★

Lau ☆

[blisssblve]

finally had time to clean my desk

[shy9-29]

The Love Letter I Never Sent — z.yf

“my first with him, he already had his with her,” — to all the boys I loved before

✦ You didn’t mean for the letter to send, but it somehow did—and now, he slipped into all the little corners of your life where no one else ever stayed. Unfortunately, you can’t shake the feeling that “you can’t be mad at someone for breaking your heart — it means they loved you in the first place.” Every moment with him feels like something new, something real, something dangerously close to a first you’ll never get back. But falling for him means risking everything… including the parts of yourself you’re scared to show. || pairing: soccer!player James x reader ✉️ wc: 14.9k

‼️ warnings: emotional conflict, jealousy, slow-burn romance, miscommunication, teen angst, mild language, relationship tension, harsh language, making out, pet names

💌 a/n: requested! thank you so much for this idea. I actually didn’t watch the movie so I had to reinstall Netflix and binge watch the first two 🥲.

James has you pressed against the wall before you can breathe, his body hot and solid against yours like he’s been dying to get his hands on you.

He pulls his shirt off in one swift motion. Muscles flexing, stomach tightening and the second he catches the way your eyes linger, his mouth curls into a dirty, knowing smirk.

“Yeah?”

His voice drops, low and cocky.

“You like that don’t you?”

Your thighs clench without permission. You nod, helpless. He slides a hand down your waist, fingers dipping under your waistband, brushing heat, barely there, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Fuck,” he laughs softly, lips dragging along your jaw. “Look at you—so pretty.”

His thumb presses against your clothed pussy, firm enough to make your hips jerk forward.

You gasp, a quiet, desperate sound, and he eats it from your mouth as he kisses you hard, tongue pushing past your lips like he owns the right. Your back hits the wall again.

His hips grind into you, slow and deliberate, the thick shape of his cock rubbing exactly against the spot that makes your knees buckle.

“Thought you’d break for me this easy,” he mutters against your mouth. His fingers slip lower “Let me hear it.”

“J-James.. I-“

You jolt so hard the pen flies out of your hand.

You’re instantly pulled back from your fantasy—heat to ice water in a heartbeat.

“Y/n?” your dad calls, voice muffled through your bedroom door. “Dinner will be ready in ten. Your sister will set the table today.”

You slap your palm over the letter like you’re hiding a crime scene. “I—I’ll be down in a sec!”

Your voice cracks. Horribly. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Yeah! Just—uh—finishing something!”

Footsteps retreat down the hallway. Silence drops. Then the fright hits you. You stare down at the paper. At the graphic, thirsty disaster you apparently wrote while possessed by a sex demon.

“Oh my fucking god.” You grab the paper in both hands, crumpling it so fast it practically crunches like aluminum foil.

“What is wrong with you, Y/n?” You fling the balled-up letter toward the overflowing trash can. It bounces off the rim and lands on the floor like it’s mocking you. Of course it misses. Even your garbage has better aim than your life. A waste of paper and your time. You bury your face in your hands and groan into your palms.

“He doesn’t even know you exist,” you mutter, pacing once, twice, like that might shake the embarrassment off. “How stupid do you have to be writing porn about James!”

James, the school’s most popular student who also happens to be in the soccer team. James who probably doesn’t know you exist and has a girlfriend. Or situationship. Or whatever the hell Amy counts as.

You drop back into your desk chair, heart still racing from the stupid fantasy. A mixture between wetness and heat still clings to your skin in places you wish it didn’t.

“This is insane,” you whisper to the ceiling. “Actually insane.”

You grab another sheet of paper, intending to write something normal. Something sane. Something not involving walls and grinding and his stupid smirk.

The page stays blank. Your hand trembles slightly. You shove it away and stand up.

“Dinner,” you tell yourself. “Food. Air. Brain reset. No… horny… writing.”

You take one step toward the door. Then stop. Then glance at the trash pile, the paper mountain you swore you’d never let anyone see.

One of them shifts from the movement of your fan. A small, sinking feeling hits your stomach. You really need to get a better trash can. Or maybe a shredder—no! Therapy. But first: dinner.

You yank open your bedroom door before you can psych yourself out again. And somewhere in the back of your head—the part you hate the most—James’s voice from your imagination lingers like smoke: Yeah? You like that?

You swallow hard.

“Shut UP,” you whisper to absolutely no one. You go downstairs anyway.

You drift down the stairs the minute the kitchen smells like something worth living for again. Your sister Annie is figuring out how her new phone works that she got for her thirteenth birthday recently. Your dad has his elbows on the counter, the kind of casual that says he’s trying to be chill but actually means business.

“You okay?” he asks between ladles of sauce. He always asks when you look a little too quiet. 

You shrug and grab a roll. “Yeah. Fine. Hungry.”

He’s stirring the pot and watching you like someone trying to read the news in a window reflection. “You’re eighteen, Y/n. That means you should try opening up to people a little. Join a club, meet someone new. Don’t close yourself off to the same circle forever.”

You give him the eyebrow. “You mean Bella?”

“Bella’s great,” he says, tone is deliberately even. “But reliable isn’t everything. You have this… tendency to tuck yourself away. Try something that rattles you.”

“Bella is the most reliable person one could ever know,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of you. Suddenly, the words slide into the hollow place where your thoughts live and rattles something loose. Open up. Rattle. Shake. It’s stupid, obvious, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, it feels like the exact sentence you needed to hear.Before your dad can say anything else, you quickly get up from your seat.

“Honey- where’re you going?!” Your dad asks, your sister’s gaze following his. You don’t answer him. There’s no time for that. Sitting at your desk with your lamp low, you carefully grab another slip of paper.. You’ve always been the type to catalogue everything. Feelings, small humiliations, the way your chest tightens when you see James in the hallway, into the soft, safe pages of your diary. But you ran out of pages two days ago. You didn’t throw the journal away; you just taped the spine and pretended that was a solution. Now the spine is a Band-Aid and your life is still leaking.

So you do something slightly insane. You write a letter. A letter to James that you’re obviously not going to send. But you’re not going to send it—fuck no. You might be crazy but not to that extent. Instead, this letter will just fulfill your delusions, knowing you’re too much of a pussy to actually go talk to him. 

Plus, James as Amy. A girl that’s ten times prettier than you. Even if the letter was sent, it wouldn’t do anything but humiliate her. You sit down and you write like the instruction are pressed into your ribs. 

Dear James,

I don’t know what kind of courage is even required to put this into paper and not just into the soft pulp of my diary where it will sit forever and never hurt anyone but me. I’m out of pages. I like to pretend that’s why this is happening, but really it’s because your face keeps crowding the edges of the life I think I should lead and I am tired of pretending nothing has changed.

I’m writing this because my dad said something tonight about opening up, and for once his advice didn’t annoy me. It lit the part of my chest that likes to tell the truth. Usually, I tell myself the truth in tiny, private scribbles. I tuck things away in notebooks and call it safety. But safe is starting to feel smaller than the way my thoughts about you try to grow.

So here it is: I like you. Not the kind of like that’s polite and fits into a yearbook quote. The kind of like that rearranges the soundtrack in my head and makes dumb songs sound like they were written for mornings when you’re still asleep beside me. I like the way you laugh when someone says something stupid on the field. I like the way your that little pout you make when you miss your shot during your soccer practice. I like the scar on your thumb. I notice the ways you look at nothing and I wonder if you’re keeping a private joke with yourself.

I don’t expect anything. I’m not asking you to change your life, and I’m not asking you to break anything open to fit me inside. I’m just telling you the shape of my heart as honestly as I can. If you look back and you don’t feel anything close, that’s okay. I’ll make more pages. I’ll close my hands around the feeling and let it be pretty and lonely and mine.

If by some impossibility you feel even a fraction of this, if you ever want to talk in the quiet and not for show, I’d like that. If you want to laugh and make terrible jokes and steal fries off my plate, I’d like that too. If you want to touch me and find out how the rest of me holds together like how you do with Amy—well. I want that too, but more than anything I want you to be honest with me the way I’m trying to be honest with you now.

— Y/n

You read it back and feel twelve whole things at once — proud, mortified, relieved, as well as questioning your life decisions. You fold it carefully like it it’s an explosive and slide it into an envelope. You address it with your own hand: Zhao Yufan, his legal name. Under his name, you scribble the address you only learned after realizing he lives six houses down. You seal the flap, press it flat like a bandage, and set the envelope on your nightstand.

You think about putting it in the diary, or a secret drawer, or burning it in the tiny metal box you use to store old receipts, but something about the whole open up thing makes you stubborn. This one you want to feel like it could be sent. So you tuck it under a small stack of textbooks on the nightstand, slide a pen across it like you’re filing it into safety, and tell yourself you’ll shower, you’ll calm down, you’ll decide tomorrow whether you actually post it or not.

You strip and step into the shower, the hot water hitting your skin in a rhythm that slows the part of you that wants to panic. Steam climbs the glass and you lean your forehead against the wall and breathe. You imagine the envelope still on the nightstand where you left it, protected by the textbooks like a little fort.

You shampoo and rinse and think of nothing and everything and finally step out, towel-wrapped and lightheaded. You cross your room, expecting the envelope to be exactly where you left it. But you don’t see it.

You assume you put it somewhere else—under a different stack, in a drawer you forgot about, safe. That makes you breathe easier. You make a mental note to check after you put your hair up. Only thing is you don’t get the chance. As soon as you lay down on your bed, you’re fast asleep.

—

Morning punches you in the face the moment your alarm shrieks. You bolt upright with that weird post-shower fog still clinging to your brain, and then the memory hits you like a shovel: The letter.

“Shit—” You stumble out of bed, hair a disaster, sleep shirt twisted around your waist as you lunge toward the nightstand.

Textbooks: check. Pen you left on top: check. Envelope? Not check. You flip the books. Nothing. Just kill me.

You yank open the drawer. Receipts, scrunchies, a rogue stick of gum. Oh—there’s your favourite lip gloss you lost in eighth grade. No envelope.

You drop to your knees and check under the bed like the letter might be hiding out of spite. Nada. 

“Okay, no. No no no—” Your voice rises, scrapes, breaks. You tear through your desk. Under the lamp. Behind your laptop. In your laundry basket like you’re truly losing it.

It’s gone.

You freeze so hard your breath forgets what it’s supposed to be doing. For a full five seconds you just stand there, staring at the nightstand like it personally betrayed you.

“Y/N! You’re gonna make Annie late!” your dad yells from downstairs.

Jesus Christ. Of course the universe picks today to make you a missing-letter fugitive.

You slap on makeup with the precision of a maniac, yank on loose jeans, absolutely forget deodorant, and sprint out the door with Annie trailing behind you.

She’s eating a Pop-Tart like nothing is wrong in the world. “Can you walk faster?” you hiss.

“You woke me up late,” she mumbles around strawberry filling. “This is your fault.”

She’s not wrong, and it only makes you want to scream into a pillow. “Actually, you could have set an alarm on your phone,” you say defend yourself. “What’s the point of having a phone if you can’t put it to use?” Annie rolls her eyes. The whole walk to her school, your brain is doing a full Olympic-level panic routine.

You drop Annie off—barely hearing her bye—and then you’re speed-walking toward your school like your life depends on it. Which, honestly? It kind of does.

Inside the hallway, it’s the usual teenage circus. Lockers slamming. People laughing too loud. Someone aggressively spraying Axe body spray like they’re trying to fumigate the building.

And then, you see him. James. He’s leaning against his locker, talking to Jihoon and some really tall guy, hair falling over his forehead in that stupidly soft way that makes your chest squeeze. He wipes his bangs aside with his knuckles and you swear your soul leaves your body like you’re some Victorian child witnessing the beauty of art for the first time. 

Your feet keep walking but your eyes stay glued to him as you’re now walking backwards somehow—hey, is it just you or did he bleach his hair blondish orange?

“Ouch! Watch where you’re going.”

Your shoulder ricochets off a wall of person, and a sharp, irritated gasp snaps you back to reality. “Hi Amy.”

Believe it or not, you and Amy were best of friends back in middle school until popularity took over her. Her brown wavy hair is perfectly glossy. Her skin is so flawless it looks like someone airbrushed her in real time. She’s applying a swipe of lip gloss with one hand and glaring at you like you just stepped on her dog with the other.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she snaps, pursing her lips as she caps the gloss. “Some of us actually care about how we look in the morning.”

Heat floods your cheeks, crawling up your neck. You mutter, “Sorry,” but it comes out thin and squeaky—humiliating.

Her eyes flick over you, slow and critical, before she glances past your shoulder toward James—her whole expression softening instantly, like flipping a switch.

You try your hardest not to look. It would be very embarrassing to do so. But you do.

James is watching. Not glaring. Not smirking. Just watching with that unreadable, calm expression he always gets when he’s trying to figure something out. His friends are waving their hands in front of his face to catch his attention. 

Your stomach drops to your toes. Because for one terrible, dizzy moment, you wonder if that letter got somewhere it shouldn’t. You swallow tightly.

This day is already hell. And it’s only 8:07 AM. 

You don’t even get three steps down the hall before Bella materializes beside you like she teleported straight out of loyalty. Her ponytail bounces while her iced latte sloshes, eyebrows already raised. “I saw that, by the way,” she says.

You groan into your hands. “Please. Please, Bella. Don’t.” Bella wiggles her brows. “You full-on stared at him like he was Michelangelo’s David, and then you—what was that? Moonwalked into Amy?”

“Let’s. Not. Talk about it.” You want to crawl inside your hoodie and never come out. Bella laughs so hard she snorts. “Okay, fine. But holy crap, you’re lucky she didn’t claw your face off.”

You don’t tell her about the letter. God, no. Bella is your ride-or-die, but even she doesn’t deserve to carry that radioactive emotional grenade.

The day crawls by at the pace of a wounded snail. Class, class, pretend to take notes, class. After school, you follow your usual routine: cut through the side field, slip past the bleachers, and make your quiet little trail toward the soccer field.

It’s stupid. SO stupid. But watching the practices has always been… calming? Or maybe masochistic. Hard to tell. They’re already running drills. Cleats thudding. Shouts carrying. 

And there he is, James, wearing the neon-pinnied version of perfection. He’s quick. Controlled. Focused. The way his legs move is ridiculous. He spins the ball like it’s attached to him by secret magnets.

Usually Amy’s on the bleachers, cheering him on with her friends. But today there were no signs of her being no where near this field. Strange. You wonder where she is. That should make you feel relieved. It doesn’t.

For once, James isn’t playing like you’re invisible. Because suddenly, he sees you. Actually sees you. His brows knit. His chest rises, pauses. And before you can process what’s happening, he jogs off the field. Then he’s running. Running toward you.

Panic detonates in your ribcage.

No. No no no no—

He stops way too close. Close enough that you smell him—clean, sharp, expensive. Something like cedar and citrus and everything you absolutely should not like.

“Hey,” he says, breath still catching from the run. “Y/n? Is that your name?” You freeze. He rubs the back of his neck. Looks down for a second. Then back at you.

“I see you watching the games sometimes and I, uh… got your note.”

Your heart stops. Literally stops. If a doctor checked you right now, you’d be declared clinically dead. “I just—” he swallows hard. He’s awkward. He’s never awkward. “I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring it.”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. Not even a squeak. He shifts his weight, eyes flicking toward the field like he wishes someone would rescue him.

“Listen… I just got out of a breakup. Like. Recently.” He laughs once, dry and not very funny. “And… I don’t even know you. So I can’t—it wouldn’t be fair. Or right. You know?”

“Then get to know me.” That’s what you want to say. Instead you nod slowly. Or maybe you physically malfunction. Hard to tell. He gives you this tiny, apologetic half-smile that somehow hurts worse than being stabbed.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. And then he jogs back onto the field like he didn’t just smash your chest open with his bare hands. You stand there frozen long enough that a stray soccer ball rolls by your foot and you don’t even flinch.

James looks even better up close. And yeah he smells like something expensive. Something that makes your stomach twist. You were never supposed to know that. You swallow, throat tight. It’s the start of the new school year and this day was- well... You’re not sure there’s even a word for it.

The next few days are awkward as hell.

You avoid his locker like it’s a landmine. You walk a little faster in the halls. How the hell did he get his hands on your letter in the first place? If your brain had a mute switch, you would’ve used it. Bella notices and gives you the exact look that says tell me everythingwithout actually making you talk.

You don’t tell her anything. Not about the letter, and about how your stomach clenches when he passes.

One afternoon you cut across the field and freeze halfway, because there they are, the once infamous couple arguing in that tense whisper that looks loud from a distance. Amy’s hands are animated, her face flushed in that way people get when they think they’re right and are also angry. James is calm but tight; his jaw works like he’s chewing on something heavy. You don’t hear words. You only see the body language: Amy stepping closer, James stepping back. The rest of the team keeps practicing around them like it’s normal to be emotionally shredded in the middle of drills. Maybe this happens a lot? Expect this time, they’re arguing as exes, not as a couple.

Three days later, you’re sitting with Bella like every other lunch school-day—salad in front of you, two conversations happening at once. “Hey,” Bella starts, “you think that I could fit three French fries up one nostril?”

You barely get two fries into your mouth before a shadow falls over your lunch table. Bella freezes mid-sip of her iced latte. Her eyes go huge. “Um… incoming.” You turn slowly, like your neck is rusted, praying it isn’t who you think it is. 

James. Hands in pockets. Hair slightly damp from gym. Looking like a walking problem. You could recognize his cologne from miles away.

“Y/n,” he says, voice low. “Can we talk?” Bella nearly breaks her own neck nodding. You shoot her a warning look, but she just winks. Or tries to. It looks more like a seizure. You follow James out to the side courtyard, heart punching your ribs like it’s trying to escape. Did he see you eves dropping on him and Amy’s argument? Or even worse—he somehow got a hold of that piece of paper you wrote a whole entire smut scene of you and him on. No. There’s no way that’s possible. But the letter- shut up y/n.

Finally, he stops by a bench and shifts his body awkwardly. You brace yourself for whatever’s coming.

“Okay, so… about what I said a few days ago.” Deep breath. “I changed my mind,.”

You blink. Not once. Not twice. About twelve times. “I’m sorry—what?” He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. “Amy found out I talked to you the other day.” His eyes flicker to you. “And she’s… not handling it well.” You say nothing. Your brain is buffering like bad Wi-Fi. “So,” he continues, “she’s convinced I’m into you. And she’s trying to make me jealous by flirting with every guy in our grade. Which is…” He grimaces. “Annoying.”You’re staring at him, blank-faced, because what else are you supposed to do? “So if she thinks you and I are together,” he finally says, “she’ll calm down. And maybe she’ll want to get back together. It’s just… easier this way.”

Ah. There it is.

It’s not because he suddenly sees you. It’s not because your face lives rent-free in his mind the way his does in yours. It’s because you’re convenient and somehow read the stupid love letter you were going to keep to yourself and through away after a few days. 

You swallow, throat scraping. “So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend… so your get back together?” He nods, relieved you understand. “Yeah. Exactly.”

You take your time thinking—way longer than necessary, honestly. But you’re not stupid. Fake dating James? James, whose face makes your brain glitch? James, who already thinks you confessed some weird crush? Why the hell wouldn’t you?

“Fine,” you say eventually. “I’ll do it.” His whole body loosens like he’s been holding tension since August. “Thank you. Seriously. Okay, uh… we should follow each other on Instagram.”

Shit. 

He pulls his phone out. You do the same—hesitantly. “It’s @y_notn?” He repeats, typing the username into Instagram, then clicking onto your page. You see his lips form a smirk. “You’re already following me I see.” You cheeks match the color of his shoes.

He types fast. “I’ll tag you in my bio. You can tag me in yours too.” Your pulse jumps but you nod in agreement anyways.

He pockets his phone again. “Meet me after practice today. Same field as always.” He gives you a small smile that’s entirely too soft to be legal. “I assume you know what time that is.” Like you haven’t literally watched every practice he’s had since school started.

You nod, trying not to implode. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cool.” He steps back, gives you a once-over that feels like a warm hand on your spine. “See you then, Y/n.” When he walks away, you realize you’re not breathing. You’re not sure you’ll ever breathe normally again.

Bella ambushes you before you even sit down. She’s practically vibrating with questions, textbooks forgotten in her hand.

“So spill. What did you two even talk about? Why is he talking to you when he has a—what is she—Amy? What the freak is going on?” Her eyes are all sharp curiosity and that ridiculous, fierce-protective thing only best friends get. You do the only mature thing you can think of: play it cool. “It’s nothing,” you say, which is still a lie and also technically not. You haven’t explained anything to anyone, not even to yourself.

Bella doesn’t buy it for one second. “Nothing? Y/n. You’ve been crushing on that guy ever since I’ve known you. Do you know how dramatic that was? Spill.”

You fold your fork over your lips. “He said some stuff. Nothing huge.” You focus on making your voice flat, unimpressed, as though your heart didn’t vault into your throat and refuse to come down two hours ago. She leans in until her face invades your space. “Did he… break up with Amy?”

You stare at her. The question feels like a live wire. “Yeah,” you say before you can stop it. “They—he said they broke up.”

Bella’s jaw drops so hard you’d think she swallowed a stone. “And you didn’t tell me? Am I not your best friend anymore or what?” She half-pleads, half-accuses. You laugh because panic tastes weird and small. “I didn’t know until this week, B. Chill. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be the person who screams and jumps on him or whatever you do when you’re extremely dramatic.”

She pouts, not actually mad. “Wait—so was he talking to you because he likes you or something and wants to move from Amy?”

It takes you a moment to respond. “It’s… complicated,” you say, and she deflates into a theatrical sigh. “I’ll keep you updated for sure.”

Later, after classes pretend to move slower than molasses. You go to the side courtyard like you promised. He’s there early, hands in pockets, looking like he walked out of a billboard and then stole your ability to breathe. He waves you over like he’s practiced casualness in a mirror.

“So,” he says, hands folded like he’s bracing for feedback as you two settle down on a nearby bench. “About us.”

You swallow. “About us.” Something you thought you’d never hear come out of his mouth, This is ridiculous. Then you remind yourself why you’re here in the first place.

He exhales. “I should make—uh—parameters. Boundaries. Whatever you want to call them..” He looks earnest. Which is both disarming and scalding.

“Okay,” you say. “No kissing. No… anything farther.” You say it like you’re filing a restraining order against your hormones. Your cheeks heat up right after you say it, like you’ve exposed your soul in public.

He gives you a genuinely confused look. “What’s so wrong with kissing?” You look at him and feel stupid and stubborn and painfully sincere. “I want my first kiss to mean something. I don’t want my first kiss to be a prop in someone’s plan. I want it to be because of… feelings. Real ones.”

He studies your face. For a second you think he’s scoffing. Instead he looks surprised, like he expected something else out of you entirely. “So you’re saying you’ve never kissed anyone? You don’t seem like a first-kiss kind of person,” he says, like it’s an observation, not an accusation.

You don’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment. “I’m not,” you say. “I just… want one that matters.”

He nods slowly, and shockingly, he takes it in. “Okay. No kissing,” he repeats. “No making out. No—anything. Got it. I was looking forward to that part though.” That last sentence makes you look up immediately. He lets out a “oh look at you, you feel for it,” laugh. Of course he didn’t mean it.

“And pet names? Like, are we team ‘babe’ or are we staying sane?”

You sigh. “Pet names are allowed but No PDA that crosses boundaries. Hand-holding okay. Quick pecks on the cheek—fine, but only if it’s not humiliatingly dramatic in front of Amy.”

He snorts at that, and for a moment the tension loosens. “Dates?” he asks. James going on a date with you? You want to poke yourself to make sure this isn’t all just a dream.

“Sure.”

You actually grin, and it feels like a defect in your usual composure. This is insane. You’re literally negotiating love like it’s a group project. He hesitates, then asks, “Can I—uh—pick you up to school? Like, to drive you? Make things look… convincing.”

Your brain short-circuits. “I walk my younger sister to school,” you say. “So no.” He brightens, thinking on his feet. “I can drive her too. Drop them both off. Make it seem legit.”

You gape. “You’d drive my twelve-year-old sister to school?” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Yeah. Less awkward than you explaining a fake boyfriend every morning.”

“Wow,” you say, simultaneously mortified and oddly touched. “That’s… actually kind. Okay, maybe.”

“And—if you want—I can drive you home now,” he adds. “Make it easier. Practical.” You almost laugh because this feels exactly like a dream for someone else and not like your actual life. But then you see his eyes dart—just for half a beat—toward the tree line at the edge of the parking lot. Amy. 

He looks back at you and, without missing a beat, pulls you closer. His hand rests on the small of your back, which feels equal parts possessive and protective. His other hand ghosts over your arm, fingers light, claiming. “Smile,” he whispers into your ear, breath hot and soft and ridiculous.

His hands wander like they’re memorizing the geography of you—over your shoulder, along your ribs—nothing obscene, just bordering on intimate enough to make your teeth ache.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.” He makes sure to emphasize on the baby part so it’s loud enough for Amy to hear. The pet name lands heavy in your chest.

He slides his fingers into yours and leads you toward the parking lot. Your sneakers scuff the concrete. Maybe the letter getting sent out wasn’t as bad after all. But then you remember this is all an act. James doesn’t actually like you. And once he’s back with Amy? You don’t even want to think about it.

You find the car before you recognize it. Low, polished, the kind of car that hums quietly like it was born rich. Leather seats. Chrome that catches sunlight like it’s showing off. You knew he was from money, but you’d never actually seen it up close like this.

He opens the passenger door for you with a theatrical little bow that somehow feels oddly considerate. “Hop in,” he says, and for a second the world narrows to leather and the faint plastic smell of air freshener and the rapid, stupid beating of your heart.

You climb in, and as the engine starts, you wonder which part of your life is a fever dream and which part, if any, is real.

James pulls up in front of your house like he’s done this a hundred times, like this is just routine for him now. The car quiets, he taps the steering wheel once, and turns toward you.

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, suddenly shy for no reason except he’s looking at you like that. You try to keep your smile contained, but it still slips out, tiny and embarrassing.

He catches it immediately. “Cute,” he says under his breath, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. He clears his throat, hoping you didn’t hear him slip. 

“So this is where y/n lives? Didn’t know you lived a couple houses down from me.” You smile and reach for the door handle, trying to act like a normal functioning human being, when he stops you with a soft, “Y/n—wait.”

You blink at him. “Yes?” He holds up his phone. “Can I take a picture of us holding hands? For my Insta so Amy can see.” You swear you felt something real between you two until he snapped you back to reality. “Like… right now?”

“Yeah.” He extends his hand, palm up, waiting. “C’mon.”

You place your hand in his because what else are you supposed to do? Say no? Die? Teleport? His fingers lace through yours, warm and soft, and your whole bloodstream turns into electricity. You feel your body heat up. This is your first ever physical contact with him.

He lifts his phone with the other hand and pulls your joined hands closer to the console where the lighting is better. Of course he knows his angles; he’s literally James.

“Look at me,” he murmurs. You do. He snaps the picture the moment you meet his eyes, like he wants you in the frame even if you’re only visible in the reflection of the screen. 

After the photo is taken, he stares at it for a quick second. Call yourself delusional but you swear you saw him holding back his smile. After tagging you, he uploads it instantly. Your heart legitimately forgets how to beat.

“Great,” he says, dropping your hand slowly, almost reluctantly. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“S-sure,” you mutter, stumbling over your own voice like a clown. You climb out of the car. He waits until you’re at the porch before he pulls away, tires rolling smooth and silent like he didn’t just flip your entire life upside down.

You walk in, still clutching the warmth of his hand like an idiot who’s never known happiness before. Your dad glances up from the kitchen, eyes narrowing with that suspicious dad-squint. “Someone’s smiling.” You almost choke. “I’m not—I’m literally—I wasn’t—”

He laughs. “Alright, alright. I’m not interrogating you. How’d you get home so fast?”

Panic rushes through your veins. “Uh. Bella’s brother drove us. We were going the same way.”

Lie. Instant lie. Horrible lie. Bella doesn’t even have a brother. You want to fistfight yourself.

“Huh,” your dad says, not looking convinced but not digging either. “Alright, well—oh! Before I forget.” He stands, wipes his hands on a dish towel, and smiles like he’s about to tell you something wholesome. Instead he says the single worst sentence you’ve heard in your entire life. “I forgot to tell you this but I saw that letter on your desk last week and helped mail it for you, honey.” Your stomach hits the floor. You swear your vision goes white around the edges.

“What—what letter?” You hear your own voice crack like a broken flute.

“The envelope under those textbooks on your desk thst was addressed to one of our neighbours? I figured it’d save you and I less time because I was stopping by the post office anyways,” He beams, proud of himself.

You cannot breathe. So that’s how James got your note. The letter that was literally your unhinged, handwritten, half-fantasy confession about James. The one you should have burned. “Thanks,” you whisper, voice tiny and hoarse. 

You bolt up the stairs the second you’re free, close your bedroom door with the gentlest click ever because of course tonight is the night you suddenly care about door volume, and just… collapse. Face-first into your bed. You don’t even bother turning the lights on.

Your body is still buzzing, like James’s handprint is burned into your skin. Your heart keeps replaying the whole car scene at 8K resolution, IMAX, Dolby Atmos, every upgrade possible.

James and Amy? Over. James talking to you? Actually real. James fake dating you? Also real. You? Completely malfunctioning.

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling like it personally betrayed you. Because the thing is, it’s fake. He asked for to take the picture for Amy, not because he wanted it for himself. He’s James. He dates girls who look like they stepped out of a perfume commercial. You literally tripped over air in homeroom last week.

Still… your chest squeezes around this tiny, dangerous wish. You wish it wasn’t fake, how he meant the way he looked at you in the car, and the warmth in his hand wasn’t just acting. But whatever. That’s not your life. Guys like him don’t like girls like you. You know that. You’ve always known that.

Next morning starts off painfully normal, which is honestly rude given the way last night cracked your brain open. You drag yourself out of bed, brush your teeth while half-asleep, pull on a hoodie that still smells vaguely like laundry detergent and despair, and braid Annie’s hair while she wiggles like a caffeinated squirrel.

“Hold still,” you mutter, trying to tame the last strand. “I am holding still,” she says, not holding still. You finally get her ready, grab your bag, and step out of the building with her hand in yours. It’s quiet outside, cool enough to wake you up a little. The walk to her school is familiar, easy, predictable.

Your brain needs predictable right now. You’re three blocks down before a car honk breaks the morning calm—one sharp, deliberate beep.

You and Annie both turn at the same time.

James’s car is parked at the curb. Leaning slightly toward the window, one hand on the wheel, raising his eyebrows in a “Really? You forgot?” kind of way.

“Oh shit,” you whisper. Annie gasps dramatically and sprints toward the car like she’s starring in her own movie. “Did you just say a bad word?” she calls out over her shoulder. “Also who’s that?”

“My… uh…” You have nothing. No explanation. Just panic. “Just—wait—Annie!” But she’s already yanking open the passenger door. “Did you forget about stranger danger?!”

“Hiiiiii!” she beams at him. James grins back, all sunshine and dimples. “Good morning.” He looks cute when he smiles.  You stumble up behind her, cheeks burning. “Sorry—she just—uh—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “She’s cute.”

Annie giggles like he handed her a scholarship. “My sister thinks cute! Her face literally turned red when she—” You quickly slap your palm on top of her mouth, nearly choke on your own tongue. “Annie! You can’t just—say things—!”

James laughs. “I can see that.” Fuck you. He nods toward the backseat. “You riding or walking?” Right. The whole fake dating thing. You climb in, mumbling, “I totally forgot you were picking us up.”

He shoots you a look in the rearview. Teasing. “Kind of figured.” Annie, meanwhile, is already telling him her entire life story. “So my sister woke me up late again, and Y/N didn’t let me have candy in the morning, so can you convince her t—“

“Annie,” you hiss, “personal space!” James glances at you, amused. “Your sister’s very bubbly.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Runs in the family.” He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Haven’t noticed much of that in you.” You look out the window so he can’t see your face fall and combust at the same time. “Well… it takes me a while to open up.”

There’s a beat of silence—soft, not awkward. Then, quietly, he says, “I don’t mind that. Your breath trips.  Annie thankfully interrupts you before your brain melts. “Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” You and James say entirely different things at the exact same time.

You: “NO—no no no—he’s not—don’t—” James: “Something like that.”

You whip your head toward him so fast your neck protests. “What?!” He smirks. “Relax. Just keeping the story consistent.” “That’s not consistent, that’s— that’s—”

“Convincing,” he finishes, winking. You swear your pulse jumps like it’s trying to break out of your body. By the time he pulls into the school parking lot, your nerves are shredded.

“Wait.” His voice stops you again. You freeze halfway out. He gets out too. Walks around the car. And then extends his hand. Palm up, a silver ring on his index finger. 

“Come on,” he says. “They’re already staring.” Your stomach drops to your knees. You place your hand in his, because apparently you’ve lost all brain function. His fingers lace through yours. Firm. Warm. Familiar already in a terrifying way. You wonder what if he uses hand cream—and if so, what kind?

You walk side by side, hands joined, through the courtyard. Every. Single. Person. Looks. Someone literally whispers, “Are you kidding me?” as you pass. Another girl stares like you committed a war crime. You try to keep your face blank, but your heart is doing parkour. Even his friends look at him weird. James leans toward you just slightly. “You good?”

“I’m—fine,” you lie. He squeezes your hand. A tiny squeeze. You nearly short-circuit. Then you turn down the hall. And there she is. Perfect hair. Perfect face. Perfect everything. Leaning against her locker with her friends, scrolling through her phone—Amy.

Until she sees you and James. Her entire expression freezes—then sharpens. Expression goes from neutral to knives-out in half a second.

It hits you so hard your stomach does a full gymnastics routine. You instantly look away, like you’re gonna be burned alive if you make eye contact for more than a microsecond. James actually glances. Quick, sharp, assessing—like he’s checking if she saw. And apparently she did, because he gives the smallest nod to himself and keeps walking.

Your palm is sweating in his, which is honestly humiliating, but he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t squeeze or slow down or look at you twice. He’s just walking. Playing the part. Cool. Unbothered. Like this is all just logistics. People are still staring, whispering, straight-up gawking as you pass.  You keep your face forward. Try not to shrink… or die. All three are failing.

When you reach his locker, he drops your hand casually like he’s turning off a light switch. He spins his combo, grabs a book, and says, completely normal, “I saw her staring.”

Your heart is still in your throat. “It’s progress, I guess.” He nods once, satisfied. “Think it’s working.”

James doesn’t look at you again—just shuts his locker with a quick clack and tosses his bag over his shoulder like he didn’t just nuke your nervous system in the hallway.

“See you later,” he says, already turning away. And you’re left standing there, trying not to look like you’re about to dissolve into mist.

The rest of the week doesn’t calm down — it just mutates into this weird fever dream where James keeps doing things that make your brain short-circuit.

Like Wednesday morning, when you’re trying to open your locker and the stupid thing jams for the eighth day in a row. You mutter under your breath, “I hate this place,” and kick the bottom corner. Out of nowhere, James appears behind you, lean and warm and annoyingly tall.

“Move,” he says, voice low like he’s about to break into a safe.

“I’ve tried that,” you snap, not even looking up. “It doesn’t—” He slams his palm against the top left edge with one clean, confident hit. The locker pops open like it’s scared of him. Hot. “Are you—what? How—?!”

He shrugs, smirking. “You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes way too dramatically, but you’re pretty sure your soul floats out the back of your head when he taps the top of your hair and says, “I’ll be here if you need help with anything else.”

You stare after him like a malfunctioning Roomba as he walks off.

Then there’s Thursday, when you’re walking through the courtyard with James and trip over absolutely nothing. Like, genuinely nothing. A single leaf. A shadow. Air. You go stumbling forward like a newborn deer. Before you can fall, James catches the back of your hoodie and pulls you upright by the hood like you’re a cat being relocated.

“I swear to God,” you wheeze, face on absolute fire, “the ground attacked me.”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, “the ground looked really hostile.”

You shove his shoulder because you can’t come up with a good comeback and also because you’re mortified. He lets out a quiet chuckle and it unlocks something sweet and dangerous in your chest.

Next it’s Friday morning. You and Annie are waiting for him outside, and your sister is bouncing around talking about how she wants to get a hamster named Bean. James comes out of the car, leans over the passenger seat, and gives Annie an exaggerated thumbs-up.

“Bean’s a great name,” he says, like he’s taking her dead seriously. “Very strong. Very intimidating.”

Annie giggles like she’s met a celebrity. You can tell that your sister likes him a lot. Too bad it might all end soon. You’re standing there blinking because why is he being sweet when no one is watching? There’s no audience at 7:53 AM on a suburban sidewalk. No reason to impress anybody. He looks at you for a beat too long. “What?” you say, defensive because your nervous system is fried.

“Nothing,” he says, that tiny smile tugging at one corner. 

Later that same day, you’re at his soccer practice again, this time on mandatory fake-girlfriend attendance, apparently, but this time you don’t sit on the bleachers. You’re late, so you stand awkwardly by the fence, hugging your bag. 

James sees you. Mid-scrimmage. He’s literally making it past two guys and still looks over like you’re a lens flare he enjoys catching. Amy’s on the far side of the field glaring daggers, and that’s probably why he does it, why he pushes a bit harder. For some reason, she started showing up again. 

But then he smirks. And it’s not aimed at Amy. He jogs up after scoring, out of breath, flushed, hair sticking to his forehead. The kind of sweaty that shouldn’t be attractive but absolutely is.

Before you know it, his practice ends, the sun’s low, and the field looks like it’s glowing. You’re standing by the fence scrolling your phone, pretending you’re not waiting for him even though obviously you are.

They scrimmage one more play. James gets the ball. The field actually erupts. He slips past two defenders, cuts left, shoots—Goal. The boys yell and explode like he just cured cancer. And then he does something so stupidly cinematic you almost faint: He runs straight toward you. Like you’re his checkpoint.

He stops right by the fence, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, jersey sticking to him — black and green, drenched in sweat, clinging to every muscle that should not legally exist on an 20-year-old.

“Did you see that?” he breathes out, grinning like he’s half-drunk on adrenaline.

“I—I mean—yeah,” you say, but it comes out more like a squeak because you are absolutely staring. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his neck glistening, jaw sharp enough to slice your willpower in half. He smirks when he notices.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” he teases, voice low. You immediately snap your eyes away. “I wasn’t—looking. I was—blinking.”

“I didn’t know blinking took that long,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer to the fence. You nearly dissolve into the grass.

By the time he drops you off, your brain is a puddle. He taps the steering wheel, looks at you with that same unreadable-soft expression you’re starting to recognize. “Same time tomorrow?” 

Before you could answer, your dad comes out on the porch at the worst possible moment, holding a mug and squinting into the driveway. “Is that the handsome guy Annie keeps talking about?”

Why oh why. “Wha—dad—I—no—?” James, traitor that he is, just smiles and waves like this is a barbecue and not the crumbling of your sanity. “Yes I am!”

Your dad lights up. “Well! Why don’t you stay for dinner?” You see James glance at you like he’s asking for permission—like you’re the deciding vote before he says, “Sure. If that’s okay.” Okay?? You’re already having an out-of-body experience. Inside, Annie is THRIVING. She pats the couch between her and James like she’s the host of a reality show. You sit, fully preparing to be normal. You fail immediately.

Halfway through the movie, James shifts closer—casual, smooth, evil—and drapes an arm behind you on the couch, feeling himself at your home. Not even touching you yet, just… there. Warm. Heavy. Loud in your peripheral vision. Your heart is trying to escape your ribcage with a crowbar.

Then, out of nowhere, he reaches over and slides the scrunchie out of your ponytail. Slow. Deliberate. Like he’s unwrapping a present. Your hair falls down your shoulders and you swear the air temperature spikes 40 degrees.

“Looks better like this,” he murmurs, barely audible over the TV.

You’re going to combust. Annie is too invested in the movie to notice you dying.

He loops it around his wrist, then pulling out his phone to check something. You assume he’s going to post something on his Instagram for Amy to see, but he checks the time instead. Strange

Your dad comes in once to ask if you all want snacks. James answers politely. You stare at the wall like you’re seeing God. He grabs a piece and feeds it to you. Even morestrange.

Eventually it gets late, and he stands, gives Annie a little salute, thanks your dad for the evening, and looks at you with this unreadable softness that makes your stomach flip.

“See you tomorrow,” he says.

—

The night air is cold enough to bite, but he doesn’t feel it. His whole skin is still warm from your house, your couch, your hair brushing his shoulder. 

As he hopped into the car, shouldn’t be thinking about that. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that. Getting out, he walks up his front steps, keys halfway out of his pocket, when he freezes.

Amy is sitting on his porch. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. Wearing that perfume he likes.

“James,” she says, chin tilted, voice honeyed she knows works on most people.

He exhales, slow. “Amy. What are you doing here?”

She stands up, taking a step closer. “I wanted to talk. We haven’t really—y’know—processed everything. And I…” She lets the sentence trail off, fingers brushing his arm like muscle memory. “I miss you. We were good together.”

He should want this. He knows that. This was the whole point, wasn’t it? Proving he could move on, making her jealous, getting her to come back.

“We were,” he says quietly. It comes out flat. Even he hears it.

Amy leans in, confidence flickering back. “I mean… moving on to someone like her?” She smirks. “Convincing. I’ll give you that.”

He doesn’t say anything. She slides her hand down his arm like she’s done it a thousand times — because she has. Her voice drops. “You could’ve just talked to me, James. You didn’t have to pretend.”

Her eyes glint. She steps closer again, enough that her breath hits his collarbone. “What do you say? Are you up for a redo?” Amy reaches for his wrist, then stops at a certain spot.

“Oh.” Her voice shifts — sweet turning sour. “What’s this?” Her fingers brush the scrunchie. Your scrunchie. Still warm from your hair. She looks up at him, eyebrows lifted like she’s caught him with a crime weapon.

“Is that Y/n’s?” she asks, sickly sweet. His voice is small, quieter than he expects. “It is.”

Amy lets out a low, humorless laugh. “Wow. You’re really committing to the bit.” He doesn’t correct her.

She slips it off his wrist and ties her hair with it, steps back, arms folding. “Well,” she says, lips curling, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, James.”

She walks away without waiting for an answer. Her perfume lingers. But his wrist feels heavier than everything she tried to imply. He stands there a long time after she’s gone. And the scrunchie stays exactly where it is.

—

James picks you up like nothing happened, acting like he didn’t stand on his porch last night looking existential with your scrunchie on his wrist while his ex tried to crawl back into his life.

“Morning,” he says, voice warm, as you hop into the car. 

“Good Morning.”

He glances over, tapping the steering wheel. “Tired?” You scratch your neck, letting out a soft groan. “Not at all.”

He actually laughs under his breath. “Liar.” Ugh. Of course he knows.

He drives for a bit, a comfortable quiet settling between you — or, well… almost comfortable. Then he says it. Soft. Almost shy. “I really like spending time with you.”

You freeze. Brain: 404 error. “Why?” you say before your filter can save you. He looks over. “Why not?”

“No, like—” you wave a hand, “you don’t have to do the whole… nice boyfriend act right now. No one’s looking.” 

His brows pull together, confused, just a tiny bit hurt. “I know.” It’s nothing. It’s everything. You don’t know what to do with it, so you shove it into the mental junk drawer and slam it shut.

—

After your second class, Bella picks you up and you two walk to your lockers, minding your own business, when Amy appears like a horror movie jump scare, leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, eyes on you like target practice.

“You know James doesn’t actually like you?” She says sweetly.

It’s not like you didn’t know that. The thing going on between James and you is all for show. Bella stiffens beside you. You close your locker and keep walking. 

Amy clicks her tongue. “Y/n—you forgot something.”

You turn just in time to see her toss your scrunchie. It hits the floor at your feet like a punchline. Bella’s eyes go HUGE. “Um. What—?”

“I’ll explain later,” you mutter, scooping it up with fingers that are absolutely trembling.

You don’t go to his practice after that. Screw that. Screw all of it. You go home, burrow under your blanket, and try to convince yourself you don’t care even though you obviously care so much it feels like a bruise.

Around six, there’s a knock downstairs. Please don’t tell me it’s who I think it is.

You hear your dad open the door.

“Oh! Hi James!”

“Is Y/n home?” he asks, and his voice is nervous. Nervous? Since when does James get nervous? “Yes, she’s upstairs in her room, doing whatever you teenagers do.”

“Can I— uh— can I talk to her?”

“…Sure, come in.”

You want to sink into the floorboards. Your dad calls up the stairs, “Y/n! James is here!”

Yeah, you heard.

A moment later, there’s a soft knock on your door. “Can I come in?” You don’t answer, and quickly pull the cover over you. He opens just enough to peek inside. “Hey.” You sit up, knees tucked to your chest. “Hi”

He steps inside, closes the door behind him, runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to hit CTRL+ALT+DEL on his own life. “Why didn’t you show up to my game? You always show up.” 

You look at him for a long second, then ask the question that’s been chewing through your ribs all day.

“Did you… meet up with Amy last night? And then give her my favourite scrunchie?” 

His head snaps up fast. “No.”

“No?”

“I mean—yes and no. It’s not what you think.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what happened?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping. “She just spawned in front of my house as I was driving home. I never asked her to come” Your chest tightens, but you keep your voice steady. “Right. And when she took my scrunchie… you just let her take it?” He flinches a little — just barely, but you see it.

“Yeah, that’s my bad,” he says quietly. “But hey, at least you got it back.”

You stay quiet, jaw set as you look down at the scrunchie on your wrist.

“And it’s not a big deal,” he adds quickly. “It’s just a scrunchie y/n.” He stops himself. “Well — not just a scrunchie. Yours.” Your lungs betray you with a small inhale. He moves a little closer, hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Really. And… I wanna make it up to you.”

You tilt your head “How?” And because he’s him — chaotic, dramatic, inexplicably confident — he smiles.

“You heard of ‘Ski Slopes Nation?” The ski trip party my friend hosts every year. It’s, uh, kinda big. And really fun. I want you to come with me.”

You look down at yojr hands, unsure what to say. Strange, wouldn’t he have asked Amy? “James, I don’t even know anyone there.”

“Okay,” he says, shrugging, taking one small step closer. “So what? You’ll know me.”

“That’s not enough. You’ll be distracted by you know who.”

He sighs, walking towards your bed as he puts his finger under your chin, turning your head to face him. He tilts his head, smirk creeping back. “You’re the only distraction I need.”

Your stomach flips so hard you have to look away again. How can he say this when he doesn’t even like you?

“Think about it,” he murmurs. He reaches for the doorknob, pauses, glances back at you with that soft half-smile. “And for the record, I’ll buy you snacks for the whole time we’re there.”

Then he leaves you alone with your heartbeat trying to set a new world record.

“Wait… it was fake?!” Bella’s voice is a cartoon of betrayal—half screech, half wounded martyr. You’re sitting across from her at your usual greasy-spoon table, regretting your life decisions, and she’s dramatically clutching her phone like you’ve personally stolen her childhood.

“I thought he actually liked you,” she adds, scandalized. “I mean, everything! His stories, the way he looked at you—God, I practically had a panic attack of joy.”

You shrug, because what else do you do when your life is embarrassing and baffling at the same time. “It was the plan. To make Amy jealous. To get her to get back with James.”

Bella pokes your forehead with the end of a fry. “So you were a pawn? That is actually a geniu—horrible!”

You let out a sigh and then tell her about the ski thing—James’s invitation that felt suspiciously like a peace offering. Bella immediately goes into PR mode.

“Why aren’t you going?” she asks, all business now. “This could be huge. Honestly, go. I’ll totally come with you if that’ll change your mind.”

You almost say no. You almost say yes. You do say, finally, “Okay, but you cannot leave my side for once.”

She claps and picks up your phone from the table. “Text him now.” She demands while handing you her phone. Slowly, you unlock your phone and type in: “Ok, Ski Slopes Nation it is.” Sent.

Weekend flies. Saturday morning, you stand by the curb, heels tapping like a metronome, expecting Bella’s overzealous face any second. Typical you overpacked for a three night trip. James pulls up right on time, engine purring luxury. You get in. You do a full inventory of your nerves.

Ten minutes later you notice Bella’s text: one-line replies. 

Bella: Sorry guys, mom lowkey got mad because I fumbled my test 🙁. Maybe next time?

You stare at the message like it physically hurt. She didn’t tell you before. This was her plan all along for you to go to the Ski Slopes Event alone with James. She was never going to come.

You turn to James, ready to explode with “where is she?” but the words scramble and bail right out of you. Your hand goes for the door handle. You’re doing the awkward petty-exit thing when he reaches over, still driving, and grabs your wrist gently.

“Wait,” he says. His voice is small, not demanding, just…earnest. “Please. Don’t go.”

You stare at his hand on yours. Your knee-jerk plan is to get out and walk, to reclaim dignity off the side of the highway, but the highway is suddenly very far away and his palm is somehow steadying.

“Why?” you ask, because why not make him explain himself.

He pulls into the next parking spot, kills the engine, and turns fully to you like it’s the thing he’s meant to do all day. The car becomes its own little island of breath.

“I wanted you to come,” he says, simple and flat, like it’s obvious and he’s been dying to say it. “Not because of Amy. Not to make her jealous. I… I actually like doing this with you. I like spending time with you.”

Your brain files that under “unreliable information” and simultaneously under “this actually matters.” You blink. “But—wasn’t this whole thing supposed to get Amy back?”

He hesitates, then answers honestly, the way people answer when the truth is awkward but necessary. “Yes that was the plan. At first. But I don’t know if I want to go back to that. I don’t know if I ever did. And the more time I spend with you—not pretending—it’s not the same. You’ve made me felt something no one else has ever made me feel. But what I know is that I like you. A lot.”

You roll your eyes because dramatic vulnerability is embarrassing even when it’s kind of endearing. And your body heats up. Your cheeks are probably tomato colored, but you try staying nonchalant. “So what, you just switched teams mid-game?”

He gives you one of those looks that’s half apology, half dare. “Sort of. Do you… do you wanna keep doing this? Not for Amy. For us. Keep this—whatever this is—going?”

You inhale, exhale, try to be sensible. “You know how this looks,” you say. “Welp, the love letter sure worked out—just now how I expected.”

He smiles, small and stubborn. “It sure did.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes—part incredulous, part hopeful. You tuck your hand back into yours under the dash. “Fine,” you say, because why be brave when you can be cautiously stupid instead. “But I’m watching you. One misstep and I will glare you into ashes.”

“Deal,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips that’s half triumphant, half relieved. “Also, I’m getting your scrunchie back. Properly next time.”

You look out at the highway ahead, and despite the chaos, despite the lying and the staging and the way your life currently reads like a badly edited montage, there’s a tiny part of you that answers before your brain can veto it.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s keep doing this—carefully.”

He squeezes your hand. The car pulls back onto the road, and the rest of the world sounds like muffled static for a second, just you and the hum of the engine and the very complicated possibility of something messy and real.

“Are you sure you have snow tires on?” You double check as more snow comes down while you guys drive up the mountain. The atmosphere in the car was not quiet, but soft. Not awkward anymore, not tense, just this gentle humming between you two—like the car has its own heartbeat now and it somehow synced to yours. James lets out a low chuckle, reaching for your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“I’m sure y/n.” The way he spoke your name was so attractive yet reassuring. Snow lines the trees like powdered sugar and the sky is a blue so obnoxiously pretty it looks edited. James keeps flicking quick glances at you like he’s checking if you’re still real. You’re still trying to get over the fact that you’re seated in Jame’s car that actually has feelings for you.

When he parks outside the lodge, you hop out and the cold instantly punches your lungs. He grabs the bags before you can even protest because he’s a show-off with biceps, apparently. Inside, the place is gorgeous—warm lights, crackling fireplaces, couples everywhere wearing matching sweaters like they’re in a Pinterest board.

James leads you down a hallway lined with wooden doors and stops at one. Unlocks it, then opens the door. You follow him in. And freeze.

There are multiple reasons why you freeze. First and most obvious reason, the scenery. You knew James and his friends were filthy rich, but this is on a next level. The place was small, but it felt so cozy and expensive at the same time. Second reason, the bed. Notice how it’s bed and not beds plural? 

“…Hold on,” you say, voice thin. “Where’s—uh—the other bed?” There is one bed. One. Big, yes. Fluffy, absolutely. But still ONE BED.

James glances at it like it’s the weather. “Oh. Yeah. They ran out of doubles.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “Is that okay? It is pretty spacious so we can sleep on either ends.” 

Is that OK??

Your soul: NOPE. SOUND THE ALARMS. EVACUATE THE PREMISES.

Your mouth: “Yeah it’s fine.”

Typical y/n. Always lying out of your ass crack.

He tosses his duffel on the floor and starts unpacking, casual as ever, while your brain is mapping out emergency escape routes and calculating the surface area of the bed to figure out how far you can sleep from him without dying.

“We’ve got, like, four hours until the big event,” he says, kicking off his shoes. “It’s basically a party with drinks and games. Then we go skiing. People kinda go all out.”

Skiing? You? “Is it bad that I don’t know how to Ski?”

He snorts—soft, fond. “It’s okay. I’ll teach you if you’re down. I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.

He finishes unpacking and flops onto the bed, arms behind his head. “You can talk, y’know,” he says, teasing. “You’re doing that quiet-stressing face again.”

“I’m not”—

“You are.”

“Stop reading my mind.”

“Stop being readable.”

You grab your water bottle just to have something to do. He watches you, amused. The silence stretches—not awkward, but charged. Like static in the air before lightning strikes. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, rambling about something—how cold it is, how Bella tricked you, how the hallway smells weirdly like cinnamon. You don’t stop talking because if you stop, you’ll think, and if you think, you’ll panic.

Halfway through your rant about overpriced ski equipment, you notice he’s not responding. He’s just… staring. Not in a bored way. Or in a polite-listening way.

In a hungry way. In a memorizing-your-mouth-movements way. In a way no fake boyfriend should ever stare. No one has ever looked at you like that.

You clear your throat. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

James’s voice is low, a little rough. “I don’t know.”

You short-circuit. “I—what—you—you don’t know—?”

“Yeah.” He shifts closer—just enough for your knees to touch. 

You swallow. Loudly. “Cute.”

“Mm.” His eyes drop to your lips like gravity dragged them there. “And distracting.”

Your heart is doing backflips. Your hands start sweating. You are ninety percent sure you’re about to ascend straight off the bed.

“James…” you whisper, though you’re not sure if it’s a warning or an invitation. He moves closer, slow enough to give you time to pull back. You don’t. You couldn’t even if you tried. His forehead almost touches yours, breath warming your skin. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” he murmurs.

You don’t answer. You lean in. Never once in life were you expecting James to be your first kiss. Obviously in those little fantasies of yours, but never in real life.

His lips brush yours—barely, like a question he’s too scared to ask out loud—and your breath catches so hard your ribs ache. He tilts his head, closes the space, kisses you properly this time, soft but hungry, like he’s been holding this in for weeks.

He pulls back, breathless, eyes flashing with something you can’t quite name. Then suddenly he’s dragging you into his lap, steady hands guiding you, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear before pulling you in for another kiss. This one is hungrier—messy, frantic, almost starving.

A small moan slips out of you the second his tongue pushes into your mouth. He’s good—too good. And you were the complete opposite. Heat blooms low in your stomach, and you can feel him hardening beneath you, the realization sending a shiver through your whole body.

He chuckles against your lips, the vibration buzzing straight through you as his tongue keeps exploring your mouth.

“You like that?” he murmurs, fingers trailing up your thigh. You nod instantly, needy, like your body answered before your brain could catch up.

He leans in, breath brushing your ear. “Tell me what else you want,” he murmurs. You part your lips, but nothing comes out—you’re too wound up, too turned on from everything he’s already done.

“Tell me, baby.” The pet name makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I—I don’t know,” you finally manage to whisper.

“You don’t know?” he repeats, eyebrow lifting in a teasing way. Embarrassment floods your cheeks as you shake your head and bring your hands up to hide your face.

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling your hands away. Your eyes meet, and he him unintentionally bitting his lower lips, his eyes now roaming all over your body.

Before you can even react, he’s kissing you again—deep, consuming, pulling you straight back into the heat of him.

“Do you know how to grind on me?” he asks when he pulls away again. You shake your head no.

“Here, let me guide you.”

His hands settle on your ass, gentle but sure, guiding your hips back and forth over his clothed cock as he pulls you back into the kiss. You both let out soft moans, the sound tangled between your mouths. It’s overwhelming, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging just enough to pull another sound out of him.

“God, baby… you look so hot on top of me,” he whispers, his hands roaming over your ass again.

Before you know it, James’s hands slide down to the zipper of your jeans. He wants more—you can feel it in the way his breath catches, the way his fingers hesitate there like he’s waiting for permission. You stop him, catching his hands before he can go any further.

He looks up at you immediately, eyes searching your face.

“Something wrong?” he asks softly, tilting his head just a little.

“I—I don’t want to go further than that,” you say, your voice small but steady. “Not right now.”

James searches your face like he’s trying to read every micro-expression you’ve ever had in your whole life.

“Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” he asks quietly. You shake your head fast. “No, it’s not that. I just… don’t wanna do that right now.”

His shoulders loosen immediately. “Oh. Okay.” And the way he says it—soft, not offended, not disappointed—makes something warm twist in your chest.

He presses one last kiss to your forehead before sliding you gently off his lap. “I’m gonna go shower,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek, “then we’ll get ready for the party.”

When he disappears into the bathroom and the door clicks shut, the room feels too big. Too quiet. Too… loud inside your head. You flop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling again, because apparently that’s your hobby now. And, of course, your brain immediately starts being a menace.

Yeah, he used to do this with Amy. Plus, breakup wasn’t even that long ago. Maybe you’re just some transitional little detour while he untangles whatever is still left inside him.

You groan into a pillow. “Get it together,” you mumble at yourself. Your overthinking is doing parkour.

Then the bathroom door swings open—and your soul exits your body.

James steps out with a towel sitting dangerously low on his hips, droplets rolling down his chest like they were directed by a film crew. His torso? Toned. Defined. Absolutely from-the-cover-of-a-ski-lodge-soccer-player-romance-novel level sculpted.

His dyed dirty blonde hair is wet, dripping onto his shoulders, making him look unfairly good. You snap your gaze to the window like it personally offended you.

He grabs his bag and looks over at you. “You gonna get ready?” he asks casually, like he isn’t currently the hottest man alive standing half-naked five feet away.

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, I was just… thinking.” (About your sanity evaporating.)

You peel yourself off the bed and rummage through your bag, already annoyed at yourself because you did not pack for a fancy winter party. You pull out something normal, plain, safe—because of course you brought nothing special. James glances over with a soft smile. “Going casual?” You shrug. “I didn’t really bring, like… party clothes.”

His eyes drag over your outfit, then your face.

“You’ll look amazing,” he says simply.

The Ski Slopes Nation’s “big event” is already at full volume by the time you and James walk in. It’s loud. Like… loud-loud. Bass thumping through the floorboards, laughter coming from every corner, people yelling over each other like they’re competing for the Olympic gold medal in being obnoxious. James doesn’t even flinch. He’s been to a million of these. You on the other hand—feel like you just walked into a live-action TikTok POV.

James keeps a warm hand at the small of your back as he leads you through the crowd. “C’mon,” he says, leaning down so you can hear him, breath brushing your ear. “Gotta introduce you.”

His friends spot him immediately.

“AYYYY ZHAO YUFAN BOY!” A giant wasian guy—Martin—throws his arms up like James just scored a goal. He’s tall. Like… tree-level tall. The kind of tall that makes you physically tilt your head back to make eye contact. Next to him is Keonho—smaller, ridiculously handsome, annoyingly charming. Both of them stare at you for a beat, confused as hell.

James just grins. “Guys, this is Y/N.” Martin nods like he’s analyzing an alien species. “Ohhh… she’s the one.” Keonho elbows him. “Bro, don’t be weird.”

You want to evaporate. James squeezes your hand like he can tell. People around the room keep glancing. Whispering. Doing double-takes. James showing up with another girl this soon after Amy? Yeah. You can practically feel the gossip starting to ferment.

You clear your throat. “I’m, uh, gonna grab something to drink.” James nods, gentle. “I’ll be right here.” The second you leave, Martin leans in with that tall-guy nosiness. “Dude. She’s so different from Amy.”

James rolls his eyes. “Okay?”

“No, like… in a good way,” Martin says. “She’s calm. Doesn’t have that whole… I’m-influencing-the-room energy.”

Keonho smirks. “And you like her. It’s obvious.” James gives them a look but doesn’t deny it. Across the room, Amy is staring—hard. Snow-white expensive looking sweater that somehow makes her look like a judgmental snow angel. She watches James talk to his friends, then looks you up and down like you’re the clearance rack version of her.

You return with a drink—your first real drink ever—and try to pretend the room isn’t spinning from nerves. You take a sip. And another. And another. Warmth blooms in your chest, buzzing under your skin. James finds you instantly. “Hey.”

His brows pinch. “You good? You seem… off.”

You look at him. And your brain decides now is the perfect time to unhinge.

“You… used to have sex with Amy a lot, right?”

James chokes. Like, full cough-wheeze combo. “That’s what’s been bothering you?”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “It—doesn’t really matter. I mean… I know you’re with me right now, so that’s all that counts.”

James steps closer, hand cupping your jaw gently. “Y/N. She’s my past. You’re the one I’m choosing now. And every second with you feels… different. Better.”

Your chest squeezes so tight you forget how to swallow.

You look down at your shoes. “It’s just… I guess my first time with you would be your… I don’t know… however-many-th time with her.”

A breath leaves him—soft, understanding. “Hey. Look at me.”

“I’m not comparing you to her. I’m not thinking about her when I’m with you. I’m here, with you. And I like us. A lot.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right.” And just like that, the tension melts a little.

The night blurs in the best way—laughter, games, James’s friends warming up to you, your drink going down way too easily. You’re not drunk, but definitely… pleasantly wobbly. James stays close the whole time, his arm brushing yours, hand grazing your lower back, fingers brushing your knuckles. Subtle, tiny things that keep your brain fried the entire night. 

At one point Martin challenges James to some stupid game that involves taking shots and hitting a mini soccer ball into a trash can, and you swear the cabin shakes when everyone screams after he makes it. You’re laughing. Actually laughing. And your cheeks hurt in the happiest way.

Eventually, when you’re both a little tipsy and the cold outside feels way too sharp, James wraps an arm around your waist and walks you back to the room.

Inside, you both stand awkwardly over the giant bed again.

“Uh… I’ll sleep on that side,” you say, pointing to the edge like it’s a danger zone.

James nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

You settle under the covers, facing away, trying to breathe normally. James climbs in on the opposite end, careful, respectful, leaving a canyon of space between you. As you close your eyes, the coldness of your body was stopping you from falling asleep. After laying there for a few minutes, you finally resort to your last option.

“James?”

He replies immediately. “Yeah?”

“I’m cold.”

There’s a beat. A quiet little inhale. You could practically hear him breathing from the other side of the bed. Then the mattress dips as he moves closer, sliding an arm around your waist and gently pulling you back into him. Warm. Solid. Safe. You exhale without meaning to, your body relaxing instantly into his.

His breath brushes your neck. “Better?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

And just like that, wrapped in him, heartbeat syncing with his, you fall asleep.

The next night creeps in faster than you expect. The final night of the trip—the big skiing day. The sky’s already going dark-blue, that weird shade where you can’t tell if it’s late afternoon or 11 p.m., and the cold is sharp enough to pinch your nose.

James helps you zip up your jacket, his fingers brushing your neck, sending chills that have nothing to do with the weather.

“You ready?” he asks, all smug confidence.

“No,” you answer instantly.

He laughs. “You’ll be fine. I’ll teach you.”

Outside, the slopes glow under tall floodlights, making the snow sparkle like someone dumped glitter everywhere. Kids and pros and show-offs are zooming down the hill like Olympic qualifiers. You’re already planning your funeral.

James clips your boots in for you because he doesn’t trust you with anything involving gravity.

“Okay,” he says, stepping behind you, hands gripping your arms gently. “Lean forward a tiny bit. Just enough to not fall backwards.”

“Okay,” you say, immediately leaning like a malfunctioning tower.

He steadies you. “Not that much—unless you wanna eat snow.”

“I’m gonna eat snow regardless.”

“That’s fair.”

He teaches you slowly, patiently—how to stop, how to turn, how not to accidentally kill yourself. And you… kinda get the hang of it? Ish? You manage to go five whole meters without face-planting.

Every time you wobble, he’s right there catching you by the waist. Every time you mess up, he laughs—not mean, but soft, fond, like he likes seeing you try. Eventually, you’re actually skiing—well, sliding down at the speed of an elderly turtle, but still.

James skis backwards in front of you, because of course he can. His eyes are warm, cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“You’re doing good!” he calls out.

“You’re lying to be nice!”

“I am,” he admits.

You finally stop at the bottom and nearly fall, but he lunges forward, catching you. Your helmet bumps into his chest.

“Hey,” he breathes, smiling down at you. “See? You didn’t die.”

“Yet,” you mutter.

After a while, you both sit in the snow, helmets off, catching your breath. Snow somehow gets down the back of your jacket and into your gloves and probably your soul.

You shriek. “OH MY GOD IT’S IN MY SHIRT—” James bursts out laughing. “You good?”

You do the most logical thing: grab a handful of snow and yeet it at his face.

He freezes. Then smirks. “Oh, it’s on.”

Next thing you know, you’re in a full snowball war—screaming, laughing, slipping everywhere, James chasing you around trees with perfect aim while you miss every single throw like you’re allergic to accuracy.

By the time you both stumble back toward the lodge, you’re breathless and soaked and ridiculously happy. Right outside the hallway to your room, James bumps your shoulder lightly. “Hey, uh… go ahead to the room. I need to tell Martin something real quick.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He kisses your cheek—quick, warm—before turning away.

You head inside. You shower, change, check your phone, sit on the bed, go through photos, scroll TikTok, stare at the ceiling, contemplate the meaning of life…

Forty-five minutes pass.

The door finally opens. James steps in, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s tired. “Sorry. Martin was being annoying.”

You smile. “It’s okay. I had fun these two days. Thank you for convincing me to come.”

His eyes soften. “I’m glad you did.”

—

The next morning is chaotic—bags everywhere, people rushing, doors slamming, winter air biting at your face. James looks exhausted, barely awake, stuffing clothes into his duffel like a zombie.

His other friend is waiting for him outside, yelling for him to hurry.

You zip your jacket and head into the hallway. Martin’s there, tying his boots.

“Hey, Martin?”

He looks up. “Hm?”

“What did you and James talk about last night?”

He blinks. “Last night? …We didn’t talk.”

Your stomach drops. “He didn’t see you?”

“No? I didn’t see him at all.”

Oh. Oh great. Fanfuckingtastic. A cold wave rolls through your chest harder than the mountain wind.

When you climb into the passenger seat of James’s car, he’s quiet—clearly tired. He yawns as he turns the engine on. The drive is silent for a long time. Like… too long.

Finally, he speaks. “Are you going to the match today?”

“No.”

He glances at you, confused. “Why not?”

You keep your eyes on the window. “Because I know you didn’t go see Martin.”

The air tightens.

“So who was it?” you ask. James doesn’t answer. Your heart beats loud enough to hurt. The coach starts calling him the second you guys pull into the parking lot.

“James! Let’s go! You’re 14 minutes late. Warm-ups!”

He’s still staring at the steering wheel.

“Tell me,” you whisper. “Did you go see Amy?”

“Look—” he starts, voice low, strained, “I can explain.”

The coach yells again. “FIVE MINUTES, JAMES!”

Your throat burns. “Am I just your second best?”

He winces—like the words physically hit him.

The coach yells again, sharper this time: “Last warning!”

James steps out of the car, but turns back, gripping the door.

“Please,” he says, eyes desperate. “Just come to the game. I promise I’ll explain everything after. Please.”

And then he’s gone, jogging off toward the field, leaving you sitting in the quiet car, heart pounding like it’s trying to break out.

—

The school library is quiet in that specific after-school way — soft humming lights, the vague smell of old pages, one kid coughing somewhere like he’s auditioning for a Victorian death scene. You’re still not sure about meeting up with James after his games. It has been a hell of a week,

You’ve been curled up in a corner armchair for about an hour or two with some random book you grabbed just to distract your brain from… everything. It’s working, sorta. 

Until you flip the page and land on a quote that hits you like a truck:

“If someone chooses silence when they owe you honesty, let them go.

But if your heart aches louder than your pride…

you’ll find your way back anyway.”

You stare at it like it personally slapped you across the face. Why does everywhere you go have to remind you of James. And then you glance at the clock.

You are one hour late to the end James’s game. 

Like — not fifteen minutes, not “oops my bad,”

but a FULL sixty minutes late.

“Shit.”

You jump up so fast the librarian gives you a death glare that could shatter glass.

You shove the book back on the shelf sideways (crime) and practically sprint out. It’s pouring outside — full dramatic movie thunderstorm pouring. The kind that soaks your socks instantly.

You take out your sad little umbrella and start the walk home, hugging your jacket to your chest like that’ll protect you from your own thoughts. But when you reach the edge of the outdoor courts—the ones the team cuts across after games—you pause,

Because there’s someone standing there. Alone. Soaked. Head down. Kicking at the gravel like he’s fighting ghosts. James.

He’s drenched top to bottom, rainwater mixed with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, jersey clinging to him. And he’s… waiting. Still. Just standing there like he refuses to leave until something changes. Your chest does something stupid and painful, a mixture of guilt and anger.

You walk up quietly, stepping behind him, lifting the umbrella up on your toes so it covers the both of you. One tiny circle of dryness in a whole world of rain.

He tenses first—then turns slowly. The moment he sees you, his expression crumples in this soft, relieved way that knocks the breath right out of you.

“…You came,” he says, voice low, almost disbelieving.

You swallow. “Yeah. I— I was late. And then it started raining, so I was just walking home but…”

Your eyes flick to him.

“But you’re still here.”

You lower the umbrella slightly so you can see his face better. Drops of rain slide down his cheek, and he looks exhausted — not physically, but in that “I’ve been stressing about losing you for hours” kind of way.

“What made you come?” he asks quietly. You shrug, breath fogging the air. “I… read something. And it made me realize I wasn’t done. With us.”

His jaw clenches, and he looks away for a second like he’s overwhelmed.

You take a small step closer. “Who were you with, James?”

He lets out a breath that’s practically a sigh of defeat. “Amy.”

Your stomach sinks — until he lifts his head, eyes sharp, honest.

“But not for what you think.”

You don’t say anything. You just hold the umbrella and wait.

“I went to tell her to stop,” he says. “To stop showing up everywhere. To stop spreading shit about you. About us. To stop acting like I owe her something.”

His voice strengthens, anger threading through it.

“I told her if she messed with you one more time, I’d—” He stops, shaking his head. “—I’d actually lose it. I didn’t want things to blow up in front of you, so I waited until later. That’s it. That’s all it was.”

Your eyes sting. And your voice comes out smaller than you want.

“…Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He steps closer, rain dripping off his jaw. “Because when you asked, you already looked like I’d punched a hole in your chest. And then the coach was yelling at me, and I panicked.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

The rain softens around you, or maybe you just stop noticing it.

You whisper, “I thought you were… choosing her again.”

His face twists — hurt, like the idea physically wounds him.

“Y/N.”

He reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist gently, like he’s asking permission.

“You were never my second best.” Your throat closes up.

“And I waited,” he adds. “For an hour. In the rain. Just in case there was even a 1% chance you’d show up.” You let out a tiny, shaky laugh. “That’s really dumb of you.”

He smiles, soft and crooked. “Yeah. But I’m yours, so… it tracks.”

You look at him—really look—soaked, shivering, but eyes warm like he never doubted you’d return.

You step forward and tuck yourself against him, arms looping around his waist. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath the whole day and pulls you in, umbrella tilting awkwardly over both your heads.

His chest is warm even though his clothes are freezing. His chin rests on your hair. His heartbeat is steady and loud.

“Hey,” he murmurs into your ear.

“What?”

“Thanks for coming back.”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes.

“Don’t make me chase you through a storm again,” you mumble.

He chuckles, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Then don’t leave me behind.”

You shrug playfully. “No promises.”

He leans down, forehead touching yours, breaths mixing in the cold air.

Warm and close and full of everything you’ve been too scared to say.

“Let me walk you home,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Let’s go home.”

He takes the umbrella from you, threads his fingers through yours, and the two of you walk out of the storm together — matching steps, matching heartbeats — leaving every misunderstanding behind on the wet pavement.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

You don’t feel like you’re someone’s temporary choice. You feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. With him.

request || masterlist

[natdu]

Can i request oikawa, kuroo, semi and suna when their s/o thinks that they have a crush on another girl?

Hi there! Of course you can rq that my dear, I only made 3 of them due to length I hope that's OK with you (o´▽`o)

Pairings: Separate Oikawa, Kuroo & Semi x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angsty to fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings & content: Grammar - high school and time skip scenario - pet names - slightly slightly suggestive on Kuroo's is barely there - implied short & with a diff aesthetic reader in Semi's - use of Japanese honorifics - Misunderstandings (2) hints of emotional cheating (1)

Oikawa Toruu x Reader (High-school setting)

When you agreed to date Oikawa you knew the little surprises you would encounter, that of course being his fans

There was literally no place where you wouldn't find them, they came from different schools, another cities, heck even older girls who waited for his discharge of high school like eagles

Were you worried? Not really, Oikawa was actually a really good boyfriend, he started to stop his usual idol persona when he was out with you and someone approached you both. He had tell you once "I don't want to repeat what had happened with my other partners..... I like you too much for my own good"

So what was this feeling? The growing ache and disgust (dare you say) that emanated from your heart?

Recently there was this girl that belonged to the photography club of Seijoh. Her semester task was about movement and she thought that capturing the volleyball team in the middle of training was a good subject, you had to agree with her since it was honestly a cool approach.

Now that automatically meant that she had to spend a lot of time with them, and consequently with Oikawa.

Your walking home conversations started to include a lot of this girl and what she did while they were at practice, how Kindaishi was so nervous he served directly to her and Oikawa was the one who protected her. You know, light stuff like that

Then it evolve into "Oh I'm full dear, Himiko-chan brought some snacks for us and coach approved it, they were soo good!"

Himiko-chan this, Himiko-chan that. Hell, even Iwaizumi seemed a little bit too engaged with this Himiko girl

And today was the day of a supposed date between Oikawa and you since the season had ended and he had more free time

But when you went to the gym to pick him up, green clouded your eyes

This girl was showing Oikawa some photos from her professional camera but she was way too close. Not really touching but, I mean, if he didn't knew what type of perfume she had on then he got sensory problems.

Either way he would have problems with you because how doesn't he notice his dear Himiko-chan is acting way to lovey dovey to be showing just pictures

And he was eating that up, you noticed the slight pride of his gaze and his stupid little smirk

The way you announced your presence with a clear intonation of his name made everyone jolt on their place

Except of course, the threat

"Tooru-kun you have to go now? For real?"

You clenched your fist and tried to put your best customer smile. The audacity of this girl

"Yes he has to go cuz he promised to come when his practice ended. Now if you excuse us"

Oikawa's cheek had turned red, thanks to which feeling? You didn't want to know

"Hey sweetie I didn't forget or anything I swear I just-"

"Oh you just were way too invested in whatever it was that you didn't notice your practice had ended like 20 minutes ago and you didn't inform me if you were alive"

"Aww come on you knew I was alive-"

"Don't you try to play this down Oikawa"

He flinched a little, wow, using last names and everything

"What else did I do wrong?"

"Take a funny guess since you've been spending oh so much time with me"

You knew you were being what people called petty. But how could you not? Sure you would communicate and give him hints but on GOD if he actually didn't know why you were acting like this

You both stayed in silence for a couple of blocks until Oikawa snapped his fingers

"This is about Himiko-chan isn't it?"

"This is about Himiko-chan isn't it?" you mimicked with mockery

"You jealous?"

The tease in his tone would have made your heart jump and your mind to think about a quick come back. But not today

"You tell me Tooru. She's been taking hours from our quality time and I swear you're dumber than Iwa gives you credit if you don't notice she's flirting with you"

"Well I don't answer to her advances,i don't know what you're so defensive about"

Now instead of green, you saw red

"But have you stopped her? Have you given me my place? Or how is it that after months you don't look uncomfortable in the slightest"

You let all your thoughts out, you were exhausted

"Were you enamoured by the renewed feeling of admiration? How she talks sweetly to you to get your attention?"

Silence, once again

"Hmm, just what I thought"

"No babe wait"

"Go home Tooru, I'm not responsible for what I'll say next if we keep this conversation going"

A week passed by and you avoided Oikawa everywhere, and I mean everywhere. He barely saw a glimpse of your hair or your hand turning around a corner. And the emotional loneliness he started to feel was eating him up, but even he knew it was a selfish thought

He knew he had to redeem himself if the apology was ought to be sincere. And oh how he didn't want to mess this up with you

Everyone else but you

"Tooru-kun"

"It's Oikawa for you"

You didn't expect to be listening to a convo like this on a friday afternoon. Add to your shock the utter serious tone Oikawa was using, the one he talked Kageyama to, the one he used when talking to rivals

"B-but you've let me call you like that for a while"

"I didn't give you an explicit green flag to go about it, I ungracefully just let you, I shouldn't had to"

The audible wince of Himiko made you feel a little bad for her. But at the same time you were impressed on how collected Oikawa was behaving

He was not caring about how this girl was going to react

"Don't get me wrong Himiko, you're a great photographer, truly" A set of silence

"But I hurt the person I love the most when I tried to brush your intentions"

You were fully resting your body against the wall, now being all ears to what was developing almost in front of you

"It was bad for you sure, now I see how misleading that was, but I could had stopped it if I gave my girl the bare minimum respect"

He sighed and accommodated his backpack, it was heavy enough for you listen to it. That was accompanied with little sobs, thankfully not yours

"So I'm now telling you: I love my darling, more than anything in this shallow world" Another sigh

"And that means we'll need boundaries if you want to keep your project up with us. Understood?"

A broken answer was given and Himiko-chan was finally out of your radar, the pit pat of her shoes merging with the environment

"Well well, now to find my baby and apologise in a decent oh"

You stepped out just in time to be at his level

"Did Iwa coached you to this?"

"No I...." He sighed heavily and gave you a sad look "I Reflected on what you told me and I realize how is not enough to 'stop doing' is also about 'start doing' and that is... Actually give myself as off limits even when you're not around"

He looked right at your eyes, a little puffy, a little hurt

A little hopeful

"I'm sorry. I assure you that I didn't even entertained the thought of having something with her, not even in a joking idolistic way....

"It still hurt Tooru"

"I know, so please, let me make it up to you"

Because Oikawa Tooru was better boyfriend than anyone could give himself credit. Because the thing that was being with you filled him more than anything in the universe, to the point he was willing to die to himself. Die to his ego

His fans would come and go as the wind

But you, you were his eternity

Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader (timeskip)

You had to blink multiple times as to register how Kuroo's folder is now weirdly color coded with bright papers

"Tetsu what is this? Never knew you were into crafting?"

"What? Oh! That's Nana's doing"

"Nana?"

Ah yes, Kuroo's "work wife". You had been his plus one in a recent JVA dinner party and this "Nana" was a hot topic. Apparently she was everyone's work wife, but seemed to have a soft spot for what was yours

"Yup, she saw my folder and gave me an earful of how I was supposed to function as a member of a sport promotion division if I couldn't keep my stuff as organised as volleyball is"

"Oh ok?"

"She's a big help for all of us, don't you think?" Like that he kissed the crown of your head and headed to the room, as if was nothing

One day, two days, a whole week goes by and she keeps coming into your house in the form of an embroided lavender flower on a handkerchief, the one you gave to him on his promotion day

Then is a bag of baked goods (you hated to admit that those little b*tches tasted like heaven)

An useful-for-the-house trinket, a handmade magnet with the office's checklist. More and more favors and gifts keep coming

And yet you have a blank space on who this woman is, who has that much time in an office to be so lovey dovey with everyone. And how subtle does she appear to be so your husband didn't even flinch at these forms of affection

It didn't sit right to your heart how comfortable Kuroo seemed to be with this whole show

Then Kuroo started to arrive late, later than he used to. Nor that he acted in a sketchy way apart from that but still... It was like a punch to your throat. Your mom had always told you "If your man stays at work more than they need him too, is cuz he found a reason to stay there"

So you did what every sane person would have done in a situation like that. Go to his office and see the truth for yourself

The ding of the elevator was brown noise to you. Stepping out of it immediately brought the attention of your husband coworkers, they obviously knew who you were

Then a little hunched lady, someone old enough to be your granny, stepped in to greet you

"Heya miss, Who are you looking for darling?"

"Oh uh good evening I'm looking for Kuroo Tetsuro"

"Ah yeah he's drinking something in the break room, let me get you there"

Both of you walked to the said place. The woman smelled like fresh baked cookies and you couldn't help to smile, it wasn't common to have older people in places like this. You were happy for her on whatever dutie she was performing for a volleyball agency

"Excuse me auntie, do you know if perhaps he was with someone, a girl maybe?"

"I've seen no other woman more than you crossing those doors miss. So, unless we have a surprise colleague here, no dear"

Soon you reached your destiny and you found Kuroo.... Alone, drinking his plain tea

"Tetsu-chan this gorgeous woman was looking for you"

You grimaced internally, if the new eye candy wasn't in this division did that mean that he was chatting with her on the phone? Did they crossed each other on bars? The fear was consuming you

Ironically, Kuroo seemed a little too thrilled to have you there in front of him. He shifted his feet slowly but there was not an ounce of guilt or fear in his eyes. You really didn't know if that was good or bad

"Oh my Nana you're an angel getting her to me. Thank you, I'll be back in a minute"

Wait, hold up

"Nana?"

"Oh yeah that's my name darling, a little too young toned isn't it?"

You blinked once, twice

"You're his work wife?"

The lady furrowed her brows and looked at Kuroo as if she wanted to bury him underground

"Do you boys keep with that nonsense? Do you know how disrespectful it sounds to your partners? These young people I swear" she said shaking her head and sighing deeply

Kuroo only had an amused smile and held you tightly as you both now faced the troubled Nana

"I don't use the term itself blame Kento-san from marketing"

He was cut off by your giggling and your figure crouching almost touching the floor

"Oi what's so funny?"

"I'm not making fun of you, I'm relieved" you said between watery giggles

"I thought... I thought you were having a work wife in more ways than one"

Both of them looked at you. Your husband in horror and sadness, Nana with compassion and understanding

"Hon, if this man was cheating believe me that by now he would have his eyes far up his -"

"Oi Nana-san the CEO needs ya, oh shit sorry I interrupted something"

Needless to say the man (Kento-san) was taken away by his ear thanks to your new friend

You kept on the ground for a while until Kuroo sat down right beside you

"Did I neglect you that much the last week?"

You shook your head "It was a mix of you arriving late and the little gifts she gave to you... I would had appreciated if I knew the infamous Nana was the office's assigned grandma"

"She's actually our CEO's granny, but takes care of us like we are her kids"

"Huh then why did they called her 'work wife'? That's a Freudian shit right there"

He laughed and held your hand giving it a soft squeeze

"Well this is my sign to better communicate my anecdotes.... I'm sorry"

"Mmm... OK actually why were you so late tho?"

His laughed echoed into the small room and he took a handkerchief filled to the brim with beautiful embroided flowers

"Learned to did this in a week. Sorry, I should had tell you"

You sighed in relief once again "God we suck at surprising each other"

"I was gladly surprised to see you here today wifey, except for the cheating suspicion part. I never want you to feel like that ever again even if it's a misunderstanding"

In a sudden movement and manhandling moment, he put you up to your feet and he kneeled in front of you smiling, just like when he asked you out in college

"So.... Will you give me the honor of being my home AND work wife? Forever?"

You were the next week's hot topic on why Kuroo seemed extra relaxed and laid back, almost dreamily meeting his deadlines as the tiniest marks of purple peaked through his perfect ironed shirt.

"Lucky bastard. You'll be a dad in no tim-! ouch! Nana-san!"

Semi Eita x Reader (timeskip)

"Eita I assure you that if moshpits weren't as aggressive I would be in the public but I... It scares me ok?"

"Baby it's like a grown up version of push and pull. Besides you can always step aside when you want"

You whined under your breath and buried your head in the nearest pillow "I don't wanna Semi please?"

"Doll I can't have you packed up in the scenario each time, this place is reduced and you may get hurt upstage"

Huh?

"Are you serious?"

What started like a little banter about you being at the same level as his attendees migrated to an argument about his apparent worry

"If I'm such a hassle and a nuisance backstage you could just had said so"

"That's definitely not what I meant"

"Oh really? Then how is it that I'm safer surrounded by men and women at least 6 cm taller than me that will be jumping around looking for the next non alt looking girl to yeet into the distance?"

"Oh please" Semi said as he rolled his eyes and stood up, picking his stuff from the couch

"If the things I love actually frighten you so much you're free to stay here"

Without the chance to answer he closed the door with a soft 'click'

Your only companion was the sting under your eyes and your misty vision

Later, when you were already curled up in bed trying to catch some sleep, you felt the soft steps of Semi's boots against the floor. What brought your attention to a more conscious state was the muffled sound of his voice chatting with another on the doorstep, then the same 'click' and now he was walking throug the apartment.

You closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep, scared of the confrontation on what happened earlier

To your blessing or rather dismay, Semi only connected his phone to the charger and layed down on his side of the bed with a soft 'huff'

The next day brought a new heartache to your soul as Semi wasn't there when you woke up. You cried, again

Then a text caught your eye, it was Semi's

"A new drummer joined the band yesterday"

Three dots.... Three dots...

"We'll be celebrating and introducing them in the pub near our apartment if you wanna come"

You wiped the remainder of your tears as you looked at your closet. You knew how that pub looked like, you knew what type of regulars it had.... And it was nothing like you

Afraid of what his words would be this time you rejected the invitation

"Not feeling so well Eita, I'll pass. Enjoy yourself"

And boy he did enjoy himself

Semi made him present at the fashionable 4 am mark of your kitchen clock, high on excitement with loud laughs and sentences. You heard his confession into the dark of the dawn even before he arrived to the porch

"I haven't had this fun on ages guys, you, you are a monster"

A quick glance through the window gave you context of his fond words

A woman with the most luscious black hair ever, tall, built like a model with full on rock attire was the one receiving the praise.

You stepped back from the window and ran to the bedroom, to the safety of your bed

If she was the new drummer you couldn't help but to feel a little self conscious, hell you felt a lot self conscious

And it didn't turn better, because the next days, even if Semi never picked up the initial argument again, he seemed to be relevied of not having you in his gigs. And there were always, always, words of amazement for Mrs drummer girl

Rei knew where to find the last instrument gadgets, knew a lot of classic bands, knew this and that. She was not only pretty but was a whole library on Semi's interest

"Rei's pretty skilled with the drums doll, you should come and see us play soon"

And watch him flirt with her on the stage? No thank you

But then, after a pep talk with your friends. You saw how you shouldn't leave it like this, at least you should fight for the relationship, right?

So, you paired some of Semi's clothes that actually fitted you and arrived to the place were he would play. You walked up to the stage and saw Rei, fidgeting with the drumsticks, playing around

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

And she surely noticed your gaze however her reaction shocked you. She rested her cheek on her hand and gave you a soft look,then she was called backstage and gave you a playful wink before disappearing through the courtain

If she was being a redemption of a reverse pick me girl she was playing it rather convincingly

Soon after you felt your sleeve being tugged by an astonished Semi

"Hey there, you haven't come for a while. Why didn't you tell me? I could have walked you here"

His demeanor made you uncomfortable. It would be a lie to say that you weren't hurt by his (apparently) forgotten words and his newfound "obsession"

"I knew how to arrive just right, I'm not a scary kitten"

He then opened his mouth but was cut short by his bassist

"Yo Semi time to come up here, we're 'bout to start"

He sighed and gave you an apologetic look "Come here, we can talk when we finish"

"I'll stay down here"

"Hah?"

You stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him the look

"I said I'm staying here, I don't need to be up there since it is so inconvenient"

"Babe you're still at it? Come on-"

"Eita man hurry up!"

He furrowed his brows and groaned. But as he looked at you he knew you were to stubbornly stay there

"We'll talk about this later. Be safe"

And with a jump he got on the stage as the place started to get crowded

The gig was good, you always enjoyed it. And being honest, the only mosh pit that developed during it didn't even end with a broken nose, so you actually spent a good time with this new perspective

Surprisingly, you noticed how Rei and Semi's interactions on stage were futile. Maybe a look or two but nothing that made your heart clutch of pain on your chest. It felt rather natural

Finally, after the last encore, all the band +you were in the dressing room. Semi seemed ansty to talk to you, masked down with his usual frown

Rei had only chuckled and smiled at some of the parts of the conversation. So you came up to her, if she was shitty you could have fundaments for hating her, if not, you knew you should focus your temper on Semi

Until she opened her mouth and you were on for a surprise

"Damn Semi if I knew your girl was gonna be here I would have put on some cologne"

That was a whole ass man

"You're...... You're a guy"

She, he? Chuckled loudly and gave you a crooked smile

"What can I say? I'm taking 'Dude looks like a lady' to a whole new level love"

A string of uneven chords crossed the air and Semi placed down his guitar with the deepest scold on his face. Not even with the teasing Tendou had you seen him like this

"Stop flirting with my girl"

"D'aww I'm your protège. Don't I even deserve a peck?"

"Don't you even dare"

After some more teasing, a wrap up of the gig and a smack at the back of Rei's head you both were now walking back home

"Didn't know you thought Rei was a lady" was Semi's cut into the silence

You scowled in embarrassment

"I had never spooked to him and he looks even better than me, it's not fair how pretty his hair is"

Then you felt the same tug on your clothes, well his clothes

"They suit you, you know? But I love your usual outfits too"

"Eita...."

"What I'm trying to say is.... I'm sorry, for dismissing your worries, for accusing you" he chuckled dryly "And for making you worry about a non existent woman"

"Hmm?"

"I know the look you get when you're worried, and you stopped wearing that glittery eyeshadow you love. You only do that when you're fully stressed"

He held both of your hands giving them soft kisses over the knuckles

"I'm sorry, don't ever change or expose yourself for the sake of demonstrate me something"

You sighed, feeling light hearted and with renowned affection for the man in front of you

"I have to apologise too. I talked a little bit from prejudice about the public, I actually had a nice night, most of them were incredibly polite"

"Still" A shared laugh between you and you were back home

"Let me make it up to you?"

"Find out Rei's hair products and all be good"

"And you won't get close to him?"

"Hmm maybe?

"Babe!"

Woh another rq from months ago that I managed to finish ( ´ ▿ ` ) ah I'm embarrassed on how long it took me anon I hope you're around to see it

As usual with long stuff it may have different vibes, I hope its decent to read for y'all

Natdu

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[luvzayne]

i didn't mean it.

synopsis: your boyfriend says something and makes you insecure.

characters: iwaizumi, akaashi x gn!reader

warnings: angst to fluff

note/s: reuploading my old haikyuu works so don't mind me!

iwaizumi:

you were on your way to iwaizumi’s house after oikawa texted you that he was being extra mean today. you held a box of pizza in one hand, as you texted oikawa back saying that you’ve gotten it under control.

once you got to his house, his mother opened the door with a relieved look on her face when she saw that it was you by the door. with a small goodluck. she sent you up to her son’s room.

you noticed that the hallway leading to your boyfriend’s room was messy. you sighed, knowing it was a result of him being fidgety. he couldn’t help it. and you can never blame him for that.

knocking twice on his room, you opened his door and saw him looking stressed by his desk. a few crumpled pieces of paper littered his floor as his head was between his hands, clenching his hair in frustration.

“haji?” you called out, noticing the rejected letter from one of the few universities he applied to.

he didn’t seem to hear you, having himself be lost in his thoughts. you closed the door quietly and set the food to the side. you carefully walked to where he was, not wanting to startle the stressed ravenette.

apparently, you weren’t careful enough as his head snapped when you accidentally stepped on a piece of plastic that you didn’t notice was there.

“what are you doing here?” his voice was straight up venom. the tone caught you off guard.

“oikawa texted me saying that you were in a bad mood.” you explained, taking a step closer to him in a means of wanting to comfort him.

“yeah well, i am. i think you should go for now.” iwaizumi said, not looking at you. you swallowed on nothing as you shook your head.

“i want to help, haji.” he scoffed. you knew it was all due to stress… or so you hoped.

“clearly you’re not helping around by staying here,” he retorted. your hands stilled by your sides.

“hajime, you know bottling up isn’t good for you.” you reasoned out. he rolled his eyes at you.

iwaizumi couldn’t help but ruffle his hair in irritation. he knew you had good intentions. you always did. but all he could think about right now is his stress and overthinking. all rational thoughts left the room by this point.

“bottling up is better than to talk with someone like you.” he didn’t mean that. or, that’s what you want to think.

“what’s that supposed to mean…?” your voice dropped. iwaizumi turned to face you.

“i mean, come on. you always want to know what’s going on with my life. you never let me breathe. i can think for myself. i don’t need you butting in with your irrelevant opinions. you keep talking as if your opinions matter to me.” his words came tumbling down, he couldn’t control it.

your eyes widened, something iwaizumi didn’t notice once more. too caught up in his rage to notice how you took in his words.

you never let me breathe.

you keep talking as if your opinions matter to me.

you nodded, keeping your emotions in check. iwaizumi finally stopped with his rambling.

“i understand, haji. i should go.” iwaizumi knew he should stop you, but he didn’t.

later that night, you received almost a ten page essay’s length of explanation and apologies. despite reading it and replying that it was okay, you couldn’t help but feel the hollowness in your chest as his words kept replaying in your head.

by the next few days, iwaizumi acted as if nothing happened and you did the same. your boyfriend, however, noticed that there was something off. he thought of it as the aftermath of the small outburst he accidentally let out on you.

it was by the second week that he noticed that you stopped arguing with him in terms of his choices, letting him wear that god-awful plaid pants oikawa bought him so they can match, letting him choose the movie even though he knew you didn’t like it.

the last straw was during your movie night. when he asked you if you wanted to eat chicken or pizza. he knew that it would trigger a response from you since you’ve always fought him in favor of chicken. it was a weird quarrel over the two of you that became a routine. so, when you gave him a shrug in response, he finally couldn’t let that go.

“what’s up with you?” iwaizumi asked as you were scrolling through your phone, staying unbothered. the time you spent on just agreeing with him made you used to just not giving his words a second thought and letting him lead the relationship. sure, you missed your old conversations but whenever you want to fight back, those words just keep circulating in your mind.

you knew it was due from his stress but you couldn’t help but feel like there has always been a root to his outburst.

“what?” you replied, still scrolling on your phone.

“is there something bothering you?” you shook your head, boring your eyes to the same video that looped in your instagram.

iwaizumi took your phone, forcing you to talk to him.

“give it back, haji.” you weren’t thrilled to be starting an argument, or a proper conversation with him.

“not until you tell me what’s wrong.” he said, you sighed and raised your hands in defeat.

“if you say there’s something wrong, then that’s on you. i can’t change what you think.”

“what are you talking about?”

“nothing.” iwaizumi was getting pretty fed up with the attitude you were showing him.

you knew it was petty, but you were too far to go back.

“(y/n)-” “let’s just watch the movie.” “fine.” iwaizumi gave up, sitting beside you.

“what do you want to watch?” he asked, turning to face you.

“you choose.” the television was turned off.

“what is wrong with you. you’ve been acting weird lately. first you stopped hanging around me and then you won’t even respond with your own decisions.” you sighed, not wanting to talk. in fear of accidentally breaking down.

“now you won’t even talk to me. what is wro-”

“god, you tell me i don’t give you room to breathe and my opinions are irrelevant and now you suddenly ask me what’s wrong.” you finally let out, tears pricking your eyes. iwaizumi’s eyes widened at your outburst.

you harshly wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, wanting nothing but to disappear so you don’t have to face him staring at you with confused expressions.

“what do you want from me?” you bitterly laughed. iwaizumi wanted to do something, so he did the first thing he thought of and pulled you to his chest.

you resisted, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. the both of you know that you were no match for iwaizumi’s strength as he pulled you even closer every time you try to move away.

“let me go.” your voice was muffled by his shirt. he held on tighter, wanting to erase those words he said.

“i’m sorry.”

“okay, now let me go.” he obliged a bit, letting you breathe as he pulled away from you slightly.

“i know you don’t want to hear my explanation. and i know you don’t want to hear a sap apology.” iwaizumi started, you nodded. willing yourself to listen to him right now.

he breathed in and out before he took a hold of your hands.

“i’m sorry for saying those words. i should have never said those things. especially when all you wanted to do was help.” you couldn’t help but notice how his voice got softer as he tightly gripped your hands.

“i was really stressed and i had no right taking it out on you. your opinions matter the most to me and you’re my breather whenever it gets hard to breathe.” you couldn’t help but snort at his cheesy words. he heard that sound and smiled a little, knowing you were loosening up and feeling a bit better.

“kind of corny, if you ask me, haji.” you said, he smiled at you before rolling his eyes playfully.

“whatever, loser.”

you leaned closer and pecked his cheek as a sign of acceptance on his apology. you knew that he was genuine. knowing that hajime has a hard time showing his feelings.

he smiled before turning on the television once more.

“okay, time to watch godzilla.” “no, we’re watching (fave show)-”

ah yes, this is how it should be.

akaashi:

nothing went right in practice. bokuto was far more uncooperative, his rotation team kept missing his sets, and the other team kept reading his sets.

akaashi knows that this type of thing happens. there will never be a guarantee that you will win a match in volleyball. he knew that, but he couldn't help but think that it was his fault.

the setter is the one who touches the ball the most. the one who leads the orchestra.

it didn’t help ease akaashi’s nerves that he was on the edge and has been on the edge since the past few practice matches.

“hey, akaashi! lighten up, buddy!” bokuto said, slapping akaashi’s back with force. he nodded, trying not to let his irritation show. he knew that the team is lowkey terrified when akaashi gets irritated. the last thing he wants is to drive tension between him and his team.

the rest of the practice went by smoothly, or in akaashi’s thoughts, in a very mediocre way. that ‘smooth’ is just the nice term for it.

“akaashi!” this was the worst possible timing. he didn’t want to see you. at least, not right now. especially when he’s in a bad mood. “darling, what are you doing here?”

“konoha texted me and said you weren’t feeling okay, that’s what i’m here for!” you smiled as you pulled him into a hug, not minding that he was a bit sweaty before you pulled away to talk to the managers in glee.

akaashi sighed and headed to the showers. he planned to just drop you off in your house and deal with this on his own.

but of course, you wouldn’t let him. he let you hold his hand and drag him around while the both of you were on the way home.

you were happily talking about the newest episode that just released. akaashi was mindlessly listening, he wasn’t ignoring you but he didn’t want to deal with you as of the moment.

“right, so anyway. then an unexpected twist came like it was so unexpected! i did have my suspicions though! so, it’s all good.” akaashi was getting distracted by his thoughts, not giving you a reply instead of a mindless nod.

“akaashi!” you said loudly, startling the stressed setter.

“will you shut up?” akaashi couldn’t bite back his tongue fast enough as those words tumbled out of his mouth.

you stilled, not knowing how to respond to the outburst. you did feel like you were talking a bit too much, but you didn’t know it was bothering akaashi.

“sorry.” after that, the walk home was tense. none of you knew what to say to each other.

it was when the both of you were at the doorstep when akaashi pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology while his face was buried in your hair. you nodded and pulled away before giving him a smile and pecking his cheek before you went inside.

you knew you were overreacting but his words kind of hurt. you thought back to the endless rambles that you let out on your boyfriend before slapping a palm on your forehead.

you idiot. of course he wouldn’t understand. no wonder he told you to shut up.

with a sigh, you went to your room and tried to ignore his words.

akaashi was the definition of silent but deadly. he knew that his words stung. that’s why he refrained from biting you with his words. but he wasn’t able to stop himself due to the stress of his training.

you figured that he’s finally gotten tired of your rambling about any topic that comes into your mind so you forced yourself to stay quiet.

your boyfriend, almost immediately noticed. he was a powerhouse’s starting setter. he’s supposed to be perceptive in regards to his surroundings.

so, when he noticed that you weren’t having your daily rambles the day after a new episode was released, he knew that you took his words into heart.

“how was the episode last night?” akaashi asked. you were lying down on the floor while you were scrolling down your phone, checking the latest fan theories that were produced due to last night's episode.

your head perked up, ready to rant about how beautifully executed the plot twist was before you remembered who you were talking to.

it was great! the animators brought justice to the manga panel that i was waiting to get animated! then the sound effects were just woah.

there were a lot of things you wanted to say, but you settled and smiled. “it was good.”

“ah, really?” akaashi asked, wanting you to delve into the topic better. you, on the other hand, said nothing and went back to fawning over how your co-fans connect the dots into the most ridiculous yet intriguing theories.

akaashi couldn’t help but see how your eyes shined as you smiled, rereading a certain fanfic with your favorite character on it. you slapped a hand over your mouth as you tried to stop yourself from squealing.

“what are you reading?” by this point, he knew how pathetic he sounds. akaashi was too caught up with his thoughts before that he later on realized that you were his greatest distraction from his self-loathing thoughts.

your voice filled up his ears, going straight to his mind and letting him feel the serotonin that you radiated as you ranted about your favorite series.

but now, it looked as if he was begging for your attention. you looked indifferent to akaashi’s attempt at a conversation, it was petty and you knew that.

“nothing, just a work my friend sent to me.” you said, trying to focus on the words of the selection. akaashi looked down and you thought he gave up. before you knew it, you were on his lap with his arms tight around your waist.

“akaa-”

“read to me, please?” he said, you stayed quiet. he tightened his arms around your waist, placing his forehead on your nape.

“please?” you slowly nodded your head and switched to an online book that akaashi recommended to you. you started off softly, not wanting to piss the setter off just like how you unknowingly did last time.

you finished reading a chapter before you told akaashi to let you go.

“i’m sorry, darling.” you smiled, knowing that he knew why you were quiet. he took a hold of your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb in soothing circular motions.

“i was stressed and my overthinking got the better of me. i didn’t mean to tell you to shut up. quite frankly, i miss your voice. i miss how you talk my ear off with your fictional crushes even though we both know i’m better-” you smacked his arm then laughed. he gave you a smile before continuing. “and i miss how your voice occupies my mind whenever i’m in too deep. i apologize for making you insecure.”

your heart fluttered at his words, akaashi has always been quite straightforward. so, with a smile, you pecked his cheek and nuzzled closer to him.

“i’m sorry for not noticing you weren’t in the mood.” your voice was muffled by his chest, you felt him shake his head and pull you against him tighter.

“nonsense, my darling. that's still not an excuse for me to do that to you. now, how about we watch the new episode last night? i didn’t get to watch it.” akaashi knew that you were excited as you nodded and pulled away, your eyes were shining in excitement as akaashi turned his laptop on and searched for the site.

the episode started, akaashi was asking questions to which you responded with enthusiasm making akaashi smile at your mood.

this was what he almost ruined, and he couldn’t dislike himself more. but when you cuddled closer to his side and intertwined your fingers together while keeping your eyes on the series and narrating the scenes he didn’t get. he vowed to never be the reason for your eyes to lose your shine.

after the episode, the two of you cuddled and just admired each other before one of you drifted to sleep, your grip on each other still tight as you succumbed into slumber.

[luvzayne]

i didn't mean it.

synopsis: your boyfriend says something and makes you insecure.

characters: suna, kita x gn!reader

warnings: angst to fluff

note/s: reuploading my old haikyuu works so don't mind me!

suna:

“rin, you should eat.” you said, placing a tray of snacks in front of him. the team’s practice dragged on and suna was drained by the time that practice was over.

suna grumbled, sitting up before narrowing his eyes on what you were wearing.

“is that my hoodie?” suna asked, you smiled a bit and nodded at him.

“yeah, why?” you plopped a chip on your tongue, savoring the salty taste as you chewed.

“well, don’t you have your own?” he asked, no hint of amusement in his tone at all, causing you to stop midchew. you nodded, swallowing the chip and biting back a frown.

“then why don’t you wear your own clothes? i’m not paying for the hoodies for you, (y/n).” you looked at him, trying to find signs that he was only saying that as a prank, but as you look at his fox-like eyes, you see no signs of him kidding.

“i’m sorry if it bothers yo-” “yes, it bothers me. i’ve been looking for my hoodies only to see you parading them around as if it were yours.” you take note of the tears building up in your eyes as you look away and nod at him.

“i’ll wash them and return it to you tomorrow morning, rin.” you said, fighting the lump that built up in your throat. you could feel suna nod at your statement as he pulled out his phone and began scrolling. you took out yours as well before sending a quick text to your friend to ask her to call you. without question, your friend did. your ringtone blasting, effectively breaking the tensed silence.

“i’m sorry, rin. (y/f/n) needs me for something. i have to go.”

“wait, (y/n).” he stopped you as you stood up and gathered your things.

“yeah?” “can i have that hoodie back?” you wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but you stopped yourself. nodding, you took off the hoodie and placed it on his table.

“be safe on your way out, (y/n).” you give him a smile and thanks before closing the door shut as you leave.

when you got home, you sought out every hoodie that belonged to suna before folding them up and placing them in a bag after ensuring that it was clean.

his words rung through your head as you finally let a few tears slip.

you opened your closet and pulled your own hoodies, once you were done. you let yourself fall asleep, not noticing the texts that suna was sending you.

the next day, you walked to your lockers and saw suna already waiting for you. once he felt your presence, he looked up from his phone and pocketed it before giving you a hug.

“sorry for being kind of an asshole yesterday, baby.” he said as you hugged back, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“oh, right. here are your hoodies, rin. i cleaned them before folding them.” you said, giving suna the bag. he gave you a conflicted look. he was about to say something before he was cut off by the morning bell.

“better go to your class, rin.” you said before pecking his cheek and walking to your class.

suna felt like there was something off about you. he shook his head at the thought. ‘if it bothers them, they will tell me.’ he thought before heading to his class.

you managed to get used to not asking your boyfriend for his hoodies, it was hard, but you managed. even though you wanted nothing more but to inhale the cologne that left his hoodie whenever you wore them. suna, on the other hand, felt like there was something wrong, especially when you stopped bugging him.

he noticed you went out shopping more with your friends. your closet intaking more and more articles of long sleeves, he thought it was a good thing before he noticed that his hoodies stopped feeling warm after a while.  

suna, who was supposed to be over the moon after his hoodies had been returned to him, felt like there was something missing whenever he pulled his hoodies over his figure.

your scent. it was your scent that was missing.

suna then noticed that after you returned his missing hoodies, you stopped asking for his ever since. he thought of anything that he could’ve done for you to stop approaching him, then his mind went back to what he said when he was in a bad mood.

‘fuck.’

suna almost beat himself up mentally for not noticing how much his words affected you, he had to make this right.

“hey, baby.” he said, opening your room’s door before plopping himself next to you on the bed, you gave him a smile and a peck on the cheek before scrolling through your phone.

suna peered at your phone to see you on a shopping application, scrolling through various clothing, his heart feeling heavy when you pressed on a hoodie design.

“hey.” he called out, you looked up from your phone, silently asking to continue his statement.

“it seems a bit cold in your room, do you want my hoodie?” he asked, you were tempted to say yes but his words once more evaded your thoughts.

“ah, no thank you.” you smiled at the offer even though you were having a battle inside your mind for being stubborn. “i have my own.” you said before reaching out to the foot of your bed where a hoodie rested, for nights where your blanket wasn’t enough.

“oh.. yeah.” suna awkwardly said, his heart dropping at the blatant rejection.

“are you sure you don’t want mine? it’s your favorite hoodie.” he attempted once more. you shook your head before you started to pull your hoodie over your figure.

“no thank you, it’s yours.” you said, before you knew it you were wrapped around in suna’s arms.

“rin… what?”

“i didn’t mean it.” he mumbled. your eyes pricked, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“i just really had a bad day that day, i’m so sorry for saying those words to you. i miss the scent you leave on my hoodies. i want it back.” he said, tightening his hug on your body. you ran your fingers comfortingly on his back knowing how hard this must’ve been for him to let out, especially knowing that he tends to not show off any emotions.

“aw, rin.” you sighed, he grunted in response, burying his face on your chest, trying to memorize the comforting scent that he was too foolish to let go of.

“i’m sorry too.”

“you have nothing to apologize for. don’t say you’re sorry.” his voice mumbled out. you pulled his face from your chest to face you, his eyes filled with guilt as you smiled at him.

“if it makes you feel any better. i forgive you.” you smiled.

“take my hoodie.”

“what?”

“i’m going to feel better if you take my hoodie and forget the stupidity i said before.” you laughed before letting him pull off your hoodie before he replaced it with his.

his scent overfilled your senses as you pulled on the collar to sniff it.

suna’s heart swelled up at the sight, before plopping himself beside you and cuddling against you.

“baby?”

“yes, rin?”

“let’s go to sleep.”

 kita:

it was a tense practice. the team was feeling pressured due to kita’s unwavering presence. atsumu and osamu kept yelling at each other. suna was just filming the whole thing, unbothered. no matter what kita said, his voice was overpowered over atsumu and osamu’s argument.

their manager, rui, had managed to quiet the twins down. the team finally letting out a breath that they held. kita showed her his thanks as the team went back to practice properly. the tension was still there.

you came in, having a small skip to your step. smiling as you went inside the gym with a bag of snacks to give to the team. you were a second-year manager, having been convinced by suna to join the volleyball team. you were glad you did because you have somehow managed to catch the attention of the cold-logic captain.

not noticing the tension in the room, you placed the snacks down and you went to the place beside your senior manager and talked about the events you missed while you were out.

after a practice set was done, rui walked out of the gym to retrieve the jerseys that were washed. you walked over to kita to relay some good news on your part.

“you’re late.” his cold voice started. your smile dropped a bit at his tone before apologizing.

“i’m so-”

“how are you supposed to fully take charge of the team as a manager if you can’t even make it into practices on time.” by now, everyone was listening to the exchange. atsumu was looking at you worriedly as you shook your head slightly, a smile still on your face.

“look, shin. it’s not as if i wanted to be late-”

“but you were.” he cut you off, you swallowed and nodded your head. he was right. however, it wasn’t your fault that the teacher asked you to stay back in order to relay news that you were one of the students who climbed up in the academic ranks. unable to contain your excitement to the news, you thought of buying the team some food to brighten up their day as well. being selfless was one of the traits that made kita fall for you.

“if you could just let me explain then maybe you-”

“(l/n)-san. whatever reason you have is inexcusable. you should know that as a manager you are expected to be courteous in these types of assemblies.” he stated, still with a straight face.

you are no exemption to kita’s cold logic.

“kita-san, i don’t think (l/n)-san wanted to be late.” akagi tried to help you out.

kita looked back at him with piercing eyes, the latter letting out a shiver. “however, they are still late. am i correct?” akagi hesitantly nodded, shooting you an apologetic look. you smiled in thanks for his defense.

kita turned to look back at you, “we do not need a manager who thinks that they have all the time in the world and show up late to practice.” he started, your smile dropping at his words.

“how are the third years supposed to leave when they know they are about to leave the team in the hands of an incompetent manager.”

“oi, kita.” aran warned, kita turned to face him. “you’re going too far.”

“i have not said anything that is not based on observations.” he stated, before looking at you once more.

“you are nowhere near rui's level of duty.” and with that, you blinked the tears you didn’t know you were holding. the action shocked everyone in the room as they did not expect kita to say such words to his (s/o).

“i get it, kita. you need not remind me and i apologize for dragging the team down.” you said as loud as your voice can muster. at this point, the whole team wants to desperately console you, but you surprised them both with a smile.

“i guess you are right, kita-san.” you started. “maybe this job is not meant for me, i apologize for not being like rui.” you bowed before making your way out the door, momentarily stopping to face suna. “i apologize for not meeting your team’s expectations, rinta.” and with that you left the gym.

the gym was quiet. no one wants to make a sound. no one knows how to approach what just unfolded in front of their eyes.

everyone eyed each other awkwardly, suna stood up from his place and looked at kita who was cleaning a volleyball with a blank look on his face.

“well, i’m done with practice.” suna called out, zipping his practice bag.

“practice isn’t over, we still have 2 hours!” ginjima said, looking nervously between the captain and his teammate.

“yeah, well. if i see my best friend crying due to the insensitivity of their boyfriend, i think it is my responsibility as a best friend to check up on them.” suna said, kita’s head perking up at his words.

“practice will still be practice tomorrow, but (y/n)’s wellbeing is my priority right now.” with those words, osamu stood up and packed up as well, deciding to side with suna on this.

“see ya.”

 ever since that incident, you have avoided kita like the plague. which was made easy due to your year difference.

osamu and atsumu update you on his well-being, even though you don’t ask. they know that you still care about their captain.

your phone is filled with countless unread messages from kita who asked about how you are and if you and him can talk. you did not reply to a single one, leaving him on delivered since the past few days.

it doesn’t mean that he did not try to talk to you, because he did. it was only because suna and the twins never left your side so he did not get the proper timing.

“are you really sure about this, (y/n)?” atsumu asked as you signed the resignation form of your managerial responsibilities.

“i think it would be for the best, my own boyfriend did say that i’m not competent enough to manage you.” you smiled bitterly as flashbacks from that day evaded your mind.

suna and the twins frowned at your statement, the four of you walking to the coach’s office.

“text us if you need up to pick you up, (y/n)-chan.” osamu said, ruffling your hair a bit. you scoffed at his actions.

“we’re in school, as if i’ll get lost.” you joked as you bid the three of them goodbye and knocking on the coach’s door.

“pardon me for intruding-” your words were cut off as you realized the coach was not alone and was with kita, reviewing different reports.

“ah, what brings you here, (y/n)?” the sound of your name made kita perk up, looking at you with longing despite his deadpan expression.

“i can come back at a better time, sir.” you said, the coach shook his head before gesturing to the documents on your hand.

“i came to drop off my resignation paper, i’m sorry, sir.” kita’s eyes widened at those words and he uncharacteristically dragged you out of the room with a small goodbye to the coach, your papers in kita’s hands.

“you are not leaving the team, (y/n).” kita plainly stated. you scoffed, trying to retrieve back your documents.

“i don’t think you have a right to say what i can or cannot do, kita-san.”

he looked down on the ground before sighing and looking back at you. next thing you knew he had his arms wrapped around you, you wanted to struggle. but you know you don’t want to lie to yourself and say you do not miss your boyfriend’s presence.

you sighed, arms hanging limply at your sides, itching to hug kita back.

“i’ve been a terrible boyfriend.” you almost wanted to laugh at that. you tried pulling away from his hug, but you noticed his grip tightening and his arms slightly shaking, as if you would disappear if you pulled away from his grasp.

“i’ve said some things that i am not proud of.” he started, “i broke my promise to you and hurt you with my words.”

“kita-san, it’s okay.”

“it’s not okay, love.” your heart swooned at his pet name.

“i shouldn’t have said those words, i wasn’t thinking.”

“well, kita-”

“since when did you call me kita, it’s shin to you.” he cut you off, earning a short laugh from you, before your voice turned somber.

“i know you don’t mean it, but like as you said. those came from observations. and you’re right. i do not deserve to be the manager.”

he pulled away slightly, “i cannot express how sorry i am to have made you doubt your capabilities like that.” he placed his chin on top of your head, you felt tears building up once more as you blinked them away, kita felt your slight shaking, he pulled away before placing his thumbs under your eyes.

“i’m sorry, love. hurting you was my last intention.” he said before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, you gripped the hands that caressed your face before giving him a small smile.

“it’s fine, shinsuke.”

“please stay.”

you give him a nod as his eyes softened, a small smile on his face as he leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

“i missed you.” you smiled as you pulled away.

“as have i, my love.” kita responded.

“not to ruin your moment, but it’s time for practice.” atsumu’s voice interrupted your moment, followed by a sharp thwack on his head, courtesy of aran.

[luvzayne]

that wasn’t what it sounded like! 

synopsis: you accidentally hear them say they don't like you.

characters: kuroo, suna

warnings: this was written back in 2020 and i decided to repost it so yea, be warned ig, angst to fluff!

kuroo: 

with a sigh, you tried mustering up all the confidence you can as you trudged towards the gym. 

‘this is the day.’ you thought to yourself. you were finally going to confess to kuroo. after having numerous debates with your mind, you finally came to the decision to confess. 

your heartbeat quickened at the numerous scenarios you were thinking, most of them being rejection. 

the worst thing that can happen is rejection, right? 

you couldn’t help but fall for kuroo, how could you not? he was funny, smart, and being handsome was a nice plus. you already knew that it would be hard to just tell him about your feelings, especially knowing that he probably only viewed you as a friend. 

once you arrived by the gym, you took a deep breath before going in with a smile, waving to kenma who acknowledged you by looking up from his game.

“uh.. have you seen kuroo?” you sheepishly asked kenma who looked at you curiously before nodding to the locker room.

“hey, (y/n)?” kenma called out. “yeah?”

“goodluck.” your eyes widened as he gave you a small smile. 

you sometimes hated how perceptive kenma is despite his nonchalant behavior. with a determined nod, you walked towards the locker room, hoping to see kuroo walk out from the door. 

when you were at a near distance from the door, you hear a bunch of chatter. you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you perked your head when you heard your name come out from a voice you recognized as yaku’s. 

“man, kuroo. you’re lucky! you have (y/n) crushing on you.” a smack was heard after, kuroo groaning in pain followed afterward. 

your heartbeat quickened when you heard the captain laugh in response. 

“come on, yakkun. (y/n) and i are just friends!” for now. “eh?! seriously? you don’t like her in that way?” you scoot a bit closer to the door, wanting to hear his answer before you take the leap. 

“don’t be ridiculous, yakkun. we’re friends, and that’s it.” your heart dropped at his words. 

you were so caught up in evaluating kuroo’s answer that you didn’t realize the door to the locker room opened. “oh, (y/n)? what’re you doing here?” the chatter in the locker room evidently stopped. you blinked, trying to keep tears at bay. 

you looked up to kai who looked at you with a kind expression. “ah, our professor told me to give this to tet- kuroo-san.” you say, giving him a folder. “i have to go, please give this to him for me. thank you, kai!” you say before running off, passing by the freshmen who gave you a wave of excitement. you couldn’t find it in yourself to smile back as you ran from the gym.

once you were at a safe place, you let the tears fall free. you didn’t know why you were crying. 

‘you didn’t even confess, for crying out loud! so why are you sad?’ you thought to yourself, laughing as you wiped your eyes. 

you felt pathetic for ever thinking that kuroo would ever look at you that way. you were friends. he specified so clearly to one of his closest friends. that was all the confirmation you needed. 

you knew you had to distance yourself on the following days. knowing that if you don’t you’ll fall even deeper and get hurt. 

and you were tired of getting hurt. 

“oi, chibi. why did the picture go to jail?” kuroo asked when the class was about to end. you took a while to answer him, you only answered when you felt him poke his pen by your cheek. “oi.” “i don’t know, kuroo. why?” kuroo could almost shiver at the tone you used, but he thinks it may just be a bad day. maybe his jokes could make it better? it always did. 

“because it was framed.” not wanting to ignore him, but not wanting to indulge him either you give him a short laugh that can be mistaken as a breath. 

“was it not funny?” “it was.” 

kuroo was silent for a few seconds before asking you with a small nudge from his elbow. 

“are you okay?” “mhm.” you realized that that answer was too curt, something that would possibly make him suspicious. and you didn’t want that. 

“i just need to listen to this lesson, this is very confusing.” you follow up quickly, taking down notes just to not look suspicious. 

“you know i could always tutor you, right?” kuroo said, a reassuring tone lacing his voice. you turn to give him a small nod and smile. “i know.” but i’d like to not be with you unless necessary. “thank you.” 

kuroo furrowed his eyebrows, clearly he knew something was wrong. but before he could ask, the bell rang and you immediately went out of the room. not even giving kuroo his usual goodbye. 

something was definitely wrong. 

“(y/n’s) acting weird.” kuroo couldn’t help but mention when they were on the train home. “eh?” kenma kept clicking on his console, listening intently as his childhood friend rant on about you. 

“and then suddenly they turned cold! i don’t remember doing anything to make them mad.” kuroo was frustrated to say the least, he knew that your friendship was going well, so of course he would be confused as to why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder.

“i mean… did you reject them?” kenma asked, eyes still on his console. kuroo furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “reject them? what?” 

kenma paused the game and looked up to kuroo. 

“so, they didn’t confess?” kuroo shook his head in response to kenma’s question. kenma sighed, “i think i know what’s going on.” 

“well, don’t keep it to yourself, kenma. tell me.” kuroo urged. 

“they heard you say you don’t like them.” kenma said, unpausing his game. “well, that’s only my thoughts. i wouldn’t know.” 

now that kuroo thought about it, when he told yaku he only saw you as a friend, the door of the locker room opened to reveal you, who gave kai a document that was meant for him before running off. 

kuroo should’ve known you’ve heard. because no matter how busy you were, you would always wish him good luck on his practices and give him a corny joke to keep him motivated. 

“fuck.” kuroo muttered, placing his hands by his eyes and tilting his head back on the window of the train, groaning from frustration. 

there was a small pause of silence, only the clicking of kenma’s console was heard before the underclassman spoke. 

“what do you plan on doing now?”

“hey, we need to talk.” kuroo cornered you by the locker, you shut the metal door lightly before giving him an apology. 

“i’m really needed for the next class.” at this point, you weren’t even trying to hide the sheer fact that you were avoiding him. 

“we’re in the same class, and we both know the teacher wouldn’t show up until half the hour passes. try again, (y/n).” 

“i just don’t want to talk to you.” you say straight up, not even trying to put a filter and kuroo felt his heart clench painfully at your tone. 

“too bad. you don’t have a choice.” without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away to a vacant classroom. 

“why have you been avoiding me.” kuroo knows the answer to his question, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. 

“i was busy, can i go now. please?” you say as curt as possible, not wanting to melt under his gaze. not wanting to break whatever resolve you have built up from the past few days you ignored him. 

“i’m not buying it.” kuroo says, crossing his arms and eyeing you down. you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep up the tough act if you stayed there.

“you’re so unfair, kuroo.” you couldn’t help but whisper. kuroo’s posture immediately straightened. 

“i’m unfair?” kuroo asked with an amused grin on his face. “i don’t think i’m the one who ignored someone for days for no apparent reason.” you looked down at his words, knowing he has the upperhand. just why did you think you could escape him?

“i’m not the one who made someone think that they did something wrong.” you didn’t realize that he was getting closer, not until you saw his shoes in front of you and felt his hands on your chin, making you look up to him. 

“i’m the one who was deprived of a confession from the person i like, don’t you think it’s unfair for me?” your eyes widened for a few milliseconds before you pushed him away. 

“stop messing around, kuroo.” your voice cracked. “just let me move on. and i promise i’ll be back to normal.” you both know that was an empty promise. if kuroo didn’t corner you, then you would’ve completely tried to eradicate him from your life. but kuroo couldn’t have that. 

now that he knew you liked him back, how could he let this chance go to waste. 

“you think i’ll let you go when i finally have an opportunity to pursue you?” your throat went dry. 

“kuroo... stop. you don’t need to pretend, i heard what you said to yaku. it’s fine, really.” at this point, you wanted to get out as soon as possible. you knew you were going to break down if this keeps on going.

“(y/n), please. believe me. i truly do like you back.” you felt tears prick your eyes. this was some sick joke kuroo was playing at. 

kuroo panicked, seeing tears well up in your eyes before you blinked it away. 

“but i-” “yes. i know that i said those words that day, but it was to shut yakkun up… and to hide my own feelings.” kuroo said the last part quietly. if he weren’t holding you, you probably wouldn’t have heard. 

he lets go of your chin before sighing. “i’ve been in love with you for so long, i didn’t know how to deal with it so i kept denying it. i didn’t tell yaku the truth because i didn’t need him to make fun of me because i couldn’t get the person i wanted.” kuroo let it out, you were shocked. 

he felt the same way?

“kuroo…?” “(y/n). i’m sorry, but i can’t let you go. especially now when i know i have a chance. so please.” unbeknownst to the both of you, your heartbeats were almost identical on how fast it paced. 

“i...” you started. not knowing the right words to say. 

“i think we should… take things slow.” you look at him, giving him the smallest of smiles you can muster. “if that’s okay with you?” 

kuroo couldn’t find it in himself to suppress the wide smile that was plastered on his face. without another word, he pulled you to his chest. his laugh rang out the empty classroom. 

“god. i didn’t want to confess this way… but here we are.” kuroo pulled away and laughed. 

“don’t break my heart, kuroo.” you warned lightheartedly. he gave you a smile that was laced with all the adoration he felt for you before pecking raising your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

suna:

the whistle was blown, signaling the end of their practice. you smiled in encouragement to the members who looked like they’ve gone through hell and back. from the intensity of their training, you would probably believe so. 

“nice work.” you say, handing atsumu his water bottle. the setter gave you a pat on the head before gesturing to suna who was wiping his sweat with a towel. “go talk to ‘yer loverboy.” 

you rolled your eyes at his statement, but walked towards the middle blocker anyway.

“nice work out there, rin!” you smile, giving him the water bottle that you prepared. of course, it was your own water bottle with the liquid infused with citrus. you thought about putting it in his, but then again, the water bottles were identical and someone else might drink it. 

“(y/n)~ why does suna get special treatment?” akagi whined. your eyes widened, not knowing that the libero was watching your interactions. 

“i want manager-san’s special treatment too!” ginjima whined as well, your face heat up at the sudden attention before the coach blew the whistle once more. 

“seems like break is over, be back later, (y/n).” suna stated, giving you back your water bottle and a quick pat on the head. your face heated up with the contact. 

“yeah.” you were in a daze, staring at suna’s figure as he went back to court. 

“‘yer staring, manager-san.” kita’s straightforward voice cut off your thoughts. “huh? what?” 

a smirk formed on kita’s face. “be careful, (y/n). ‘yer not being as cautious as before.” 

“what did you mean before? kita-san. i-” “liked our middle blocker since before you were our manager? i’m well aware.” if you and kita weren’t close, you would be scared on how he managed to catch on quickly with your stupid crush. “i’m right, aren’t i?” 

“i sometimes hate you, kita.” a scoff was heard from the bicolored male. “sure you do.” 

you and the captain went on with your banter. occasionally noting down some of the notable movements the team did in their practice. 

when the whistle was blown, that was then you realized that you have forgotten to fill up the water bottles once more. with a quick bow, you ran outside to fill it up with refreshing cold water. once done, you struggled to carry the weight of several bottles at once. 

“when do you plan on confessing to (y/n), suna?” you stopped in your tracks as you hear atsumu’s voice reverberate from the other side of the wall. 

“what are you talking about?” suna retaliated, voice deadpanned as usual. “come on, suna. don’t think we don’t see the way (y/n) has heart eyes for you.” you almost dropped the water bottles in your hands. your heart beat quick, realizing that suna was well aware of your crush on him. 

“so?” the same deadpanned voice answered. you felt saddened at the lack of emotion in his tone. “what do you plan to do if they tell you?” 

you weren’t prepared for his answer, you didn’t want to know.  

“i don’t know what you want me to say, i don’t like (y/n) that way.” fuck.

at this point, your throat felt clogged and tears were forming in your eyes. you always knew that you should have never let this small crush turn into something more, now you were here. feeling sad just because of your hopeless crush on the team’s middle blocker. 

you didn’t realize that you dropped a water bottle, when you looked down, you saw lemon slices floating around the water. as if it were mocking you. 

you sigh, picking it up. ‘one last time.’ you thought to yourself before entering the gym, pretending you didn’t just get your heart broken.

“no lemons this time?” suna asked as you gave him his water bottle. “didn’t find any.” you say as curt as possible before attending to the other members of the team to which the others found odd. 

since when was he the first one you tended to? usually you always placed him as last so you could talk to him more. maybe you just forgot? did something happen? 

either way, the team was in confusion with your sudden shift in attitude. especially suna, who has gotten used to your daily banter every training. 

the middle blocker shrugged it off before taking a sip of the plain water. maybe you just weren’t in the mood today? who knows. 

it wasn’t only today, but the next few days. suna began noticing how his interactions with you have drastically decreased, he never took notice of how much he actually craved your presence until you stopped giving him attention and began treating him like how you treat the twins. 

well, there wasn’t anything wrong with the way you treated the twins, but he thought he was special. he knows he was special, maybe that’s why he thought that you might have possibly liked him back. but why did you suddenly drift away from him? 

suna doesn’t remember anything that he could have possibly done for you to stray away from him. 

“good work.” “are we okay?” suna suddenly asked you, who was giving out his water bottle as per usual. “of course.” you say before plopping the bottle on his hand and moving on to the next member.

“relationship problems?” osamu teased as he went beside suna, sipping on his own water bottle. “shut it, miya.”

the middle blocker hated this. he hated how all of a sudden you pretended as if the both of you were only club mates and nothing else. 

but isn’t that what you were? you weren’t obligated to keep him company during breaks and talk about your guys’ days and plans. so why was he so bothered that you weren’t beside him?

suna had a thought, but he immediately crossed it off his mind because he knows it’s impossible. 

suna likes you, and you moved away even before he could act on it. 

“good wo-” “can we talk?” suna cut you off. you raised an eyebrow at him before trying to give him his water bottle. 

“i’m not taking that.” he huffed, before continuing. “give the others theirs first then get back to me. just like before.” startled, you wordlessly nodded before giving the rest of the members their water bottles. 

once you were done, you felt suna pull your wrist and dragged you outside. a knowing smirk invaded the twins’ faces as they saw the both of you leave. 

“suna-” “what is your problem?” your eyes widened at the sharp tone that suna gave you. 

“i have no idea what you mean.” “why have you been getting distant lately?” “i was busy, suna”

suna looked at you, knowing he isn’t buying a single word you say. he wanted to cringe at the way you called him by his last name, but he couldn’t afford to lose his composure. 

“we both know that’s absolute bullshit, (y/n).” you narrowed your eyes at his response. 

“why does it matter, suna?” you bit back,  having been fed up with this conversation. “i just want to know what i did that made you act weird around me.” 

you tense up, not knowing what to say next. you knew it was unfair to make suna feel as if he did something wrong, but you knew the more you acted upon your feelings, the more you won’t be able to move on. so with a deep breath you braced yourself for your next words. 

“you did nothing, suna.” you gave him a small smile. “that is just me trying to move on. so please, give me some time.” 

suna blinked. was that a confession? he couldn’t register it fast enough before he tightened his grip on your wrist. 

“(y/n)... what do you mean?” “i don’t want to repeat myself, suna.” you say, gently trying to take your wrist from him. 

“you like me back.” suna says, more to himself than to you. you gave him a look of disbelief. “don’t be ridiculous.” 

“no, (y/n). you like me back.” a small smirk was plastered on his face, you felt your face heat up. 

“i did.” you could barely see the way his smirk faltered. “did?” 

you sigh, wanting to get this over with. 

“i heard you say to the twins that you don’t like me in that way. and it made me realize that maybe i’ve been reading the signs wrong and you only like me as a friend.” you explain, effectively pulling away your wrist the moment he faltered in his grip. 

“no hard feelings, suna. i just need time to move on, and since we’re here now. can you please tell me to move on? just so i can have the closure i need.” you say. 

unbeknownst to you, suna only said that so the twins would leave him alone. he’s always liked you, even before you were their manager. and when you suddenly gave him special treatment, he felt as if you returned his feelings. 

now that he knows you like him back, the twins be damned. he can’t let you go. 

“be with me?” “did you not hear what i said? i said i’m trying to move o-” “no.” 

suna said, taking a step closer to you. “i said i didn’t like you that way because i didn’t want the twins knowing and potentially ruining my chance with you because we both know they’d never shut up.” suna started.

“i didn’t confess because i didn’t want to assume that you liked me the way i liked you. but god, whenever you strut in the gym and give me your stupid hello kitty bottle filled with lemon water. i couldn’t help but assume.” you make a face. “my hello kitty bottle is not stupid, rin.” 

suna smiled at the returned nickname. “and you didn’t assume. i really do like you back.” 

“so...” suna trailed off. “so…?” 

“do you want to go out with me, after training?” suna didn’t know where the courage came from, before he could shy away from his question. you gave him a smile, a small blush on your face. 

“i.. i’d love to.” 

“and will you bring back the lemon water. i miss the stupid hello kitty bottle.” he was hit by the arm as you pouted. “once again, my hello kitty bottle is not stupid, rin.” 

suna smiled before placing a hand on your head. 

“sure, (y/n).” 

note: i love suna i want him to trip on a rock

[clare-875]

Everything to Me (Kuroo x Reader)

_____

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader Summary: You feel like a nobody next to him, he proves you wrong Warnings: angst, fluff Note: The above image does NOT belong to me [Haikyuu Masterlist]

_____

Kuroo knows something is wrong the instant your bubbly demeanour diminishes, leaving an unnatural silence in the air. He sees it in the way you avert your gaze, how you keep your head low, how you quietly vanish from your usual spot by his side. Most of all, he sees it in the depths of your eyes; the conflict, the wavering of your usual certainty. You can't help it. You, so usually confident and proud to stand by his side despite the jealousy of girls who look enviously, have dug yourself into a hole you see no way out of. The more you try to convince yourself you're okay, that you deserve the love he so willingly gives you, the more you find the echoes of your mind convincing you otherwise. Maybe it was in the flickers of low voices that surround you when you pass dimly lit hallways. "Look at her, she doesn't deserve him." Maybe it's in the way they nitpick, eyes clouded by their disdain. "She isn't even that pretty" Maybe it's their voices coated with sweetness as they try to snatch away his gaze. "Kuroo-san, please can you help me with this."

Maybe it's in the depths of your own mind, playing games with you and prompting your own demise. But how could you not? He, so smart and witty, quick to offer help and retorts during class. He, the Captain of Nekoma's volleyball team, fit and form captivating all who look long enough; and they always do. He and his caressable hair, unkempt but soft and tempting. He who gathers compliments, admirers and popularity all the same. He who stands next to you; but what about you? What could you offer? You could give yourself credit; you were smart and not unpretty, but you also felt so extraordinarily ordinary. Next to him, you would not stand out, sometimes you would feel so far away as girls you thought of as prettier, smarter, and more popular seek his attention, their sharp gaze on you. The worst was when they would not look at you at all; when they would speak as if you weren't even present, like you weren't even worth their sympathy. Kuroo was kind and loyal, he would push them away gently, would speak of his indifference to them politely, so much so they would act as though he had complimented them instead. You wondered if it was because he pitied you; forgotten in their shadows.

Now it was all you could think about, and you wonder if you would ever break free of the chain of thoughts you had tied yourself to. It kept going on and on, and it wouldn't cease. You felt the fear creep up on you next. What if he realised... What if he left? So, you separated yourself from his presence, hoped that time would end the suffering, and if it didn't you hoped it would at least dull the blow of his inevitable leave. But you should know better. This is Kuroo Testuro, your boyfriend, someone who knew you more than anyone would, and he would notice your actions; the struggle etched in your eyes. It had been a few days and you had hoped he did not realise your abrupt absences but of course he did. You found yourself cornered, as he refused you leave the empty classroom the both of you were in.

"You've been avoiding me." You expected his anger, his swift dismissal but all you hear is worry as you refuse to meet his eyes. "Did- did I do something wrong?" You freeze at that, the slight tremble in his voice, the anxiety muddled within his words. You look up shaking your head quickly, not wanting him to doubt himself when he is so perfect to you. However, you realise it's a mistake as you see his face clearly; you see his pain. He seems more tired than usual, the soft skin under his eyes slightly bruised with lack of sleep. He seems tense as though he is bracing for something; like he's bracing for the worst. He observes the shake of your head and you see his brows furrow in confusion, eyes sharp but gaze gentle as he takes a tentative step towards you. "Then what's wrong, why have you been acting so distant?" Your head rings and pounds with his words but they muffle under the weight of all the other voices stuck chanting in your head.

"Why does he stay with her?"

"He'd be better off with me."

"I bet he just pities her"

"She's nothing"

You can't help it as hot tears pour down your face, and you feel the warmth reach your cheeks. You feel it all, the pain of holding in all the thoughts that rake your mind, all the embarrassment and torture. It comes out as you try and fail to stop a sob creeping up your throat. Kuroo's eyes widen instantly at your rare and blatant show of utter pain; of sadness. He moves as swiftly as your cries come and you feel his strong arms embrace you gently but securely. You feel yourself lose the strength within yourself as you grasp desperately at his shirt, body shaking at the weight of your gasps and cries. Through it all he is silent and patient, he doesn't mind the way your tears now seep onto his skin or the way you allow yourself to be vulnerable. If anything he is thankful you allow him to hold you. If anything he is angry. Who did this to you? Who made you feel this way? Many moments pass by when you are finally able to collect yourself and you gently release yourself from his embrace taking in a shaky breath.

"[y/n]," Kuroo mutters after he allows you to compose yourself. His hand is sure on yours as his other gently lifts your face to his. "Please," his voice is almost desperate as he looks at you, "tell me what's wrong. Did someone do something?" You look to him, the way he wants nothing more than to ease you of the burdens you have allowed yourself to drown in. You feel guilt build as you force your reply through your throat. "I'm sorry," you mutter much to his confusion. Why would you apologise? "I just... haven't been feeling great about myself lately. I think... I think they were right, I'm not enough, I'm not smart enough or pretty enough. You deserve so much better, I- I'm nothing compared to you-" Before you can continue Kuroo tightens his grip on your hand, forcing your eyes on him once more as you look up surprised at the rage that now fills his face, but it takes you a while to understand that the anger isn't directed to you. But himself. How could he not have shown you just how worthy you are of his love; just how much you mean to him?

"[y/n]," he shakes his head at your words, eyes remorseful and stern. "You- you don't know just how much you mean to me. You're so beautiful, you're so kind, you're so smart, you always listen to my science puns and always laugh. You remember my favourite foods, can list out every dislike I have, can name every movie I've watched, every place I've visited. You always come to my games and are always my loudest supporter. [y/n]... you're everything to me." Your eyes widen at his proclamations of adoration for you, heart pounding as he looks so earnestly at you. "When you started avoiding me, I thought you wanted to break up or something, do you know how horrible this week has been without you?" His tone is more gentle now, more teasing and light as it has always been.

"I'm sorry to say, but you're stuck with me, besides you’re the only one who actually laughs at my science jokes." He grins as you smile slightly at his words, feeling silly all of a sudden, feeling the weight lift off you and your lungs able to breathe again. His gaze then becomes more sure and serious as he pulls you closer to his side, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner," he muttered against your skin, and you looked up to him heart warm at his words as you allow yourself to take in a breath and shake your head. "Thank you, Tetsu." He grins at your nickname pulling you closer and glad to have you back by his side. "Don't ever avoid me again, understand? And you're gonna tell me who "they" are." He says looking at you, as your eyes widen at his words. Nevertheless, the next time you even heard an utterance of an insult when you passed, Kuroo was right behind you proclaiming loudly how much he, "hates girls that gossip," and how much he adores his beautiful girlfriend. Needless to say, they never bothered you again, and Kuroo never gave them a minute of his time, forever and always devoted to you.

[blogclosed7062026]

hi :)

can i please request a one shot with Yuma where you start getting sick but don't tell him because he will worry so when he finally finds out you aren't feeling well he rushes over and babies the shit out of you. like you're almost overwhelmed with his love for you

i appreciate you ♡

PROMISE | NAKAKITA YUMA、&TEAM

warning: just fluff meant to make u delulu 4 life (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)❤︎

getting sick is one thing and it shouldn't have bothered you this much considering it should only last three minimum days if you just take your meds. yet this annoyingly stubborn sickness persisted more than three days despite doing so.

it shouldn't have bothered you this much, really. yet the thing is you just couldn't bear your boyfriend to see you this way.

you couldn't let yuma who had been occupied with so much work recently to find out about your miserable state that you had been keeping for more than three days now with the initial thought that you would heal pretty fast.

even on the phone with yuma, you even go as far as to held the need to cough like a dying fish just to keep him from knowing about it. knowing very well that if he found out, he would drop everything at once and appear before your apartment's door.

this adorable boyfriend of yours is truly the embodiment of a perfect dream boy, yet to worry him just because of your petty sickness is not what you want to happen.

until your dumb of a best friend had to run her mouth in the group chat that also had your boyfriend in it—accidentally revealing that you had been sick for almost a week now.

accidentally, that is.

your boyfriend, in conclusion; is a very, very busy man and so he doesn't always check his messages and so you immediately texted your bestfriend to freaking unsend her message but all was done when you saw your boyfriend's profile below the messages amongst others, marking the 'read' status.

now your phone were bombarded with numerous messages from your busy boyfriend, asking you all sorts of questions ranging from 'how could you', 'why didn't you tell me', to 'i'm coming now.'

you sighed terribly at the last message your boyfriend sent you,

you: YUMA BABE U DONT HAVE TO EXAGGERATE 😃

yuma<3: idc. stay right there.

of course, your apartment door were immediately bombarded with relentless knocks and ringing doorbells. you pulled the door opened with your boyfriend's eyebrows knitted in a tight frown, eyes holding a thousand of questions, and his lips in a heavy pout and down to his pair of fists gripping a few plastic bags.

"holy- yuma, it's just a minor flu!"

"nah, get in."

with your head now rested on the couch and a few layers of blanket covering your entire frame, your boyfriend opens his mouth slightly apart—urging you to do the same so he can feed you a spoonful of hot broth.

the warm liquid pushes down your throat, immediately soothing your chest and lungs, you sighed contentedly at this special treatment, unable to suppressed your small grin and yet yuma narrowed his eyes at you still repeating this particular sentence since he arrived.

"how could you?"

"i just don't want to worry you."

"what else am i suppose to do if not worry?" yuma fed you another spoonful, "i'm your boyfriend, (name). get it in your head."

"but you are busy—"

"god, you wouldn't want me to keep quiet too if i was sick right?" yuma raised his eyebrow at you as he placed the bowl on the table.

that had you shutting your mouth really damn quick, retreating in defeat as you lowered and shook your head slightly. you of course, wouldn't want him to keep it from you even the slightest bit. of course, you would want to be there for him as well.

that thought alone had you wondering all sorts of scenarios and what if's.

noticing this, yuma closes the distance between you both, placing his palms on your head to take your attention from your devouring thoughts. and it worked as you met his tender feline eyes looking into your soul.

you were never good at eye contact as it only does nothing but had your crippling anxiety surfaces and manifests on your face and hands. yet the way your boyfriend does it; his feline orbs and the way the shape of his eyes fluttered like the graceful motion of a cat's tail swaying up and down—had your lungs bubbling up in traces of tiny hearts and bubbles of comfort.

"promise me, you wouldn't do this anymore."

you didn't answer, and opting to nod instead and he wasn't satisfied judging by how the palm on your head shifts to a pair of palms now on your heated cheeks.

you weren't entirely sure whether your heated cheeks was because of your sickness or because of your boyfriend's presence.

"answer me, (name)."

you nodded again as your lips hang slightly apart to enunciate that two words he desires to hear, "i promise."

that alone had his serious demeanour quickly switching to his usual character, his snuggle tooth emerging as his lips pulled up in a wide grin. one that never fails to have you giggling at how adorable he was.

with no hesitation, much to your surprise—he pulls you into his embrace with his arms now wrapped around your small frame, his body heat mingling with your intense ones.

you protested a bit, worried that he might get sick as well. yet he didn't budge one bit, smothering your face with kisses that he knew would help you recover quick.

"you got me worried, do you know?"

"i'm sorry." your voice vibrated against his chest, your ears caught on to how his heart beat skipped a few loud beats.

"it's fine now.. but when i get sick, kiss me alot as well, hm?" yuma hummed in pure delight as he placed

"are you sure?" you raised your head to look up to him, "i think we wouldn't stop getting sick if i do."

yuma places a chaste tender kiss on the rosy hue on the tip of your nose, which had you scrunching your nose in pure giggles. and he did the same— scrunching his nose playfully as his warm palms patted your hair down.

"who cares, i need my doses of kisses too, you know?"

"silly."

"you too."

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[luvjii]

riize falling asleep with you ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

-> thank you for your request <3 i used the iconic sleeping scenes from nevertheless of course (´∀｀)♡

shotaro 。

shotaro prefers your faces being inches apart, cuddled together like emperor penguins

likes hearing your steady breathing and low-key loves how your exhales tickle each ofher a little. you know when sometimes a persons nose whistles when they’re breathing? he finds that so so cute (;﹏;)

his hand caresses your back the second you turn the lights off, and even when you wake up the next morning his hands will still be there holding you dearly

doesn’t matter how tired both of you are, he’ll be whispering sweet things to you until he’s sure you’re asleep

and once you are prettily asleep, he won’t stop thinking about how lucky he is, his heart silently overflowing with love as he watches your sleepy self

eunseok °

there is no doubt in my mind that he is big spooning you. treats you like a little baby that needs to be cradled in his arms

sleepy eunseok is a different breed, you are his vitamin that helps him get through the night.

likes sleeping with you because he feels like a real couple, and he really oozes with love and fondness at this time of night, pressing his lips to your ear to remind you just how much he loves you

if he wakes up and you're not pressed against him, he freaks out a little wondering where you went. then he’s like phew (-。－；) when he realizes you’re right there , and gently pulls you into him making sure he doesn’t awake you

sungchan 。

you're locked in his big strong arms, no exceptions

he needs you glued to him, chest to chest, even when you're both dozing off dreamily he will hold you tight

likes how you perfectly fit into the crevice of his neck/collarbone, like you were made for him. doesn’t feel more in love than when he feels your heartbeat against him

he’s got so much love to give, so it’s moments like this that are perfect for him to expel all that energy . you can really feel the love seep into your bones when he holds you so tight (´∀｀）

waking up with him, you’ll find yourself still in a secure embrace with sungchans chin resting on your head

wonbin °

he's tucked into your neck like a kitten, it's the fastest way for him to fall asleep

feels so safe and secure in that little curve, especially when you wrap your arms around him. it’s the best feeling in the world

loves the warmth your bodies provide, together you literally melt into one and it makes his heart swell

isn’t much of a talker before sleeping but he likes to breath in your scent, likes to smell the perfumes still clinging on your neck or the shampoo that’s wearing off your hair

his bob might tickle you a little bit tho .. ^_^ .. so your neck may get a little itchy lololol

seunghan 。

he wants to be hugging you always, at all times. so that’s exactly how he holds you when you sleep

he’s one of the most talkative before sleeping, so when the lights turn off he’ll entangle your bodies into a warm hug and whisper to you quietly

tells you how grateful he is to be with you and how he looks forward to more nights like this (*ﾉωﾉ)

he will even plant little kisses your forehead before he says his final goodnight

and by final goodnight i mean him going “goodnight, i love you” and you going “i love you more” and him going “no, i love you more” and you going back and forth cutely until one of you starts snoring softly

sohee °

he’s so gentle and soft, this is really the time he appreciates your touch the most

loves switching off your night light and getting comfy with you, lets you cuddle into him however you want

when you find the perfect spot, your head on his chest or shoulder, he takes one hand and settles it on your back to keep you in place

his other hand will either rest in your hair, stroking your head gently or it will be innocently grabbing your palm

likes the intimacy in the darkness.. the privacy allows for him to show you his deepest affections even if they’re minimal (ノ﹏ヽ)

anton 。

another one who likes to make you his personal pillow ♡(。-ω-)

sleeps on his side / stomach because he likes when your hands roam his broad back

still gets a little shy when sleeping with you, so he nuzzles his face into your body to hide his flustered self

just adores the small touches you share in the dark, his hand settling on your waist or your thumb rubbing his shoulder soothingly

also is a big fan of the comfortable silence you share, the only thing that can be heard is hearts racing when you kiss each other goodnight <3

[taeraemisu]

in another universe ; jake enhypen

synopsis ; reader always had a crush on their best friend, jake. too scared to confess, reader pushes their feelings away just so they can never lose jake. but what happens when one of their usual late night deep talks takes a turn?

genre ; slight angst, best friends to lovers, idiots really, stargazing together !!!, fluff ?

pairings ; jake x reader

word count ; 1.6k words

you stare at the picture your best friend jake sent you. ‘does my outfit look okay?’ he texted you, waiting for a reply on the other side of the screen. you mentally screamed.

of course you do, anything you wear looks great, you said in your head. it was the jake sim for that matter, he always look good.

‘you look a little better than most days’

you replied before throwing your phone on your bed. how could one look so good? you and jake had been friends since kindergarten. long time friends, you honestly have no idea when the line of platonic or romantic feelings started to blur. it felt like you had a crush on him forever. definitely not love at first sight. but if you were to go backwards and pick up the little moments where you felt more-than-friends love,

you would end up right back to the moment you first ever saw him.

you hated the feelings though. you couldn’t accept them. you knew jake in and out so you knew whenever he had a crush on someone. and you had to admit, you did look for those signs whenever you guys were hanging out, for any tiny hint of reciprocated feelings. but you could never find any.

so, you pushed the feelings away. you couldn’t risk confessing, breaking the friendship and losing your best friend of almost twenty years. it was better to have him right by your side while suffering through it rather than having him gone while still suffering.

a ding comes out from your phone. you sat down on the side of your bed and pick it up, a text from him coming through.

‘so you think i’m good looking today :D who is this and what happened to yn ?? they would never tell me i am handsome’

obviously, you thought. any compliments that come from right out of your mouth will show your true feelings. you could never allow that.

‘i take my words back. you look hideous’

your phone dings again.

‘no take backs’

there was a moment of silence before another text comes through.

‘we are meeting tonight at the rooftop right?’

you type out a quick ‘yes’ before shutting your phone off, not responding anymore. how much longer could you hide these feelings? ever since you were kids, you had quite the obsession with stars. or anything space related. so when jake found you just laying down on the rooftop late at night one day when you guys were 10, it quickly became a tradition to hang out there at least once a week.

you loved the stars and the secrets of the universe but if any one were to ask you any questions about it, you frankly couldn’t give a scientific answer. you loved the philosophical sense of it though, about how there’s multiple multiverses and different universes. jake, being the smarter one of the two of you, went on to study astronomy in school.

of course, since you moved over the years, you guys could not hang out at the original rooftop you started the tradition at. but thankfully, the tiny apartment building you are currently living in had an accessible rooftop to use. you sighed as you thought about jake.

maybe in another universe, you did not have feelings for him.

“and you know what sunghoon did? he took the last piece of chicken!”

the both of you were now on the rooftop, sitting down as you gaze at the stars together. it was a good night, the sky was clear, no chance of rain or any feelings getting in the way, you could absolutely see the stars tonight.

“how scandalous,” you said in a sarcastic tone. “how dare he take the last piece of chicken!”

“that’s what i’m saying!” jake laughs, turning to look at you before looking back at the stars. “and what about you? we haven’t seen each other in so long, oh my god?”

you guys were working adults now, well jake was busy preparing for graduate school while you had a typical 9-5 job, so you couldn’t see jake as much as you used to. which makes you appreciate the rooftop talks a lot more. but it also helps you to push the feelings away. the less you see him, the more likely the feelings will go away, right?

you shrugged. “eh, the typical. wake up at 7, prepare, leave, arrive to work at 9, leave at 5, come back.” you were living in a constant cycle, the same thing over and over again.

maybe in another universe, you went on to pursue your actual dream of film, not taking the safe option.

jake looks at you sadly. “you should have some fun in your life! why not go out and date someone?”

ouch.

“as if,” you scoffed. “you scared off a couple of my exes while i was dating them.”

jake grins, clearly having no regrets. “they were assholes. i did you a huge favour.” he looks at you before starting to lie down, his head resting on your thigh. your heart skipped a beat. he could just breath and you will find reasons to fall for him all over again. “what are you doing?” you questioned, hoping that it’s too dark that he could not see your face turning red.

“this is comfortable,” he says, now laying down on your thigh while he looks up to the stars. “why do you love the stars so much?”

“i don’t know, why do you?” you asked without much thought.

“cause you like them.”

you paused at that. jake could have no other undertone in those words but your heart still managed to race a little faster. “oh,” was all you could say.

jake smiles at your reaction. “you liked them so much when we were kids, so i got interested in them.”

you smiled at that, your hands unconsciously going up to play with his fringe, before stopping yourself. “oh. sorry-“ you start to apologise, moving your hand away. but jake holds onto your hand, placing it back on his head. “don’t. it feels nice.”

you smiled softly but god, jake was not helping your case of losing feelings. he closes his eyes while you played with his hair. he looked so good, it made you breathless. the moonlight on his face, god, jake looked ethereal.

“but what about you?” he started to ask while you continue to play with his hair softly. “you seemed like you lost interest in the stars over the years.”

you paused, unsure of what to say. “it’s not that i lost interest …” your voice trails off. “nothing seems to be going my way in this universe.”

jake smiles softly at that, his eyes still closed while you continue to play with his hair. “but you still believe that there are different universes? you believe in the multiverse still, right?”

you nod. it was the one thing you couldn’t let go off. if you were going through something bad, you would always tell yourself that in another universe, a version of you is going through so much worse but is still pushing on. so, it gave you motivation in life.

“in another universe …” your voice trails off, thinking. “i got to do what i wanted in school.”

the aussie boy opens his eyes, looking at you. “in another universe, sunghoon didn’t take the last piece of chicken!”

you both laugh at that. this was the kid you fell for. the one who always had your heart even when you were dating other people.

you didn’t know what came over you but it was as if you had no control over yourself when your mouth started to form the words.

“in another universe …” you paused, before saying what you have always wanted to say. “we are dating.”

jake looks at you, with a certain look on his face that you could not quite tell. was it shock? was it happiness? or was it just nothing at all?

“i mean-“ you started to say to save yourself. you stopped playing with his hair, panicking. did that count as a confession? probably not. but it was something. “it’s the universe! there’s so many possibilities, you know?”

jake looks away, not saying anything. did i fuck up? you thought.

“how disappointing then,” he whispers.

disappointing? did he really see you as nothing but a friend?

“is the thought of dating me really that bad?” you joked, nervously laughing. jake shook his head, looking back at you. “it’s not that, just …” his voice trails off, his eyes staring right back at you. for once, he looked like he was staring at you the same way you looked at the stars.

“why can’t that be this universe?”

you paused. did you hear that right? “what?”

still looking at you, jake repeats what he said softly. “i said, why can’t us dating be in this current universe?”

your eyes widen. did he just …

“yes, idiot, i like you. a lot.”

all the words left your mouth. you did not know what to say. jake likes you back?

he looks at you, hoping for some type of reply or reaction from you. “i …” you begin to say. “… hope that we are living in the universe where we date, too.”

jake smiles at that, his hand going up to the back of your neck before pulling you down for a short and sweet kiss. he pulls away, both of you having the same childish grins on your face.

in another universe …

wait, no.

in this universe, you are happily dating the one that had your heart for years.

© taeraemisu do not copy my works !

[i520u]

⌕ dates with riize 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

hello briize hello riize lovers i’m one of you please keep the requests coming

PAIRING riize x gn!reader (not proofread!)

TAGS sfw, fluff, headcanons

OSAKI SHOTARO ༄

literally all sunshines and rainbows throughout the rest of the relationship

if you get into an argument with him that has GOT to be your fault idk what to tell you

i feel like he’s the type of boyfriend to teach you how to drive

and when you hit the curb he’s like “that’s okay! we can try again when i fix the car!”

but at the same time he’s gripping that roof handle in the car for dear life but he’s just too sweet to tell you that your driving’s horrible

he never lets you drive again btw

HE’D FILM SOOO MANY DANCE TIKTOKS WITH YOU!!!

also i feel like instead of a gf effect, it’s the opposite with him because he gives you the bf effect

your entire fashion style is gonna change for sure like have you seen this man? that is a man of AESTHETICS

would be so enthusiastic with teaching you all the tiktok dance steps

and none of these tiktoks are cringe they’re actually those cool ones

the type to hug you at the end of the tiktok video or kiss the temple of your head idk…

i imagine his ideal dates might be cafe hopping/cafe hunting all across tokyo or just shopping around shibuya

takes you to one of those claw machines while you’re shopping and he’ll try winning you a random plushie of an anime that neither of you watch

so now you have a random plush of like… some dude from haikyuu

would pay for your drinks btw (coffee, milk tea, matcha)

SONG EUNSEOK ༄

OK LISTEN.

cake decorating

he just looks like he’d enjoy doing that like did you see how proud he was wearing that hello kitty hairclip

please this man is gonna hear you suggest it and he’s like “LET’S GO!!”

craziest part is that he’s gonna eat you up at decorating it too

you’ll see him make a cute flower on his cake using the cream and you’re like “how did you do that :( how dare you be better than me :(”

and he’s gonna giggle nervously and his face is gonna turn a light shade of red while he helped you out

“i’m not better than you, we’re equally good.” and then he compares your cakes together and the only reason why yours looks ok is because he helped you for the most part

if you genuinely feel a little gloomy that yours looked bad he would purposely mess up on the rest of his cake

because eunseok will never be caught dead leaving his beloved partner unhappy, no matter how small the issue might be

i feel like he would notice those little shift of emotions that you have that even you barely notice

and he’d do his best to cheer you up because you’re just his everything </3

after the cakes are done he takes 282629 pictures of you and your cake and then he’d probably say things like “keep posing, you’re so pretty”

i think most of his dates would involve domestic things like that

if you don’t live together he’d crash to your house, help you deep clean the entire house and he considers that a date too

a little bit more low maintenance when it comes to relationships if that makes sense

also i think he’s not very clingy but he LOVESSS a clingy partner even if he doesn’t verbally say or show it

he’s always have a light blush on his face whenever you just cling on him

so please cling onto him as much as possible

JUNG SUNGCHAN ༄

just a feeling… but

gym dates 😭

and he’s so cheesy about it okay like at first you’re reluctant because the thought of going to a gym scares you

but then the first time you go there and he’s like so touchy with you in a good way

purposely standing so close to you while he helps you out with the equipments

maybe at one point he’s even like “yeah just do it like that.” while helping you out with the weights and then giving you a kiss on the cheek

which catches you off guard you almost dropped the weights but he was holding it with you so you’re good

when you blush he would let out a flustered giggle and won’t comment on it

and then you make it even worse by saying something like “i’m just flushed from the workout” and he’s like “sure babe”

would always be close to you just in case you’re caught underneath the weight and you can’t lift it up anymore

at the end of the date you’re like “i can’t move my legs” and then he just carries you

takes you out to eat something sweet afterwards

he’s going to be all smiley the whole time too

at the end he’s like “didn’t i tell you it would be fun? do you wanna go to the gym with me again next week?”

if you say no he’s not gonna sulk and punch the wall or something he’s just gonna be like “aww that’s alright too.” and then kiss your head

then he would say something like “you were incredible on your first try though, i’m proud of you.”

clenches fist i want him so bad…

PARK WONBIN ༄

i swear wonbin’s a little weird

like have you seen his tiktoks… something’s strange about that man

i think he stated before that he loves shopping so you KNOW what that means

always send you vids he sees on the internet about some new shop opening up in hongdae or something and he’s like “let’s go bae”

sends you the weirdest tiktoks and is like “you”

and then you’re like “wonbin what”

and he won’t elaborate

sends you his fit checks

if you don’t approve he will actually sulk i’m not kidding

sometimes when he’s bored he’d write a song for you

like not a singing song but a musical one from his guitar if that makes sense

he loves matching with you. matching earrings, matching clothes, matching beanies.

ohh i feel like he’d also do those cute couple videos on tiktok like you know he would slow dance with you in the snow and post it for everyone to see this man LOVES soft launching you

his soft launches are also by no means him trying to hide you or keep you a secret, it’s more like… he just likes to have a mysterious vibe to his online person 😍

also i think he loves leaving kisses on your neck whenever you snuggle up to watch a movie or something

like you’re talking to him while you’re on his lap and he’s just like “mhm, and then what?” and then he gives you kisses down your jaw and neck

he’s all over you PLEASE no matter in public or private and it’s even worse (or better 😜) in private too

HONG SEUNGHAN ༄

definitely a gamer bf

dates with him involves him going out to see the sun for the first time that week ❤️

i’m just kidding but your dates probably involves a lot of going out because you feel like this man NEEDS to get some sunlight

also one of the guys that enjoys PDA

he wins the idgaf war he would kiss you at any point of time if he suddenly feels like it

you can just be talking like straight up gossiping about something that happened between your aunt and a scammer and he would just…

he would just grabbed the sides of your face and plant the deepest kiss ever

and then you’re all flustered and he would burst into laughter

he’s the biggest flirt ever he has this one stare that would leave you WEAK in the knees

definitely has a habit of staring at your lips when you talk which makes you SOOO nervous

plays with your hands or hair while you talk

just a thought but he’d definitely run his thumb over your lower lip after he kissed it WOAH

calls you with the most generic pet names but god it makes you run LAPS

also when you come over his house he’d make you pull for him on that FIFA game idk how the game works but i hope you get what i’m trying to say

LEE SOHEE ༄

AH i feel like him as a bf is so fun

he looks like so much fun from the instagram/tiktok posts tbh

the most normal boyfriend ever help idk how to explain it

sends you pictures of him at work with captions like “fighting my hardest battle (i’m at the work i willingly applied for)

various dates

he doesn’t always suggest ideas for dates but he goes ALL out for you when you suggest them

you want to watch the sunset? best believe he’ll take you to the prettiest beach he could find for you to enjoy

you want to have a movie date? he’s gonna set up the projector at his house HIMSELF

i don’t think he’s very keen on kissing in public but he has no problem holding you close to him

holds your hand, holds you by your waist, EVERYTHING

takes 0.5x pictures of you from your forehead

he has a picture of the two of you completing a heart drawn on your cheeks as his lockscreen

always yapping about you like

“my lover made me this lunch”

“my lover gave me this for my birthday”

“my lover tied my tie for me today”

his favourite type of dates are karaoke dates sorry like this man is beyonce’s son he’s GOING to use that godsent vocals of his

also i feel like anniversary celebrations are so grand with him his love for you is so genuine he wants to give you the world and more

i want him so bad… he’s my goat

ANTON LEE ༄

dates are SOPHISTICATED

he’s bred in BOSTON you know he goes crazy with that shit

make you dress up fancy in silk and satin and stuff everyone once in a while to take you to a fine dining i’m so serious

takes you on concert dates too

like… mitski or laufey or niki zenfaya concert dates

he would lift you up on his shoulders during these concerts so you would see clearly

also likes backhugging you

he’s so soft spoken so you don’t have the heart to ever start any arguments with him

when he was a swimmer he’d give you those vip pass or something (idk how dating an athlete works oops)

after his competition finish and he’s still wet from the water and its just covered by his towel and swim attire, he would go up to you with a flushed face and would ask you if he looked cool or not

i think he’s the type to enjoy talking to you most of the time during dates or just like an everyday occurrence

like he loves staring into your eyes as you speak he loves you so much but he’s too shy to tell you that so often

he’s not the type to just blurt out “i love you” but you can just tell that his feelings for you are true from the way he stares at you

would let you decorate his hair with your hairclips and would wear them out for the rest of the day

he’s soooo smitten by you it’s crazy

[joojeans]

Hello it's meeee again!

First of all, I'm glad you liked the lil blurb hahaha

second! now I'd like to request!

So let's say Hyung line and female reader are best friends that have always been strictly platonic, but one day it just happens to be a lot of unusual tension and they end up making out and being surprised about it themselves.

How would it be?❤️

ugh i’m such a sucker for a besties with sexual tension moment 💔

all of these could/should be full fics but for the sake of including all four of them 🥹

&team hyung line: suddenly making out w/ their best friend

k: you can sense the annoyance in k’s aura. his tone, his flat face, his body language—it’s all a dead giveaway. you sigh, plucking at your shoelaces as you both sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor, listening to music together as you normally do. he seems to be trying to pretend you’re not there, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “k.” there’s a sharpness to your tone that makes k’s eyes drift upward—looking up at you—though his head is mostly still tilted towards the floor. “hm?” you’re still trying to get a gauge on him, but you’ve got nothing. “what’s up with you? we were having so much fun this afternoon and now you’re icing me out or something. if you want me to leave, i can go.” k sighs and speaks in the same breath. “don’t.” you decide you no longer want the responsibility of figuring out whatever this is, so you let the silence linger until he speaks again. “look, i don’t know, okay?” he runs his hand back through his hair, leaning back on his other arm. “i don’t know how to explain it but i just really didn’t fucking like watching you ‘play’ with nicholas today and i know that makes me sounds like a crazy asshole. i don’t know.” it takes several seconds for everything to click in your head. you hadn’t expected the problem to sound so much like jealousy. you always play with k and his friends. you and k have always been just good friends. what changed? “and i’m not jealous. so don’t even start.” you choke down an incredulous laugh before making your way across the floor to k—hands and knees like a curious puppy. your body seems to be working ahead of your mind, brain still trying to understand as if your body hasn’t already made a decision on its own. you stop in front of him, leaning forward on your arms to force him to look only at you. “no? then what are you?” both pairs of eyes are reading each other but neither of you have the answers you’re searching for. all you have is a glimmer of anticipation. k foregoes answering your question—verbally, at least—and grabs for you, arms gathering you up until you’re planted in his lap, lips covering yours with the same passion he channels when he dances. he breathes heavily into your mouth, hands groping at your waist and pulling you against his torso, tongue prodding your lips open for him. you moan as you welcome his tongue with yours, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. you tug at k’s bottom lip with your teeth, giggling when he practically growls in response. your laughter seems to break whatever spell you two were under, the room suddenly devoid of noise despite the music as you stare at each other with many more questions in your eyes. something has shifted. “fuck. i don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” k groans, leaning his head back against his dresser. you frown. “what? was kissing me that terrible?” “no. that’s the problem. god, i liked it so much and i want to keep doing it but i’m not supposed to feel like this about you, am i?”

fuma: if there's one thing you can count on fuma for, it's everything. he really puts the best in best friend. he's helping you clean up your place following the party you hosted last night—a party he would not have intended if it weren't for you. it wasn't exactly his scene, but if you want him somewhere, he'll be there. his attendance was more than enough for you, but he insisted on staying over so he could help you clean this morning. two pairs of hands are better than one, he'd said. you would have rejected his help, but you knew it was no use. he was going to help you whether you wanted him to or not. you glance into the living room and see fuma vacuuming just as you finish throwing away the last plastic cup (you'll apologize to the earth later). everything is mostly clean by now, so you decide the least you can do for fuma is make lunch for you both. you dig through your refrigerator and pantry for the makings of sandwiches. not exactly the best "thank you" meal, but it'll do. you place the ingredients on the counter and then turn to the other side of your small kitchen to retrieve glasses. lemonade sounds good, you think. it's only when you open the upper cabinet that you curse yourself. you forgot you had fuma put all your glasses up high so none of the drunks from the night before could use them for their drinks. still, you make a valiant effort to reach them, chewing your lip nervously as you prop yourself up on your tippy toes. "y/n?" you turn your head to find a smiling fuma standing in the entry way. "what are you doing? do you need help?" without waiting for an answer, he comes to your rescue, using context clues to decipher what you need. he stands behind you, one hand resting on your waist to keep you steady, the other reaching for a glass. he places the first glass down on the counter before retrieving the second one and doing the same. "there we go. ask me next time, silly." he finally looks back down at you, surprised to see you looking at him in a way he's never quite seen before. your faces are much closer than normal and you can hear him swallow thickly, reluctant to pull his gaze from you. you let your impulse win out, inching your head up just the last bit necessary to place your lips on fuma's, relishing in the content hum of his lips as he kisses you back. the kiss escalates quickly, fuma turning you around and lifting you onto the only empty counter, lips never parting. you sigh, wrapping your legs around his strong frame and pulling him further into you, heads tilting to allow each other more access. fuma's hands clutch your outer thighs as he presses himself firmly between them, your hands seeking stability on the countertops either side of you. that's when you tip a glass over and interrupt the heated session, bringing you both back down to earth. your cheeks flare bright red, your hands flying up in an attempt to cover the embarrassment written all over your face. fuma chuckles and takes your hands in his, peeling them away. "hey, now. don't hide from me." he presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand and holds your eyes with his. "i never thought that would happen either, but please don't hide from me. i'd rather not forget that it happened, but if you want, i will."

nicholas: "nicho! i'm here!" you kick your shoes off by his front door and place the takeout your brought on his dining table, looking around for where he might be. "in my room, y/n! come here." he calls to you, your feet already heading in the direction of his voice. "hey, i brought food. i left it in the—" nicholas cuts you off, spinning his computer chair to face you. "i found the perfect playlist. i gotta show you." you chuckle and nod, letting the food be forgotten as you walk over to where nicholas is seated with his headphones on. you're surprised he could hear anything you've said. you lean down by him, expecting him to remove his headphones and play the music through the loud speaker for you, but instead, he plugs a second pair of headphones up and hands them to you. as you're putting them on, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, sitting you sideways so he can see your face while you listen. he loves showing you new things and being able to tell which ones you like just by the look in your eyes. you blush a bit at the close proximity. it's not unheard of for you and nicholas to be quite close to each other, but you weren't expecting it this time. that's the only reason it feels different now, right? he watches you until he's sure you're comfortable and presses play, looking at you excitedly as the music starts to play. you sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the music together, his hand absentmindedly playing with your shirt where it rests on your hip. you're impressed by all of the songs so far, but the fourth one is just your style, head turning to look at nicholas with wide eyes. "i really like this one," you mouth to him. he's already grinning at you by the time you finish talking, leaning into you and pulling one of your headphones out of the way just enough to talk into your ear. "this is the one i wanted you to hear the most. i knew you'd like it." he covers your ear again, but stays close, eyes darting down to see the blush on your cheeks for a second time today. as if his hand was moving on its own, he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over the pretty pink. you're so still on his lap, not sure what to make of the situation. is nicholas just being nicholas? what are you meant to think? his thumb wanders until he's brushing it over your bottom lip, his gaze now focused on your barely parted lips. when you don't object to this intimate gesture, his eyes flick up to yours to make sure you're here with him, and he replaces his thumb with his own lips. when you don't kiss him back at first, he starts to pull away, but you don't let him, chasing after his lips to kiss him like it's all you've ever wanted. he seems to like you chasing after him, pulling you fully into his lap, hands gliding up your back beneath your shirt, your tongues exploring each other for the first time. you shiver from the contact of his hands on your bare skin, breaking the kiss to breathe his name. it takes a second for both of your eyes to refocus, nicholas lightly scratching your back with his nails in an effort to soothe any nerves. "we should... probably talk about this?" he laughs and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "but if you don't mind, i'd like to do it a little while more first."

euijoo: euijoo is an excellent influence on you. you watch as he does everything well, even things he's never tried before. he inspires you. after watching him making great efforts to learn new languages, you thought you might like to pick up a new one yourself. you didn't trust yourself to stick with it, though, so you begged euijoo to routinely study with you to keep you accountable. he can never say no to you, so he finds himself at your place every tuesday and thursday evening, helping you with pronunciation and sentence structure. he usually doesn't even let you get distracted—taking your phone away from you as soon as he gets there and slipping it into his pocket so you won't be able to use if even if you're tempted. today, your lessons have amped up in difficulty a bit more than usual. you're having a more difficult time with committing the new information to memory and you're especially having problems with pronunciation. you keep asking euijoo for help and, while he's patient with you, you can tell that even he notices how much more you're struggling today. "euijoo. look at me. speak slowly. i've tried saying this ten times now and it doesn't sound the same as when you do it. i need to see how you're saying it." unbothered by your request, he simply nods and turns to you, his big eyes distracting you for a moment. they're always so pretty. you're sitting right next to him so his face is close when he turns your way, but this isn't uncommon for the two of you. he starts speaking again, repeating himself a few times for your benefit. you watch his mouth closely as he pronounces everything perfectly and try to mimic what he's saying silently, urging your mouth to follow his lead. when he stops and looks at you expectantly, you repeat what you think he said. he cocks his head slightly and you know that means that you didn't quite get it right. you sigh, but euijoo doesn't want you to be discouraged. "y/n, watch how i place my tongue. it makes a big difference." he slows down his speaking even more, emphasizing his tongue placement, and now you know you're fucked. because why are you just staring at his tongue, wondering what it feels like instead of paying attention? you don't think about euijoo that way. at least, you don't think you ever have. he seems to notice the way your eyes are glazed over because he stops before finishing his repetition. "y/n." your eyes look up to his and he's confused, but for some reason that just makes you even more sure that something is indeed different about the vibe between you right now. you decide to be bold—not wanting to study anymore today anyway—and reach for him, your hand fisting his shirt to pull him forward to you. your lips catch his with a gasp on his end, but instead of stopping you, he leans into you more, big body towering over you. you slowly lay back, pulling him down with you as your lips move together in a heated frenzy. his knee finds itself between your legs and you moan with want. his lips part in awe, clearly not expecting you to moan like that, and you take advantage of that, licking into his mouth and forcing a moan out of him too. he presses his knee up between your legs and you gently tug at the back of his hair, tilting your head back with a lust-coated sigh. "euijoo. i-is this okay? fuck, i'm sorry. you don't have to do this, you know that, right?" he can never say no to you but you want him to say no if that's what he wants. euijoo's lips tug into a little smirk and he shakes his head, dipping down to place a soft kiss on your lips, nudging against them playfully. "you're not going to make me stop now, right?"

cr. cafekitsune for mdni banners ♡

[luvwook]

zb1 when you're on your period

ft. bf!ot9 (disclaimer: yujin's segment implies a platonic relationship!)

♡ trigger warning: afab, petnames (all gn), minor description of blood (matthew + ricky)

[neontya]

from 1 to 10. (park gunwook x f!reader)

in which you get into a "small" mess, and gunwook comes to save the day.

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, reader gets into a fight, bullying, mild violence, insecurities, petnames, highschool au, reader is a bit of a crybaby, not proofread. lmk if i miss anything <3

notes: did this with 1 to 10 by day6 on repeat 🧟 i would d** for that song. anyway enjoy <33 i love gunwook a normal amount

gunwook knows you like the back of his hand.

it's a given, he thinks, since it's been quite a while after the two of you became an official couple. he knows your little quirks, every single favourite thing of yours, sometimes he even finishes your sentences for you - you've called him a creep for that a few times, but he doesn't really care.

the vending machine's light makes gunwook squint his eyes a little as he scans the variety of drinks and snacks inside, mentally trying to figure out which one he should get for you today. he's leaning against the machine, as if stopping anyone else from using it before he's done, and the loud chatter of the other students who are enjoying their recess time isn't exactly helping him with his conflict.

i already got her chocolate milk yesterday, he thinks. maybe i should go for the pepero today.

the chatter suddenly gets louder than before, and a few students are rushing past him to get to the other side of the hallway, making gunwook raise a curious eyebrow. everyone gathers by one of the classrooms, which he recognizes as your classroom, and something uncomfortable starts seeping into his chest.

it's probably nothing, gunwook convinces himself. right now, he needs to focus on deciding what snack to buy for you, not busy himself with whatever unnecessary drama that has everyone else's attention.

however, gunwook's attention is quickly stolen when he hears a familiar voice yelling out for him. he turns to see his friend, gyuvin, running towards him with something akin to panic in his face.

"gunwook!" gyuvin calls out, out of breath from all the running he just did.

"what?" gunwook questions, eyebrows furrowed with concern. "what's happening?"

when gyuvin says your name, gunwook feels his heart stop for a second.

"she got into a fight," gyuvin pants, hand on his chest as if he's trying to catch his breath. "she's in her class-"

gunwook doesn't need to hear anything else. he mumbles a quick thanks to gyuvin before sprinting towards your classroom by the other end of the hallway, his heart beating so hard that he thinks it might explode from his chest.

he knows you, gunwook knows you, you'd never get yourself into a fight especially in school. you're sweet, kind, and oh so loving - gunwook knows you'd never lay a hand on anyone unless truly provoked. just the mere thought of someone wronging you makes gunwook's face burn up in anger, teeth gritting against each other as he pushes the other students out of his way to get to your classroom.

if anyone had dared to hurt his lover, they're going to have to answer to him.

gunwook reaches the doorway of your classroom soon enough, some of the students making way for him as they see him approaching as if his life depended on it. his heart drops to the floor as he takes in the situation.

there you are, in the arms of some guy as he seems to be holding you back. there's another girl, who's also being held back by a few more guys, and a bunch of other girls who gunwook can only assume to be the girl's friends as they try to pry the guy's hands off their friend. gunwook notices that you're completely drenched, from your hair until your uniform. his eyes travel a little lower to the ground, and he sees a few cartons of milk littered all over the floor of the classroom. when the cogs in his brain finally work and the hints connect to each other, gunwook sees red.

gunwook shoves the stray tables and chairs from his path as he hurries towards you. the bunch of guys seem to relax once they see gunwook, but you don't even register his presence until he places his big hands over your wet and sticky cheeks.

"hey," gunwook whispers as soft as he can, trying not to startle you. "i'm here, i'm here."

gunwook doesn't recognize the feeling in his chest. he feels angry, intensely so, he's clenching his jaw and frowning deeply - but he also feels sad as he looks at you. your eyes are red, telling him that you've been crying, and the fact that you've been drenched with milk as if you're some kind of trashcan makes gunwook feel like crying with you.

the moment your puffy eyes look up at him, gunwook's lips tremble.

"gunwook?" you croak out, placing a shaky hand over his own that's still on your cheek. "what are you doing here?"

"don't talk to him!"

gunwook turns around to see the other girl that's being held back, and she looks like she's about to go rabid by the way she's trying to claw her way out. he furrows his eyebrows, and he realizes that he recognizes this girl - the same girl that's been chasing after him ever since the first year. he can't remember her name, not that he ever bothered to find out, but he remembers how she made it everyone's problem when she found out gunwook started dating you instead of her.

"you-" the girl rasps out, eyes burning into yours. "you took him away from me, me! i should be the one he's dating!"

gunwook is quick to step in front of you, shielding you from the other girls poisonous gaze as he looks at her with all the hatred and disgust he could muster up at the moment.

"if you ever even think about hurting my girlfriend again," gunwook warns, hands balled up into tight fists by his sides. "i'll make sure you'll regret it forever."

at his words, the girl bursts into tears, wailing as if gunwook had just struck a knife into her heart. her friends console her by cursing at gunwook, calling him names, but he blocks them out as he reaches out to you.

"let's go," gunwook says, pulling you with him out of the classroom by the hand. "these idiots don't deserve to even look at you."

he takes your school bag from your seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he exits the classroom. the flock of students in the hallway step out of gunwook's path, keeping their head low and avoiding his gaze - if looks could kill, everyone would have already dropped dead now.

gunwook brings you towards the student's toilet, kicking the door open and bringing you inside despite your protests.

"gunwook," you frown at him. "this is the girl's toilet! you can't-"

"i don't care," gunwook interrupts you, already placing your bag on the sink and shrugging his jacket off. "change your uniform with mine."

"... what?" you blink. "but- then what are you going to use?"

"i have extra clothes in my bag," gunwook informs as if it's the most casual thing ever. "i'll ask gyuvin to bring it over. go change."

you can only afford to look away as gunwook starts unbuttoning his uniform, offering it you along with his jacket once he's done. you take his uniform in your hands, feeling the way his warmth is still lingering on the pieces of clothing. you mumble a quick thank you before going into one of the stalls to change.

gunwook waits by the sink for you to finish changing. he's half naked, completely bare from the waist up, but he doesn't care. he reaches for his phone in his pocket and sends a quick text to gyuvin, asking his friend to bring his bag to the girl's toilet. when gyuvin asks him why the hell he's in the girl's toilet, gunwook just tells him to hurry.

a few minutes pass, and gyuvin comes into the girl's toilet with gunwook's bag, the most bewildered look on his face when he sees gunwook shirtless.

"i gave her my clothes," gunwook explains before gyuvin could question. "we'll be skipping the rest of the day, by the way. i'm not letting her go to school with her hair drenched in milk."

"she's the one drenched in milk," gyuvin blinks. "why are you skipping too?"

"i need to make sure she's home safe," gunwook says as he looks at gyuvin as if he had just offended him. "and i'm planning to stay until tomorrow, probably."

gyuvin nods once.

"good luck with that," the taller boy says, giving his friend a pat on the back. "i'll cover up for you two."

"thanks." gunwook smiles a little, a gesture that gyuvin mirrors. they bid each other goodbye before gyuvin exits the toilet, and gunwook goes back to waiting for you to finish changing. you're taking quite a bit, he notices when you don't come out even after a while.

"love?" gunwook calls out. "are you okay?"

when he hears the sound of you sniffling from inside the stall, gunwook rushes over and gently knocks on the door, asking for you to open it. you comply after a minute, dressed in his uniform that's too big for you and opening the door with your head hung low, tears falling onto the ground.

"hey," gunwook whispers, quickly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. "my pretty girl. it's okay, i'm here, no one is going to hurt you anymore."

gunwook's words don't seem to work the way he inteded for them to, because you're starting to cry harder against his bare chest. it makes him frown, the sound of your sobs echoing in the empty toilet and squeezing the life out of his bleeding heart. he brushes your hair out of your face, still sticky and smelling like milk, before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

"i'm sorry i didn't protect you." gunwook mumbles against your forehead. "i won't let this happen ever again, i promise. you're safe with me."

gunwook gives you time to cry all you want as he continues to comfort you, stroking your damp hair and pressing the lightest kisses on your face until you calm down, your sobs reduced to small sniffles.

"better?" gunwook places a hand on your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him as he smiles down at you. you nod and return his smile weakly, melting gunwook's heart.

"let's go home and get you cleaned up, okay?" your boyfriend offers. "we can be lazy all day and watch your favourite movies."

"okay." you reply, earning yourself a wide smile from gunwook and he presses another kiss on your forehead before pulling away. you wait for him patiently as he reaches into his bag for his extra shirt, putting it on afterwards. it's one of his favourite black t-shirts, you notice, the one that hugs his figure almost too perfectly. he slings his bag over his shoulder once he's done, carrying yours as well. when you reach over to carry your own bag, gunwook pulls it away from your reach.

"nu uh," he shakes his head. "i'll carry it for you."

you want to protest and tell your boyfriend that you're capable of carrying a mere schoolbag, but you know it's useless to argue with him since he has the head of a rock. so, instead, you opt to pinch his arm, smiling a little when you hear his pained yelp.

"you don't have to do this, you know." you mumble quietly after the two of you managed to sneak past the school guard with ease. "they'll talk about you."

a muscle in gunwook's face twitches. he knows who you're talking about, the 'they' being everyone in his class and probably even more. as class president, gunwook is arguably a picture perfect student - great grades, amazing personality, athletic, he's even part of the debate team. he has a clean record, never had to be called for detention and never scolded by any teachers, they all love him. he always has his homework done on time and loves to help his friends with theirs if they're having any trouble.

you can only imagine the gossip and drama that'll explode when everyone finds out that gunwook, out of all people, skipped class. all because of you. you remember the talk everyone had when your relationship with gunwook became public, whispers of you staining his reputation or becoming a hazard to his studies surrounding you wherever you went. it didn't bother you too much at first, because you know you wouldn't do such things to your boyfriend.

but after today? you're not so sure.

"hey." gunwook steps in front of you, stopping you in your tracks and almost making you bump into his chest. "stop that. i know what you're thinking about."

when you don't respond, it merely confirms gunwook's suspicions.

"love," gunwook frowns. "hey, come on, you know i don't care if people talk about me-"

"but i do!" you mirror gunwook's frown, looking up at him. "do you know how many times i've heard people say i'm only going to bring you down? you never had to skip class before, and not only are you skipping class, you got involved in a fight that wasn't even yours-"

"anything that involves you," gunwook cuts you off, stepping closer to cup your cheks. "will involve me too. i care for you so much, just half a day's worth of class means nothing to me if it's for you."

as you stare into gunwook's eyes, they're filled with so much warmth and love while he looks down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheeks. the love in gunwook's gaze seeps into your chest and embraces your heart with so much gentleness, it almost makes you cry all over again. gunwook notices they way your lips are quivering, and he presses the softest kiss on them, pulling away with a reassuring smile.

"i love you," he confesses. "i love you more than i'll ever care for my reputation. i promise."

"i love you more, gunwookie." you sniffle, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend and hugging him tightly.

"nu uh," gunwook protests as he hugs you just as tightly, earning himself a giggle from you. "i love you the most. nobody loves you more than me, baby."

you grin at his words, feeling your cheeks warm up.

"from 1 to 10?" you question with a wide grin as you look up at gunwook. he hums for a bit, looking to the side as if he's thinking up of an answer.

"infinitely." he responds after a minute, laughing as you hit his chest out of embarrassment.

"now let's go home, pretty girl." gunwook nuzzles his nose against the crown of your head. "your hair smells like milk."

"shut up, park gunwook."

[jebewonmorelike]

Whatever You Say, President-nim

Part Two of "So You Can Do Yours"

⋆ ✮ ⋆

part one: "so you can do yours" wc: 2.6k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: mentions of food-- specifically gunwook saying he skips lunch to get to work quicker (he's fine, he's just in love), lots of fluff, reader is a bit angsty bc they are missing out on being a kid/young adult/student summary: younganddumbCEO!reader offers to pick up assistant!gunwook at his university one afternoon to "help get him to work on time" ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ so after you read this... you will notice its still open-ended. i really liked this little story i'm crafting for wookie so i think i'll have one more part to it! i really wanted to write this; i definitely got a lot of intrinsic joy out of it and that is what i've been missing from my writing recently. it was super fun to write-- i hope the couple of friends who have asked about a part 2 enjoy this too!! thanks for supporting me on this quasi-break, it means a lot. please give me any feedback you have no matter how small; i just love hearing that you liked it. :)

“It’s almost there, but...” You whisper to yourself, carefully dotting your paint brush to the canvas to touch up the mossy bank in the bottom right corner. Creating a deeper shadow in the greenery, you smile as you imagine what your assistant will say when he sees your progress.

Gunwook typically requests that you save your painting for when he’s working so that he can adequately cover all your job-related duties for you. You know you should be responding to your emails or reviewing the paperwork he finished for you yesterday to better familiarize yourself with it, but you just couldn’t help yourself. The idea of adding deeper shadow to the green areas of the painting had come to you last night in a dream and you’d been bursting at the seams to follow through on it since you woke up this morning.

What time is it? You wonder, glancing up at the clock above your doorframe to find that it’s almost 1 P.M. On Thursdays, Gunwook clocked in at 1:30 P.M. after finishing his classes at his university for the day. Just a little bit longer...

“President-nim?” The voice of Secretary Lee over the intercom breaks your focus from your painting. The small brush you're holding tumbles from your hand, a dot of dark green landing onto the perfect pale blue sky. You close your eyes, inhaling for four seconds and exhaling for six-- the breathing exercise that your assistant had introduced to you last month to cope with your frustration and anxiety at work.

With the amount of times you’d had to use it to keep yourself from impulsively firing his own mother, you’re sure Gunwook was glad he’d found the right one for you.

You pick up your paintbrush calmly and place it into the mason jar of water on your desk before leaning over to the intercom and pressing the microphone button. “Yes?”

“Could I come have a word with you, President-nim?” She asks politely, but hurriedly. “It’s a bit urgent.”

“Come in, Secretary,” you agree, shutting the top of your desk quickly to conceal your artspace. You throw some papers that Gunwook had completed yesterday for you across your desk in an attempt to make yourself look busy. 

With a soft knock at the door, Secretary Lee enters as you pretend to study some of the papers-- tapping the base of a ballpoint pen to your chin in faux concentration.

“President-nim,” Secretary Lee greets with a bow as she makes her way up to your desk. She glances down at the papers you’re pretending to fill out, eyes lingering a bit too long. “Are you very busy with paperwork?”

“Oh, um,” you start, nodding a bit too hastily. “Yes, but please share with me what you need to.”

After a moment of continued suspicion, Secretary Lee finally moves on, responding, “I have to leave now to get the plans you approved from the Engineering Sector this morning to Board Executive Han in Incheon. He requested they be delivered immediately to his office.”

“That sounds great,” you reply with a nod. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get back to work now.”

“Well, there’s--,” Secretary Lee says quickly, bowing slightly in apology for the continued interruption. “There’s a slight problem that I have to make you aware of.”

You frown, an eyebrow raising expectantly. 

“The drive isn’t too long and I don’t mind making it,” she prefaces, clasping her hands together. “But it will interfere with my lunch break and... That's when I pick up my son from his university and bring him to work. He can take the bus, but there've been long delays recently so I’ve been driving him to and from school so he isn’t late.”

“Ah,” you reply, placing your pen down on the table. 

“So I wanted to apologize and warn you that Gunwook could be very late today,” Secretary Lee says, fidgeting with a button on her coat. “I’m sorry about this, President-nim.”

To your embarrassment, a flood of disappointment hits you. You’d been really looking forward to showing your assistant the new additions to your painting.

And drinking his expertly-made coffee. And being both offended and impressed by at least one unavoidable and perfectly crafted new insult. And seeing that genuine, absolutely magnetic smile...

“I can pick him up.”

The offer slips out impulsively. Looking up at Secretary Lee, you notice that she’s somehow much less surprised by it than you are.

“Are you sure, President-nim?” She asks with a small smile. “That’s a lot of trouble to ask of you. You’re so busy right now with all of this paperwork!”

“I am so busy with paperwork, yes," you nod, putting on your most convincing performance. "But I... I actually was going to run something over to my mother’s office, so...”

“Ah,” Secretary Lee affirms with a nod. “Then if it’s no trouble, I’m sure Gunwook would love that, President-nim.”

Your face flushes slightly at her words. You wish she hadn’t told you that her son had finally agreed to be your assistant after he’d seen a picture of you. It was wildly unprofessional.

But even worse, it sometimes made you... think things.

Like maybe when Gunwook smiled at you, he wasn’t just trying to please his boss. Like maybe he actually liked you. Even just as a friend. Maybe he really meant all of his niceties. That wasn't something you often experienced in your life.

“Right,” you reply finally, shaking your head a bit to stop the thought spiral. “Well, have a safe drive, Secretary Lee.”

“You as well, President-nim,” she says, glancing at your paperwork one more time. “Do you need new pens to be ordered for you?”

You tilt your head to the side confusedly. “Why do you say that?”

“Your writing isn’t as neat as it usually is, President-nim,” Secretary Lee says; the hint of a smirk appearing on her lips. “You’re starting to write chicken scratch... just like my son!"

“Very funny,” you deadpan, shooing her towards the door with your hand. “I do my own paperwork, Secretary Lee.”

“Of course, President-nim,” she allows with a laugh as she opens the door to your office and steps outside. “Whatever you say, President-nim!”

Like mother, like son.

__________________________________________

Pulling into a parking spot in front of Yonsei University’s Yonhee Hall, you quickly notice a small group of students in front of you ogling your car. In your high hopes to feel nostalgic and comfortable on a university campus again, you’d completely forgotten about the spectacle that is your baby blue 2024 Porsche 911.

Grabbing your phone and keys and stuffing them into your back pockets, you open the car door and climb out-- a chorus of excited whispers when the three students in front of you see your face.

“Whoah,” one boy says in disbelief. “Expensive car AND good-looking? That's just not fair."

“A student could never afford that car,” the girl next to him whispers back as you start to walk over to where they’re standing in front of the steps to the building. 

“I’m not a student,” you reply, which visibly shocks the girl and her friends. “Did you guys just get out of class?”

“At 1:15, yeah. Public Policy Analysis,” a shorter boy next to her replies. With a timid smile, he continues, “We’re heading to eat. Do you wanna join us?”

The girl hits his arm. “Don’t be so desperate.”

“Sorry,” the boy says quickly.

“Let’s just go,” the taller boy says. “Gunwook never comes to eat with us anyway-- I don’t know why you continue to insist that we invite him.”

You notice how the girl looks away in what appears to be embarrassment. Had this girl fallen for Gunwook, too?

You did not just think ‘too’.

You clear your throat, quickly repeating, “Gunwook?”

“Yeah, he’s our friend, sort of, who--...” The shorter boy starts to explain for you (which is very kind of him, considering you’re a total stranger), but his attention suddenly shifts to the top of the building steps behind you. “Oh there he is. Gunwook-ah!”

You turn around slowly to find Gunwook staring back at you wide-eyed. Noticing his black university hoodie and his Adidas joggers, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and his un-styled hair falling into his eyes... you have to physically swallow down the lump of anxiety that’s formed in your throat.

“(Y/N)?” Gunwook asks, running down the building steps to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Y-your mom had to deliver something in Incheon,” you reply nonchalantly as your downright adorable assistant flops his way down to you; towering over you from the step above and smiling.

"So you came to rescue me?" He asks with a smirk.

“Gunwook-ah,” the girl beside you calls, the slightest air of annoyance in her voice. “Is this your friend?”

“Yeah-- or... Um,” Gunwook stumbles as he grins at you. “My boss, actually.”

“You’re Gunwook's boss? I thought you worked for the President of KCTech Company,” the taller boy replies, eyeing you up and down suspiciously.

Gunwook nods-- not once taking his eyes off of you. “I do.”

“The President of KCTech Company is a teenager?” The girl scoffs, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“I turned 20 last month,” you correct with a grimace.

“Whoah,” the shorter boy whispers in awe. “So are you part of a chaebol family?”

Both of his friends issue a punch to his arms. “Sorry,” he says quickly.

“It’s okay. I am,” you say, shaking your head dismissively. “But I anxiously await you political science majors striking my family down with new policies in the future.”

“Okay, and we’re leaving,” Gunwook says, taking your arm and dragging you the rest of the way down the stairs with him.

“But I meant it,” you protest, trying to keep yourself from fully processing that Gunwook has now engulfed your hand in his gigantic one and seems to have no plans to let it go.

“I know you meant it, but we don’t need three university students selling a story to a tabloid about how the President of KCTech challenged them to economic warfare after class,” Gunwook explains with a sigh. As he pulls you towards your car, you hear the group of friends still mumbling about the interaction they just witnessed.

“Am I going crazy or is Gunwook... holding his boss’s hand?” The taller boy asks, wiping his eyes with his fists to make sure he’s seeing clearly.

The shorter boy laughs. “I'm pretty sure he also used informal speech.”

“Whatever,” you hear the girl huff sadly as Gunwook opens your car door for you and gestures for you to get in.

Once you’re inside your car, Gunwook shuts the door for you and makes his way to the other side. That’s when you realize... you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat.

Gunwook opens the driver’s side door and hops inside; watching as his classmates talk amongst each other-- debating whether or not to start to head to lunch. Your assistant waves to them happily through the front window.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shocked at your assistant’s actions.

“Waving to my friends,” he answers dumbly.

“Why are you acting like you’re about to drive my car!?” You exclaim, hand flying to his shoulder to shake him a bit.

Gunwook smirks at you. “Because I am.”

“No, no, no, no,” you squeeze his shoulder harder. “No, you are not.”

“You wouldn’t embarrass me in front of my classmates,” Gunwook challenges, batting his eyelashes cutely. “Would you, President-nim?”

Every time you think your assistant’s gone as far as he can go, he always pushes you a bit further. And you’d be bold-faced lying if you said you didn’t love it.

“Gunwookie,” you whine rather unprofessionally. “Ugh, fine. But if you crash this car, I swear I’m gonna--.”

Gunwook presses the start button on the car excitedly, fastening his seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space without looking both ways.

“Please, Gunwookie,” you beg, fastening your seatbelt frantically. “I really like this car. It’s the only present my father’s ever gotten me that I actually liked.”

The boy tenses a bit, meeting your gaze and nodding quietly in agreement before pressing the gas pedal with his foot at a responsible velocity. Gunwook drives through the campus and out onto the main road diligently, stopping for 3 seconds at stop signs, minding crosswalks, and breaking gradually. He’s a good driver-- which shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you, considering he’s good at pretty much everything he does.

He’d even painted some pretty convincing trees last week when you’d shown him the brush technique before you left work. 

“How come you don’t drive more often?” You ask, reaching to your back pocket and pulling out your phone. “Your mom has to drive you to work every day.”

“I don’t have a car,” Gunwook answers, signaling a turn. “Or a license.”

Your phone drops from your hands into your lap. “WHAT!?”

“Relax! I have a permit,” he says with a laugh as your hands fly to cover your face in despair. “You’re supervising me, President-nim. I know you won’t let anything bad happen to your favorite assistant.”

“The ice is so thin, Wookie.”

The nickname leaves your lips before you can consider its implications. Gunwook clears his throat awkwardly, focusing back on the road. You continue in silence for a bit, looking out the window as Gwanghwamun approaches. But there’s something you still want to say before you reach the office building.

“Gunwook-ah?”

The boy glances at you expectantly. “Yes, President-nim?”

“Those kids,” you start, watching as his grip on the steering wheel slips gradually to a more comfortable position. “They said they keep asking you to go to lunch after class with them.”

“Oh,” he replies, nodding as he sucks his teeth. “One, they're not kids-- they're literally a year younger than you and so am I. And, two, I don’t really have time. I have to get to the office by 1:30 to--”

“One, you're two years younger than me. And two, come at 2:30 from now on,” you interject. Gunwook’s eyebrows knit with confusion, but you continue, “Eat lunch with your classmates while you can.”

Your assistant’s expression softens as he meets your gaze, but you think you would prefer that he didn’t look at you with this much pity again any time soon.

“You’ll regret not spending more time doing fun things like that when you can’t anymore,” you explain, tugging at the skin around your nails. “You should be doing things you enjoy, is what I mean.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Gunwook says with a smile. “I’ll eat lunch with my classmates more often. But...”

You raise an eyebrow as Gunwook pulls into a parking spot on the street-- one that luckily doesn’t require him to parallel. He’s a good driver, but you’re not ready to test his skills that much. Pushing the engine button to turn the car off, Gunwook leans back in his seat and turns to look at you.

“I hope you know I also enjoy working, too,” he says; a cheeky grin lighting up his face as he adds, “With you.”

You pout at him to combat the smile that’s desperately trying to creep onto your face. “Who wouldn’t enjoy working with me?”

“Literally every person you’ve ever hired,” he throws back at you.

There’s not much you can say. He’s right. Which begs the question...

“Why do you like working with me?”

Gunwook hums contentedly. “There’s a lot of reasons.”

“Huh,” you reply, still admiring him in his street clothes. Unfortunately picking up Gunwook after class had only made your desire to be normal grow stronger. If things were different, maybe you would’ve met Gunwook in the dining hall on campus-- stared at him in his round glasses until one day you finally worked up the courage to speak to him. You’d have friends instead of employees. Art classes instead of meetings. Parties instead of paperwork. “They must be pretty good reasons to ditch lunch with your friends.”

“I actually usually skip lunch altogether so I can see you quicker,” he rebuts; eyes widening in panic as soon as he realizes what he’s just said. “I--... I mean, get to you quicker. You know... For work. And stuff.”

Gunwook was not known to throw an “and stuff” around very often-- he’s usually more eloquent and thoughtful when he speaks. The way his cheeks start to flush as he blinks at you; lips pouted like a baby chick... It's enough to make you wonder if his words might not have been a simple misspeaking, but rather a truth that slipped out accidentally.

“Come on,” you call, unfastening your seatbelt and opening the car door-- stepping out onto the sidewalk and waiting for your assistant to follow. Gunwook hops out of the car before sheepishly joining you on the sidewalk. You head towards the doors of your office building, but then, much to Gunwook’s surprise, continue to walk past them.

“President-nim?” He calls after you. “Where are you going?”

“To lunch,” you answer over your shoulder. “My assistant’s been going hungry in order to report to his boss on time! We don’t want a headline about that, do we?”

Hearing footsteps pounding against the pavement to catch up with you, your arm brushes against Gunwook’s as he falls into step beside you. “He does it willingly, though, (Y/N).”

“Not anymore, he doesn’t,” you reply, eyes focused on the road ahead of you in an effort to ignore his use of your name. “From now on, my favorite assistant will eat well and he’ll like it.”

Gunwook laughs next to you and you make the deadly mistake of looking up at him. He smiles at you fondly through the fringe that’s falling in his eyes and says softly:

“Whatever you say, President-nim.”

[jebewonmorelike]

So You Can Do Yours

wc: 2k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: none? i guess reader is not on good terms with father but to be fair their father is a chairman of a company so he probably is objectively not great; literally fluff and mostly platonic/you're his boss so but suggestion that wookie has a crush on reader at the end... and reader is supposed to be 19; super unrealistic but just a fun little fictional concept lol summary: uselessCEO!reader has fired every new assistant they've had in the past few months, but newassistant!gunwook thinks he might be the right man for the job. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ this is a cute one :) gunwook is baby. gunwook is son. protect him at all costs. i've been wanting to write more for gunwookie for a while, but i was super hesitant to because i got a really freakish comment about the only small drabble i wrote for him. so five months later i'm ready to try again. please remember this is just a work of fiction and its crazy fluffy. i really hope you like it! also expect more writing from me this month-- i'm taking the rest of summer off from school so. i'll need to stay busy 😤

“President-nim?” A voice calling through the intercom on your desk breaks your concentration. You huff annoyedly as you lean forward and press the microphone button.

“What is it?”

“Your new assistant is here to meet you,” Secretary Lee responds cautiously. You groan; quickly shoving what you had been working on into the hidden compartment of your desk. Not another assistant.

Every Monday for two months now, a new bright-eyed young woman had walked through the doors of your office ready to kick-start her career as a company president's trusty assistant. And sure enough, by that Friday afternoon every single one of them had run out in tears; unable to handle the pressures of the job. Was that pressure almost entirely due to the fact that you had no idea how to do your own job? Unimportant, but--

“Annyeonghaseyo, President-nim!” A male voice shakes you from your internal monologue as you look up to find that a young man in a 90 degree bow has appeared in front of you. He looks up at you, his gaze drifting to your right hand. 

You follow his line of sight to find a watercolor brush still in your hand-- dripping a bit onto your desk. Lifting up your desk compartment slightly, you toss the brush in with the others. You clear your throat a bit awkwardly-- smoothing down the lapels of your suit jacket with your fingers. “Annyeonghaseyo,” you mumble.

“I’m your new assistant, Park Gunwook,” he introduces politely, standing up straight. It’s now that you suddenly realize just how young this man appears to be. His face is round with youth and his lips resemble that of a baby chick. “I hope to serve you well.”

“When? After you get out of school each day?” You joke, brow furrowed in suspicion. “How did you get this job, huh? You look like you’re late for hagwon.”

Gunwook’s brow stays raised for a moment, but a surprisingly cheeky smile eventually creeps onto his face. “Couldn’t I ask you the same, President-nim?”

You exhale an unamused laugh. Guess this one thinks he’s clever. “I graduated two and a half years early.”

“That must look impressive on a resume,” he agrees genuinely with a nod. “Your father being the Chairman of the Board also must look pretty impressive on a resume.”

Stunned by this kid’s audacity, you just stare back at him.

“Nothing to be ashamed of President-nim,” he reassures, clasping his hands together behind his back. “I happen to know someone that works here, too.”

Figures. “And which one of those geriatric, good-for-nothing money bags on the Board is your daddy?”

“None of them,” Gunwook says with a smile. “Secretary Lee is my eomma. Might seem small, but a connection’s a connection.”

Secretary Lee hired her own son? After the way she’d watched all of the sobbing girls run out of the building screaming ‘I’M NEVER WORKING EVER AGAIN’’ each week?

What terrible thing had Park Gunwook done to be handed such a fate by his own mother?

You stand up from your desk and meet Gunwook at the front of it. Walking in a tight circle around him, you examine every inch of him curiously as he stands at attention.

“Um, President-nim?” He asks without moving a muscle. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely not,” you answer, bending down to look at his dress shoes. They’re more than a few years old and definitely not a designer brand, but somehow... they’re condition is nearly immaculate. Not to mention, the black, thin laces are tied in perfectly symmetrical bows. Huh. It’s pretty uncommon for a boy your age to care that much about the tidiness of his shoes.

“Weirdo,” you mutter under your breath as you stand back up. You have to crane your neck a bit to look Gunwook in the eyes; not only is he quite tall, you also realized you’re standing a bit too close to him. Stepping back slightly, you take a seat on your desk-- crossing your arms as you glare at him.

“Something not to your liking, President-nim?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you ask a question of your own. “What makes you think you have what it takes to be my assistant?”

“I’ve been President of my class since middle school. I’ve placed in national debate competitions. I’m organized, responsible, and competent,” he responds confidently. But a little mischievous sparkle appears in his eye as he adds, “From what I’ve heard, those are qualities the President's office might need more of.”

“YA! Do you want to die, you little--...” As you threaten him, Gunwook has already gone back to his default polite smiling. “What’s wrong with you, huh? Don’t you know I can blacklist you for life with one phone call? Tell me why I shouldn’t--.”

“President-nim!” Gunwook interrupts your thought excitedly; pointing to a stack of papers sitting on the corner of your desk. “Are those spreadsheets that need executive review? I’m experienced in Excel if you're... too busy for them.”

You frown, picking up the papers in your hand and sifting through them. They are spreadsheets that need executive review. You’ve been putting it off for a week, because, believe it or not, you didn’t get a very spreadsheet-centric education at the fine arts university you attended. To think, you could be painting in your own studio all day every day. But instead your father wanted you to do something “sensible” and “respectable” that “made you worthy of receiving his estate some day”.

Not that you cared much about an inheritance. But at this point it was the least you were owed for sacrificing your life’s passion to goof off in an office for the rest of your life. It wasn’t like you particularly enjoyed being unhelpful or unproductive, but at just shy of twenty years old with a BA in Fine Arts... you hadn’t exactly been well-prepared for such an important job.

You look back up at Gunwook. He’s practically salivating at the mouth to get his hands on your routine paperwork. You hand him the stack of spreadsheets with a sigh: “Knock yourself out.”

Gunwook’s concerningly large hand snatches the papers from yours with lightning speed; hugging them to his chest happily. “Thank you, President-nim! I won’t let you down.”

You’re almost starting to believe him. 

“Right,” you agree, chewing your cheek as you walk back behind your desk. “Well, you get to work on those and have them back to me by... Uh...”

You’re struggling to think of a reasonable time frame for the spreadsheet reviews to be completed, since you’d never once been the one to finish them. Gunwook sees this and answers for you, “Tomorrow at noon, I think you were going to say, President-nim?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” you echo with a frown. You’re not sure you like how familiar this kid was becoming with you already, but at least he’d been far more eager to do your executive work for you than anyone had been thus far. You’d know by tomorrow at noon if he was truly capable or not.

“And where should I put them for you if you’re not in your office, President-nim?” He asks thoughtfully.

“Oh, um,” you stumble, looking around for a good spot. You land on the thin drawer at the center of your desk and point to it. “In here is fine.”

Gunwook quickly walks behind your desk to see the drawer, stopping at a respectful distance. He reaches towards the drawer, but when you realize his fingers are pulling the wrong handle-- the top of your desk is already lifting open before you can stop him.

“Whoah,” the boy whispers in awe as he stares at the giant watercolor landscape painting you’d been working on for the last week or so. You both stand in silence for a moment as you watch Gunwook take in every detail of your latest work. “This is incredible.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly-- folding your arms across your chest uncomfortably at the compliment. No one had seen your artwork for a while now; even mentioning it in your father’s presence sent him into a spiral.

“If you’re this talented, then why--... Why are you the president of a tech corporation?” He asks, eyes meeting yours now. He’s curious and concerned and confused. When he realizes he forgot to speak formally, he bows in apology. “I’m sorry, President-nim.”

“Sometimes a 'connection' isn’t what you wanted,” you say after a moment, sitting back down in your desk chair.

Gunwook swallows from beside you, taking a few steps back to the front of your desk. “I’ll help as best as I can, President-nim. I’ll do my work so that you can do yours.”

You blink back at him, a bit speechless. “O-... Okay.”

He bows, another 90 degree one. “Should I get started on these then, President-nim?”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding slowly. “Yes. That would be good.”

Gunwook nods. “Thank you, President-nim,” he says, turning and walking towards the door.

“Gunwook-sshi,” you call suddenly, causing the young man to let go of the door handle in his hand and turn around. His eyes are wide as he waits patiently for you to continue. “Why did you apply for this job? Besides the fact that your mother works here.”

The boy smiles, answering simply, “I thought I would be a good fit.”

You exhale a laugh, rolling your eyes. “We’ll see.”

Gunwook’s smile turns to a grin as he nods again-- walking out the door and closing it behind him.

~

The end of the work day comes surprisingly quickly (and it may or may not have something to do with Gunwook). 

Okay, it has everything to do with Gunwook. 

To your very pleasant surprise, the teenage boy had been your best assistant yet by a considerable margin. All in the span of six hours, he’d color-coded your weekly schedule, ghostwritten five urgent emails to executives from partner companies, brought you your lunch order exactly how you prefer it, and reorganized your entire desk for you all while you painted next to him.

He didn’t ask you any unnecessary questions or disturb your peace; he just did his work so that you could do yours. Just like he said he would.

The end of the day came so quickly that when Gunwook knocked on your door to ask you if you were heading out for the day, you thought he was making one of his insulting-but-somehow-also-charming remarks about your lack of presidential work ethic again. But glancing at the clock, you see that he’s right-- it’s almost 7 P.M.

“I’m actually gonna keep working for a little while longer,” you respond before you catch Gunwook’s eyebrows raise. “You can go home now though. You have to be well-rested for another day of high school tomorrow.”

He sticks his tongue in his cheek and smiles at the joke. “I actually go to university now, President-nim. Part-time, but still.”

You find yourself trying to picture what Gunwook would look like on a campus: a grey hoodie, jeans, and his hair flopping into his eyes. In another life, one where you had a different father, maybe you’d still be going to university, too. Maybe you would've run into Gunwook and been his sunbae instead of the Guinness World Records holder for youngest president of a national corporation. Would you have noticed each other? Would you have been friends? Rivals? Something else?

Returning his smile, you dismiss, “Have a good night, Gunwook-sshi.”

“Have a good night, President-nim.”

You work on your painting for another hour before finally gathering your things and heading out the door for the night. On your way out, you see Secretary Lee typing away at her desk. When she spots you, she grimaces nervously.

“Oh, President-nim,” she greets as you walk over to her. “I hope you’re not too upset, but I thought that my son could--.”

“Could be the best assistant I’ve ever had?” You finish for her; watching as her face relaxes at your compliment. “You were right. And you better keep up the good work, Secretary Lee: Gunwook-sshi would make a great secretary.”

Secretary Lee swallows and nods at the hint of a threat. “Understood, President-nim.”

You smile, starting to head toward the exit before your curiosity stops you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to call, “Secretary-nim?”

She looks at you expectantly; if not also a bit nervously.

“Why did Gunwook-sshi want to be my assistant?”

She considers for a moment before replying, “After your... poor luck... with assistants these past few months, I couldn’t help but think my son had what it takes to change that. He’s always been such an overachiever. But he wasn’t really interested at all at first."

“Why did he change his mind?” You ask; wanting to understand a bit more about the incredibly competent, but slightly odd assistant that showed up at your office today.

Secretary Lee laughs quietly. “Well, to be honest... He only handed me his completed application after...

... I showed him a picture of you.”