his shaft with one hand and lick the tip like a kitty, never breaking eye contact. He lets a deep grunt when your lips wrap around the tip, sucking it gently like it is the sweetest lollipop. He closes his eyes momentarily and tilts his head to the side, face contorting in pleasure.

"You're so hot, baby…" you would've smirked if you didn't have the tip of his dick in your mouth - and the sight makes Namjoon desperate to have more of you. He grabs the hair at the top of your head and yanks you off his cock, and yes, it's painful - but you're used to it. You've been missing it. "Open your mouth."

Once again, you obey him. Namjoon shoves his dick into your open mouth all the way down your throat; you choke, sinking your nails on the flesh of your thighs. You sucked him off more times than you can count, but you never quite got used to how truly big he is. Namjoon pushes inside as much as possible making you tighten your eyes and gag. It's uncomfortable. But it's alright. You can take him.

Namjoon lets out a deep moan and bites his bottom lip. "You look so pretty with my cock inside your mouth…" his deep voice travels all the way to your wet core, and you tighten your cunt around nothing. His strong grip on your hair keeps your head in place as he starts to thrust in and out. You grunt around his dick, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure all throughout Namjoon's body. He pants with his mouth open, licking his lips, hissing and letting deep moans that resonate in you. "You missed it too, right, Y/N? You look so hungry right now, taking me like the big girl you are…"

Again, he sees the hint of a smirk on your lips and the mischief in your eyes, and he knows you would've said something if you could.

You tighten your lips around his dick, sucking as he thrusts deep down your throat, making him throw his head back in pleasure. You have tears in the corners of your eyes, but his face contorted in delight is worth it. He digs his nails in your scalp, pushing your head into his dick as he thrusts; he's being rougher than usual, it's getting difficult to breathe.

As if he's some sort of telepath, Namjoon takes his dick off your mouth and you gasp for air; a streak of saliva connects your lips to the tip. The sight of your hooded eyes, parted and swollen lips glinting with saliva is so absurdly sensual that Namjoon has to take a deep breath, controlling himself not to blow his load already.

"It seems that you really forgot how to do it, huh?" He says with mischief. "What? Your boyfriend's cock can't reach that deep inside your throat?"

You click your tongue, feeling a spark of anger within you when Namjoon cites Mark again. "Fuck you."

He chuckles, very much pleased to see how easy it is to irk you up - but again, his voice stumbles into a grunt when you wrap your lips around his tip without warning, sucking it eagerly. You grab his shaft with one hand and it glides easily across it, thanks to your saliva. Though the music from outside is still loud, your ears are only filled with the wet noise your hand gliding on him produces, sucking noises, and Namjoon's grunts and hisses of pleasure.

A streak of curses leaves his mouth as you start to take more and more of him relentlessly. Once again, he grips your scalp strongly, shoving your head into his dick as he thrusts. You gag and whimper, and it only increases Namjoon’s arousal. You can already see the glint of sweat on his forehead and neck.

"Shit, Y/N, shit-" he grunts, once again throwing his head back. He then locks his gaze with yours, watching as you swallow him eagerly. "Fuck, I want to cum all over your face. Ruin your makeup and hair… so when you walk back to Mark, he's gonna know what we did here."

Stop talking about him!, you want to yell. I don't want to remember he's in the next room!

The feral glare you send him, the sight of his dick in all its length inside your mouth, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, the drool on the corner of your lips - it’s almost too much for him. “Stop, baby, stop.” Namjoon clicks his tongue, yanking your head away from his cock.

You groan and gulp, never once breaking eye contact. You lick your lips slowly and smirk mischievously as you clean the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “What? Am I too much for you to handle?”

“Get up.�� He orders impatiently, and you do so in an instant. His lips clash on yours again in a sloppy, heated kiss, his hand grabbing the hair at the back of your head tightly. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You smile as excitement bubbles at the pit of your stomach. Contrary to what you thought he would do - carry you to the bed, he places his hands on your waist and spins you around, so now your back is facing him. You grunt as he roughly presses you against the door, keeping you trapped between it and his muscular body.

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he takes his jacket off and throws it on the floor, eyes glued to your ass. Purring, you arch your back to him, as both palms rest on the door for support. In a swift movement, he grabs the hem of your panty and slides it down your legs.

“Ah… so pretty. So pretty, baby…” He compliments darkly, caressing your ass and squeezing it. You gasp when, unexpectedly, he lands a hard slap on one of the cheeks. It burns, and you close your eyes tightly on instinct. Namjoon chuckles and licks his lips. He presses his body against yours, and you feel his cock against your ass.

“How much do you want me, hm, Y/N?” He asks in a low voice with his lips on your ear. He kisses the bit of skin where your jaw meets your neck and licks it. Your pussy throbs and tightens around nothing as you feel him bucking his hips on you, caressing your ass with his cock, moaning with the back of his throat. The sound makes you purr and bite your bottom lip.

“Namjoon, stop teasing me,” you whine, making him chuckle once again. “Just fuck me already.”

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He kisses your shoulder tenderly. “Is that what you want?”

You forget what you were going to say as you feel his hand traveling to your front, between your legs, to touch your clit in slow, circular movements, at the same time the other hand grabs your breast over the dress, squeezing it with care. “You… hmm… you said… you were going to fuck me.”

“Yes, but I don’t think you’re needy enough.” He keeps humping his hardened dick on your ass, all the while his hand moves on your clit way slower than you’d like. “You’re not too proud to beg, are you, Y/N?”

You look at him angrily from over your shoulder, but when he adds a little more pressure on your clit, your complaint is choked in a moan that escapes from your lips. You tighten your fists, closing your eyes tightly, as the circular movement gets faster, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You bite your bottom lip, purposefully pressing your ass against his member, making him groan quietly.

“I haven't even started yet, but look at how loud you are.” Namjoon chuckles and bites your earlobe lightly.

“Namjoon,” you meow his name in such a way that has him closing his eyes for a moment. “N-Need you inside of me.”

“Hmm?” He presses your clit even harder, making you moan and throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Namjoon’s evil smirk widens. “Didn’t hear you, babe.”

“Please. Please. I’ve been missing it so much.” You cry, having no idea of how hard you’re stroking his ego with those words. Yes, he was right - you’re not too proud to beg when it comes to sex. Namjoon hums in approval, leaving a surprisingly tender kiss on your cheek.

“I’ll give you what you want, baby… you deserve it. You always do.”

Your whole body shakes in anticipation when he takes his hand off your clit. Namjoon spits on his hand, and you moan lightly as you feel him pressing it on your folds, mixing it with your juices. “You got a condom?” He asks. You shake your head frantically.

“Don’t. I want to feel you.” He tilts his head and quirks one eyebrow up, not even bothered by your request. You’re always on the pill anyway. Yes, maybe you’re being reckless, but you really want to feel him as he is.

“As you wish.”

You shiver as he holds your hips firmly with both hands, and you open your palms on the door again for support. Your pussy is already throbbing when you feel him position his dick on your entrance.

You cry out in pleasure when he finally penetrates you.

The stretch feels so amazing that your legs almost lose all of their strength. You close your eyes tightly, eyebrows knitted, mouth opened.

He grunts with the back of his throat in a way that makes you even weaker. “All the way, baby?”

You nod frantically, opening your eyes for a moment to see him over your shoulder. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

He chuckles and licks his lips, eyes focused on the sight of his cock halfway inside of you. “You’re so desperate tonight.”

He does exactly what you asked.

It’s like the air is knocked out of your lungs. You’re unable to muffle the moan that escapes from your lips when he puts everything inside, balls deep in. You clench around him, making Namjoon moan as well and throw his head back; the sight of his parted lips, closed eyes and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows mesmerizes you. It doesn’t matter how many times you fucked - it was never not amazing. Every nerve in your body yells in pure pleasure. Words can't describe how much you've been missing him inside of you; your body never forgot, always tight for him, always ready to accommodate him.

"Fuck- you feel amazing…" he says in a breathy voice that makes you melt. "You were right, baby… no one can take me like you can." He thrusts for the first time, making you squeak and bite your bottom lip at the delicious friction the girth of his member produces against your velvet walls. He thrusts again and again, grunting at each movement, making you see stars. You hear his low chuckle which makes more goosebumps roam your skin. "L-Look at you right now… I didn't even begin yet, Y/N. Are you going to cum already?" He chuckles again. "Guess I was right… your boyfriend hasn't been treating you that well, since you're so desperate for me…"

"Shut up." You eye him again over your shoulder, trying your best to look annoyed, but it's hard to do so when his dick is this deep inside of you. "Stop talking… just fuck me."

You see a glimpse of annoyance in his eyes as, out of sudden, he growls and picks a much faster and stronger pace; you whimper in surprise when he presses his forearm against the back of your neck, sticking your cheek against the door, keeping your back incredibly arched. You pant with your mouth opened, obscene moans unconsciously escaping, each thrust of his sending shockwaves of pleasure to every piece of your body, making the tiny hairs of your arms rise. Fuck, you've always loved when he went rough you on; sometimes, you'd even purposefully argue with him over the stupidest things, just because you knew that making up with him meant he would let his emotions loose with angry sex. You loved to be bitten and slapped and choked by him - even if you'd be sore the next morning, it was always worth it.

"You know," he growls in a deep and breathy voice without slowing his pace even once. "It's funny how you get angry and want to defend him while I'm dicking you down. Such a protective girlfriend."

"N-Namjoon-" you try to speak, but your voice dies in a strangled moan. Namjoon smirks. Your ears are filled with both your breathy voices of pleasure, his pelvis smacking against your ass, the squelching noises his dick coming in and out of you produces, and- and-

Your ear is pressed against the door. You can hear the voices out there in the hallway beyond the loud music.

"If you moan a little louder, they will hear you, too." Namjoon says as if he just read your mind. "Is that what you want, Y/N?" You bite your bottom lip, trying to shut your voice, but it's almost painful to keep quiet when he's fucking you so hard. "N-Not that I would mind… you have such a pretty voice, baby… I love it when you cry for me…"

You roll your eyes in pleasure, feeling your sanity running thin. Your moans sound more like painful strangled whimpers now as you desperately try to not make much noise, which only increases Namjoon’s arousal. There’s just something about you - the way you so shamelessly display your pleasure - that simply doesn’t compare to anything he had experienced with anyone else. He loves to make you feel good. He loves your face contorted in pleasure, when you’re desperate and begging for release.

“Fuck-” you say in a tired and tiny voice that almost causes the same effect on him as the feeling of your cunt tightening around his member. “Fuck- you’re s-so big-”

Namjoon smirks again. He always knows when you’re close. He could tease you a bit and deny your orgasm, but he’s been missing you so much and your moans sound so good that he can’t bring himself to be so cruel. “Are you going to cum for me, baby?” You nod frantically again, eyes closed, lips parted.

“Yes… p-please, don’t stop… f-feel so good…” you don’t have any control of the words coming out of your mouth anymore, your mind way too drowned in pleasure to think straight.

His forearm leaves the back of your neck and he holds your hips tightly again, keeping the exact same pace you need to reach your high. You tighten your fists again, feeling your legs lose strength and every nerve in your body going haywire the closest you get to your orgasm. The slick arousal drips from your inner thighs, sweat covers your forehead, neck and chest; you hear the voices of the people talking literally on the other side of the door, the loud music, Namjoon grunting, you feel the fire building up and spreading through you, you feel his cock coming in and out of you, reaching deep, the glorious friction it produces every time-

Namjoon stops moving and keeps his member buried in you as you orgasm, throwing your head back, your convulsing body, your eyes turned in pleasure. You’re barely even breathing. He holds your hips tightly, taking a moment to catch his breath. The way you’re so tightly clenched around him makes him close his eyes and sigh in pleasure.

He waits until you calm down a bit.

He’s not done with you yet.

You’re taken by surprise when you feel him pulling his dick out and suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist. Namjoon sticks his chest to your back and lifts you up, easily walking towards the bed. He practically throws you over it and you bounce on the soft mattress, causing you to giggle tiredly. It makes him smile, too - but at the same time, it’s like an arrow has trespassed his heart, because if you giggle and look happy like that, it makes him remember when you were together and everything was okay.

Namjoon stands at the edge of the bed. His dick is still standing tall, glistering with your juices.

“Suck it.” He orders. The way you smirk and crawl on your fours towards him with eyes glued on his member makes him feel goosebumps. You don’t complain - your hand simply holds his shaft again and then your lips are wrapped around it. Namjoon hisses and throws his head back. You don’t waste any time, taking more of him inside your mouth, bobbing your head across his length, sucking him eagerly. The taste of your own arousal doesn’t bother you.

Namjoon rests his hand on the top of your head, gently massaging your scalp instead of gripping it, which makes you somehow smile. “I-I missed this every fucking day… you have no idea…”

You take his cock out of your mouth for a moment, just to look up at him and smirk. “I think I do.” You lick the tip again, making him hiss and close his eyes momentarily. Namjoon watches, completely mesmerized, as you keep sucking him. He thinks you’re so absurdly pretty, it’s almost unreal.

Namjoon grunts at some point and the fingers that were caressing your hair now are gripping it, once again yanking you away from his cock. You look up at him with round, confused eyes. “What? I thought you wanted to come in my mouth.” He smiles and shakes his head. How can you fake that innocent voice so well?

He holds your forearm and makes you get on your knees; delicately puts some loose strands of hair behind your ear before kissing you. As your lips move, you feel his hand search for the zipper on your back. He zips the dress down and leans away so you can lift your arms for him to fully take the dress off.

Namjoon smiles at the sight of your breasts covered in the black lace bra. He always loved when you wore lace lingerie - especially black; once again, it’s like both of you knew you’d be here, and purposefully chose your outfits based on each other’s tastes. He kisses you again, massaging both of your breasts at the same time, earning soft moans from you.

He leans away. His hooded eyes make you shiver. “I’m not done with you yet.” He says quietly.

His hand rests on your chest and he pushes you delicately, making you sit. You keep propped up on your elbows, watching as he parts your legs. Namjoon licks his lips and smiles. “You’re dripping, baby.”

You hiss, toes curling, as he massages your clit again. Your nerves are still so sensitive from the previous orgasm, but at the same time, this pain feels good - so you just grip the sheets and bite your bottom lip, not wanting him to stop. His hand gets wet immediately - you are dripping indeed - and you gasp when suddenly, Namjoon inserts his ring and middle finger inside of you. Your walls immediately clench around them, having not recovered fully yet. Namjoon knows it. That’s why he moves his fingers inside of you slowly.

You throw your head back, gulping. “P-Put it in.” You stutter.

Namjoon nods, feeling all of his body shudder in anticipation. He takes his fingers out of you and holds your hips yet again. Instead of easing himself in at once, he glides his cock on your folds, humping slowly, causing both of you to moan. Finally, he puts it all in; you’re so wet that he simply slides in, making both of you moan at the same time.

It’s like your entire body is burning in flames as Namjoon starts to thrust, although slower this time. You analyze his features - face covered in sweat, jaw clenched tightly, an expression that almost looks like pain - and you wonder how much longer he can take. You want him to come, too; you can imagine how desperate he must be to get his release. Even so, he doesn’t go that hard from the beginning, aware of your sensitivity.

“Joon,” you call in that sensual voice that ignites every nerve in his body. You didn’t even realize that you just called him by the nickname. “I want you to cum for me, too.”

He looks at you without stopping his movements. “However I want, baby?”

You nod. “However you want.”

Namjoon tilts his head and pulls out suddenly. “On your fours.”

You smile, immediately doing as he asked; you turn around on fours, arch your back for him, ass up, your chest touches the mattress. You look over your shoulder and see Namjoon kneeling on the bed, eyes glued on your dripping entrance, so stretched and so exposed for him. He licks his lips and squeezes your ass before slapping it, sending jolts of pain down your legs. “You’re being such a good girl to me, Y/N… doing everything I ask.” He grips your hips and pulls in balls deep, making you whimper and bite your bottom lip. From the start, he picks a faster pace than before, completely focused on getting his release. Your whole body shakes and you grip the sheets tightly, trying your best to muffle your moans on the mattress, but it’s pretty impossible; you can just thank that the music out there is loud enough to disguise the obscene sounds coming from this bedroom.

Which makes you remember, for a single second, the image of a sleeping Mark next door.

But Namjoon’s cock inside of you overwhelms any guilt to take you over.

He groans and slaps your ass hard again, earning a gasp and a loud moan you can’t hold back. “Who else can fuck you like this, huh, Y/N?” He growls. “Who else can fill you up like this?”

“No one!” Shit - you might regret the things stumbling from your mouth later, but right now, your mind is so clouded by pleasure that you can’t stop to think of the things you’re saying. “O-Only you… you fuck me so good, Joon-” you squeak in pain when he slaps your ass again. “Don’t fucking stop!”

He’s so deep inside of you; with this position, he can easily hit your sweet spot - and he keeps hitting it mercilessly. You hear him chuckling mischievously. “You’re about to cum again, baby?”

You don’t answer this time, unable to form any coherent word anymore, just vulgar sounds coming from you instead. Bliss shadows your thoughts and senses, you can’t care about anything but his strong grip on your hips and his thick cock hitting deep inside of you over and over and over again, restless, ruthless, in that way only him can do, only him knows how you like. Your walls are so clenched that Namjoon feels about to explode. Yet, he doesn’t stop thrusting while you orgasm, convulsing around him, trembling and weak; it’s like your vision fades for a moment, all you can see is white. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow his pace.

You’re forced to open your eyes and gasp when you feel his fingers brushing your clit.

“Namjoon, I- I already came-” you try to speak, but electricity runs through your system as his quick motions over your clit makes you wail.

“Come with me, baby,” he says mischievously, panting. “I know you can take it.”

Your eyes widen, you grab the sheets even harder as fingers work on your clit nonstop, all the while his cock keeps smacking inside of you again and again and again. You gasp for air, desperate and overcharged; you want to flinch away from his restless touch on your clit, but at the same time, the overstimulation feels so painful and so sweet that you can’t ask him to stop; you haven’t calmed down from your orgasm and you feel your pleasure levels increasing at a fast pace again.

A streak of curses leaves Namjoon’s mouth; you’re so incredibly tight and hot, it’s like he’s going insane. You squirm and cry out when the third orgasm in a row hits; tears form in the corner of your eyes, your body yells desperately after so much stimulation in such a short period. Your knees barely have any strength to them, you don’t how much longer you can keep your ass up. Yet, almost at the same time, Namjoon feels his own high hitting. He takes his hand off your clit and pulls out of you, holding his cock as he cums all over your ass and back, pumping it until he’s milked dry.

He flops by your side on the bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes.

You can barely even open your eyes. Your whole body is trembling and sweating. You’re so tired that you could honestly just sleep right here, in this position.

But you can’t.

Because, as you recover your breathing, as your heartbeat falls at a normal pace again, as arousal slowly fades from your mind and your body gets cold, you’re slowly reminded of the situation you put yourself in.

And it immediately starts to weigh.

You open your eyes to focus on Namjoon.

He’s still staring at the ceiling, covered in sweat, his t-shirt glued to his body. He licks his lips and gulps in a serious, thoughtful expression.

That’s not how it used to be.

Five months ago, after he fucked you hard like this, Namjoon would hug you tight. You’d smile at each other, you’d giggle at something silly one of you would say. You’d both walk to the bathroom to take a good shower. You’d wear one of his shirts, he’d blow your hair with the hairdryer, and you’d go to sleep in each other’s arms.

But Namjoon’s not your boyfriend anymore. Your break up was messy due to your already messy and broken relationship. At some point, sex was all you had, was all you could enjoy in each other’s company. Any talking led to fights. Namjoon was right - you know each other so well that you simply couldn’t stand each other anymore.

You still can’t.

This didn’t change.

You realize that when Namjoon looks back at you, and everything you can see in his eyes is sadness and resentment. Your bond is way too broken. Things will never be the same as they were.

Quietly, he gets up from bed and walks towards the bathroom (you didn’t even realize this guest room has a bathroom). He comes back with a few tissues in hand. Without uttering a word, he wipes out his cum from your ass and back. Still trembling, you get up from bed, taking your panties from the ground and putting it back on as Namjoon adjusts his pants. Music still pumps out there. Chatting. Yelling. Inside this bedroom is dead silent, though.

He zips your dress up without you needing to ask. It’s like you can’t look at each other anymore.

“I’ll walk out first.” He says quietly after a while. You just nod, sitting on the edge of the bed again, still feeling your whole body weakened.

Namjoon takes the jacket from the floor and throws it over his shoulder. He puts his hand over the doorknob and looks at you again.

Words can’t really explain what you’re feeling right now. Embarrassment. Guilt. Sadness. Everything is mixed with your stunt nerves, steaming hot inside of your chest, as the ugliness of what you just did starts to sink in.

Yes, you like Mark. You really do.

But you loved Namjoon. You loved him for three years - and five months weren’t enough to completely destroy these feelings for him.

Despite this… you know that any new attempt at a relationship with him will lead to nothing but more hurt, more than your heart can bear. You don’t want to bleed for him anymore. You just want… peace.

Although your actions tonight will bring you anything but peace.

“I still have the same number.” He says, eyeing you seriously. “When you get tired of playing with that boy… you know who to call.”

You shiver.

Namjoon walks out, closing the door again.

Your anesthetized body can’t let you cry, even if you really want to. You just sit here, staring blankly at the carpet, until twenty minutes have passed and you feel safe enough to walk out… to the bedroom next door, where your boyfriend still lays asleep. You can’t even stand to look at him, ashamed, as if the walls of that bedroom have eyes and have witnessed your betrayal, as if the Universe around is judging you.

You sit at the edge of the bed, gripping your knees.

Your bond with Namjoon is broken - and you might’ve broken your bond with Mark, too.

But how could you fight Namjoon’s gravitational pull, when he’s the indisputable center of your personal galaxy - no matter how hard you try to deny it?

You jump, startled, feeling Mark’s sudden touch on your wrist. You look down at his half asleep figure, his eyes barely opened. “Y/N…?”

“Y-Yes?” You gulp.

Mark smiles.

“I love you.”

Being shot in the heart would’ve hurt less.

You nod, blinking the incoming tears away. Your mouth tastes like iron. Your chest weighs tons. Namjoon’s face still rewinds in your mind over and over again, even though he already left, leaving you weakened and trembling and cold and empty.

Mark won’t remember anything tomorrow morning.

Only these walls witness your terrible lie.

“I love you, too.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon angst #ksmutclub #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts x reader #fic:gravity #THIS IS A BIT LATE LMAO BUT IT'S HERE!!!#PLEASE GIVE IT SOME LOVE!!!!

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yourstruleejn · 2 years

Text

crush.ing

summers are mostly the same. spending them each year on the island your family has a vacation home on. there is little variety to the things you do every year. however, one party at jay park’s later and everything seems to be different /especially what you’re feeling/

⋆

pairing // lee heeseung x fem! reader; other characters include enhypen members and le sserafims huh yunjin + kim chaewon

genre // fluff and crack (maybe); richkid! au; summer romance !!

word count // 9.4 k

tw // implied sexual activities + mentions of sex; underage drinking (only if you’re not european and you’re name is riki nishimura)

playlist // here

authors note // my first enhypen fic!! i like this one!! enjoy!!!! and pls tell me what you think bc i had so much fun writing this hehe!

!!! reminder !!! everything i write about on here is entirely fictional and in no way am i saying this is how the boys would act in real life ❥

chapter 1: sandy campgrounds

Waves. The sound of crashing waves was the first thing you remember before a blaring headache set in. The next thing you felt was a clearly too-thin blanket or towel covering your body, the same fabric served as mattress beneath you, placed over what couldn’t be anything but sand. You scrunched your eyebrows together, maybe yolo-ing last night was not the best idea. Especially since, even if you did only live once, most of the time the next day was included in the `once`, and now having made it to yesterday’s tomorrow you regretted every drink after the second cup of Jay Parks Wonder Punch. But all of that put aside, why was waves the first thing you heard?

Only with effort were you able to open your eyes against the bright morning sky. What time was it? And what were you doing on the beach? A groan left your mouth as you sat up, your back was considerably stiff after apparently sleeping on the beach. Looking at the empty sandy scape in front of you, you concluded that it must be still somewhat early. Not a single soul was out, barely any traces were leading to the seemingly infinite blue and you concluded that those traces had to have been there from last night still. For exactly one second a small smile crept its way to your features, even your headache was almost forgotten: the pounding lessening considerably as you took one deep breath after the other, admiring the ocean. One second the smile rested on your lips, one second there was peace in your mind. One second, until something, well someone, stirred beside you.

In horror you turned your head to your left: there was a boy laying next to you. Your mind started to race. Moments ago, your brain was maybe a little confused about your whereabouts, but essentially you were appreciating the unexpected morning view, but now? Now you were stressing about how you ended up in this situation, who exactly the boy was, and why you were wearing so little clothes?

At least the second question would be answered just a split second after crossing your mind; The unidentified male beside you turned in his sleep, finally revealing his face to you: Dark, somewhat damp, and definitely sandy hair fell onto the boy’s forehead. His eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, the content of his dreams responsible for their tensed state. His pink lips were parted slightly, and you could see a slight sunburn on the bridge of his nose, making his appearance even cuter. You had to consciously stop a groan from going past your lips once again. Lee Heeseung really wasn’t the person you expected to wake up next to. For him it was probably not too out of the ordinary, being a notorious heartthrob and all, still, for a moment you were quite taken aback by the fact that you weren’t dreaming still.

A small sigh left Heeseung’s lips and pulled you back to reality. Quickly you gathered what you thought were your belongings, slipped a flannel shirt over your barely covered body and hurried away from the sorry-excuse-of-a-bed, leaving behind a still sleeping Heeseung.

It took you a hot second to orientate on the wide beach, but in the distance. you could see last night’s party location, the Park family’s beach house. Of course, there were more houses lined up along the beach, but the Park’s vacation home always stuck out. You sighed, turning the other direction, heading to your best friend’s house, praying that he had been smart enough to collect most of your belongings (read: cell phone) before leaving, and more importantly that he had answers.

Sunoo’s humble beach residence was only a few houses down from your own, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was blessing because had it been any further you might have never met your present-day best friend. It was also a blessing because that meant Sunoo was always within shouting distance, making your neighbors hate you and your voices raspy at times (before cell phones were a thing, of course). One summer the two of you actually created some sort of secret language, or rather signals for each other, by blasting certain songs for different situations during the day. This way of communicating was cut short however, when the police showed up after you blasted Madonna’s Material Girl for 20 minutes straight, signaling your desire to go shopping that afternoon. (Sunoo didn’t answer because he was taking a nap. A nap that was disturbed by the sirens of the police arriving. Apparently, the Police Department took noise complaint on a Wednesday afternoon very seriously.)

Anyways, it was curse because you were within the reach of your parents for 95% of the time. Not that you disliked your parents or spending time with them, but sometimes a daughter needs her space, especially during the summertime. Either way, you were really hoping Sunoo was already awake (unlikely), or at very least he left the door to his balcony open for you to slip inside (very likely).

Thankfully, on this beautiful Saturday morning, both was the case. Just as you slipped through the curtains into Sunoo’s room, he appeared out of his bathroom, bathrobe covering his freshly showered body. Oh, what you would do for a shower right now. The scent of Sunoo’s citrusy bodywash filled the air making it even more evident to you how exhausted and gross you felt. The boy smirked at you, “Had a nice night?”

Most people would be surprised or shocked even if their best friend stood in their bedroom out of the blue. But not Sunoo. He was far too used to you showing up at his house unannounced and in all honesty, it was one of the things you appreciated the most about him, always welcoming you and all your problems as well as questionable choices. What you appreciated less, however, was the rhetorical question he greeted you with.

You ignored his remark, letting yourself fall onto his freshly made bed, burying your face in his cotton-candy, cloud like pillows.

“HEY Sandy Cheeks, get out of my bed right now or I will call security and make them chase you all the way back into Lee Heeseung’s arms.” He swiftly kicked you off his bed, banning you to the floor.

Sitting up you looked up at him through messy hair hanging in your face, “Please tell me you were smart enough to fetch my things before you left.”

“Of course. I am the intelligent one after all.” He smiled at you, pointing to your bag, neatly placed on one of his lounge chairs. Alongside the bag there was your jacket and what looked like your sweatshirt from last night. “Your phone is charging on my bedside table. Your parents sent a few messages last night. I replied, I hope you don’t mind.”

Your eyes got teary. You really had the bestest friend in the entire world, “Sunoo…” you pouted at him in appreciation, getting up to hug him. Sunoo was quick to take a step back, however.

“Nope. No. Definitely not. No hugs before you take a shower. You look like you came straight from bikini bottom.” He pushed you towards the bathroom, “You smell like it too.”

“Hey!”

“Not my fault you decided to sleep in the sand. Hurry up, ok? Jungwon’s coming over for breakfast.”

Sunoo had almost closed the door, but you stopped him from shutting it completely, “What? Why is Jungwon coming over?”

Jungwon was also part of your summer-clique, although he was a more recent member of the circle. He lived a little further away from most of the vacationers, his family having a private private beach on the east coast of the island. He still spent most of his time on your side of paradise, which is also how you met. In the beginning Jungwon was a little quieter, but you were quick to learn that he is actually just as mean as Sunoo (in an endearing way, of course) so he was a perfect fit for your friend groups. And thus, the azure trio was born. (Sunoo saw the name as more fitting than the golden trio since you spent most of your days lounging by the strikingly blue water, and he didn’t like to plagiarize.)

“He wants to hear about your night with Heeseung of course. As do I, by the way, but we should wait until he arrives, I don’t need to hear all the dirty details twice.” He smirked at you, earning himself a glare from your side. “Besides,” he continued, “somebody has to return Heeseung’s flannel. And I doubt it’s going to be you,” (he was right of course), “The poor fella had to walk home without a shirt because of you. Really, Y/N, you should feel at least a little guilty.”

You weren’t fast enough to think of a comeback to that, which you would have loved to blame on the still remaining alcohol in your system, but you knew that wasn’t the reason why you couldn’t come up with a counter remark. Looking down your torso, you only now noticed how soft the fabric of the loose shirt you wore was. It smelled kind of nice, too. A fondness started to spread on your features as you admired the shirt hanging from your tired body.

Sunoo didn’t notice however and hastily reminded you to hurry, “Shower. Now.” And with that he shut the door.

chapter 2: unexpected guest, unexpected feelings

The shower was less than relaxing for you. As the semi-hot water hit your body, all you could think about was how you would go on about things. You didn’t remember too much from what had happened last night; Only that you kept drinking from the punch, in which Jake Sim had promised you was the least alcohol from the drinks provided that night. Well, the least alcohol didn’t mean little alcohol. Either way, you decided to blame Jake Sim for not only your actions last night, but also your hangover. You sighed, if only you could remember your actions from last night.

After another twenty minutes of regretting your life choices, you concluded that it didn’t matter much what happened with Heeseung exactly. Heeseung spent nights with lots of girls and doesn’t talk to them the day after. You were sure he had woken up to an empty bed before and was glad about it, so you really didn’t have to feel bad, right? Besides, you and Heeseung were somewhat friends. Well, acquaintances? You were almost positive that Heeseung would not be hurt by your leaving, you seriously doubted that he even remembered anything. You would just go down as one of the many girls Lee Heeseung has hooked up with. Yes, it will probably be topic of some gossiping in the near future, but that will eventually die down, and Sunoo wouldn’t let anyone spread any nasty rumors about you (he is scary like that). Yet, there was small part of you that wanted Lee Heeseung to care, and an even bigger part wanted to remember everything that happened last night, not to just know but to memorize what it felt like to be with Heeseung. You sighed.

However, after getting cleaned up and ready for the day in Sunoo’s bathroom, you had calmed your nerves and come to the conclusion that all of this really was not as big of deal as it had seemed at first.

False.

As you came out onto the patio, you were expecting two boys, laughing, munching on bagels, and slurping freshly squeezed orange juice as well as a general relaxed and comforting atmosphere, in which you can discuss and hopefully laugh about last nights happenings. Instead, you were met with three boys, silence that was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife, and an atmosphere that was as awkward as having the talk with your dad.

It only took you the split of a second to realize that the third boy was none other than Lee Heeseung. Great. With his back still to yours, he didn’t notice you right away. Sunoo’s eyes darted to yours however, which made not only Jungwon turn around to greet you but also the boy you weren’t expecting. He looked tired. Granted, you were tired too, but you reckoned after the shower you looked a lot more refreshed than he did. His hair was still as messy as it had been when he was sleeping, his lips were slightly chapped, still pink though, and the sunburn on his face seemed to have gotten slightly worse.

Heeseung’s eyes scanned over your body, taking in the comfortable, fresh clothes you were wearing, as opposed to the swim wear you had been in, last time he saw you. He was also hoping to see you in his flannel, which he concluded must have been taken by you, but was disappointed by the lack of it on your frame. You looked surprised to see him. The thought that you didn’t want to see him crossed his mind, but he chose to not let that diminish his confidence. Why else would she have left? A small voice in his head spoke, which Heeseung again ignored.

“Hi,” you spoke impossibly quiet. You were praying to all of the gods that this boy would not mention you leaving him in the sand. If he did, you’d probably have cried and flown home instantly, to never speak to anyone on the island ever again. You were sure your nervousness was showing in the form of a red tint on your cheeks, you hoped Heeseung was just as unobservant as your average 21-year-old.

“Uhm, hi.” He answered in a tone that was almost cautious, “You forgot your wallet at Jay’s.” he held out the small black card holder for you to take.

“Oh. Thank you.” You reached out your hand to grab it, making a mental reminder to thank Jay for not letting anyone non-trustworthy take it with them. Lost in thought, your fingers brushed Heeseung’s, and your eyes met his. Heeseung was already looking at you, his eyes looking for answers, Why did she just leave?, while yours were pleading him to not say anything, ask anything about last night or why he woke up alone. In all truthfulness, you weren’t entirely sure why you just left; you just felt overwhelmed, out of place next to Lee Heeseung. But above all, you didn’t want to be just one of the girls Heeseung has had a thing with, you refused to be just another one of his girls.

A loud car honk pulled you out of your moment. You jumped slightly and Heeseung’s instincts wanted nothing more than to casually pull you in to comfort you, but it really wasn’t his place to do so. The car honk also reminded him that Jake was waiting for him outside, ready to take him home.

“Sorry. That was Jake.” He explained for all three of you, but he was only looking at you, “I should probably go.” He smiled politely, saying his goodbye to your friends.

You were still standing there, feeling quite out of place, even though technically Heeseung was the intruder, and not knowing how to properly farewell the older boy. You decided on returning the awkward smile and reverting your gaze towards the marble flooring of the Kim’s residence’s veranda.

Heeseung visibly flinched at you swiftly rejecting his every approach but respected it as soon as he understood it. Still, he settled on one last farewell for the morning towards you; Despite your passiveness, he smiled his award-winning smile and just before he vanished behind the corner of the house, he called out your name.

Quite surprised your head turned towards his direction, the rising sun, blinding his view, but making him glow in yours, “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Before you could reply Heeseung was gone. With quick steps he jumped into Jake’s Jeep, who only gave him a questioning look, “Dude, you’re so whipped.”

Heeseung glared at him, “Shut up, Sim.” But of course, he was. And he knew that Jake knew. As well as all the other boys. Even Riki knew, and it was the kid’s first summer on the island. But Heeseung didn’t mind; it only meant that the boys didn’t try anything with you. Heeseung sighed, he really wished yesterday had gone differently, and he really wanted to know what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

chapter three: the chosen one

“Well, that was awkward as hell.” Jungwon stated, once again pulling you out of your thoughts and your gaze away from where Heeseung last was, towards him.

“Good morning to you too, Jungwon.” You smiled at him with false sweetness, letting yourself fall onto the comfortable seating area that was located just behind your friends. Sitting down your eyes were on the search for a glass of water and the aspirin Sunoo no doubt had provided for you. Aha. Reaching for the pills you finally looked back at your two best friends, “What?”

“You are this year’s chosen one.” Sunoo stated matter-of-factly.

“I am this year’s what now?” You looked at him, an almost amused smile fighting its way onto your lips.

“Let’s be honest, she has been every year’s chosen one. Heeseung just hasn’t been successful in charming our Y/N yet. Well until now. Although I doubt, she even remembers how he did it.”

It’s true that over the past year Heeseung has almost always had a summer fling. It has gotten to the point where girls were getting all dolled up for the first party of the summer just to be the quote-unquote chosen one. You, of course, had never bothered with such efforts for a man. At least not after the first year, in which Heeseung had already been making out with some girl by the point you had even gotten to the party. Not that you minded much back then, it was just a little annoying, that’s all. The years after that you and Sunoo bothered less and less with Heeseung’s crowd. They were all really nice individually, but put together they were… well, they were a lot.

“I am not anyone’s chosen one. Let alone Lee Heeseung’s. Can we please just drop this?”

“Oh, you so are! And no, we cannot!” Sunoo exclaimed enthusiastically, “This is your summer to have an epic romance!” You just rolled your eyes and groaned.

“It really isn’t? Besides, I don’t want to be one of Heeseung’s trophy hook-ups.” You looked at your boys sternly, “so can we please just drop it.”

Sunoo scrunched his nose at you, but ultimately shut up, pouring you a cup of coffee, which you happily accepted and directly led towards your lips. The juice of life you thought, giggling to yourself.

“Can I just say one more thing?” Jungwon looked at you and you raised an eyebrow at him, signaling him to continue, but with caution. The boy in front of you started to smirk, “You really just left Lee Heeseung laying in the sand. Imagine the hit his ego must have taken.” Sunoo burst out laughing at the thought of Heeseung waking up alone on the beach, and while there was a small smile on your lips, you felt a pang in your chest, feeling a tad bit guilty.

Thankfully your parents weren’t too mad at you for not coming home that night. You just explained that you fell asleep at Sunoo’s and that was pretty much the end of it. At least with your parents. You could quite literally feel and hear Sunoo and Jungwon eyeing you, smirking at you or giggling whenever Heeseung or the party at Jay’s was mentioned. Remarks such as “Yes, Y/N really enjoyed that night” or “Oh, Y/N wouldn’t know because she was busy on the beach” were something you have had to get used to for the past couple of days. Yes, the teasing went on for days.

Heeseung however didn’t text you or talk to you at all for that matter. On one hand you were glad that he was not talking to you, but on the other hand you were sort of disappointed. But you supposed that was just the buzz of it all. It was probably a good thing that he hadn’t called you up, at all.

chapter 4: boys’ day

So here you were, still thinking about Lee Heeseung as you were sitting on your windowsill looking at the outside world, somewhat trying to get past one of the rarest days of summer; Rain clouds had engulfed the blue skies over the island, painting them a monotonous grey, but letting the plants thrive with the additional hydration. Your parents had gone to the house of family friends, and you didn’t want to tag along planning on spending the day with your friends. Days like these you’d usually spent watching movies with Sunoo and Jungwon, but Jungwon and Sunoo had been invited over by a new kid named Riki. You didn’t know what they were doing but you honestly didn’t need to know after the words ‘boys’ day’ were brought up into the conversation. They were traitors in any case.

You sighed looking out onto the completely empty beach. The rain was tapping a calming rhythm onto the glassy front in your room. It was seldom that you were truly bored when you were here, but you supposed there was a first time for everything. You sighed, even people watching was impossible on a day like this with everyone being couped up in their respective homes. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to Heeseung. For a moment you wondered what he was doing. Maybe he was at Riki’s just like all the other boys? Or maybe he was home, bored half to death, just like you.

Heeseung was, in fact, at Riki’s. But not for the reason the others were there, well, at least not officially. Riki’s parents had hired him as Riki’s chaperone for the evening, arguing that there had to be at least one adult watching the teenage boys doing whatever they were doing. Heeseung didn’t know were exactly the parents had gone to and Riki probably didn’t either, all he knew was that they were gone for a week and left Riki under his supervision. Bad idea. Heeseung really just was a kid at heart, probably even more immature than Riki, the actual child (even though he was tall, Hee had to admit.)

In any case, Heeseung was officially chaperoning his friends and unofficially he was just hanging out with all of his favorite people in the world. Well, almost all of his favorite people.

When he saw that Riki had also invited Sunoo and Jungwon along, he had a spark of hope that you’d come along. But that spark was diminished when Jay loudly yelled BOYS NIGHT through the entire living room, making most of the other guys laugh, and Heeseung sigh.

He missed your warmth. Granted he had only ever held you once, but he remembered how his arms fit around your body as if you’d just gotten up a moment ago. After years of watching you from afar, he had finally gotten enough courage to talk to you that night. In retrospect it was probably not the best of nights to initiate his plan on finally doing something about his crush on you, but he just couldn’t help himself; when he saw you sitting on kitchen counter, left alone by Sunoo (your usual corrupter), hiccupping, and sipping on a dixie cup full of water (how he later learned), he just couldn’t not talk to you. And conversation with you was easy. Sure, you were drunk, he was definitely not sober either, but the conversation was still of quality. It was easy to follow you outside to the beach, listening to you ramble on about how you’ve always wanted to go swimming in front of Jay’s house but were too sacred because his dad was incredibly intimidating. The looks of encouragement the boys gave him didn’t help either, all of them knowing how he felt about you. Heeseung never was too secretive about the fact he liked you, talking and analyzing the few conversations the two of you had with his closest friends on multiple occasions. The two of you had gone swimming that night and, oh, the fun you had. Heeseung thought it was a shame that you probably had forgotten all of that (judging by your reaction to his visit the next day). He also knew that you probably had the wrong idea of that night. Heeseung knew of his reputation, it was his own fault really, but that night nothing had happened, well nothing except that he had fallen even harder for you. After the two of you had gone for your midnight swim, you had simply decided that you were tired and that you were simply going to sleep on the beach for that night. He had tried to convince you to at least get back to Jay’s house and sleep in one of the many guest rooms, but you had refused, and planted yourself in fetal position in the sand, with a towel covering your body as a blanket. What was he supposed to do? Was he just supposed to let you sleep all on your own on the beach? No, he would’ve never done that, so he did the next best thing; he laid down next to you. And when he woke up the next day, you were gone and so was his flannel.

After visiting you that day Heeseung decided to let you come to him. Well, let you decide whether or not you wanted to get to know him more /read: again (you had forgotten practically everything)/. So far you hadn’t reached out.

The other boys knew of Heeseung’s girl troubles, of course. It was one of the reasons they had invited Sunoo and Jungwon. Not that they didn’t like the two boys, they just weren’t as close, and all the drama with you, gave them an excuse to get to know them better. It was Sunghoon’s idea to invite them and ask them if you talked about Heeseung to them. Sunghoon figured he could totally tell by their reaction whether or not you liked Heeseung. Of course, he wasn’t counting on them just outright telling them that you like Heeseung, but rather, he was expecting an outright ‘No’, by which he could judge the reality behind the statement. Sunghoon thought his plan was foolproof.

“So,” Sunghoon started out, eyeing Heeseung (who was already facepalming internally), “how’s Y/N?”

Sunoo started to laugh hysterically, “Is that why we’re here?” he chuckled to himself, while the others frantically shook their heads.

“She’s dense, that’s how she is.” Jungwon stated.

Sunoo scoffed, slightly offended on your behalf, but essentially agreeing, “Oblivious is what she is.” He shrugged, popping another blueberry into his mouth.

Heeseung’s eyes met Sunoo’s, and the boy sighed, “Listen, Hee, I don’t know what is going on in that girl’s head half of the time. I would love to tell you that she likes you, which I honestly think she does, but I also think that she hasn’t figured that out herself yet.”

Heeseung just nodded along to this newfound information, but there was one more question he needed the answer to, “Does she know what really happened on the beach?”

Sunoo’s eyes went wide, “If you’re about to tell me about your sex-capades with my best friend, please refrain from doing so. You can fill her in the next time you see her. Or maybe don’t, safe sex and all, you know.”

Heeseung’s ears must’ve turned bright red judging by the laughter that surrounded the boy. Jungwon was looking at him prudently, making him uneasy. Most people thought because you and Sunoo were a little closer, he was the scary one, but Heeseung had observed how Jungwon acts towards you, and he knew that it was probably Jungwon he should be scared of.

Jungwon broke the eye contact he was holding with Heeseung, “I think she knows nothing happened,” Heeseung let out a sigh in relief, “but I also think that she doesn’t really know what happened instead of that. I think she’s too embarrassed to ask.” To that Sunoo started to nod, agreeingly.

“Maybe you should discuss this with her? I mean, talking about her with her best friends isn’t really the way to get the girl now, is it?” Jake suggested clapping a hand on Heeseung’s shoulder, encouragingly. Heeseung nodded and smiled slightly.

With that the boys started to get ready for their rainy day inside filled with laughter and snacks. While the other boys bantered and giggled amongst themselves, Heeseung’s thoughts wandered towards you more than once.

chapter 5: the plan.

The popsicle was dripping down your hand as you listened to the strangest idea you had ever heard out of Yang Jungwon’s mouth: “A bonfire?” you asked bemused by Jungwon’s newfound enthusiasm to host a party at his family’s private beach. It never really crossed the mind of any of the three of you to host a party at one of your residences; there were official unofficial roles on the island and the three of you definitely were not playing the party host part. You instantly suspected that it was Sunoo who planted the idea into Jungwon’s head, but he definitely played the part of actually wanting to do it somewhat well. You looked at the two boys with a quizzical eyebrow.

“Yes,” Sunoo said dramatically, “a bonfire. You know marshmallows and everything? Anyways the weather is perfect for it, let’s say Friday? How does that sound?”

Jungwon just shrugged. He didn’t really care much when this party was happening, as long as Sunoo promised to clean up afterwards (which he did).

“Why the sudden desire to have a party? We’re the party goers on the island, not the party throwers.” Finally, you turned your attention back towards the melting popsicle in your hand, cleaning up the mess the sun had made by skillfully tracing the trails of sticky sweetness with your tongue. Both boys watched in disgust.

“Ew,” Sunoo stated, “But, I was thinking we could invite Yunjin, Chaewon, and the others. You know the girlies from the north shore.” He smiled at you.

The north shore girls always got you. For some reason you were one of the few girls your age that actually lived on this side of the island, so whenever Yunjin came over to visit you spent as much time with her as possible. You just loved them a lot. And Sunoo knew that, of course.

Jungwon cleared his throat, “I was also thinking of inviting the boys.” He looked at you as though he expected you to argue.

“The boys?” you chuckled, “Who is ‘the boys’ exactly?”

Jungwon exchanged a look with Sunoo, “Oh you know, just Jake and the guys. Heeseung too maybe?” At his name you froze for a moment, a quiet Oh slipping past your lips.

Heeseung’s whole idea of letting you come to him had been going fairly well, with you almost finally deciding to ask him about the night on the beach (grave influence on the matter was that Sunoo would just not shut up about it), but you had heard a rumor of Heeseung hooking up with one of his ‘past chosen ones’. And with that your intent to talk to him did a 180 and evolved into the plan to never talk to him again (much to Sunoo’s frustrations). Deep down you knew it was bad to listen to gossip, but you were also somewhat spiritual and took this as a sign from the universe that talking to Heeseung would be a bad idea. Both of your best friends knew that in reality it was an attempt to protect your heart. Ever since then the both of them had dropped the topic of your not-one-night-stand (as it had been established by now), until now at least.

“That’s okay with you, right?” Jungwon asked, again speaking in a tone that was too cautious. It made you feel uneasy.

You sighed, “Yes, of course. Sure. What do I care if Lee Heeseung is going to be there.” Overkill, Y/N, tone it down a bit. Both boys chuckled at your response, “All I’m saying is what do I care, when Huh Yunjin is going to be there. I’m going to hug her all night.” Nice save. You rolled your eyes at yourself.

“Right.” Sunoo laughed, shaking his head.

Over the past two weeks he and Heeseung had gotten considerably closer. Plotting ways to get you to talk to him. Heeseung always told Sunoo not to meddle, but Sunoo said he was simply annoying you into talking to Heeseung (and he was almost successful). Imagine the earful Heeseung had gotten after you had told Sunoo about the rumor you had heard. Heeseung had been completely confused about the accusations, not having talked to the girl in over three years. It took Jay and Sunghoon to assure Sunoo that you had been everything Heeseung had been talking about all summer, and they pleaded him to just do something about the two of you since by now all 4 of them could describe your eye color in heavy detail. Sunoo had laughed when he heard that statement, thinking it a vast exaggeration, but it was true; All Heeseung had been talking about was you: how you took his breath away, how what he had been feeling was something completely new to him. It felt so much bigger than himself and he didn’t completely understand it. To be honest he didn’t understand it all, and it scared him. It ate him up from the inside to not know how you were feeling, but he also wanted to honor the promise to himself (and you) to let you decide when you were ready to talk about it. Sunoo thought that was sweet, but he also reminded Heeseung that you could be incredibly stubborn and dense, so it would definitely take some more time and maybe a different strategy. However frustrating that may be.

The winds turned in Heeseung’s favor. Since you were okay with him coming to the party, Sunoo figured you were okay with talking to Heeseung. Eventually. Riki had suggested to just get you drunk again, but with one stern look by both Heeseung and Sunoo he put that idea back into his mind-trash can. Thus, an actual plan had not been established per se. However, Sunoo knew that you were going to talk to the girls for sure, he just had to guarantee it was about Heeseung, so that you were finally going to talk to him, as well as put yourself and the poor boy out of your misery of mutual attraction and pining.

chapter 6: the bonfire.

The weather was nice. Not too hot, not too windy, not too humid. Perfect for a bonfire. At least that’s what you’ve been told by both of your best friends over and over as the three of you prepared Jungwon’s house for the evening’s festivities. Apparently, it had taken a little time to convince his parents to host a party at the house. Something about a Daniel and a chandelier? Jungwon hadn’t gone into detail about this one of his party-stories from during the semester. But in the end the promise of Sunoo cleaning up everything convinced them, as well as the idea of a responsible Y/N. It seemed funny to you that the boys had made you out to be the mature member of your trio, but you guessed it made sense with Jungwon’s parents knowing you the least, as well as you being the oldest.

So, the three of you spent your day prepping for the party; from putting away expensive art and decorations to cutting fruit and baking brownies. You hadn’t realized how much work hosting a party was, thus newfound admiration for people like Jay, who had a party almost every weekend, bloomed inside of you.

The three of you finished late in the afternoon and decided to go for a swim just before the guests would arrive. The suns heat had died down after its height at 2 p.m. but it was still hot outside, your body welcoming the cool sensation of the salty waters. It was quiet the only sounds being the soft waves crashing onto the beach and the laughter of Sunoo and Jungwon as they took turns dunking each other underwater. Boys. You noticed the ocean had been extremely calm all afternoon, awaiting the storm of the party patiently.

You sighed, letting the water carry your body on its surface. You weren’t exactly nervous for the party, but you also weren’t totally chill about it. For one you were somewhat stressed because you felt responsible for Jungwon’s house. But the main reason for your anxiety was definitely Heeseung. Not that you were hoping for anything, but over the past few days you had come to the conclusion that you liked him, and it was horrifying to say the least. Especially since you were sure that he had forgotten all about you, never having talked to you ‘later’ and all. In your frustration you let the ocean swallow up your body only coming back up when your lungs were screaming for oxygen. Nothing like clearing your mind off a boy like almost intentionally drowning. You hadn’t realized how far out the ocean had carried you until you heard Sunoo call your name from a distance. He looked so small on the shore, towel wrapped around his body, he motioned for you to come out, “Y/N!! We have got to get ready! Come on!” With a small smile and some butterflies in your stomach you made your way towards the shore, worrying about which outfit of the three you had brought with you, you would wear.

The guests arrived sooner than you expected, and before you knew it, you were sat in between Yunjin and Chaewon, drink in your hand, and worries far away. The latter especially since you hadn’t seen Heeseung yet, and the house was pretty much packed, so you were hopefully not going to run into him at all. Out of sight out of mind.

“So, Y/N,” Yunjin turned towards you, “Lee Heeseung, huh?” she smirked, and you groaned, not out of mind, you facepalmed internally.

“I mean I’m not even exactly sure something happened between us,” you explained, “I just woke up next to him on the beach.” The girls started to squeal at that, making you instantly regret telling them about your sandy sleepover.

“Okay, so there is virtually no way nothing happened. And there’s also no way that you don’t remember anything. You’re just being shy, aren’t you? ” Yunjin urged you to further elaborate, but you really couldn’t. You understood that they were curious about what happened that night, in all honesty so were you, but you simply couldn’t answer their questions. So you just shrugged.

“I have an idea.” Chaewon mumbled, a mischievous smile forming on her lips. Her eyes travelled from your concerned face across the room, to the topic of your conversation.

“Chaewon, don’t-” you warned in vain.

“Heeseung!” she yelled out to him, making him turn around instantly. You actually didn’t know if Heeseung knew the north shore girls or not, and by the confused look on his face you guessed he didn’t know them well. The confusion on his face vanished when his eyes met yours. His mouth slightly opened as though he wanted to say something from all the way across the room. You mouthed a small hello, a smile occupying your lips just a moment later. He smiled back, waving, and taking the first step into your direction.

It stayed with just the one though, as Jake pulled Heeseung by the arm out into the direction of the beach, “Jungwon needs our help to start the fire.” Heeseung was too startled to fight back, looking back once more as he was being kidnapped onto the beach, only to see you glare at your friends. Cute.

“Chaewon, what the hell?” you looked at her, raised eyebrows.

“What? You should thank me, because, while we still don’t know what happened on the beach that night, we now know that Lee Heeseung likes you.” She smiled triumphantly.

“Please, he said hi to me, that doesn’t mean he likes me.” You sighed, letting your head fall back.

“No, I agree with Chae. There was definitely an ‘I like you’ kind of vibe in the way he looked at you.” You really could have strangled Yunjin then and there, giving you hope that your feelings might actually be reciprocated, “besides, I heard that he hasn’t been hooking up with any girls this summer. My neighbor talked about it; her ego must’ve taken quite the hit.” Yunjin chuckled as she remembered the girl talking loudly on the phone about a certain Lee Heeseung not giving her the time of day.

You weren’t convinced, however, and with one glance thrown your way the girls realized that too, “All we’re saying is,” Yunjin began, smiling softly at you, “maybe it’s worth finding out what happened, you know? From what we can tell, be it by rumors and gossip I admit, Heeseung seems to actually be waiting for you to initiate something. Which is really sweet considering you left him in the sand.” Chae and Yunjin started to chuckle slightly.

You rolled your eyes at the latter comment, but knew that, ultimately, they were right. You really wanted to know what happened, having gone through endless scenarios of what might-have-happened in your head already. You sighed, nodding, taking the last sip of your drink before getting up to get a refill. Looking outside you could now see the distant glow of the bonfire. You pouted, Sunoo and Jungwon clearly having lit it without you. That would also explain the lack of people inside the house, which you only realized now. You grabbed another beer, getting the girls to join the others outside.

Heeseung sighed, watching the flames dance and throw shadows all over the cooled down sand, your short interaction from earlier replaying in his head over and over. He had gone over a game plan for the night in the car just before coming inside, but it had all flown out of his head when he had seen you sit there and actually look at him. You made him nervous. Jake had apologized multiple times after Heeseung complained about being dragged away from the love of his life to start a fire. In the end, he decided that it was a good thing. Talking to you while two of your intimidating girl friends were around, probably wasn’t the greatest idea. He just hoped you would talk to him tonight or he might explode from the lack of /you/.

Jungwon was observing the older boy. There was a small smile hanging from his lips as he approached Heeseung, his shadow looming over him even before he could get Heeseung’s attention by tapping his shoulder. Noticing the unnatural shade from the warm fire, Hee looked up, giving Jungwon a questioning look.

“She’ll talk to you tonight.” Jungwon stated reassuringly, “I have a good feeling about it. Call it my psychic abilities, the mystery of the Yang mansion or the magic of the bonfire, but I simply know that she’ll talk to you tonight.” (Jungwon knew of course because you promised him you would if the opportunity arised. Just before the first guests arrived you had held a speech to him and Sunoo concerning your feelings for the boy in front of him. Something about now or never. Jungwon was sure you had taken swigs of Rum while preparing the punch.)

Heeseung laughed at the boy’s optimism, doubting his words as well as the magic of the bonfire. But just as he was about to reply, you stepped onto the cool sand.

“Speaking of the devil.” Jungwon smirked.

It was obvious that you were tipsy again, and Heeseung prayed that you weren’t as far gone as you had been a few weeks ago and would actually remember your (hopeful) interactions tonight. Heeseung’s eyes followed your figure as you made your way into the direction of Sunoo. You handed the boy your beer and sat down beside him. Soon after your laugh filled the atmosphere. Well at least Heeseung’s ears as you were the only thing he could focus on now that you were in his closer vicinity. Not that he had any troubles focusing on you only even when you weren’t anywhere near him.

“Someone’s been staring at you.” Sunoo smirked, taking a sip from your/his beer. You blushed at his statement. You had noticed Heeseung looking at you, but you didn’t realize other people did to. Although you could’ve guessed that Sunoo would notice it, being the biggest Y/N-Heeseung-supporter and all. “Go talk to him and put that poor man out of his misery.” Sunoo smiled, but you knew he was serious with his request.

“I don’t know, Sunoo.” You looked at your feet, burying themselves in the sand, “what if I embarrass myself?”

Looking at his best friend, Sunoo realized for the first time just how much you like Heeseung. He had never witnessed you hesitating when it came to talking to someone you found attractive. You were straight forward, confident. At first, he thought you were just a little embarrassed, that you just felt awkward because of the whole beach sleepover, but now he came to understand that you truly, genuinely liked Heeseung.

His features softened, “Oh Y/N, you won’t embarrass yourself. Everything’s going to go great, I promise.”

You smiled at his encouragement, but shook your head nonetheless, “I think I’ll wait a little longer, maybe sober up some more.”

Sunoo sighed but understood your reasoning. Oh, it was nerve wrecking to be in love.

As the hours went on, the fire lost its immensity. Its warmth reaching less and less far, until you could only remember its comfort by its flicker. Most people had either left or gone inside, only few remained on the beach. Heeseung was still low key watching you as you sipped on your water bottle, having switched from booze to the refreshing liquid almost immediately after coming down to the fire. What Heeseung couldn’t tell from his side of the bonfire was how nervous you were. You were hyping yourself up internally to finally get up to the boy. You had been pep-talking yourself for the past hour.

“Okey, Y/N, if you look up now and he’s looking at you, you go over there and talk to him.” You muttered to yourself, still burying your feet in the sand, only to pull them out again moments later. With one last breath, you averted your gaze from your incredibly interesting feet to Heeseung.

The boy in question was surprised to finally be seeing your eyes directed at him, visibly flinching at your sudden eye contact. Still, he didn’t look away, only tilting his smiling at you. Just as you promised yourself, you got up and made your way towards Heeseung, who was growing more and more giddy at the prospect of talking to you finally.

“Hi” you breathed out, barely audible. Had Heeseung not seen your lips move, he would’ve thought it was the wind rushing by.

“Hey.” He smiled, “long time no see.”

“Yeah, I know.” You looked down, “sorry about that.”

He shook his head no, meaning it wasn’t your fault (although it undeniably was) “You want to sit down?” he patted the space next to him on the log. Earlier that day Jungwon had placed three huge tree trunks around the fire for the proper experience.

“Actually…” you looked around, “maybe we could go somewhere else?” Heeseung’s eyes grew wide, a redness spreading across his face he was sure even the low light of the fire couldn’t conceal, “Just because there’s so many prying eyes around.” You quickly clarified, “I don’t know about you, but I can definitely feel Sunoo’s gaze boring through the back of my head.”

Heeseung’s sight darted towards the other side of the fire, where indeed all of your friends had gathered to watch their favorite ship sail. He laughed as he stood up, “Yea, you’re right.” He placed his hand on your lower back leading you further away from the flickering light source, “Let’s go,” he smiled.

(There was a number of groans and eyerolls by your friends to be observed, but they supposed they would get the details later.)

Heeseung and you walked in silence for a bit, making sure you were out of earshot. The more time you spent by his side, the more comfortable you felt. You noticed you were getting closer with every step you took until your sides were brushing against each other. It warmed your insides.

Heeseung on the other hand was growing more and more nervous. He thought his heart would actually burst and butterflies would fly out of his mouth any second now. Your close proximity being something he definitely had not gotten used to, despite already having slept next to you once. The fact that you seemed to be completely sober added only more to his anticipation.

“How have you been?” he blurted out. Mentally facepalming his sudden initiation of small talk.

You laughed quietly, “Honestly?” You looked at him, the corners of your mouth turning upwards, “It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently,” you chuckled.

Hee nodded along, agreeing with your statement.

The two of you had ventured so far down the beach, that the soft waves of the night were now kissing your feet. The reflection of the moon created a pale shine on both of your faces and Heeseung thought you looked simply beautiful. He was sure he was staring again, but through looking at you he noticed that you slightly shivered. The temperatures had dropped since the beginning of the party and now with the lack of the bonfire-y atmosphere, Heeseung could understand that you were a little chilly.

“Are you cold?” He asked walking side by side with you.

You only shook your head, no. But you knew Heeseung probably looked right through that lie.

He let out a breathy laugh, “I would give you my flannel, but someone hasn’t retuned it yet.”

You snapped your head towards him, eyes wide and mouth open, “Oh my god, Heeseung, I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to give it to Jungwon to return it to you.” You averted your gaze again.

“It’s fine.” He smiled, “I’d rather you gave it back yourself anyways. Especially after stealing it so cunningly off my sleeping body.” Heeseung laughed.

But you didn’t. The thought of the night of Jay’s party creating an awkward atmosphere for the first time. You opened your mouth thinking of something to say. It wasn’t his intention to create an uncomfortable situation, but he supposed it was necessary to talk about what happened at some point. Heeseung thought he could see the gears working in your brain, although he wasn’t entirely sure what you were going to say.

When you abruptly halted it took him a second to stop his movements as well. Now a few steps in front of you, the tall boy looked back at you, waiting for you to say something.

“Heeseung, I am so sorry for just leaving,” you bit your lip, a smile fighting its way onto his lips before you continued, “I was honestly just overwhelmed by the situation, especially because I didn’t remember a whole lot of the night before. I didn’t want to create a potentially uneasy situation the moment you woke up and now I realize that me leaving probably only spared me from such feelings, but just know that I am truly, genuinely sorry.” You finally breathed out, looking the boy in the eye.

“It’s okay.” He said a small smile on his lips, “Honestly, at first I thought I had dreamt up everything that I thought to have happened that night. But then I saw the traces of your body in the sand, and I realized it was real.” You flinched at his honesty, feeling a sharp pain in your chest that could only be caused by heart break. You wondered if that was what Heeseung had felt when he realized that you left. “But it’s okey, alright?” he placed his hands on your shoulders, willing you to look at him.

“I’m also sorry I don’t remember everything.” You muttered looking him in the eye but breaking the contact once you realized just how intensely Heeseung was looking at you.

His features softened, “What of that night do you remember?” Heeseung looked as though you held all the answers for all the questions in the world. Searching for them in the depth of your eyes and not stopping until he new it all. It scared you because you knew he would find out everything by just looking at you. You felt bare in front of him, and you were sure he had already figured out how deeply in love you were with him.

You hesitated again, your arms hugging your body in embarrassment. So Heeseung decided to speak up once more, softly he said “Hey, how am I supposed to fill you in, when I don’t know what you remember? I don’t want to bore you with details you already know.”

You chuckled softly at that, “All I know is that, well…” you looked down, “I know that my first assumption of what happened was wrong.”

He couldn’t suppress his laugh at that statement, making you blush furiously, “and what exactly would that assumption be? Just to make sure you’re right with it.”

You sighed, “You know, that we had sex.” Looking at him through your lashes, you saw the biggest grin placed on his face, you rolled your eyes and he laughed.

“No, you’re right. We didn’t have sex.” He confirmed but was still grinning at you though.

“What?” you were starting to laugh as well, the absurdity of the situation catching up with you.

Heeseung was shaking his head, smiling still, and reaching out to pull you closer by your elbows. Being impossibly close to him was definitely something you had yet to get used to. It felt like every inch of you that was touching him was burning, a warmth spreading on your skin, similar to the sensation of the bonfire. His lips were wearing the softest smile as he looked down at you. It was Heeseung’s turn to be sure that you saw all the love in his eyes. He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. A sweet gesture, but it also ensured that you kept looking at him, and Heeseung really needed you to keep looking at him.

“Why tell you what happened that night when I can show you what should have happened, even long before Jay’s party?” His eyes were looking for some sort of hesitation or uncertainty in yours.

But a small smile spread across your lips, a stark contrast to his anxious facial expression, awaiting your reaction, he knew he could go through with what he had been wanting to do for so long. You tilted your head and in a surge of confidence spoke, “Yeah? And what would that be?”

Heeseung let out one last breath before finally bringing his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t as hungry as you had expected, it was slow and passionate, lips moving in sync. You could feel Heeseung smile against your lips making you do the same. People say ‘actions speak louder than words’, but in this moment, you thought it should be ‘kisses speak louder than words’. (Cheesy, you cringed at yourself) Before you weren’t entirely sure how Heeseung really felt for you, but after that kiss, you knew just how much he liked you.

When you finally broke away, out of breath but still quietly giggling with each other, you hoped Heeseung could feel just how much you loved him.

Foreheads resting against each other, he broke the silence, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

Looking into his eyes, you pecked his lips once more, “Oh, I think I have an idea.”

thank you so much for reading til the end! i hope you enjoyed it! 🤍🤍🤍

this piece was written by @yourstruleejn so please don’t post on any other platforms or translate into any other languages! thank u !!!

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