☁️Toni☁️

~Hiatus~ @Junkyuuubaby

[ennysbookstore]

Ugh, As If (Hongjoong x Reader)

Summary: Hongjoong is not someone you should be attracted to, especially considering everything that’s on your plate in your final semester at university. Unfortunately for you, he has some sound suggestions for helping you cure your insomnia…

Word Count: 11.13k

Genre/Warning: one-shot, punk!hongjoong x feminine!reader, enemies to lovers (kinda), smut (MDNI!!!), dom/sub dynamics but not super fleshed out, inexperienced!reader (never mentioned, but alluded), bondage, sensory deprivation, spanking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dacryphilia, biting, reader has insomnia, overuse of the word sweetheart, reader loves pink (it's me, I'm reader lol), implied aftercare, Jongho cameos

Author's Note: Released one day early bc I have midterms tomorrow lol. I actually have five midterms this week guys... five (!!!) I'm very exhausted and just want a tatted!hongjoong to take care of me, is that too much to ask for??? But in all seriousness, this took a ridiculously long time to write with classes and life, so I'd love for you guys to let me know what you think 🤎🤎🤎

🎧 playlist 🎧: mark: golden hour 🎸 harry styles: kiwi 🎸 5sos: easier (live from the vault) 🎸 aly & aj: potential breakup song 🎸 jooyoung: fountain 🎸 ateez: propoganda 🎸 woodz: love me harder

This is a work of fiction, and it is not meant to be a realistic representation of any real person mentioned in any way, shape, or form.

Your rapid footsteps come to an unexpected stop in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. People behind you mumble words of annoyances before walking around you. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say, incredulously turned to who you thought was your friend. 

“You know I wouldn’t normally do this to you, right? Just this one time, please?” your friend begs. With her situationship still on mute, she looks at you with pleading eyes. Her eyes flicker down to her phone. He’d been on mute for just a beat too long, but when her eyes look up to your unusually angered ones, her attention is fully brought back to you.

“What the actual fuck, dude? You said we’d hang out tonight… without any distractions,” you look down at your outfit. The anger dissipates into sadness. You’d slipped on the loveliest pink sweater for the brutal January winds and even did your makeup.

It wasn’t typical of you to want to be on the streets of your college town, especially on a Friday night. There was an exam next week you had to study for, and it's neatly printed and stapled practice test was waiting to be completed on yet another sleepless night. But here you were, excited, dressed up, and ready to try something new. 

Down the street, a group of already drunk frat students are loudly stumbling out of a bar. With a sigh, you look at her phone. He hadn’t hung up on her yet. The distant setting sun reflected prettily against your sweater under your hefty coat, and the thermal leggings you’d worn under your matching pink skirt felt ridiculous now. Your hair was getting tousled in the cold wind. What a wasted outfit, you think. 

“Whatever, go have your fun, but just drop me back home first,” you tell her with another defeated sigh.

“What! Come on babes, I’ve already paid the fees for the class! At least one of us should go,” she whines with tugs at your arm. You could hear the desperation in her voice. He still hadn’t hung up, but you definitely would’ve by now. She knew her time was running out and the tugs became more eager. 

You didn’t know shit about leatherworking, but it had become your friend’s newest obsession for the week. And you were totally fine with going to a workshop and trying it out for her sake, but not alone. Not without her. 

Now extremely impatient, she starts pushing you towards the entrance of the leather shop. “I’m sure you’ll have the bestest time, and I can’t wait to see what you make! I’ll make dinner for the rest of the month and be your personal driver until the end of the semester. I love you so much, I’ll see you back at home! Bye, babes!” The excited words hurriedly stumble out of her mouth faster than you’re able to catch them, and you don’t have a chance to say anything back before she’s left you on the welcome mat at the inside entrance of Outlaw Leather. 

From inside, you watch her unmute the call and speed down the street back to her car. With an irritated huff, you shrug off your coat and observe the inside of the shop.

Shelves were stacked high with hundreds of rolls of leather. Some were plain and beige, while others were shimmery and textured with patterns. Leatherworking tools and machines were hung on one side and opposite that, an array of electric guitars lined the wall. Behind the register, there was a massive framed poster of David Bowie wearing a leather jacket with a cigarette hanging from his lips. How stereotypical. 

Between some of the shelves, you spotted middle-aged men contemplating their choice of rubber mallets while an overwhelmed younger employee was helping them decide. 

You whip your head in either direction, and very quickly, on the exposed structures in the ceilings, hanging from one of the pipes, you spot a printed sign that says “HERE FOR A CLASS?” which points further back into the expansive shop. 

Following the sign, you’re led to the surprisingly opened interior of the back of the shop. The setup of the wooden lab tables resembles a kindergarten class, but with one quick view of the sharp, jagged tools and annoyingly bright neon orange lighter in the middle, anyone could tell otherwise.

With your coat in hand, you take a seat at a fairly empty table far away from the demo lab. From the six stools at the table, only 2 were occupied by two elderly women deeply engaged in their conversation. The tables near the demo lab were filled with bright-eyed beginners observing the array of different tools at the table. 

The older women at the table seemed content in not getting to know you better, and you didn’t feel like moving tables. So in your boredom, you take out your phone to open the document of the practice test you’d saved beforehand. You wait for your phone to load, and when the struggling bar refuses to load nothing more than the first page, you slip your phone into your pocket with a heavy sigh. 

You start to spin in your seat, taking in the leather pieces that hang on the wall. There was an array of bags, belts, and wallets, but what caught your attention were the corsets. Most of them were black, but a couple were a dark, deep red. 

As you keep spinning, your legs bump into someone else’s, and you come to a stop. One warm hand rests against your thigh as it holds on to the bottom of the cushioned stool.

“Careful, sweetheart,” a warm voice rings above you. When you look up, you’re met with teasing brown eyes. 

“Sorry,” you quietly apologize, but he’s already moving past you and all you can do is look as he makes his way to the demo lab.

You weren’t one to care for appearances, but he looked fashionable. It wasn’t easy to make an apron look good, but the deep brown leather that hung around his neck was delectable on him. His bleached blonde hair was swept back, and you find yourself wanting to count each of the dangling pieces that hung from his ears. He brings one hand to brush his hair back, and on his pretty hands, you spot varyingly colored fingernails. On the tips of his fingers, you see climbing vines of ink extending to his arms from under his white button-up.

As if he can sense your eyes on him, he turns your way and shoots you a toothy grin. You quickly look down at the bare table and readjust your pink sweater. In the crowd of simple linens and leather jackets, a fuzzy pink sweater stood out like a sore thumb. With yet another sigh, you smooth down the fabric and don’t turn back towards the handsome, aproned employee until he begins the workshop. 

“Good evening, everybody. Nice to see some familiar faces, and to the rest of you,” his eyes catch yours and a smirk decorates his lips, “welcome.” He walks behind the demo lab and places his palms flat on the table. “My name is Hongjoong, and I’ll be guiding you through the workshop today. That’s my assistant, Jongho,” he points to the guy you’d spotted earlier on your way in. Jongho sends a short wave to the class. “Should I be busy, he’ll be more than happy to help you. Now, who’s ready to get this show on the road?”

As he begins to demonstrate, people stand to hover around Hongjoong’s table. From over an older lady’s shoulder, you watch him confidently slice through the sheet of leather and explain what you were making. 

You were signed up in an intermediate class to make a tool roll. A tool roll. You didn’t own any tools, save from a double-sided screwdriver the previous apartment renters had left behind, and you knew for certain your friend wasn’t one to hide tools in her bedroom. What the hell am I supposed to do with a tool roll?

Nonetheless, you watched Hongjoong’s demo carefully. If you had to make a tool roll, you were going to make the best goddamned tool roll you could. Maybe you’d even actually get around to buying tools for it. 

Hongjoong’s thin fingers expertly flatten the cut leather into his desired shapes. Then, he began to stitch a pocket shut. Turning the leather in his hands, he cuts off the excess string and pulls a lighter out of his apron. His thumb runs over the grooved gear, and a tall flame appears before him. He lights the ends before pressing them into the leather. He passes the leather around for everyone to observe as he answers someone’s questions. 

When it finally arrives in your hands, you’re impressed at the neat and straight stitches he’d done in such a short time. Two perfectly circular black dots are stamped into the leather where Hongjoong burned the end of the stitches. You run your thumb over the hardened thread and pass the piece along. 

When the unfinished tool roll is back in his hands, he takes a fork-shaped tool from his apron and drops it into the pocket he’d just created. “There you go,” he says, rolling the leather and showing it to the rest of the class. “That’s the jist of it. Obviously, you guys are gonna have to stitch in a lot more pockets.” With light laughs, everybody disperses back to their tables and begins to work on the leather Jongho had passed out.

Maybe sitting so far away from the instructor wasn’t a good idea, and it was definitely too late to move now. The beginners near the front kept Hongjoong from venturing further back into the classroom where you sat, utterly confused, and Jongho was proving to be frustratingly useless, not straying more than a couple of feet away from Hongjoong’s side. With a downturned face, you look down at your uncut leather and decide it’s better to start than being left behind. 

Taking a silver pen and ruler, you measure out the areas of the leather you wanted to cut. After double-checking, you take the pizza-cutter-looking tool and stand to cut along the soft lines you’d left on the dark brown hide. You hold up a rectangular piece of leather in your hands, feeling proud.

Next, you pick up a tool that looked similar enough to what Hongjoong had used and start marking the leather. Standing up, you begin to mark the folds of pockets. As you forcefully start pressing into the hide, you’re surprised when a thin string of leather comes up with it. That didn’t happen when Hongjoong marked his leather. Your eyes widen, but you’re already several inches down the length of your leather and decide it’s too late to stop. 

In your speechless state, you’d failed to notice Hongjoong standing at the corner of your table. “That’s an advanced technique,” he says with a laugh, and you feel your cheeks warm. “But you probably want to use a scratch awl for this part,” he adds. 

Great, I’ve successfully made a fool of myself in front of the cute leather guy. 

Boys were not on your radar, and for good reason, you think. You’d seen too many freshmen caught up in the new freedom that university provided them, reveling in the alcohol and hookups, only to turn around and get their hearts broken by a boy that doesn’t know any better. Grades slip, moods worsen, and next thing you know, they’ve wasted thousands in tuition. 

Your friend had become the most recent and most unfortunate example. Granted, you were seniors right on the cusp of graduation, but that didn’t stop her from behaving like a naive freshman. That could not and would not be you. Never in this lifetime. 

But, that didn’t stop you from having crushes on obviously attractive people. 

Hongjoong looks around the table, and when he fails to find an extra scratch awl, he pulls his own out of his apron. “Here,” he hands you a tool sleeker than the used and abused tools at the table. “Let’s leave the advanced techniques to the experts, shall we?”

You want to roll your eyes, but the embarrassment is overbearing and all you can do is take the scratch awl from Hongjoong’s hands. Thankfully, he’s called over by the more eager students in the front, and you’re left holding on to his tool in your palms. 

The deep dark brown of the wooden handle feels cool between your fingers, and with a cleared throat, you begin to mark the leather again. Hongjoong’s scratch awl is sharpened and glides across the leather smoothly. You spend an ample amount of time hunched over the piece of leather marking out even pockets. Slipping Hongjoong’s scratch awl in your skirt pocket, you grab a spool of brown thread and two needles. 

After a couple of mishaps, you think you’re really getting the hang of the saddle stitch. Pulling the thread taut, you double-check the back of your project to find a neatly aligned row of brown stitches. Not once did you go through the thread. With a satisfied smile, you flip the leather back over to the front and snip off the additional thread. 

You look for the neon orange lighter on the wooden table. When you finally look up, you find the rest of your tablemates have already completed several rows of stitches. You spot the lighter near the edge and grab it before drawing your attention back to your piece. 

Don’t bring yourself down, dumbass. It’s literally your first time trying this. This is an INTERMEDIATE class. You breathe in and nod at the voice in your head. 

With the lighter in hand, you copy Hongjoong’s movements from the demo. Nothing. You run your thumb over the grooved gear and roll it down. Again, nothing. 

You sit up straighter and crack your neck. Thumb over gear, run it downwards quickly. Nothing!

“Need help?” Hongjoong’s voice pulls you away from your frustrated actions. He’d rounded his way into the back of the room again and had been watching your amusing struggle for a few moments now. He leans across the table, elbows resting inches away from your hand. You try one more time before dropping the lighter in his outstretched palm. 

“I think something might be wrong with it,” you tell him without meeting his eyes. It was absolute bullshit. You knew it worked. He knew it worked. Your elderly tablemates, who’d used it ample times prior to you, knew it worked. 

You hear him jokingly scoff before closing his hand around the lighter. Rolling it between his fingers, he waves it in front of you. When you finally look at him, you wish you hadn’t.

With a knowing smirk plastered on his face, he holds the lighter some inches from your face. He places his thumb over the gear and runs it down quickly, pressing the red tab into the metal of the lighter. A quick flame appears and behind it, you can see it reflecting in his dark eyes. 

He drags your leather closer to him and burns the end of the wax threads. The ends of the brown thread glow yellow before quickly turning black. With a quick flick of his wrist, Hongjoong uses the bottom of the lighter to press the ends down into the stitches, and you can’t stop staring at him. 

You’re not sure, but as his eyes bounce between the burned and flattened ends, you think there’s glitter on his lids. Your eyes flicker down to his exposed arms. His long sleeves have been rolled up, and you're finally seeing the details of the ink that's decorating his skin. The black painted on his fingernails is neat, not crossing into the pink of his skin. He’s so pretty. 

With a smug smile, he turns your piece in between his palms. “Well, would you look at that? Looks like it’s working just fine.” But he’s also so cocky, so in response, you snatch the piece back with a mumbled thanks.

You keep your head down and focus on stitching the other side of your first pocket into the leather. When it comes time to cut the excess thread and burn the ends, you end up asking one of the ladies at your table, who sympathetically helps you. 

Before you know it, Hongjoong’s complimenting everyone on doing a great job and wishing everyone a good night. You look down at the singular pocket you’d managed to stitch into your leather. It seems as if there are endless sighs encapsulating your body, as yet another one escapes. You shove the leather into your bag and slip on your coat as the workshop begins to empty.

“Hey!” 

You turn and find Hongjoong leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He tilts his head and takes in your outfit. Under his gaze, you feel silly in your cream thermal leggings, pink sweater, pink skirt, and even pinker winter coat and shift your legs as Hongjoong moves to stand in front of you. With an outstretched palm, he says, “My scratch awl.”

Your eyes widen, and you pad the pockets of your skirt. Hongjoong watches your bag slip off your shoulders as you search one pocket, and then the other. The last thing you wanted was to look like a thief. You knew Hongjoong could tell you were only a novice, but you prayed he could also tell you weren’t planning on doing more leatherwork than you’d done today and his scratch awl would be of absolutely zero realistic use to you. 

Feeling the smooth wood under your skirt, you pull out the scratch awl from your pocket and place it in his palms, wordlessly. Being attracted to him was bad, but being embarrassed in front of Hongjoong was worse, you decide. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says with a deep smile. “You know, a girl really should know how to turn on a lighter,” he shrugs as you’re readjusting your bag over your shoulders. You roll your eyes and turn to the front door. “See you soon!” he shouts just as the door closes behind you. 

Yeah, right.

*****

“So, how was the class?” your friend slyly asks, sliding down into the empty seat next to you in the lecture hall early the following morning. At your fiery eyes, she slides a warm coffee towards, “Hey! Look, I came with a peace offering!”

“Fuck you,” you tell her with a sarcastically sweet smile, taking the coffee from her hands. Digging through your bag, you finally pull out the unfinished piece. 

She plucks the piece from your hands. “Hey, look at this! Couldn’t have been that bad if you ended up making a… a…” she hesitantly turns the leather in her hands. “Sorry babes, but what the hell is this supposed to be?”

“It’ll become a tool roll,” you shove the piece back in your bag. “Eventually,” you add, leaning back into the lecture hall’s uncomfortable chairs. 

“Eventually? So you’re going back?” she asks, pulling out her laptop.

“God, no. The instructor was a dick.” Failing to mention the fact he was also hot as hell, you continue, “But I’m sure I can figure it out on my own.”

You were naturally inclined to be determined. It was easy to rely on people and just as easy to be disappointed by them. So if there was work to be done that you could do by yourself, you would do it by yourself. 

The rest of the day passes as every day before it. You stuff as much information as you can down your throat, and when you get home, you print off practice worksheets and exams to prepare for the following week. 

As you make your way through the packets of paper, Hongjoong’s piercing gaze flashes across your mind more often than you’d like. You know, a girl really should know how to turn on a lighter. You cynically shake your head. What good would knowing that information do? You weren’t going to be stranded on an island anytime soon. A lighter would be the last thing on your mind should a nuclear war break out. Besides, you knew how to light matches. What more could you possibly need?

Taking a break from the practice exam, you pull the unfinished tool roll out of your bag. You knew at the very least you’d need a spool of thread and a needle to finish it. Looking online, you’re left more confused than when you started. Threads have different thicknesses? You run a finger over your stitches, unable to gauge a sense of thickness. Minutes into researching the needles, you slam your laptop shut and figure it’d be better to suck up your ego and begrudgingly give Outlaw Leather another visit.

With sleep no longer on your radar, you print off another practice exam and flip through the pages. Sleepless nights weren’t new to you. In fact, it was an unfortunate fact how common they’d become. Leaning back in your chair, you decide to take a walk to the convenience store underneath your apartment to grab some snacks to accompany your late-night studying endeavors.

The fluorescents of the store shake the remnants of sleep that were lingering, and with a sigh, you rummage through the selection of packaged foods. Creating a combination of possibly the most heart attack inducing foods and pain medication, you fill your basket to the brim and make your way to the register. 

The convenience store clerk starts scanning the myriad of late night snacks and pain killers. As you’re watching the total climb higher and higher, you flick your eyes to the plastic container in front of the register lined with standing lighters. 

A lighter would be more useful than matches during an apocalypse. You could reuse it several more times than a wooden matchstick. With a scoffed laugh, you roll your eyes. Hongjoong’s cocky stare still irritated you. But the other part of you feared he was right; you should know how to light a lighter just in case an apocalypse was on the radar. 

With a shake of your head, you card through the patterns, find one decorated in pink and red hearts and place it next to your unscanned items. “I’ll take one of these, too.”

*****

Several sleepless nights pass by before you’re eventually too frustrated looking at the incomplete tool roll sitting pathetically on your desk. On the following Friday after classes, you walk into Outlaw Leather with a mission in mind: Get some needles, get a spool, and get the fuck out. 

“Back already, sweetheart? Did you miss me that bad?” Hongjoong calls out from behind the register. 

You were better prepared this time around. You had straightened your back and smoothed out the ruffles in your pink skirt before stepping foot inside the shop. “Please, you’re like the stereotype personified. If I had to take a guess, I’d say your shitty motorcycle’s parked out back, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” he steps closer to you. “Want me to take you on a drive sometime?”

“Ugh, as if,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Hongjoong says, his smile never faltering, “Why are you here then?”

You unzip your backpack and take out your leather roll, and maintaining eye contact with Hongjoong, you toss your unfinished piece on the counter. “I have to finish this. It doesn’t look the way it should, and I need it to look the way it has to. Besides, I don’t have any of the supplies I need to make any progress myself.”

Hongjoong picks up the leather and runs his fingers along the groove of your stitches. Suddenly, the self-conscious shame creeps its way up to your cheeks. Looking at Hongjoong’s finished and polished pieces on the wall was more than enough to feel incompetent, and you can’t help but wonder how silly he thinks you look mocking an actual expert like him with your badly cut and sewn tool roll. 

But if he does think you’re mocking him, he doesn’t mention it, instead saying, “It doesn’t have to look any certain way, you know that right? What I did during class was just a template. You’re supposed to customize it.” When you don’t respond, he observes your piece with a sigh and adds, “But I guess I can get you headed in the right direction.” He rounds the register and holds the piece out for you to take. 

You follow him as he weaves through the store, picking out a pair of needles and a dark brown threaded spool. As he explains the differences between the sizes of needles and thickness of the thread, you try to follow along as best you can. The sleep you’d gotten the night before was abysmal and classes had been an absolute horror today, but you don’t think you can go home only to stare at an incomplete project that definitely should’ve been done by now.

“Thanks, I’ll just do it at home,” you take the spool of thread and the needles from him and turn towards the register. 

“You know, the labs are meant for people to come and work at,” he says. The mischievous look takes over his face as he adds, “Besides, we don’t want you taking another trip down here in your pretty skirts now, do we? The weather isn’t very forgiving these days.”

You look down at the thread and then your outfit. If you went back home and your friend saw you with a spool of thread hunched over this stupid piece of unfinished leather, you’d never live it down. And it was chilly outside. And you didn’t want to go home only to be distracted by your assignments. “Okay,” you tell him. Hongjoong points you to the back of the store with a toothy grin, and you take a seat at the empty lab tables and watch him linger for a moment before turning back to the register with a smile.

It takes you some time before you’re able to get in the groove, but once you’ve marked out the remaining pockets on the leather, you take a deep breath and start sewing. And as the hour passes, you think you’re doing quite well, stitching in pocket after pocket, until you’re not.

“Joongie!” a shrill voice calls out from the front of the shop. In clicking shoes, a not-so modestly dressed girl comes running into the store. After pushing past a confused Jongho, she sprints towards Hongjoong. 

“Hi,” a sweet giggle rumbles in his throat. He holds his arms out, and the girl finds her away into them, settling her jaw over his shoulder and ruffling his hair. “Alright, alright,” he says, pushing his hair back. “Ready to get your measurements taken?”

The girl nods, and Hongjoong leads her away to what looks like an office which just happened to be so unfortunately in the direct line of your vision. 

You try your hardest not to look or listen to them, forcing your eyes down on the half-sewn pocket, but when the girl shrugs off her fur coat, you can’t help yourself. She’s dressed in a tight black cropped tank top that surely does nothing to protect her from the cold. She tosses the fur coat over a chair and laughs at something Hongjoong says. There’s a low ringing in your ears, and momentarily, you’re glad you can’t hear their conversation.

You watch Hongjoong take a measuring tape from a desk drawer and frown as he wraps it around her waist. It deepens when he measures the curve of her breasts next. All while happily conversing with her, he takes a final measurement of her hips. 

You look back down at your nearly finished tool roll and sigh. An unfamiliar emotion bubbles in your chest, and you think you certainly must look ugly. Your head aches from being in a frustrated frown all day, and you think the beginnings of blisters are forming on the pads of your fingers from pinching the thick needles for hours on end. 

It was jealousy. It felt misplaced and dirty in your system, like a bottomless pit eager only to take and never to give. Here you were sitting in your own misery, shaming a girl that you’d never met and judging her clothing. You zone back into the row and diligently stitch along the line. 

When you finish the row and decide to take a break, your eyes and ears find their way back to Hongjoong’s little office. 

“What color?” he asks her.

As she’s slipping her coat back on she responds with, “Hot rod red.”

Hot rod red. She wanted the corset to be hot rod red. Hot? Rod? Red? Would you ever have the nerve to wear something so daring? Probably not. You turn back to your unfinished roll, and with an angered vigor, you start stitching again. 

The girl leaves giving Hongjoong yet another tight hug and ruffling his hair, but you’re still sitting on the uncomfortable stool, sewing away a storm. Your neck is in a world of pain, begging for a release, but you’re adamant on finishing.

The shop is quiet, and after taking the girl’s measurements, Hongjoong has been locked away in the office. The sun has since set, and besides Jongho’s occasionally sweet voice conversing with customers or humming along to the quiet radio, the silence in the store leaves you in a focused trance. Just a half-hour before closing, you finish burnishing the final corners of the roll.

When you stand, you want to immediately sit back down and sleep against the rough grain of the lab table, but you place one foot in front of the other and make your way to the register where Hongjoong is now seated.

“Not bad,” he says, with a cocky smile. He looks at the tool roll clutched tightly between your hands. He sees the leather cinching around the stitches but chooses to not tell you your stitches are too tight when he notices how exhausted you look. Your shoulders are slumped, head low, and fingers are red. The smile disappears from his face, and just as you’re grabbing your receipt from his hands, he stops you, rounding the register. 

“Whoa, hold on a second,” he says, taking your hand between his. He looks at the reddened and raw pads of your fingers. “You should’ve worn the protectors, sweetheart. Come here,” he takes your hand and leads you to the sink near the back of the workshop. 

Cool water runs over your fingers, and you sigh, letting your eyes shut momentarily.

“What are you thinking about?” Hongjoong asks, studying your finally relaxed face.

“An exam I have next week,” you lie, opting to omit the truth. And it wasn’t entirely untrue. You did have an exam next week. You should probably print off a practice exam when you get back. 

“God, you need to shut that brain of yours off and get some sleep,” he says, no malice in his voice.

You open your eyes and watch the water splash over your fingers. “Yeah, that’d be a real miracle,” you reply with a scoff. 

“Have trouble sleeping?” His grip on your hand loosens. 

You shrug while curling your fingers under the gentle stream of cool water and respond, “Only since the last semester. Probably just stress. I think I’m good now.” You take your hand from Hongjoong’s and shake off the dripping water.

“Hold on,” Hongjoong bends down and open the drawer underneath the sink to pull out a first-aid kit. He flips the kit open and grabs a tiny tube of cooling gel. “I went through like a dozen of these when I was starting out,” he sighs, squeezing out a little green gel. When you slightly wince, he sighs again and gently spreads the gel over the pads of your fingers saying, “Just wear the protectors next time, okay sweetheart?”

You probably weren’t coming back here. You probably won't run into Hongjoong again. You didn’t think any more leather projects were on your radar, and your friend had already moved on to a different hobby. 

Nonetheless, you watch Hongjoong’s fingers run over yours, spreading the gel, and nod.

*****

You were back.

Now that you were finished with that god-forsaken tool roll you had no tools for, your life should’ve continued on normally. You should’ve gone straight to the library after your classes to get started on a presentation that was due next week. You should’ve. You knew you should’ve, but here you were standing outside the entrance of Outlaw Leather a week later. 

You couldn’t think straight at all for the past week, although that may have been due to the lack of sleep. When you found your feet taking you downtown to Hongjoong’s shop, you tried to justify your need to be there. Now, at the entrance, you still had nothing. 

Taking out your lighter, you run your thumb over the grooved gear and run it down. A flame appears. You let go, and it disappears. With some late-night practice and tutorials, you were eventually able to figure the lighter out. You repeat the process over and over again while internally debating whether or not you want to go in. 

Eventually, Jongho’s peeking head appears through the slightly opening door. “Are you planning on coming in or are you just gonna stand there?” You take a shaky step towards the entrance of the shop and let Jongho hold the door open for you with a small thanks.

During the early evening, the shop was quiet with a few lingering customers. With padded footsteps, you make your way to Hongjoong’s office, no clear indication of why you were gracing him with your presence on a Thursday evening.

He’s sitting at his desk, sketching out a pattern for a project you can’t make out. You stand for a moment, watching his laser-focused eyes following the graphite of pencil. His downturned lips and furrowed brow soften up his rough features, and you can’t help but think how cute he looks when he’s not smirking. 

At the thought, you shake your head and clear your throat to get his attention. 

The chair swivels around, and his signature smirk makes its way to Hongjoong’s face. “Thought you’ve already finished the tool roll?”

“That’s not why I’m here.” Why AM I here?

Twirling the pencil between his pretty fingers, he leans back into the chair. “Oh? Then how can I help you, sweetheart?” 

You say the first thing you could think of, which unfortunately for you, ends up being, “I want a corset.” I do?

“You do?”

“I do.”

His smirk only deepens as he turns around to pull a sheet of paper out of one of his drawers. Attaching to a clipboard, he hands you the sheet and turns around to stack the sketches into a pile. “Fill that out, and we’ll get started.”

You look down at the sheet. A large portion for it is for Hongjoong, requiring specific measurements, but the top portion is for you. 

Thankfully, Hongjoong’s turned around and clearing off his desk when your eyes widened comically at the listed price without any special embellishments. Fuck it. You start filling in your name and address. 

“I’ll take your measurements today and have a guide ready to go by tomorrow. When you come in tomorrow, I’ll double-check my initial measurements and see how they fit, and then I can start. That sound good to you?” He leans against his now cleared desk.

“Yeah,” you tell him, not looking up from the clipboard. Having mercy on your bank account, you decide to forgo any embellishments and hand the clipboard back to Hongjoong. As he’s scanning your information, the cockiness splattered across his features has you believing this is resting face.

“Okay sweetheart, let’s make you a corset.” You nod at him, awaiting his next instructions. He stares at you, the twirling pencil in fingers slowing when you stare back. His smirk deepens. “The sweater’s gotta come off.”

You had clearly not thought this through. You just had a simple bra under your thick knitted sweater, and you didn’t have an extra camisole or tank with you. You tug at one of the stitches on your sleeve, “Can’t you measure over the sweater?”

“No can do, unless you want to pay me to make something that’s not going to fit you,” he shrugs. 

You look outside the door of Hongjoong’s office. Jongho was restocking some inventory, and the few customers inside had their back turned to you while deciding how much of a roll they wanted to cut. At your hesitancy, Hongjoong’s teasing takes a break, and with a gentle voice, he asks, “Do you want me to close the door?”

You nod at his offer, and he steps in front of you to click the door shut. As the door closes, the room opens up, and you’re able to spot an unmade queen size bed in the corner. 

“You sleep here?”

“Sure do,” he says, hands resting on his hips. With a deep breath, you lift the sweater over your head. Hongjoong’s next remark catches in his throat when you’ve pulled off your adorable pink sweater and are left in only with an equally adorable lacey pink bra that wraps snuggly around your chest. He shakes away the interrupting thoughts before saying, “You are standing in my bedroom, after all.”

The conversation distracts you from the chill you feel standing almost naked in an attractive guy’s bedroom. Holding the sweater in your crossed arms, you ask “This is your bedroom?”

“Yeah,” he says with a little laugh. He rounds your body and grabs the tape measure from his desk. You hold your breath when he takes in your covered torso. “The sweater’s gotta go all the way, sweetheart,” he says, rolling his desk chair between the two of you. 

With a pout, you hang your sweater over the back of his chair, and let your arms dangle at your sides. Hongjoong rolls the chair back to its spot and steps closer to you. The fire you had in you retires to the back burner when Hongjoong’s scent fills your nose. He taps your elbows with a quiet, “Arms up,” as he steps even closer to round the measuring tape around your body. 

The tension is palpable, and Hongjoong has dove headfirst into getting accurate measurements in silence. Normally, you wouldn’t mind it, but he smells like a godly combination of spice and leather, you’re embarrassingly horny now, and you’re standing partially naked in his bedroom.

Taking a look around his room, your eyes flicker over a wall of pictures, some polaroid, some printed, some cut out from magazines. On his desk, there’s a half painted shoe next to a fully painted shoe. Many more clothing items are hung near or around his desk with patches cut out from the fabric of the arms and the back. 

When you turn to look back at his bed, you’re surprised at how comfortable it looks. While it's clearly unmade, the plaid gray sheets look clean and homely. The pillows and duvet are well used, and the thought of taking a nap here sounds a little too nice. 

“Your room doesn’t match your aesthetic,” you tell him when the cool plastic of the tape measure makes contact with your hot skin.

You feel Hongjoong’s breath against your neck when he tightens the tape around your waist. “Oh, yeah? What’d you expect my bedroom to look like?”

With a light shrug, you ponder out loud, “I don’t know, I thought it’d be more edgy and less… wholesome.” You nod at the smiling pictures of him on the wall.

Hongjoong quickly follows your trailing eyes and laughingly scoffs again. “So, just because I work with leather, you expect me to sleep on a cow hide or something?” You’re embarrassed at what you’ve implied and shrink in on yourself. “You’re so tense. It’d help you to relax,” Hongjoong laughs with a light poke at your hips. 

The fire finds its way back to you at his relentlessly teasing tone. “I don’t want to relax, I want a corset.”

To measure your hips, he kneels on one knee and looks up at you. “Mhm, and what are you going to do with a corset?”

“Wear it,” you answer down at him, brows furrowed as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What, and mess up your cute sweater numbers? I don’t think you would, sweetheart,” he says, standing back up. “Besides, I don’t really think it matches your aesthetic,” he says, throwing your own words back in your face.

It should’ve been off-putting and unattractive, this behavior. You should’ve been rolling your eyes and cringing at his words. But instead, your nipples were hard, and you were praying they weren’t visible through your bra.

“I will wear it,” you say with stuttering confidence. 

“Mhm,” Hongjoons says, writing down the measurements onto the slip you’d filled out earlier. “What color?”

“What?”

“What color do you want it to be?”

The words hot rod red are begging to fly out of your mouth, but if you were going to be paying for a custom corset, you figure it should at least be to your liking. “Can you do pink? Like this kind?” you ask, pinching the fabric of your pastel pink sweater between your fingers.

The corners of Hongjoong’s lips curve into a smirk, and he nods, writing it down on the checklist. “Yeah sweetheart, I can do pink.”

*****

The next day, you walk into Outlaw Leather much later than you were supposed to. Just as Jongho’s turning you away while pointing at the hours posted on the door, Hongjoong emerges from his office. 

“I’ve got this, man. You can clock out.” And with a wave from Jongho, you and Hongjoong remain in the empty store. 

Hongjoong quietly leads you to his bedroom. “You can wait in here, just give me a couple minutes to close up.”

His room looks cozier with the harsh tube light turned off, letting only the golden glow of the few lamps illuminate the space. His bed’s still unmade, but it looks extra comfortable in soft yellow light.

On his desk sits a thick strip of black-dyed leather. Taking it in your hands, you feel the rigid strip fold under your touch and run your fingers along the textured front. It felt cool and rough, but you stroke the strip between your fingers nonetheless. 

“That’s not for you, sweetheart. Although, I’d be happy to make you one,” Hongjoong’s voice startles you, and you turn to see him in the doorway. His eyes flick down to your hips, and you gently place the belt back on his desk, warmth pooling in your stomach.

“Sorry,” you wipe your hands on your pants and look at the pink leather in his hands. 

The tint on the leather is a delicate pastel, just like you asked, and the cut of the hide has your breath hitched. The stitching in the corset is delicate, but striking. Even in your awe, you were confused. The corset looked finished, polished and ready to wear; even if there were adjustments to be made, you were sure there wasn’t much he could adjust now. 

Nonetheless, you grab the edges of your sweater. When you slip it off over your head and hang it on his chair, you miss the disappointed look that fleetingly flickers across Hongjoong’s face. You’d worn a camisole underneath your sweater today to save yourself from the embarrassing predicament you’d put yourself in only yesterday. 

Moving behind you, he orders, “Arms up.” Hongjoong wraps the corset around your waist and pulls you flush to him, closing it. You gasp in a surprised breath when your back collides with his hardened chest. “So, so tense, sweetheart,” he breathes into your neck, and you can hear his smile. Goosebumps rise up your back, and you don’t respond to him, keeping your breath held. “Is this too tight?”

“No,” you swallow the collecting saliva in your mouth. Hongjoong backs away, slipping the corset away from your torso.

“Alright,” he moves around your still body, laying the corset next to the black belt and adds, “I’ll condition the leather, and it’ll be ready for you to pick up tomorrow.”

Well, that was fast. “Thanks,” you send him a short smile and reach to grab your sweater off the back of his desk chair, hiding your disheartedness. You wanted to stay longer and do something, you didn’t want to go home. You wanted to stay in this room and not think about your assignments or exams. Over your shoulder, you look back at Hongjoong’s bed.

“You know, I read an interesting article the other day,” Hongjoong’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Didn’t peg you as a reader,” you say, but when you catch Hongjoong looking stupidly sexy rolling his big, beautiful eyes at you, you add, “What’d you read?”

His hips lean back into his desk, arms crossed over his chest, shrugging, “It wasn’t much, but it did say something about how beneficial orgasms are at helping insomniacs.”

You freeze, and your eyes widen. Of course, you’d already known this. After the first couple of sleepless nights passed, you did extensive research trying to find the best remedy for yourself. 

Relax your body. This can be done through a variety of different methods. To most effectively and efficiently relax your muscles, let your body experience somatic arousal.

You’d shut your laptop and settled on trying aromatherapy and meditation instead. When days turned into weeks, you’d gotten desperate and brought a tiny vibrator which you carried around. Just in case.

“Yeah, I know,” you say with a sigh. The tiredness that ran through your body had dissipated the shame you’d usually felt, and you reach into your bag to pull out the hot pink vibrator and dangle it in front of Hongjoong’s face, “But if this hasn’t been able to get the job done, I don’t think anything will.”

For a moment, the shock is vividly apparent on Hongjoong’s face, and the shame in your body is ready to resurface with a vengeance. But just as quickly as it comes, it disappears when Hongjoong’s face twists into a smirk. The same cocky smirk you’d been using to get off in these past few weeks. 

The smirk turns into a mocking pout as Hongjoong snatches the vibrator from your hands. “You poor thing. How many orgasms do you give yourself every night?”

The warmth in your cheeks spreads down your neck and pools in your stomach. “Uhm, I— just one, usually,” you say, looking down at the floor of Hongjoong’s room. 

You hear him scoff and look up to see his haughty attitude return. “You think one orgasm’s going to put you to sleep?”

“Yes?” you respond incredulously. The mixture of emotions swirling through your mind were doing a great job at confusing you, but never did you think you’d stand in Hongjoong’s room while he judges how you choose to cure your insomnia.

“One orgasm is hardly going to do anything, let alone relax you enough to sleep,” Hongjoong says, polished nails thumbing through the settings on the vibrator. “In fact,” he says, stepping much too close to you, “I’m willing to bet you’ve never even experimented with the higher settings.” His soft breath fans across your face, and you look away from him, focusing your attention on anything else in his room.

You hear a chuckle rumbling from his chest as your silence proves him right. His thumb gently grabs your chin, and he redirects your eyes back to him, asking, “Would you like to?”

You dryly swallow and stare at him. Fuck it all to hell. You eagerly lean into his lips and kiss him fervently. When you feel his stupid, cocky smile against your lips, you press harder and let your teeth teasingly sink down on his lower lip. Accomplished pride blooms in your chest as he gasps and pulls away.

“You know the color system?” When you nod, he pulls you closer, “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you breathlessly respond, and his lips are back on yours. Hongjoong roughly grabs at your hips, slipping his hands under the thin pink camisole. He pushes you towards his bed, and when your knees collide with its frame, he pulls away again.

“Sit,” he orders, and you follow. With your hands on either side of you, you look up at Hongjoong from his plaid gray sheets excited, enamored, and eager. Hongjoong releases a shuddered breath at your pliant eyes before he kneels in front of you.

Today was exceptionally cold, and you’d opted to overgo your pink skirts in favor of a pair of thick pants. Hongjoong’s hands bunch at the material to tug it down your legs, and you back up further onto his bed and raise your hips in effort to help him. Once they're off, he tosses them carelessly onto his floor and pushes you to lay back against his pillows. 

Other than your pants, Hongjoong made no effort to remove any of your other clothing, letting his lips slot against yours once again. His hand finds the warm flesh of the skin between your thighs, and with the other he caresses your jaw. Unable to keep away, you reach for his neck and feel the dangling silver of his earrings tickle your fingers.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you sweetheart?” His request is soft and whispered against your lips, but at your delayed response, his roughened hand kneads your thigh harder. “Won’t you?”

You pull away from him to answer, “I will,” and try to chase after him, but much to your disappointment, Hongjoong leans back.

A low buzz comes from between his fingers, and you realize your forgotten vibrator was still in Hongjoong’s hands. At the noise, you feel yourself getting wetter, your underwear now uncomfortably clinging to your skin. 

Squirming to adjust yourself, your thighs close around Hongjoong’s hands. He smiles at the action and takes his hand away from your jaw. “Hands.”

Confused, you stop your squirming and bring your hands between your bodies. His hands wrap around your wrists, pushing them above your head and pressing the vibrator over your underwear in one quick motion. 

A surprised whimper escapes your lips. The tight grip of his hands feels so good around your wrists, but the stimulation from the vibrator felt torturously low over your cotton panties.

“Feels good, right sweetheart?” He wiggles the vibrator over your clit and laughs lowly when you roll your hips to meet his movements. “This is what you’re used to, isn’t it? Level 1?” It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to build even if the buzz of the vibrator was dull. 

Usually, this process would take you much more time. It’d have to be well into the night, your roommate fallen asleep long ago. The work at your desk should no longer have the capacity to take any more of your attention, and sleep should be the last thing on your mind. You had a playlist, a hot celebrity’s shirtless picture, and most importantly, privacy. 

But the woody smell of Hongjoong’s cologne, his calloused hands at your thighs, and his cocky self-satisfied smile had you close in no time.

“Please, please,” you ask, rolling your hips. Hongjoong presses against you and holds the vibrator down, and you whimper pathetically.

“Gonna cum already?” Hongjoong asks, devilishly smiling down at you. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and cum for me.”

And you do. With your eyes closed, you let your head fall back against Hongjoong’s pillows and slightly tug your hands in his grip. Your orgasm comes quick and hard, the buzz finally falling away from your clit. 

Catching your breath, you open your eyes to look up at Hongjoong zeroed in on the sight between your legs. Unfortunately for you, you now feel more awake than you’ve ever felt and letting the reality of the situation sink in, shut your legs. 

Hongjoong doesn’t let your actions faze him, and instead, he moves to rub the skin of your hips. “Felt good?” You nod, but before you could let your overthinking thoughts interrupt him, he adds, “I bet it did, but look at you. There’s a mess in your cute panties, and I can hear your heart beating from here. I’d barely call this relaxed, barely enough to get you sleeping.”

“I—” You knew that, but you truly thought one would do the trick. Instead, your hips felt stiff, and the stickiness in your underwear was begging to be taken care of. I want more, I NEED more. Collecting your rambled thoughts, you look back at Hongjoong who’s patiently waiting for your explanation. “Can you help me, please?”

An evil smile overtakes Hongjoong’s face and makes you clench disappointedly around nothing. “Of course I can help you, sweetheart.” You can feel yourself gushing, breathing out a sigh of relief when Hongjoong moves down to take off your underwear. 

“What a pretty mess you’ve made,” he says, hungrily looking at the result of your first orgasm. Your arousal leaked through your underwear, and you just know you’ve stained his sheets. Your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but you still whine, wanting the panties out of the way.

Catching your intentions, Hongjoong simply laughs, grabbing the vibrator once more. It comes to life again, this time loud and more aggressively. Level 2.

Level 2 was uncharted territory. The night you’d gotten the vibrator, you’d turned on each setting while twirling the device between your fingers. 1 was fine, it felt low and steady. But having 2 turned on for only a minute numbed the pads of your fingers. You’d avoided Level 3 out of sheer fear, never even letting the setting touch your fingertips. 

Hongjoong doesn’t take your underwear off, no matter how much you squirm. Instead, he rubs your slick through your panties and wet his lips as he lets the vibrator rest against your thighs.

Slowly, he trails the pink bullet closer and closer to your pussy. Frustrated at his pace, you raise your hips in search of the vibrator. “You said you’d be good for me, sweetheart,” he teases. When he asks for your hands again, you give them away at record speed, only prompting more teasing. “I told you I’d help you, and I will,” he says, pinning your arms tightly above you.

The smile decorating Hongjoong’s face is dangerous, and then you realize you would do anything he asked you to. Here, in his room, on his bed, you were ready to become what you avoided so well for the past four years.

At your hitching breath, he nestles the vibrator onto your clit, the stimulation making your head spin. Letting him take away your arms felt good, too good, and when you tug against them, his hold only tightens, making you gush. 

“How’s Level 2 feel, hmm?” Hongjoong asks, kissing up your neck. It felt good; you know it did. It was stronger and made your leak with need, but the presence of your underwear was too overpowering.

With a newfound devotion and growing distaste of your wrecked panties, you tug again. “Joongie, please,” you whine. “Take them off,” you plead. 

As the nickname falls out of your lips, Hongjoong’s eyes darkly narrow and his smile falls away. Again, much to your disappointment, he lets your arms go. Moving the vibrator in slow, calculated circles, he takes his free and hooks his thumb under the waistband. 

“You come into my store, looking all pretty in pink, like a fucking angel, and you know what it makes me want to do, sweetheart?” You shake your head, and at the motion, the humming of the vibrator falls away from your clit. You feel a swift slap against your thighs. “Do you know what it makes me want to do?” Hongjoong enunciates for you, placing the vibrator back onto your clit, pressing down harder this time.

“No, I don’t know,” you breathlessly respond. Your thigh feels like it’s on fire, and you know your underwear is beyond saving. The stinging from the slap only builds your orgasm faster when Hongjoong speaks again. 

“It makes me want to ruin you,” he says, letting the band of underwear snap against your hips. “Will you let me ruin you?”

You’d think you would have learned your lesson by now, but you nod yet again and feel another slap against your other thigh. “Yes, I will! Please ruin me, please!” you beg as your second orgasm crashes down on you. 

Hongjoong turns the vibrator back down to Level 1 and leans in to give you a deep kiss. Your breath feels like it’s been knocked out of your lungs, and you let Hongjoong explore, letting him take more and more of your air as you ride out your high on his sheets.

You let your hands tangle in his hair, and you pull him closer. Bringing your knees towards your body, your knee grazing against Hongjoong’s hardened length, prompting you to pull away. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” You barely have time to register the new pet name before Hongjoong’s peeling your ruined underwear off. When the cool air of his room finally touches your exposed, wet pussy, you shiver before it’s quickly replaced with a moan when the vibrator makes contact with your clit again.

“Yes, but I…” you start, eyeing the unfinished belt on his desk before flicking your eyes back to him, “I want more.”

“Fuck,” he laughs following your line of sight. “Is that what you need, baby? You need someone to take your control from you? Be mean to you? Tie you up?”

You nod desperately. You feel like you’ve never wanted anything more, just letting Hongjoong give while all you do is take.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he gives you a quick kiss. Making quick of your response, Hongjoong gets off the bed and laughs at your poor state as he takes the vibrator with him. Taking the black belt from his desk, he hovers momentarily over your form, taking in your blown out eyes and panting chest. Your hardened nipples poke over your camisole, and there’s a glittery sheen of sweat across your collar. 

Hongjoong’s cock strains against the material of his pants at the sight of you so fucked out for him, but he quickly files the feeling away for later. Gliding his fingers between yours, he pushes them up to the wooden rails of his headboard, wrapping the leather of the belt and securing it around your wrists.

The leather feels cool on your steaming skin, and when Hongjoong has you tied up, you feel oddly relaxed, glad your hands are restrained, leaving yourself for Hongjoong to give you as much as he thought you needed. 

He leaves a soft kiss on the sides of your arms and trails downwards. Over your camisole, he places open kisses on your nipples, and you arch off the mattress, hungry for more. You wanted Hongjoong everywhere on your body, all at once. 

As the vibrator is back on your bare pussy, he bites at your nipple, his tongue wetting the thin material. Your eyes shut tightly in ecstasy, and incoherent words are tumbling out of your mouth, begging Hongjoong to not stop when he moves to give the other nipple the same treatment.

His deep laughter reverberates in your chest. “I don’t plan on it. More?” 

“Yes, please,” you ask through whining gasps, and he listens, trailing his kisses up to your neck. Sneakily, he ups the level on the vibrator, and the sudden, intense pleasure of Level 2 on your overwhelmed clit feels exhilarating, making your eyes cloud over with dark lust. 

“You’re such a good girl, asking so sweetly to be ruined,” Hongjoong says into your neck, biting little marks into the skin. “Poor thing, hmm? You just want a good night’s rest, right sweetheart?” 

“Yes,” you sob, that’s all you wanted. You thrash against the bed, feeling insatiable. You hear the switch of the vibrator click again. Level 3, and it’s brutal. The vibration is unforgiving in its strong rhythm, and the way Hongjoong is pressing it just right onto your clit doesn’t help.

“Just want someone to shut that brain of yours off, fuck you dumb?”

Yes! You want to cry out as he plucks the thoughts from your mumbled mess, but the words never find themself and you choose to cry out pitifully instead. When the first tear rolls down your hot cheeks, Hongjoong’s dick painfully hardens in his pants. 

Behind the haze of your eyes, Hongjoong finds your thoughts leaving as your orgasm builds. He wants it all gone, all the exams and assignments melting away into nothing. Eager to please, he stuffs two fingers deep into your wet walls, and all it takes is a small, gentle curl of his fingers grazing against your sweet spot and you’re cumming with a soft cry.

The vibrator’s taken away from you again, but his fingers remain in your pulsing pussy, still curled deliciously. The phantom buzz of the ruthless Level 3 is still present on your clit, and you can feel another orgasm building from nothing. The sensitivity feels like a well-intentioned punishment, but your brain feels fried from the onslaught, ready to retire for the night.

Hongjoong splays his hand over your thigh, pushing them out of the way and takes in the mess he’s left at your weeping pussy. A wet patch of your dripping arousal and your pretty, swollen cunt throbbing around his fingers has him swallowing down his desire. “Okay, sweetheart, just one more. Can you take one more for me? I’ll put you to sleep, I promise.”

“Joongie, I can’t anymore,” you tell him through sobs, tugging at the belt. White spots are dancing in your vision, and you seriously think you’re going to pass out. Not that you would mind.

“Don’t you wanna sleep, pretty girl? I thought you wanted my help,” Hongjoong mocks from between your legs, cruelly curling his fingers upwards. At your desperately broken cries, with a softer voice, he travels up to kiss the shell of your ear, whispering, “Color?”

His gentle voice grounds you enough to let you respond, “Green.” You’re sure whatever else you’re saying makes no sense, but your legs part anyway, wanting everything Hongjoong wants to give you. 

“That’s my good girl,” he sends you a sweet kiss on your furrowed brows before he scissors both of his fingers inside of you, pumping and curling steadily. The pleasure has you releasing a stream of steady tears, slurred requests echoing in his room. 

His fingers are gone too soon, but feeling his hand at your jaw, you open your eyes. His fingers are dripping with your slick, and with wide eyes, you shamelessly lean forward and take them in your mouth, tasting yourself. Your tongue swirls around tasting the effects of Hongjoong’s efforts. 

“Fuck, you’re so precious, sweetheart,” you catch him saying as he takes his fingers out and wraps his hand around your throat. Your heartbeat quickens, but Hongjoong doesn’t apply any pressure, simply letting his hand rest around your throat as he pulls you in for a kiss. 

As his tongue explores once more, you roll your hips up, grazing his cock. You’re not sure how he’s able to stay so composed, not wanting or expecting reciprocation, but you grind upwards once more in hopes to relieve him a little. 

The pressure of hand just slightly increases, and he releases a deep, guttural groan, pulling away from you and pinning your hips into the bed, “Not tonight, pretty girl.” He leans back and lets his teeth graze his previously left marks, sucking them darker.

Trailing his hands up your body, he squeezes at your breasts under your camisole and nips at your exposed tummy. You’re grateful for him giving you time to recover from your back to back orgasms, but in this time, you feel your body’s pleas begging for sleep. Your eyelids were drooped, the exhaustion of everything weighing down on you. Your lethargic arms tugged at the belt, wanting to run your hands through Hongjoong’s hair. 

At your frustrated whine, Hongjoong looks up from your tummy to find your lips folding into a cute pout, and he sends you a sweet smile. Moving back, he kneels in front of your tired body. With his cool hands, he grabs the underside of your thighs and pushes them back, head dropping down to your delectable pussy. Shooting you a smug grin, his tongue attacks, sucking away at your far too sensitive clit.

Feeling your thighs tense in his hold at the pleasure, Hongjoong moans into your cunt, sending delicious vibrations up your body. His warm tongue flicks back and forth, spelling out something into your pussy. In your unfocused trance, you try to make out the letters and let out a hiccuped cry when you realize what it is. S, W, E, E, T, H, E, A, R, T. 

He takes a break to suck at your clit, nipping and licking away. And it feels heavenly, different than the vibrator, better than the vibrator. You find yourself thinking you might never need it again when Hongjoong groans against you as you roll your hips into his face. You don’t think you’d ever feel this good, afraid of becoming addicted to the drug-like euphoria. 

Your last orgasm comes quickly, Hongjoong’s tongue making quick work with your overstimulated clit. You come with a strained cry, trying to close your trembling legs around Hongjoong’s head. 

You let all your thoughts and worries fall away, jerking against Hongjoong’s bed, rutting yourself onto his tongue. Your sharp whines and tiny cries do nothing more than make Hongjoong irresistibly want you, but flicking his eyes up to your obliterated form, he falls back, choosing to caress your shaky legs through your orgasm. 

You’re not sure how, but you feel weightless and heavy at the same time. Your eyelids refuse to open, and on your exhausted limbs, you can feel Hongjoong’s warm breath peppering kisses onto the heated skin as he undoes the belt around your wrists. You feel him gently place tender kisses to each wrist, whispering soft words of praise, before sleep overtakes your body. 

Sometime later, your heavy eyelids blink open when you feel a warm rag against your thighs. “You can sleep, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you,” Hongjoong’s deep voice says, lulling you back into a well-deserved deep sleep.

Author's Note II: What'd you guys think? There's actually a nearly completed scene I wrote for this fic that just didn't fit into the actual story, but I'm thinking of releasing it as a bonus sometime in the next few weeks (wink wonk) so definitely look forward to that :) Thank you so much for reading, much love <3

taglist: @arafilez

[hwaelysian]

this was absolutely insane where has this gem been hiding 😩 i love me a unique plot like this plus hongjoong is wrecking me this comeback i needed this

[harringtonsdiary]

I Think We're Alone Now

steve harrington x f!reader words: 13,957 warnings: will they won't they, oblivious friends, unrequited love...maybe... angst, errrrr relationships that they dont really want to be in.... also not canon compliant (surprising right?) lots of yearning... from who? i guess y'all shall see summary: A few years after an awkward almost something, you and Steve Harrington settle into an easy friendship… or as easy as it can be when old feelings don’t stay buried. a/n: Y'all know i just had to use the song... it' s so steve coded and everyone knows it. As always, not proofread. Maybe one day I won't be impatient. My cw professor's eye is twitching right now. I was hesitant to post this because I always get nervous with new works. Also, discussion question because the art of commenting is dead: Can timing really make or break a relationship, or do people find each other when they’re meant to?

It was nearly nine, and the sun had only just dipped beneath the horizon, casting a soft orange glow through the smudged windows of Family Video. The fluorescent lights looked hazy, as if they were as tired as you. 

Robin had invited you to come by and hangout since it was a Thursday night, and closing when it is slow was always boring. It smelled like plastic and like cherry slurpee that’s been imprinted on the floors for as long as you could remember. 

Steve Harrington leaned on the counter, his nametag a little crooked, his hair short and messy like he had been running his fingers through it. He had probably finished all the closing tasks so he stood there like he had nothing else to do. Your heart skipped a beat how tan he looked. A few days ago he and your friends went to the lake, sunsoaked, and drunk on trying to figure out life together. You hated you still noticed these things. How he kept getting broader. How his freckles scatter across his face like someone strategically painted them. How the jeans he’s wearing now fit in a certain way that you feel the heat on your cheeks.

You hate you notice how his bored face immediately transforms into a bright smile, acting as if he had not seen you the day before. You smiled back politely, perching yourself on the counter, flipping through the box of returns.You tilted your head to look towards the break room, wondering if Robin was in there. 

It was like he could read your mind, and it absolutely irritated you how he could answer you without you saying it out loud. “Robin ditched me again. Left early because she wanted to make out with her girlfriend behind the record store.” His expression is cautious, waiting for an answer. He’s twirling a pencil between his fingers, his eyes landing on the tape in your hand. 

The box was chipped and sticky and the faded label read Pretty in Pink. It was the movie you and him used to quote in sync before things got weird. You quickly put it back, humming, not looking back up at him. 

He steps closer and you could smell him. Cedar and lemon. He sighed. “She said I could close ‘for once.’ Like I’m not fully capable of locking the door by myself.” 

You smiled, looking up, meeting his gaze. “You did lock yourself in once,” you reminded him, poking his shoulder. He immediately rolled his eyes, smirking, nudging his shoulder into your side. “One time and that was years ago. But maybe I should do it again so she won’t leave early. Especially for the record store girl.”

You furrowed your brows. “What’s wrong with the record store girl?”

Steve turned around, his elbows holding him up, his back stretched. He was so restless sometimes it was cute… good grief. 

He turned his head and gave you a “are you kidding me?” look. “She’s such a bore. Robin just likes her because of her tongue piercing.”

“What does that have to do with… you know nope. Nevermind.” You immediately regretted the question once Steve’s smile turned into amusement. It was boyish and cheeky. You rolled your eyes, blushing once you turned your attention back to the tapes in the bin. 

Steve let out another sigh, stretching his arms above his head, and then he groaned melodramatically. “I think I’ve accepted my fate. I will stay single until I die.” 

He peeked over at you and it was moments like these you had no idea what type of reaction he wanted from you. Normally you look down and pretend you didn’t hear what he said. Most of the time the others were there which your reaction got lost in the mix. But right now, he was so close to you. The store was deafening and too quiet all at the same time. Your heartbeat was too loud in your ears. There weren’t a lot of times you found yourself alone with Steve and this was exactly why. 

It was always different. Even so it was just as rare to be caught in these moments. 

His looks were longer and he always tested how far he could go– how close could he actually get to you before you squirmed away? You were pitiful because you knew it annoyed you, yet you wanted Steve Harrington. You wanted him to look at you forever. You wanted him to never put distance between you two. 

But, he did. You chose him and he didn’t feel the same way in the end, and some days you were so lucky if he even gave you a high five. That was how you two worked. Like wheels trying to turn together but rusted over with regret and awkwardness. 

You smiled weakly, thinking you should at least say something. “Maybe you need to market yourself differently.” 

Steve let out a snort. “Maybe I need new packaging.” 

You blew out a raspberry, muttering, “The packaging is just fine.” 

Either he didn’t hear you or chose not to acknowledge it. He pushed himself off the counter, taking the box of returns from your hand, fingers brushing yours, but eyes never meeting. Like it didn’t mean anything.

It was almost time to close up the shop. Even though it was summer, there would most likely be no more customers the rest of the night by this rate. 

He walked from behind the counter to the floor of shelves, quietly placing the movies back to their respective places. The sun had finally been swallowed, moonlight poured in. You watched Steve as he worked, amazed how he could probably do it in his sleep. Robin told you they were so bored one day they put blindfolds on while putting away movies and Steve knew by heart where each one went. 

He tried to pretend all the time that he wasn’t but Steve Harrington was a huge dork. 

You hopped from the counter and walked to the front of the store, turning off the ‘Open’ sign. Sure, you didn’t work there, but you knew the closing routine by heart, watching Robin and him do it countless times. “Robin says after the big Independence Day Carnival everyone is going to your guys’ place.” 

Steve didn’t look up at you. He nodded.

The plastic of the cases rubbed together, making a satisfying crinkle sound that made your brain itch in the right places. It almost made you forget how incredibly awkward you felt being alone with him. He had finished, taking the now empty tote and placing it on the counter, beginning to do the rest of his closing tasks. 

You waited a moment after he was done counting the drawers, turning off the computer, and putting the money in the safe that was in the manager’s office before flipping the light switch off. It didn’t really matter, the lights from outside still drenched the place with a golden milky glow. 

You turned back around to face him. “Are you going?”

Steve dug his hand in his pockets, keys jingling. “To the carnival?”

“No,” you said. Your eyes danced around, finding anywhere that wasn’t his. “To the after party. I mean I know it’s your place but I dunno. I guess just wondering if you were still gonna hang out, y’know?” 

He stopped briefly, tilting his head to look at you. He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It depends how late everything else goes.” 

You puffed out cheeks. The conversation felt like steering into fog. “Remember a couple years ago when you spent all your ride tickets on the Zipper because Dustin dared you?” 

He laughed, but his eyes didn’t quite light up. “Don’t remind me. He dared me right after I ate like two corndogs and half of a funnel cake. I threw up all over Lucy Hogan.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame the ride. I think her perfume alone could have helped.” You immediately frowned when he shot you a confused look. 

“What was wrong with her perfume?”

You crossed your arms, scoffing. “Puh-lease. Steve, she smelled like she bathed in Jean Naté. It gave everyone a major headache. Guess you were blinded by the size of her… eyes.” You looked away the moment he quirked an eyebrow. 

“I barely remember anything about her, let alone her perfume.” He twirled his keys on his finger. 

“I remember her very well. She laughed at everything you said even when it wasn’t funny. She kept smacking her bubblegum anytime she talked… the list goes on.” Your lips curled without meaning to. 

Steve grinned. “Hm, are you sure you weren’t the one on the date?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.” You opened the door and stepped outside. 

Steve followed right behind, locking the doors to the store. “Now that you mention it…” He turned to face you, a lazy smile on his face. “She really did have nice…”

“Don’t even, Steve Harrington.”

“...eyes.” He leaned his face towards you, winking, and then having the audacity to blink innocently. 

You swatted at him. “Gross!” You ignored the ball of jealousy fired inside you, wondering if he was playing around or if he actually meant it. Either way, he was trying to get under your skin. Pathetically, you fell for it. He was under your skin. 

He leaned back on the doors, sighing, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes fell into a broody distant glaze, like he was chasing a version of himself he didn’t particularly miss. You bit your lip, leaning against the other door, your shoulder brushing his. 

It felt like a million years ago when you two would stand like this outside the school, passing a cigarette between the two of you, along with a million secrets only you two knew. You hated to admit, you knew nothing about Steve anymore, and you were too scared to let him know you. 

“At least you got a good story out of it.” You looked up. 

His mouth twitched. His voice was quieter as he spoke, “At least you don’t wear perfume that makes people sick.” 

You pulled your eyebrows together, nearly choking on laughter. “What?” 

He didn’t look at you. One of his shoulders shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was a casual comment one made to a friend who really wasn’t a friend, but is, but isn’t, because there’s this weird connection that the two of you can’t shake off. Very casual of him to say, “You know. You always smell nice. Like a breath of fresh air.” 

You blinked. “Uh. Thanks?” 

He nodded. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like you didn’t feel like you were having heart palpitations. 

Then, as if he was continuing this long overarching joke, he said, 

“Besides, you’ve got way better eyes.” 

You thought it was impossible to feel everything you did. Your heart stuttered. Your blood boiled. Then the pit of your stomach burned. Your mouth was dry. What the hell did he even mean by that? You planned on asking, but the moment your mouth opened, he started to walk off. 

“Need a ride?” 

You hesitated, your brain was still hurting. God, why did Robin have to go play tonsil hockey with the record store girl? She knew not to leave you alone with him. 

“I don’t live far, you know that.” 

Steve turned to look at you, his face too collected for the comment he just made not even two minutes ago. He scratched his neck. “It’s dark.” 

Hawkins in the dark was not a good mix. 

But somehow, being in the car alone with Steve Harrington sounded scarier than running into a demogorgon. 

“I’ll be fine,” you said too quickly. 

He could hear your inflection go higher. You were lying but he looked too tired to argue. “Alright, your loss.” 

You didn’t wait, you turned on your heels and began the journey home. You didn’t stop and you sang to yourself as you focused on the stars above you. It only took eight minutes to get to your door and you had jogged the last three. 

As you unlocked the front door, you felt a weird sensation of someone watching you. You knew not to look fully, only peeking over your shoulder, swallowing a lump when you realized it was Steve passing by in his BMW. 

His house was on the other side of town. 

.-.-.-.

The rain drummed against the windows of Eddie, Robin, and Steve’s house. You could see the glimmer of lights from the carnival at the fair field. Everyone was ready to go when the sky cracked open, steady droplets at first and then a raging downpour. 

Everyone watched from the house’s porch. “At least my plants are getting watered.” Eddie sighed, looking at all the different plants taking up most of the space on the porch and garden bed. Ever since he was falsely accused of murder and was proven innocent, Eddie had turned a new leaf, no pun intended. He no longer sold drugs. He never smoked. So, to fight the urges, he spent about a month learning everything he could about plants. 

Every night before bed he plays his guitar to them. He says it helps them grow. 

Robin groaned, walking back inside, you trailing behind, briefly catching a look at Steve as you passed him. She flopped on their sofa dramatically. You joined her and she put her head in your lap. “This blows.” 

You hummed in agreement. Your attention turning to the front door opening, Nancy and Jonathan trailing in. You smiled and waved. All of your eyes brightened when you noticed they were carrying bags, bottles clanking together. It was heaven sent. Maybe none of you could get full off of sugary carnival food. But you all could get drunk. 

That you all did. 

It was sad, really. How you all pretended you weren’t a group of kids stuck in the bodies of young adults who didn’t want to admit they didn’t have anywhere better to be. Someone had lit a couple of candles on the coffee table, and they flickered like they were trying too hard. 

Music played quietly, some half sad mixtape of Robin’s that everyone pretended not to notice was actually full of love songs. 

You sat at the edge of the couch, legs cross, half drunk and pretending to nurse what was left of your cup. You could feel Steve a few feet away. You always could. He was perched in one of the armchairs, forearm draped over the back, shirt sticking a little to his collarbone because of the humidity. His hair was soft now, not the perfect fluff it used to be, and for some reason that made you ache even more. 

He hadn’t said much all night. He never even searched for your face whenever Eddie or Robin said the strange things they always said. It was like you two were cameras to one another, looking at it, silently telling the other what you were thinking, like a language only you two had studied and perfected. But tonight, he just stared off, not even a polite smile if the room shared a laugh. 

You told yourself not to notice. But you did. Every minute. 

Across the room, Nancy and Jonathan were practically melted into each other. Robin sat on the floor, arms crossed against her belly, legs up on the wall. Eddie was reenacting a conversation he had with a customer from Melvald's, the job Joyce Byers had managed to get him. 

And then again, there was Steve. Looking at nothing. The muscles in his jaw worked like he was chewing on some thought he couldn’t swallow. 

It was Eddie who broke the lull. “Wait, Harrington. Isn’t Betty Lynn that girl you brought over a few months ago?” 

Steve broke out of his spell, brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Dude, were you not listening?” Eddie put his on hands hips. 

Steve took another drink, and you noticed how he wouldn’t even look Eddie in the eye. “Sorry, say it again.” 

Eddie gave a glance over, sighing. “Betty Lynn. That girl you brought over that one time… she had that really annoying laugh.” 

Robin snapped her fingers. “Oh! Giggle Lynn! With the terrible perm.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it. You swore he glanced at you before answering. “What about her, Munson?” 

He sighed. “Man, if you had been paying attention you would’ve heard me say she came in two days ago, laughing her ass off, with her new fiancée. What’s worse. He also had this annoying laugh that sounded like a broken sprinkler.” Eddie began to make a sound from the back of his throat, which in fact, sounded like a broken sprinkler. 

Steve laughed, short and dry. “Fiancée? Figures. Guess I’m cursed or something.” 

Robin groaned, and you practically heard the eye roll reverberate off the walls, or maybe it was the thunder. “Not this again.” 

Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s true! Like, every girl I’ve dated ends up finding her forever person right after me. I’m basically the warm-up act.” 

Eddie snorted. “That’s dramatic, man.” 

Steve gestured vaguely toward the couch. “Exhibit A,” he said, glancing at Nancy and Jonathan. 

Nancy lips pursed, and Jonathan was trying not to smile. “Oh, come on, Steve.” 

You felt bad. No one was taking him seriously. You could hear it in his voice once it softened. “I don’t know. I’m just not anyone’s type.” 

You could hear something in you physically snap. You set your drink down and you said it before you could stop yourself. “I really wish you’d stop saying that.” 

The room went still. Even the rain seemed to hold its breath. 

Steve looked up, eyes catching yours across the candlelight. He didn’t say it outloud, but you read it painted on his face. What?

“This whole self-deprecation thing is tiring,” you said, your voice too steady for how fast your heart was going. “It’s not true. You act like no one ever wanted you. Like you’ve never been chosen.” You laughed, a small bitter sound. “But you were.” 

Steve blinked, confused, maybe a little startled. The others looked anywhere but you. 

Steve and you never had talked about three years ago. The one where you finally expressed you had feelings for Steve. He didn’t say that he liked you back or anything like that. He said, “I guess we should go on a date, then?”

It wasn’t spectacular or everything you had dreamed of. He had brought you flowers and had taken you to Enzo’s and even bought you dessert at the end of the night. The conversations were nice. He was nice. Okay, to you, everything was perfect. When he had dropped you off, you did the very adult thing and screamed into your pillow how perfect you thought it was.

Then two days later he said he didn’t see it going any further. 

It took a few weeks and he started going on dates again. 

Eventually you had moved on. Sort of. You suppose you liked to start your morning by brushing your teeth with what ifs. Like what if today is the day he realizes he was wrong. But you still had dignity. You went on dates yourself and you fairly enjoyed them. But none of them were Steve. 

Steve knew you or at least knew you. He still knew that you prefer tea over coffee. You hate the smell of oranges. You hate the color orange, especially that god awful shade of burnt orange. He knew you like reading the ending of a book first just to make sure your heart could handle it. 

He knew all of that. But it didn’t change the fact that, when he looked at you, something in him had already decided it wasn’t going to work. 

And you had accepted it, or at least pretended to. You learned to laugh when the group brought him up. You became fluent in pretending it didn’t sting anymore. 

But sitting there, in his living room, with his self-pitying muffled by the rain, you realized you weren’t as healed as you thought. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinched, and you could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. His mouth opened, then closed. That was so like him. He could face monsters, take punches, run into danger, but he couldn’t face this. Couldn’t face you. 

You stood up because if you stayed any longer, you might actually cry. “Anyway. Sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the fun.” You picked up your drink, finishing it. You wiped your mouth, grumbling. “Need some air.” 

You walked to the porch, scowling at a mosquito who had found refuge under the cover. The backyard was a swamp, murky and muddy, much like the inside of your chest felt. The door behind you clicked shut and you leaned against the wooden railing. The paint was chipped and the sturdiness looked questionable. 

The rain had settled by now and it was like a quiet curtain over the night. 

Maybe everyone will be too drunk to remember what you had said. 

You didn’t hear the door open again, but you felt him before you saw him. Steve stepped up beside you, close enough that the wood beneath you shifted slightly. 

You didn’t turn. “You don’t have to–” 

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I wanted to.” 

You stared at the rain. “I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t fair.” 

He didn’t respond. 

The porch light buzzed softly. Water ran off the roof in uneven trails.You felt his gaze before you met it. 

“I just…” you sighed, the words scraping their way out. “It’s stupid, okay? But I got upset because I know I don’t count.” 

That made him look at you. Sharp, then soft. “What?” 

You offered a small, tired smile. “I mean, I know it didn’t matter. That I liked you. You didn’t like me back. Not like that.” You let out a slow breath. “It’s fine. I just never got any closure.” 

The quiet that followed was heavy enough to lean on. 

You turned toward him, forcing your shoulders back, holding out your hand like a peace offering. “I really don’t want this to be weird anymore. Let’s just be friends. For real this time.” 

He stared at your hand, then at you, eyes flicking over your face. “Is that really what you want?” he asked, voice barely above the rain. 

And even though your stomach twisted, even though every part of you wanted to take it back, you smiled anyway. “Yeah,” you liked softly. “Of course.” 

You kept your hand out, steady. Because if he didn’t take it now, he probably never would. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat when his warm fingers wrapped around you. The handshake wasn’t firm, it was gentle, like he only wanted to hold it. Not because of an agreement to be only friends. But maybe something more tender. He slipped it back in his pocket and he turned, forearms holding him up against the railing. You didn’t say another word.

.-.-.-.

“I’m telling you, babe. Not a single night.” Robin loudly whispered in the middle of the record store. 

“Okay? I’m missing the part where this concerns me?” You flipped through the cassettes of potential songs, taking one out to show Robin. 

She nodded and took it, putting it in a bin. “Because, whatever you said to him a few weeks ago really put him in some sort of existential crisis. He cares what you think about him.” 

You puffed out your cheeks, rolling your eyes. “We’re just friends, Rob. And since when have you ever been interested in our relationship?” 

Robin and you had spontaneously decided to make the day to go shopping. It was a rare chance to see one another. Both of you went to Hawkins Community college, with classes on top of your jobs you never had one-on-one time. 

You admired Robin. Ever since she graduated high-school and entered college life she didn’t give a shit about what people thought of her. Or who she was kissing. 

“Heard from Vickie lately?” You tried to change the subject. Your eyes glanced over at the record store girl, Vanessa, who Robin has apparently been seeing, according to Steve. Though, you haven’t seen either one of them make secret glances at one another. Weird. So, you decided to bring up Vickie, Robin’s first… everything. 

Robin didn’t budge. “Oh no. You’re not changing the subject. Two or three days without a date? Fine. A little weird for him, but fine. Two weeks? Concerning. A whole month and Steve Harrington hasn’t gone on a single date? That’s suspicious. And I’m telling you, it’s because of you.”

You groaned, facing away from Robin, pretending to be interested in the country vinyls. The cellophane crinkling under your fingers as you flipped through. 

Robin was relentless and stubborn, quickly skipping to the other side of the aisle, facing you. “Can you at least admit it’s weird.” 

Your head still ducked, you looked at her through your lashes, rolling your eyes. A heavy sigh slipped through your nose. “He’s not a dating addict.” 

“Bullshit and you know it. He’s perpetually petrified of dying alone.” Robin raked her fingers through her hair, putting them up like a statement. 

You snorted. You loved her, even if talking about Steve made you want to walk straight into traffic.

The two of you eventually drifted out of the shop, and it struck you again how Robin hadn’t acknowledged Vanessa once. Not even a glance. Interesting. 

“Please come over tonight,” Robin begged, looping her arm through yours. “The two dingbats want to scream at the TV for two hours. I can’t do that alone. I do not understand the male species’ obsession with football.”

“I like football,” you mumbled. 

Robin smiled big. “Great! So you’ll come?” 

“Never said that.” 

She gave you a knowing look. “Come on. It’ll be fun. You haven’t been over since the fourth.” 

You swallowed.

There were plenty of reasons you hadn’t been back. You were the one who asked for things not to be weird, and yet you were the one making it weird by avoiding him.

But the truth Robin didn’t know was that it still hurt. It always hurt.

You hated replaying the conversation from earlier. Has he really stopped going on dates? Was it really because of you? 

You pursed your lips, chewing on the different scenarios of you showing up tonight. Finally, you shook your head. “Sorry, Rob, I gotta lot of schoolwork to do tonight.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was definitely a stretched truth. 

Robin frowned. Luckily she took the bait and changed the subject, telling you last week she made the embarrassing mistake of calling Vickie to tell her she misses her. Now, they have a date next weekend. No wonder she didn’t pay attention to the record store girl. 

A few days later you found yourself at Family Video, deciding it was time to face your fears head on. Exposure therapy. You said you didn’t want things to be weird anymore and you were making it weird by not being around. After you got out of class, you drove straight to the store, walking in like you haven’t been purposely holding a 50-inch pole between you and Steve Harrington. 

As soon as the bell rang, you grimaced at the sight of Keith behind the counter, smirking at you. You swore Robin said she’d be working today. 

“Let me know if I can help you find anything,” Keith said. Poor thing, he wasn’t repulsive or anything, but the dude could not flirt to save his life. His face looked permanently stuck smelling something sour. Steve would always mess around with you, telling you that Keith asked about you, asking advice on how to score a date. 

“Thanks,” you replied politely, going over to a random section. You tried to make Keith believe you weren’t here for anyone in particular. Maybe you were also trying to convince yourself that you weren’t secretly peering over each shelf of tapes, wondering where Steve was. 

“That’s a good one,” a voice said behind you. 

You jumped, turning around, your back hitting the shelf. You were caged in by none other, Tommy H. His lip was curved into a smug smile, looking you up and down. You had heard a rumor he had dropped out of college, broke up with Carol, and moved back to Hawkins. 

He reached forward, hand brushing your shoulder, never taking his eyes off yours. He grabbed something off the shelf, chuckling to himself, giving you another glance over before turning his attention to the tape in his hand. It was Top Gun.

”Of course you’re a Tom Cruise fan.” Tommy commented, flashing you a toothy grin. 

You furrowed your brows, then realizing the tape must be the one you were pretending to be interested in. 

“Oh, uh, he’s okay.” You looked over at the counter, cursing Keith for his oblivious nature as he devoured a bag of cheese puffs, blankly staring into the abyss. 

Tommy shifted, tilting his head a little. “Didn’t know you were still around.” 

“Yep.” You popped. 

You saw a flash of green out of the corner of your eye. It was coming from the back area. All you had to catch sight of was the mop of brown hair to know who it was. You had to prove to him you were over him, that you weren’t lying that you wanted to only be friends. You had to prove to yourself. 

A ridiculous giggle escaped your mouth, wrapping a finger around a strand of hair. “Though, he’s not really my type.” Your eyes flickered over to Steve, who immediately stopped in his tracks, watching the scene across the store. 

Tommy laughed, curious and taking the bait like a fish. “What is your type?” 

Your heart, traitor that it was, offered up the image of a brown-eyed boy.

You erased it immediately. Stepping closer, you slowly took the tape out of Tommy’s hand, looking at him intently. You felt absolutely nothing for this boy, and no matter how much he was a douche in high school, he didn’t necessarily deserve the facade because you were too afraid to admit that you were a liar. With one last sweet smile, “See you around, Hagan.” 

You pivoted, face falling when Steve was no longer visible. Right. He probably didn’t even care. 

You went up to the counter and you felt the irritation bubble inside you. Keith attempted to chat you up one more time but you ignored him. Robin was incredibly wrong about Steve’s lack of dates. It had nothing to do with you, not in the way she probably was thinking. His ego was bruised, that was all.

Everything else was just wishful thinking dressed as hope.

You stormed out of Family Video, angry, feeling stupid. You hugged yourself as you made the walk home, coming to the conclusion that you were done being pathetic. Done with brushing your teeth with what-ifs every morning. 

Every day you fed this fantasy. 

All it did was rot. 

Steve Harrington was and is only a friend. And you needed to finally let that be true. 

.-.-.-.

Parties always had a smell before they had a sound. Before the music got loud or somebody shouted over someone else. There was always that first, quiet smell that rose from the carpet and the walls and the warm bodies drifting through the space. 

Tonight, it smelled like cheap beer in aluminum cans that had been sweating for an hour, like cherry body spray from the drugstore someone had spritzed too many times in the bathroom, like fabric softener clinging to denim jackets still damp from the cold outside. There was the faint sweetness of a candle burning on the counter, vanilla… maybe, melting unevenly in a jar that had a peeling price sticker from the local pharmacy. And underneath it all, the old carpet smell every college apartment had, like dust trapped under layers of spilled soda and history. 

You breathed it in slowly, letting it push into your chest, letting it fill the spaces you told yourself had healed by now. 

It had been months since you and Steve had that strange, soft, painful conversation on his porch. Months of letting things settle. Months of teaching yourself you were fine. And you were. Mostly.

Across the room, Robin was tucked into Vickie’s side, her fingers tangled in Vickie’s sweater sleeve while they swayed gently to whatever mixtape someone had shoved in the stereo. Eddie was crouched beside the coffee table arguing with Nancy, who sat on the arm of Jonathan’s chair head resting on his shoulder. 

It all felt warm, slow, and simple. 

Then there was Steve. He stood behind Eddie, a red plastic cup in hand, smiling at something Jonthan had said. His head tilted back just enough for his hair to fall slightly away from his forehead. He’d grown it out again, that soft, messy length that curled around his ears and made him look younger and older at the same time. 

He was dating again. Laughing again. Not weird anymore. Things were back to that unapologetic normal. You were happy for him. You really were and you told yourself that a lot. 

You looked at the door, sighing, waiting for the guy you’ve been seeing to walk in. Caleb was sweet. He was the kind of guy who always called when he said he would, who opened doors, who remembered things about you but never quite the right way. You didn’t mind because he was steady, warm, and safe. You were learning to like safe. 

You looked back at your friends. Steve was staring right at you. 

He wasn’t smiling, not at first. His eyes flicked to the jacket around you which belonged to Caleb, then back up to your face. Something moved across his expression, quick, subtle, almost swallowed, before he forced a small smile. 

You smiled back politely, the one you had practiced when it came to Steve Harrington. 

You walked toward the counter to find something to drink, weaving through clusters of people in denim jackets and scrunchies and flannel shirts tied around their waists. The stereo played something soft and echoing The Cure. The lights were dim except for a lamp someone had draped a scarf over, turning everything a warm, sleepy orange. 

As you reached for a cup, you felt a warm arm brush yours, slow, almost gentle. You hated that you recognized the cedar and lemon immediately. Steve. He must’ve moved away from your friends without you noticing. 

“Hey,” he said. It was a tone like he’d been saving it from you. He had a gentle smile on his face. 

“Hey!” You answered, enthusiastically. You greeted him in a side hug, but he took the opportunity to envelope you, pressing you into him. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. 

This was normal. Totally friendly. 

The hug was only ten seconds, not that you had counted because you were the one who broke away first. Steve’s hand lingered on your forearm. His eyes still settled on you with an expression you had no idea how to decipher. He cleared his throat, motioning towards the beverages on the table, making you a cup. You smiled; he remembered exactly what you liked. He handed you the cup and you ignored how your fingers brushed against one another. Before, you’d be soaking all these touches in looks, spiraling trying to figure out what it all meant, but tonight your eyes left his and looked at the door, brows furrowed, glancing at your watch. 

“You waiting on someone?” he asked, like he didn’t already know. His eyes flickered back to the jacket you were wearing. 

You nodded, smiling. “Caleb’s on his way.” 

Steve’s jaw tightened, barely. A small twitch, like he was biting back whatever thought wanted to slip out. “Right,” he said with a nod. “Cool.” 

You nudged him playfully. “Be nice, Steve. I know you’re still mad his school beat Hawkins High in basketball our senior year.” 

He frowned, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, that’s why.” 

You ignored him, looking at the door again, disappointed that it wasn’t Caleb. You were distracted enough that you barely noticed Steve had shifted closer. It wasn’t close enough for anyone to call it anything, not enough for you to step back, just enough for his sleeve to brush yours again when someone squeezed past behind you. It felt like an accident. It also didn’t. 

Across the room, Robin watched the interaction over Vickie’s shoulder, brows raised. Eddie glanced over, then away, then back again, like he couldn’t decide whether he was witnessing something or imagining it. 

Nancy looked from you to Steve and then leaned toward Jonathan to whisper something that made him smirk softly. 

You had no idea why everyone was acting weird. 

You didn’t have time to wonder because finally, Caleb was there. He arrived the way he always did, loud in presence even before he said a word, his hands warm and familiar as they slid around your waist from behind and spun you in one smooth motion that pulled a surprised laugh right out of your throat. You hadn’t even seen him walk in, hadn’t heard the door open over the music, but suddenly you were turned, lifted an inch off the carpet, pressed against his chest that smelled faintly of cold air. 

“There she is,” Caleb said, grinning down at you like you were the only person in the room, like he hadn’t been late, like he expected your smile to be waiting for him exactly where he left it. 

You giggled because it was easier than questioning why the laughter didn’t rise all the way to your eyes. 

When he set you down, you caught Steve’s expression, sharp and unreadable, his shoulders straightening a fraction as if preparing for impact. But Caleb didn’t notice. Caleb moved toward him with a friendly confidence you’d always admired in theory more than practice, sticking his hand out with a grin that never slipped. 

“Harrington.” 

Steve took the offered hand, but not easily. His fingers wrapped around Caleb slowly, like he had to talk himself into doing it, his smile thin and tight around the edges, polite in the exact way people were polite when they had absolutely no intention of liking someone. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Good to meet you.” 

Caleb scoffed. “We’ve met before.” 

The handshake lingered on beat too long, with Caleb gripping with a solid, competitive squeeze. Steve returning it was a colder, firmer pressure that made something electric crackle in the small space between them. The kind of handshake men used when they were pretending a conversation wasn’t happening between their eyes. 

You didn’t catch any of that… not on purpose, anyway. 

You were busy smoothing Caleb’s jacket sleeve where it had bunched on your arm, offering Steve a grateful little smile that you meant to feel simple. 

It didn’t land that way. Not with the way Steve nodded once, quick and almost startled, like he’d forgotten how to arrange his face around you. 

Steve took away his hand, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze boring into Caleb’s. “Sorry, you’re right. It’s hard to keep up with all the guys she hangs out with.” 

You shot Steve a dirty look. 

Caleb smiled, licking his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes at Steve. Then he reached out, plucked the drink from your hand, and said, “Thanks for grabbing me a drink, babe. She’s really great isn’t she?” 

Your smile faltered, just a flicker, a tiny stutter at the corner of your mouth. You hadn’t gotten the drink for him. And he hadn’t looked at your face long enough to notice that you almost told him so. You leaned into him instead, because that was what made sense. That was the role you’d taught yourself to play. Someone who liked warmth and grateful someone chose you. 

“Yeah,” Steve replied, expression blank. 

“I just feel so lucky to have her, always so sweet and gosh…” Caleb looked down at you, like he was in disbelief. 

“Her eyes.””She’s so hot.” Steve and Caleb said at the same time. You smiled awkwardly at Caleb, not necessarily taking his comment to heart. However, you wondered what Steve meant. If he was bringing up the inside joke from months ago. Yet, his tone was soft and you were certain that Caleb hadn’t even heard him. But you did, like it was on purpose, a secret you were only supposed to know. 

By the time you turned back toward Steve, he was already gone. 

His red cup had been abandoned on the counter, a ring of condensation marking where it used to be, and he was halfway across the room by then, shoulders stiff as he slipped back into your group of friends with a practiced ease that didn’t match the tension you swore hadn’t been there a minute ago. 

Caleb’s arm looped around your waist again, pulling you against his side like he’d been waiting to claim the space you’d left open. 

“So, hey,” he said casually. “How was your day? You said you had that quiz. Did it go okay? Do you want a drink?” 

You nodded, watching him make you a drink. The mixture made you gag, but you still gave Caleb a warm friendly… no endearing smile. 

Later in the night, you ended up on the sagging couch with Caleb beside you, his arm stretched comfortably behind your shoulders. He was in the middle of telling some story to two guys from the Hawkins Community college basketball team. You tried your best to stay engaged, nodding and smiling at the right moments. 

His voice blended into the hum of the apartment. The clink of beer cans hitting the coffee table, something laughing too loudly near the kitchen, the stereo switching sides with a soft mechanical click. 

You leaned slightly into Caleb, letting yourself feel steady and normal and content. At least until something tugged your attention away. 

Across the room, near the hallway where the bathroom door kept sticking, you saw a girl you recognized from your lit class, Georgia, standing with Steve. Her blonde hair was pulled into a big scrunchie, bangs perfectly curled, red Solo cup in hand. She was pretty in that soft, bright way that felt effortlessly cool. 

Steve said something to her that you couldn’t hear, his smile small but hopeful. 

Georgia laughed, not unkindly, but she shook her head, touching his arm briefly before stepping away to rejoin her friends. 

Steve let out a breath, almost invisible unless you were looking right at him, like you were. He leaned back against the wall, shoulders slumping slightly, taking a long drink from whatever was in his cup. And then, like a magnet snapping into place, his eyes lifted, straight to you. 

His expression softened, then tightened, then softened again, like he was caught between three emotions and none of them knew who got to be in charge. Then he looked at Caleb beside you. 

And whatever light had been in his eyes flickered out. 

Before you could think, before you could name whatever feeling bloomed in your chest, Steve pushed off the wall and walked straight out the front door, cup still in hand. 

You blinked. Caleb didn’t notice how stiff you had gotten. He was still laughing at his own story. 

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, a soft brush of your lips against warm skin. “Hey,I’m gonna grab a drink,” you said. 

“Cool,” he replied without looking up. “Get me one too?” 

Something in your chest pinched. You swallowed it down and nodded. 

The kitchen was warmer, almost cramped with people hovering around the counter. You grabbed two plastic cups, filled them half-heartedly from a can someone left behind, and that’s when you heard Georgia’s voice float across the noise. 

“The Family Video guy was trying to flirt with me,” she said, amused, like she was replaying a funny commercial. 

A couple girls giggled. Someone added, “This girl on the swim team said he was super popular in school, but sort of turned into a dud. His dad is super rich but he chooses to work a dead end job the rest of his life.” 

You froze for a moment. You didn’t love hearing Steve talked about like that. 

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped closer, inserting yourself into the little circle of girls. “You’d be surprised,” you said, voice calm but steady. 

Georgia blinked, then recognition lit her face. “Hey, you’re in my lit class, right?” 

You nodded. 

She gave you a glance over, tilting her head. “You know Sam?” 

“Actually, his name is Steve,” you corrected. 

Georgia didn’t look impressed, nor like she cared.

You clicked your tongue. “We’re friends,” you said simply. The word felt heavy. It always did. “He’s… honestly one of the kindest people I know. He’s thoughtful and supportive. He’s loyal and overall a good guy. Better than people give him credit for.” 

Georgia was listening harder now. 

You took a deep breath, smiling despite yourself. Warmth spreads across your cheeks. “Anyone would be lucky to go out with him,” you finished softly. “You should give him a chance.” You meant it. All of it. 

Something brightened in her expression, the kind of smile girls get when a possibility becomes real. “Yeah,” she said. “Okay. Maybe I will.” 

The words sat in your stomach like a stone. It was something tight and strange and impossible to name. 

When the night thinned out and people started leaving in clusters, Caleb walked you toward the door, hand lightly on your back. 

You stepped outside into the cool night air, freezing mid-step. 

Steve was in a lawn chair on the small patch of grass outside the apartment building, a red cup dangling loosely from his fingers. In the chair beside him, Georgia. They were laughing, her hand rested on his, and he was smiling at her. It was soft and almost shy. 

The tightness in your chest returned, sharp and almost metallic. Steve glanced up at the exact moment you noticed him. He looked at you in a way that he needed to check something in your expression before he did anything. 

Your heart didn’t jump, not exactly, but it shifted like a slow warm roll in your chest. You didn’t… couldn’t let yourself understand it. 

Instead, you turned to Caleb, pulled him down by the collar of his jacket, and kissed him. 

His lips pressed back against yours, warm, sweet, and simple. 

When you pulled away, the lawn chairs were empty. You turned your head just in time to see Steve leading Georgia back toward the apartment door, his hand steady on the small of her back. 

He didn’t look back. Right. Of course he didn’t. You inhaled slowly, steadying your heartbeat. 

Because Steve was and would only ever be your friend. 

.-.-.-.

You could smell the mixture of Eddie’s incense, Robin’s cheap citrus cleaning spray, and the faint buttery scent of microwave popcorn permanently baked into the couch cushions. You stood on the front porch wrapped in Caleb’s jacket, even though the night wasn’t particularly cold, more cool than anything, the kind of temperature that brushed across your skin like a question rather than a warning. 

Caleb stood beside you with his shoulders hunched and his breath coming out in those slow, irritated exhales he thought you didn’t notice. There was an edge to him tonight, something simmering and unsettled, a stiffness in the way he shifted his weight and kept glancing at the door as if he was already imagining the quickest way back to his car. 

“I just don’t get why we’re here again,” he muttered, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “I don’t have anything in common with your friends.” 

You blinked at him, trying to find the thread of patience you swore you still had. “You and Steve both like basketball,” you offered, gentle, hoping it would smooth the moment over.

He scoffed, sharp and irritated. “There it is.” 

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused. 

“Steve,” he snapped, mimicking the name with an exaggerated eye roll, stretching it out like a word he hated the taste of. “Steve, Steve, Steve. You always find a way to bring him up.”

The accusation hit hard, harder than you wanted it to. You inhaled slowly, the cool air threading through your ribs, and tried to steady yourself before answering. “There’s no need to be jealous,” you said quietly, your voice softening even as your throat tightened. “We’re just friends. We hardly hang out alone. I’ve told you that.” 

“Yeah,” he said with a sarcastic laugh. “Right. Except somehow, even in a group, you two always manage to find each other. Every damn time.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words tangled before they reached your tongue. 

“And inside jokes?” he pressed, stepping closer as if proximity made his points stronger. “The looks? Does he always have to stare at you like that? Because I’m not imagining it.” 

Your breath stuttered. You didn’t know what to say because you hadn’t… thought about it like that.

“He has his own chick,” Caleb added sharply, his voice rising with a bitter finality.

You stiffened, the mention of Steve’s new almost girlfriend twisting something inside you in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge. “She has a name, Caleb.” you said, your tone dropping into something colder. “It’s Georgia, and he knows he has her.” 

“Do you?” Caleb asked, and the quietness of his voice made it hurt worse than if he’d shouted.

Something in you snapped. It was small, delicate, but unmistakably final. “If you’re that jealous,” you said, your voice lowering into something steady and tired, “then go home.” 

Caleb’s head jerked back slightly, eyes widening as if he’d never considered you capable of choosing anyone’s peace but his. “You serious?” he asked, half disbelieving, half daring you to say it again. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, and the word felt like a stone hitting water, sinking deep. “Go home. And don’t bother calling me.” 

His jaw clenched before he reached for his jacket, ripping it off your shoulders in one rough, graceless motion. The loss of warmth felt immediate and startling, like a door slamming shut in the middle of winter.

“Fine.” he bit out, voice shaking not with sadness but with something pettier and uglier. “You’ll be real happy, then, now that you can go fuck Steve without feeling guilty.” 

The words hit like a slap, sharp, humiliating, undeserved, and for a moment you just stared at him, stunned by how quickly affection had turned into something weaponized.Your mouth opened, then closed, because there was nothing left to say to a person who was willing to break you open like that. 

The porch light flickered above the two of you, buzzing against the quiet. Caleb didn’t wait for your response. He just turned and walked down the steps, disappearing into the night with an anger that already felt too heavy to follow. 

You stood there, cold now despite the mild air, your arms wrapping around yourself instinctively as if you could hold the pieces of the moment together before they drifted too far apart. The house behind you hummed with the soft sound of music and laughter, unaware that something in you had just dissolved and reshaped itself in one painful breath. 

You walked inside. 

The living room was warm. 

The TV murmured in the corner, some grainy late-night sitcom rerun flickering across the screen, its laugh track spilling into the room in waves that didn’t quite match the rhythm of the people inside it. Eddie was draped over the armchair like someone had tossed him there and he’d decided to stay, one foot dangling off the side, his rings glinting as he gestured at Jonathan and Nancy, who had a deck of cards between them. 

Robin sat cross-legged on the floor with her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth while she sorted through a lopsided stack of mixtapes, tapping the plastic cases against her knee as she hummed to herself. Vickie was next to her, listening to Eddie, fascinated. 

And on the couch there was Steve with his arm tucked around Georgia’s shoulders. Steve looking soft and polite and impossibly composed while she fit neatly into his side like she’d always belonged there. 

Her curls were perfect, glossy in the lamplight. Her smile was gentle and unforced. 

Everyone looked up the instant you walked in, the door closing behind you with a dull thud that seemed to shift the air a little. 

Eddie reached you first, or maybe you drifted toward him without thinking. His arm looped loosely over your shoulders. “Hey! Where’s lover boy?” he asked, too loudly, too cheerfully, like nothing in the world was ever complicated for him. 

You slipped out from under his arm with a small motion, retreating straight for the kitchen. The refrigerator light spilled over you when you opened it, cool and bright and almost jarring in contrast to the honey colored living room. You grabbed the first beer you saw. 

“He’s gone,” you managed, the words barely more than a breath as you pried off the cap. “We broke up.” 

The silence after that wasn’t loud, but it was noticeable. There were small exchanges of glances, a shift in posture here and there, the subtle ripple of people trying not to react too strongly. 

But Steve… Steve reacted. Your eyes lifted almost involuntarily, like he’d called your anime without speakingm and when you met his gaze across the room, you saw it. The look he didn’t have time to hide. 

Relief. 

Sharp and bright and startling in its honesty, blooming across his expression before he forced it away, tucking it into something more neutral, something that pretended it wasn’t there at all. 

You felt something in your chest pull painfully tight, like a knot cinched all at once. You hated that it hurt. You hated that you cared. You hated him for looking relieved. You hated yourself more for noticing. 

Georgia, sweet as ever, offered a sympathetic little tilt of her head. “Breakups are the worst,” she said, giving Steve’s leg a gentle pat without seeming to notice how stiff he went beneath her touch. “But you’re strong. You’ll get through it.” 

You gave her a polite, impossible smile that tasted like ash. 

Suddenly, you wished the beet you held burned going down instead of sliding so easily across your tongue. 

The hours moved in that slow, drifting way they always did in the house, people swapping seats, leaning against different walls, picking up new conversations, letting old ones fade into the background. 

You stayed away from the couch. Far enough to convince yourself you were making a reasonable choice, close enough that you could still hear Steve laugh when Eddie said something stupid. You sat on the floor near the coffee table, your knees tucked up, fingers picking idly at the label on your half-finished beer.

At one point Georgia leaned up toward Steve, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw as she whispered something in his ear. Her hand slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt with a familiarity you hadn’t realized she’d earned. He smiled in response—a small, polite curve of his mouth that didn’t reach his eyes, nothing like the smile he used to give you when you said something ridiculous on purpose just to see if you could draw it out of him.

That was when you felt his eyes. He looked down. Fast. Like the movement betrayed him, like he meant not to do it but his body wanted something his mind refused to say. 

You dropped your gaze immediately, pretending the bowl of popcorn beside you was fascinating, pretending you didn’t feel your heart beating higher in your throat.

Eddie nudged you lightly with his foot, the movement gentle enough that you almost didn’t feel it. You looked up at him. He tilted his head.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low and surprisingly soft.

“Fine.” The word slipped out too quickly. You weren’t even convinced you’d meant it.

A little while later, when you stood to take your empty bottle to the kitchen, Steve moved at the exact same moment you did, rising from the couch as if propelled by something he hadn’t planned. Your shoulders brushed. It was warm, familiar, a spark of something that pulsed through you so quickly you forgot how to breathe for half a second.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, the word brushing the back of your neck like a hand.

“’S fine,” you said, though it didn’t feel fine at all.

Georgia watched the moment unfold, her head tilting slightly, her eyes narrowing not with malice but with a careful curiosity, like she’d just noticed something she didn’t quite understand.

You didn’t let yourself think about it. You couldn’t. Not when Steve had someone else. Not when you were supposed to be moving forward, not backward. Not when the night felt thick with old feelings you had no business still carrying. So you breathed slowly, and steadied yourself. You pretended none of the touches had landed, none of the glances mattered, none of the tension belonged to you. 

But it sat under your skin anyway. It was warm, aching, unspoken. It was the kind of feeling that never fully left, only quieted until someone breathed life back into it again.

When Steve returned to her, Georgia had practically draped herself over Steve. The more you watched them interact, the more you saw how awkward they were. Like two puzzle pieces from different boxes trying to force themselves together. 

Georgia twirled a curl around her finger. “So, Stevie,” she said it in this syrupy way, like she expected him to blush or light up. “Tell everyone about that time you broke your nose skateboarding.” 

He blinked, along with everyone else, confused. Slowly, “Uh… that wasn’t me.” 

Georgia laughed way too loudly. “Oh! I thought that was you.” 

“Nope.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Never had a skateboard.”

“Oh. Huh.” She sipped her drink, unfazed. “Okay then… tell them about your dog growing up.”

Steve looked confused again. “Georgia, I… I didn’t have a dog.”

“Yes you did,” she said, nudging him. “You told me that.”

“I definitely didn’t.”

You bit your lip, pretending to examine a mixtape cover. Eddie’s eyes widened in amusement at the exchange. Robin made a quiet oh boy sound under her breath.

Georgia tried again. “Okay, but you grew up in Indianapolis, right?”

“Hawkins,” Steve corrected gently. “Born here. Lived here.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Well, you look like an Indianapolis guy.”

“What does that even mean?” Steve asked, baffled.

“No idea,” she giggled.

The room fell into that strange, polite silence that comes when two people absolutely do not understand each other but are trying to pretend they do. You kept your gaze down, but you felt it again, Steve’s glance flicking toward you, like he needed someone else in the room to confirm this was actually happening. You didn’t look up.

Georgia picked up Steve’s hand while she told a story about her math class. The entire time, Steve say still as a statue, nodding politely, eyebrows knitting closer and closer like he was bracing for impact. 

“... and then I told him, ‘Professor Jones, this is just you being lazy,” Georgia finished proudly. 

“That’s…cool,” Steve said. 

Nancy’s brow arched, like she had just witnessed something painful, she looked over at you, mouthing wow. Eddie, Jonathan, and Robin buried their snickers into their sleeves. Vickie hid nudged Robin, but couldn’t fight the smile either. 

Georgia didn’t notice any of it. She leaned her head on Steve’s shoulder. ‘It’s getting late. I should probably get going.” 

“Yeah,” Steve said instantly, like he’d been waiting for the cue. “I can drive you.” He stood up almost too fast. 

Georgia beamed, completely missing the lack of enthusiasm. “Always a gentleman,” she teased, tapping his arm. She then looked at you. “You really were right about that.” 

You felt your throat go tight, like swallowing a stone. Steve snapped his attention to you, brows threaded together. 

You turned your head toward the window, pretending the streetlight outside was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Be right back,” he told the group, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. Georgia slipped her hand into his. 

“Like you ever do, Stevie.” She winked. 

Steve glanced once more in your direction, quick and unguarded, before he followed her out the door. 

After Steve and Georgia stepped out into the night, her laughter floating behind them like something weightless and unbothered, you stayed in the living room, letting the soft hum of the lamps and the crackling of Eddie’s incense fill the silence they left behind.

The others drifted into their own pockets of comfort. Nancy curled up at the end of the couch with one of Robin’s magazines. Eddie attempted to fix the bent leg of the coffee table for the sixth time that month. Vickie tugged Robin toward the kitchen, wanting another drink, their fingers laced together in a way that looked steady, practiced, like their hands had spent years learning the exact shape of each other.

You watched the two of them move around the kitchen like a quiet choreography, Robin opening a cabinet before Vickie even asked for anything, Vickie leaning into Robin’s shoulder like she belonged there, like she always had. It made your chest throb with something soft and fragile.

A few minutes later, Robin returned alone, passing you a water glass she must’ve grabbed out of habit. She nudged you with her elbow before sinking onto the couch beside you, letting out a groan that said love is exhausting but deeply worth it.

You smiled, eyes following Vickie as she bent to grab something from the bottom shelf of the fridge. “I’m glad you reached back out to her,” you murmured. “You two just… fit. Like if you tried dating anyone else, the world would tilt.”

Robin snorted. “Well, yeah. I mean… it wasn’t like some big epiphany or anything. Just that the idea of spending time with anyone else felt stupid. Like a waste. Like trying on shoes that aren’t your size.”

You laughed softly, swirling the water in your glass. “Did you realize when you were with the record store girl?”

Robin blinked at you. “The who?”

You blinked right back. “Vanessa? The girl who works at the record store.”

Robin’s face scrunched. “I never went out with her.”

Your mouth parted, confusion washing over you. “But… I thought… Steve said—”

“Nope,” Robin said, popping the ‘p’ as she stretched her legs across the coffee table. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s hot. Did you see her biceps? But not really my type. Eddie thinks she’s his soulmate or whatever. And tongue rings aren’t my thing anyway.”

A slow wave of disorientation rolled through you, like someone had shifted the world a few inches to the left without warning. Your pulse stumbled.

“Wait,” you said softly, brow knitting. “Then why did you leave Steve to close by himself that one night? A few months ago.”

Robin tilted her head back, thinking. “What? Ohhhh. That night.” She snapped her fingers. “He told me to go home. Said he could lock up alone. I tried telling him that you always come hang out with me when I close and he just, he did that weird thing where he gets very serious for no reason and goes ‘yeah, I know.’ So I left.”

Your heartbeat slipped somewhere strange.

“But he–” you began, the thought splintering before you could shape it.

A sharp crack of thunder rolled across Hawkins, the kind that rattled the windows and vibrated in your ribs. And right on its heels, the front door opened with a rush of cold air and wet pavement smell.

Steve stepped inside, shaking rain from his hair, shoulders damp, jacket clinging to him in dark patches. He kicked off his shoes with barely a glance toward the room.

Eddie noticed immediately, grinning like a troublemaker. “Back early, lover boy.”

Steve shot him a look. It was flat, unimpressed, exhausted in a way that made something tug low in your stomach. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Saw no point in staying longer.”

Nancy glanced up from her magazine. “Well, it’s pouring out there.”

Steve shrugged once, quick and tired. “No. I mean, it didn’t feel appropriate to stay since I broke things off with her.”

Everything in the room went still.

The only sound was rain striking the windows like someone flicking handfuls of pebbles.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Dude. What happened?”

Steve didn’t answer immediately. Because he was already looking at you. 

Not a glance.Not a flicker.

But something direct and sharp and searching, like you were the only thing in the room he needed to check on before he could breathe again. The stare lasted only a second, but the weight of it dragged through your chest like a hand bracing against your heart.

You felt the others noticing too. The air shifted. Something almost audible. Then Steve blinked, once, like shutting a door. 

“Nothing,” he said, voice soft, tired in a way that sounded older than him. “I’m going to bed.”

And he disappeared down the hallway without waiting for anyone’s response. 

Nancy and Jonathan left first, slipping out into the rain with quiet goodbyes and tired smiles. The house seemed to exhale after the door shut behind them, growing softer around the edges. A little emptier. A little quieter.

Vickie eventually tugged Robin toward the hallway, fingers intertwined, whispering something that made Robin groan and bury her face in Vickie’s shoulder before following her to bed. Their door clicked closed with the faintest little laugh behind it.

And then it was just you and Eddie.Two night owls, slumped on the sofa, wrapped in the dull glow of a late-night horror movie that was so badly edited you weren’t sure half the scenes were supposed to be scary.

But despite the gore, despite Eddie’s commentary, despite the lull it all should’ve lulled you into, you kept glancing down the hall. Toward the thin slice of warm light spilling out from Steve’s cracked door. That steady, unmoving line of gold.

Eddie noticed on your fourth glance.

He paused the movie right as a zombie’s arm fell off, and the sudden silence snapped your attention back like someone had tugged a string attached to your ribcage.

You blinked at him. He blinked back.

And your face crumpled, not dramatically, but in that soft, helpless way where your mouth trembles before your eyes can catch up. The kind of break that feels like a sigh finally giving up its own weight. “I don’t know why I can’t let him go,” you whispered, the confession escaping before you could chase it down.

Eddie’s expression melted. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, giving you that lopsided, too-honest smile he saves for people he actually cares about. “Sweetheart,” he said gently, “you know why.”

A laugh slipped out of you. “It’s pathetic.”

“Yeah. It is.” Eddie snorted. “But so is he. He’s probably lying in his bed right now cursing himself because all he wants to do is talk to you.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You hated the way hope still fit too comfortably inside your chest.

“You really think so…?” you whispered, voice small. You thought of all the times Robin insisted Steve cared, insisted he thought about you more than he should. But every time, there’d been something, a date, a girl laughing with him, something that proved Robin wrong.

Something that reminded you what he really wanted. And it had never been you.

Eddie lifted his brows, shrugging with exaggerated wisdom, then yawned so dramatically you almost rolled your eyes. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, stretching his arms over his head, “I think I had one too many beers to drive you home. Can’t break parole.”

You didn’t say it out loud, that he’d only had one beer, and he’d been off parole since February, because he winked at you, ruffled your hair like an annoying big brother, and wandered toward his room humming something off-key.

The house fell back into the quiet noise of rain. Your heart thudded once, loud and heavy. You stood, knees a little shaky, and padded down the hallway. That strip of light under Steve’s door grew brighter the closer you got. Warm. Inviting. Terrifying.

You raised your knuckles to knock—

—and the door swung open.

Steve stood there, breath catching, hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it for the past twenty minutes. He was fully dressed, jacket on, car keys dangling between his fingers. His eyes went wide when he saw you, like he genuinely didn’t expect you to still be here.

Like he was caught.

His gaze swept behind you, taking in the silence, the darkened living room, the absence of voices. Then it returned to you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low, rough around the edges from the night.

Your stomach flipped. “I…uh… Eddie’s too tired to drive me, and I thought… maybe you could take me home?” Your eyes dropped to the keys in his hand. “Unless… you were about to leave. I don’t want to interrupt. If you were going to go see Georgia, or–”

The possibility stung before you even finished thinking it. Because that’s what he did when he really liked someone. He tried. He chased. He fixed things.

But Steve cut through your spiraling thought with a breathless, almost disbelieving, “I thought you’d already gone home.”

Your heart paused.

“So I was gonna come see you,” he finished softly.

You swallowed hard enough that you felt it echo inside your chest. Your cheeks warmed, embarrassingly fast, embarrassingly obvious. And his cheeks did the same, that pink that climbed high, right to the tips of his ears.

“So…” you managed, voice thin, eyes darting to the floor like that would save you. “I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

Steve smiled. Small. Nervous. Soft. “Yeah,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s a yes.”

The drive started in a silence so tight you could almost feel it trembling between you, like the whole car was holding its breath. The rain hammered the windshield in sheets, the wipers shoving water aside in frantic arcs that only made the cabin feel smaller, closer, harder to hide inside.

Steve kept both hands locked on the steering wheel, knuckles showing pale in the passing streetlights. He kept shifting his grip, tightening, loosening, tightening again, like he had too much electricity in his fingers and nowhere to put it. And yet he didn’t look at you. Not once. Not even when your knee brushed the console. Not even when you exhaled sharply, trying to ease the ache twisting through your stomach.

It was suffocating, the tension. Thick and sour and impossible to ignore now that you were trapped in a car with him, the air humid and warm from your breath fogging the windows, the smell of rain-soaked pavement drifting in through the vents. You could practically taste the things neither of you were saying.

He cracked first.

“Why did you break up with Caleb?” Steve asked suddenly, voice low but sharp, like something ragged on the inside had finally torn.

Your pulse jumped. “Who said I broke up with him?”

Steve shrugged, eyes still trained strictly on the road. “I just know you, and you didn’t seem upset about it.”

“Know me?” you repeated back, slowly. The bluntness hit you like a shove. A spark of anger warmed the back of your neck. You didn’t know why it pissed you off, maybe because you didn’t like him noticing it, or maybe because he was right, and being right made you feel like an asshole. “Doesn’t matter,” you snapped back, arms tightening across your chest.

The wipers screeched again, louder this time, as the rain came down harder and harder, like the whole sky was trying to drown out the conversation.

You swallowed, heat building in your chest. Fine. If he wanted honesty, he could choke on it.

“Why did you break up with Georgia?” you shot back.

Steve’s jaw twitched. Another shrug. Another echo. “Doesn’t matter.”

That did it. You twisted in your seat, practically glaring through the shadows cast by the passing headlights. “Fine,” you bit out. “Then tell me why you told me Robin was making out with the record store girl.”

Steve finally glanced at you. He was confused, eyebrows knitting. “What?”

“You told me,” you repeated, leaning forward, voice rising, “that Robin told you to close up shop so she could go hang out with the record store girl with the tongue piercing. Except she didn’t. She said you told her to go home. So which one of you is lying?”

Steve’s face scrunched immediately, the way it always did when he was irritated or caught off guard, and you saw it. That faint line between his brows. The one that always showed up when he wasn’t being honest.

He looked away. Still pretending he had no idea what you were getting at.

Your laugh was a crushed, humorless sound. “Friends don’t lie, Steve.”

And that…that… made something in him snap.

He yanked the car to the shoulder with one sharp turn, the tires hissing against the wet asphalt. He slammed it into park hard enough that the gearshift rattled. His breath came fast, chest rising and falling like he’d been running.

“Why Caleb in the first place?” he demanded, voice cracking at the edges. “He was such a dick.”

Your laugh burst out, brittle, sharp, unkind. “No he wasn’t. He was nice.”

“Bullshit,” Steve shot back immediately. “He didn’t know shit about you.”

“Oh, and Georgia did?” you spat. “Right. Sure. Tell her about the skateboard, Stevie.” You batted your lashes, giggling with the exact soft, breathy imitation Georgia had used. “‘Tell them about the skateboard,’” you mocked, high-pitched and pretty, the way she had been when trying to impress him. “She thought your name was Sam when she met you.” 

Steve’s jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle jump. His fingers dug into the wheel. He didn’t say anything, but the silence wasn’t empty. It was full, overflowing, and ready to break. And you could feel it,  the exact moment the truth started pushing up against both of you, desperate and ugly and real.

Steve’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, mud from the road still streaked on the knuckles he’d gripped too hard for too long. His jaw worked, a muscle ticking, breath coming out hot and frustrated against the cold air in the car.

And then he looked at you, finally, fully, his eyes burning in the dim glow of the dashboard.

“Okay,” he snapped, voice low and rough. “Then why did you tell Georgia all those nice things about me?”

The question slammed into you harder than the rain hitting the windshield.

“What?” your voice cracked, like the word couldn’t fit inside you fast enough.

Steve’s laugh was breathless, humorless. “Don’t play dumb. She told me. Said she never would’ve talked to me if my good friend hadn’t gone on about how kind I am. How thoughtful. How anyone would be lucky to have me.” His gaze was sharp, accusing, hurt. “Why did you tell her that?”

You blinked at him, stunned. You were stunned so deeply it hollowed out your stomach. Your mouth opened, closed, then opened again with nothing but rain-soaked air filling your throat.

“I–” you stammered. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Steve scoffed, looking out the window like he couldn’t stand the direction the conversation was twisting. “Sure you do.”

“No,” you repeated, stronger but shakier. “I don’t know. Because it’s… because it’s true?” The last word cracked in half. “Because you are all that. Because she was talking shit and I just–”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. The car fell silent for one long, unbearable second. Then something inside you snapped, right where your ribs felt the most fragile. You fumbled with your seatbelt. The buckle clicked. Steve started, leaning toward you. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m walking home.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice cut through the rain like a blade.

“Yeah?” you swung the door open, the wind slapping cold water against your face. “Watch me.”

He let out a bitter, incredulous laugh. “It’s raining.”

“Great,” you hissed. “If you’re so worried, you can follow me home to make sure I get there safe, like you always do.”

You slammed the door behind you, stepping out into the downpour so fast your shoes nearly slid out from under you. You crossed your arms against the cold, your clothes clinging to your skin, your heartbeat pounding louder than the storm.

For a moment, there was only rain.

Then there was a slam that was not thunder. Then there were footsteps, quick and determined. 

You didn’t turn until his hand wrapped firmly around your arm, spinning you back toward him, rain dripping off his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“Get back in the car,” he demanded, voice sharp but his eyes… God, his eyes were soft, like the anger wasn’t the whole story.

You yanked your arm from his grip. “No.”

“I’m not playing around,” he growled, taking a step closer. “Get in the car.”

“Don’t pretend to care now, Stevie!” you snapped, the nickname coming out like a weapon.

Something dark flickered across his face.

And before you could brace yourself, he growled under his breath, bent, and grabbed you. He actually grabbed you, lifting you clean off the ground.

“Steve!” you shrieked as he tossed you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. His hand splayed right on the back of your thigh, fingers dangerously close to your ass. “Put me down!”

You kicked, you squirmed, you pounded at his back, but the mud beneath his feet was slick and unpredictable. His boot slipped, your balance shifted, and the world tilted. 

You both went down. Hard.

Right into the cold, wet mud.

You landed half on top of him, palms sliding against his soaked jacket. Your breath came harsh and fast, hair sticking to your face, and he lay beneath you, chest heaving, rain dripping off the curve of his jaw.

For a moment, neither of you moved.The storm roared around you. Your hand trembled where it rested on his chest.

Then the anger surged all over again, cracking your voice open.

“Why did you lie to me?” you choked out, shoving his chest once, weakly. “And why did you break up with Georgia?”

Steve’s face, tight and furious, collapsed into something wounded. Something stripped open.

His voice cracked. “Why do you think?”

His hand, muddy, and shaking, lifted to your cheek. His thumb brushed away a raindrop that might’ve been a tear.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, pleading. “I don’t know, Steve, just tell me.”

He looked away for a second, jaw flexing, like the words hurt on the way up. Then he turned back, eyes raw and shining in the stormlight. “Look… she was nice,” he said, voice trembling. “And pretty. And sweet or whatever, but, fuck… she wasn’t you. None of them were ever you.”

Your breath stuttered.

You opened your mouth. His name trembling on your tongue, but he kept going, the words tumbling out in a rush like he’d been holding them back for years.

“You had it wrong,” he said, sitting up despite the mud, despite everything. “You said you didn’t count. But that’s the point. You always counted. And that’s what scared the shit out of me.” His voice cracked again. “You’re it for me. Spending time with anyone else feels stupid now. Like a waste of breath. I feel fucking cursed, because I couldn’t stand the idea of being the person you saw before your actual person. It would’ve killed me.”

Your tears came silently, rain masking the paths they carved down your cheeks.

“I ruined the friendship first,” you whispered. “I was the one who confessed to you first. And you still didn’t see. I chose you.” 

“I know, I’m so sorry.” 

“I broke up with Caleb because he was jealous of you, and…” Your voice cracked. “And he was right. That was the only thing he was ever right about me.”

Steve looked like he was barely holding himself together now. Mud in his hair, his eyes red, his breaths uneven. “I wanted to be alone with you that night,” he said. “The night I lied about Robin. I knew you always stayed with her when she closed, but I… I wanted you to stay with me instead. I wanted to tell you how I screwed up our first date. How I’ve wasted so much fucking time pretending I didn’t want to be with you. That I didn’t love you.”

The confession hung between you, impossible to dodge now.

“But what about when I flirted with Tommy?” you demanded softly, tears mixing with rain. “When I was with Caleb? You never acted like you cared. You always disappeared.”

Steve shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “No. I cared too much. I was furious. At Tommy, at myself, at the whole fucking situation. I walked away because I thought you meant it when you said you only wanted to be friends.”

You swallowed, voice trembling. “I don’t want to be just friends, Steve. I never did. I only said that so you wouldn’t hate me for loving you.”

His expression, wrecked, hopeful, terrified, shifted all at once as he sat fully upright in the mud, inches from you, breathing hard. “But… baby… I could never hate you.” His eyes drooping, melting, like he was longing for something. “I don’t want to be just friends either,” he whispered, eyes dropping to your lips. “Not even close.”

His hand rose slowly, brushing a soaked strand of hair behind your ear with such tenderness it made your heart ache.

You huffed a shaky laugh and leaned back slightly, extending your hand the way you had months ago, the night you struck the deal to be only friends. 

But Steve just stared at your hand for a long, aching moment, and then he shook his head.

“No deal,” he murmured. He grabbed your wrist, tugged you forward, and kissed you. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t a maybe. 

It was desperate, hungry, soaked in every month of silence and every night spent wanting what neither of you had the courage to admit. Mud smeared your knees, his jacket, your palms. Rain drummed against your skin like applause. His hands cupped your face, sliding into your hair, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel all of you at once.

And you kissed him back like this was always where you were supposed to end up. Like it was always supposed to be in the rain, in the mud, on top of a boy who’d spent years pretending he didn’t love you. You kissed him like you’d been waiting your whole life to get it right this time.

[rotnread]

reading smut in public without showing an ounce of emotion like the lady that I am

[luveline]

𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫? | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve finds out that falling in love can be really, really easy. you find out what it’s like when somebody wants to take care of you [10.5k]

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, getting together, dustins next-door neighbour!reader, sick fic, hurt/comfort, reader is implied to weigh more than nancy, you’re upset one time and steve goes overboard, small s4 spoilers no major plot details, post s3 pre s4, feat. the lunch club, karaoke, rollerblading, sunbathing

𓆩❤︎𓆪

A vast green jungle, so damp the forest floor bathes your ankles in rainwater runoff. The air is thick with humidity and smells green. Earthy, the sweet scent of petrichor tickles your nose, and- 

A shadow distends over the yellow pages of your paperback, dark, eating up the image of the amazon and replacing it with reality – a normal summer's day in Hawkins. 

Steve Harrington stands in front of you, his body blocking the sun and its warm glow. The light throws a halo around his head and turns the ends of his brown hair golden. 

"Watcha reading?" he asks in lieu of ‘hello’.

"Ever read Journey to the Center of the Earth?" you ask him, leaning towards him invitingly. 

You love to mess with him like this, watch his cheeks slowly pink as you bend towards your knees with a demure smile playing on your lips. 

"Yeah, I did. In middle school," he says, trying his best to play it cool, hands pushing deep into the pockets of his pants. 

"Well, it's nothing like that." 

The grin he gets when he realises you're messing with him is adorable. He chuckles warmly and pulls a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground and then up at you again with a bashful pinch to his thick eyebrows.

"You're looking for Dustin?" you ask. You haven't seen your young neighbour since this morning. "He ran off earlier with his huge radio thing." 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Typical. I paid him fifteen dollars," he says, his frustration clear, "fifteen dollars, Y/N, to fix my Walkman like three weeks ago. Every time I come by he's out. Little shit probably hasn't even looked at it." 

You like Steve. He's a great looking guy who's more than nice when he sees you even though you're always pushing his buttons, and his poorly hidden fondness for Dustin is something you find heart-squeezingly attractive. You don't think twice about your next move. 

You stand up from your lounger and have to shield your eyes from the sun, tucking your book under your naked arm. "If you want… I have a cassette player I'm not using. I got a Walkman for my birthday." You don't give him an opportunity to say no as you start for the front door. 

"Are you sure?" Steve asks. You hold the door open for him, standing at the threshold with a grin. 

"Positive. It's collecting dust, at this point." 

"I mean, sure, if that's cool. Just until Dustin gets his act together," he says, pushing past you. His hand brushes your hip. 

"That's cool," you confirm, walking behind him through your open kitchen and living room. "It's on the left." 

Steve pushes into your bedroom. The window's open, breezing around the smell of fresh linens and the hydrangeas in the planter on your sill, shifting the gauzy white curtains. 

The suncatcher hanging from the window sprays rainbow kisses over your walls and posters, your laundry basket full of summer dresses and discarded night shirts. The carpet is freshly vacuumed and plush underfoot as you beeline for your desk. Steve hovers by the door before leaning his weight against your bookshelf, eyes taking it in curiously. 

"Cyndi Lauper," Steve says, eyes on a big poster of said singer with her iconic orange hair and hat. You raise your eyebrows at him, pleased, and he shrugs. "She's famous." 

"You like her?" 

"Nah," he says. "But I'll listen to anything. Except Depeche Mode; sharing a player with Robin all summer has sailed that boat." 

"Yeah?" you ask, kneeling down in front of your desk to dig through the cabinet underneath. You frown, up to your elbow in bric a brac and forgotten trinkets. "It's in here somewhere." 

"Yeah. I mean, maybe not anything. I don't think I have the palate for some of those rock and roll bands. Dustin made me listen to Black Scabbard in the car last week and…"

"Black Sabbath," you correct lightly, pulling out of your cupboard with a relieved huff. 

"Right," he says. 

You look over your shoulder to find him perusing your bookshelf, his hand running lightly over the shiny glass paper weight you use as a book end. He teases the spine of a hardback book curiously but must feel your gaze, turning to you with a sheepish smile. 

"Do you like to read?" you ask. 

Steve wrings his hands held at his hip. "Sure, I don't mind it. Bigger fan of movies." 

"Right, Family Video must get pretty distracting," you say, walking towards him on light footing to offer the dinged-up cassette player. "She's well loved but she works, I swear." 

He takes it from you, fingers brushing the backs of yours. "Thank you." 

You shift from one foot to the other — because oh my god there's a boy in my room — before smiling with teeth. You stop. "You're welcome. Want a drink?" 

"Uh…" 

"I've got pink lemonade." 

"Oh, then definitely." 

You lead him into the kitchen and install him at the kitchen table with two empty glasses. The carafe of lemonade is beautifully cold from the refrigerator with slices of lemon and strawberry bouncing around the top as you pour it. The condensation wets your fingers. 

Steve looks handsome and maybe slightly silly behind your homely oak table, all clean cut and well dressed. You feel bare beside him in your tank top and flowy midi skirt, too much skin. 

"Are you hungry? I make a mean BLT," you say, bringing your feet up onto the chair, knees digging into the table. 

"I'm good, thanks," he says. 

"Are you having a good time of it at FV? They denied my application, but that's 'cos Keith has a vendetta against me for wiping out his score on the Palace's Tempest." 

"You're a Tempest girl?" 

"Everybody plays Tempest," you say. 

Steve gives you a look. "Nerds play Tempest." 

"Fine, every nerd plays Tempest," you allow, rolling your eyes. "Lemme guess, you're a Centipede guy. No, worse! You play Pac-Man. I can tell."

His silence is enough to make you giggle in triumph, elated to have sussed him out so quickly.  

"How did you know that?" he asks finally. 

"You called Black Sabbath 'Black Scabbard'. You're not a nerd." 

"I could be." 

"But you're not." 

You share a steady look over the table. His eyes are bright with mirth, a sleek brown like fresh brewed coffee. You love the shape of them, deepest with the round under eye blanketed in straight black lashes. A red polo stretches across his chest. You find your eyes drawn down the length of his arm to his hand where he's drawing circles around the rim of his glass. He takes it into his hand and you watch his wrist bend, his arm flex as he brings the cup to his lips and a drop of condensation drips onto the table mat. 

"I don't look the type?" he asks after a rough swallow. He sounds almost incensed. 

"No, of course you don't. King Steve," you croon. 

He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back, looking you up and down showfully. "Neither do you." 

He's all charming smiles as he raises his chin and shakes his head, lips stretched up in an open-mouthed smile. 

"Tempest," he mutters in bemusement.

You burst into laughter, quick to defend yourself when there's a pounding knock at the door. You're still laughing as you stand, calling to Steve as you walk to the door, "Tempest isn't even that nerdy! It's the Dragon's Lair dorks you need to watch out for. Oh, hi baby. What's wrong?" 

"You haven't seen Steve, have you? His cars outside," Dustin announces, standing under the porch with his wild curls stuffed under a hat, his pulley cart ditched halfway between your yard and his.

"He's in the kitchen. You want some lemonade? You look frazzled," you offer, brushing your hand over his sunburned shoulder lightly as he scoots right past you.

"Thanks, Y/N." Dustin strides into the kitchen with purpose, glaring at Steve pretty heavily as he takes your seat at the table. "Why are you here?" 

"Fucking charming. I came to see you, Henderson, but you're never home. Too busy finding secluded knolls to radio your girlfriend and play karaoke." 

"Dick," Dustin says, though he defrosts as you fill a glass for him. 

"What do you want?" Steve asks him. 

"Why do you assume I want something?" 

"Don’t be coy, you're not Madonna. It's tacky." 

"Dick," Dustin says again, glaring. 

"Dustin, do you want something to eat? You shouldn't go out in the sun all day by yourself, you know? What if you get heat stroke?" you ask. 

Steve gives you a strange look like he's puzzled with you. You smile back at him, hand coming down on the back of Dustin's chair easily. 

"Steve, I need a ride to Mike's," Dustin says, completely ignoring you.

Steve kicks him under the table. "Manners." 

"Can I please have a ride-" 

"To her, dipshit. Jeez, what's wrong with you? She asked if you're hungry." 

Dustin beams at you innocently, soft cheeks rounding. "No thank you Y/N you're a godsend and I appreciate you very much," he says all in a rush, turning back to Steve, the act entirely dropped. "Now can we go?" 

"Christ, fine. I'm gonna get you one of those rewards cards for being a shithead. This incident would be a double stamp, by the way." 

"Uh-huh," Dustin says. 

The younger teen chugs his glass of lemonade and spins off, calling a thank you over his shoulder. Steve gets up to follow him, your old cassette player held carefully in his hands. 

"I'm sorry about him." 

"Don't be. I've known him his entire life. He's in a phase," you inform him with a small grin, shrugging as if to say, what you gonna do? 

"Long phase. Thank you. For the player and the lemonade." 

"You're welcome," you say warmly, walking him to the door. 

Dustin's already in the passenger seat, having taken his pulley cart back inside. He makes a hurry up motion from behind his window and Steve mutters expletives to himself, giving you one last smile before he trudges off. 

The two boys wave at you through the windshield. You wave back.

When Steve's car has winked from view you take your lemonade and paperback outside again to lie under what's left of the sun. You try your best to fall back into the jungle and conjure its sights and sounds, only you keep finding your thoughts wrapped up around a certain boy's laugh and the face he makes as he does, that startled grin, a fist half raised to his mouth. 

-

"Y/N!" A familiar teen voice accompanied by battering knocking at your front door. 

You pull it open, still in your pajamas, hair a mess. His knocking had woken you up. You'd had about ten seconds to check you hadn't drooled too violently in your sleep before he was calling your name, and so you hadn't bothered getting dressed. 

You wish you had. Dustin stood at the door with Steve Harrington behind him, a happy smile on both their faces. 

You try not to flinch as you throw an arm across your chest subconsciously. "Hi?" you ask. "Is everything okay?" 

Dustin's dressed for the beautiful weather in shorts and a shirt with sleeves so short it may as well be a tank top, a hat perched familiarly over his cute curls. Steve is dressed in a tormenting pair of jeans paired with a denim jacket. Double denim. He looks hot, physically and figuratively. 

"Do you wanna come skating?" Dustin asks urgently. 

You blink at him, pulling the edges of your strappy vest down to cover your navel, plaid bottoms low on your hips – you're a mess.  

"Skating? I don't have one." 

"A skateboard?" Dustin asks, shrugging. "Bring your rollerblades." 

You err at the door, leaning your weight against it as you think. "When?" 

"Now!" he says.

"I don't want to hold you up," you say, aimed more towards Steve than Dustin. 

Steve smiles, hooking cheeks pink with the heat, and is about to talk when Dustin says, "He made me come ask you, he's fine to wait." 

You bite back a smirk at Steve's deer-in-the-headlights expression and nod happily. "Alright. Twenty minutes and I'll be ready. If that's okay?" 

"Totally," Steve says. 

You close the door most of the way and catch a look over his shoulder, finding his pretty friend Robin in one seat and a gaggle of Dustin's friends in the back.

You hear a sharp thwarping sound as you spin away followed by a "What the fuck, dude?" from Dustin and hope that he hasn't tripped over one of your flower pots. You get ready and spend at least ten minutes worrying after your appearance in the mirror before grabbing the skates and jetting into the kitchen. You gather as many impromptu snacks you can find and shove them into a grocery bag, struggling to lock the door behind you in want of a free hand. 

Steve jumps out of the driver's side to open the side door for you. You smile gratefully and dump the snacks and your skates in the footwell before climbing in, an empty seat between you and Dustin’s redheaded friend.

You're saved from the awkwardness of seeing people you've met but don't quite know by their ongoing debate, something about which Bruce Springsteen song is best. 

“It’s obviously Dancing in the Dark. I don’t really know why we’re still talking about this,” Robin says from the passenger seat.

“You’re just saying that because it’s his most popular,” the girl next to you says.

“Things are popular for a reason.” Robin shrugs. 

“Yeah, Max. Plus, popular or not, it’s his best.”

Max scrunches up her entire face. “Better than I’m on Fire?”

There’s a long pause where each child deliberates. Dustin and Mike dissolve into fierce looks. 

“Nobodies talking about Born in the USA,” Steve says into the quiet, eyes on the road but head tilted back.

“Shut up, Steve,” Mike says, looking as exhausted as he usually does when you’ve seen him coming in and out of Dustin’s. Though it's been a while, he hasn't changed. Perpetually done with people's shit. 

“Disrespectful,” Steve murmurs. His eyes flash to the rear view, catching you red-handed as you stare at him. “What do you think?” 

“About what?”

“About Springsteen."

You consider him, his smile, his gaggle of cruel children. “I like Born in the USA,” you say nonchalantly.

“That’s two points,” Steve says triumphantly.

The skatepark is pretty busy because of the good weather. You and Steve end up unpacking your snacks onto a blanket Robin lays out whilst the boys go look for their friend Lucas, who's supposedly already here. 

Max doesn't seem pleased with this revelation, sitting down heavily by Steve's picnic basket. Steve offers her a PB&J from the basket and a cold caprisun and she perks up, but not a lot. You want to spend time with Steve, you're not disillusioned into thinking you're anything but a flower under his attention, blooming and wanting, but Max's sad eyes get the better of you. 

Too late for introductions, you dive straight in. “What’s in the Walkman?” you ask, nodding at the player sticking out of her jacket pocket, the foam padded headphones around her neck. 

“Wild Things Run Fast, Joni Mitchell.” It sounds like a question. 

You’ve struck gold immediately. “I love Joni Mitchell! Have you heard her new stuff?”

Max seems alarmed and happy at once, red messy braids swaying as she lifts her chin. “I mean, only what they’ve played on the radio.”

“Her album came out this October, Dog Eat Dog? I have the cassette if you wanna borrow it. It’s amazing.”

“Really?” she asks. She’s peeling the crusts off of her sandwich, one side at a time, dropping them into the small pile of discarded Saran Wrap. 

“For sure. You’ve heard Shiny Toys?” Max nods. “It’s all as good as that one. Seriously.”

“Awesome,” she says, taking a huge bite of her sandwhich. 

You realise you might’ve come on a little strong and try to backtrack into cool territory again, hand brushing Steve’s ankles as you lean away from the poor girl, smiling sheepishly. 

“My mom loves Joni Mitchell,” Robin says.

“Robin," Steve chides lightly.

“What?” 

You and Steve share a look that’s so familiar it gives you pins and needles in your hands, something small between the two of you clicking into place. Or at least that’s how you feel.

Max has almost finished her sandwich by the time Mike returns. “Are you ready?” he asks her.

She clambers onto her feet and grabs her skateboard from behind Steve. The two walk away, a distance from Dustin and Lucas, who both seem to have acquired a pair of skates each. Dustin in knee pads and a helmet, Lucas without. 

“Why would you say Max listens to mom music?” Steve asks incredulously once they’re out of hearing distance. 

Robin shakes her head, similarly incensed. “I didn’t say that.”

“There were so many other things you could’ve said, Robs.” He sounds less mad and more pitying. 

"I didn't say that! I said my mom listens to her. She does!" 

"Don't take offense. Robin got dropped as a baby," Steve says to you offhandedly. 

You know the best course of action here and you take it – in what world would you make an enemy of a boy you might like's best friend who is a girl? Not this one. Plus, Robin seems super nice. 

"I'm not offended. My mom loves Joni too," you say cheerily, smiling at Robin, unabashed.

You're slightly disappointed when she looks away towards her lap, until she says, "Projections a bad look on you, Harrington. He has, like, a flat head," she tells you.

Steve starts yammering loudly. "Shut up! My head's perfect, you're being ridiculous. Perfectly round and ordinary, thank you." 

"Yeah, I'd definitely say your head's perfectly round," you agree through giggles, reaching for your skates.

You have a funny feeling that a silent conversation is happening as you slide off your shoes and into the skates, lacing up tight, but when you look up Robin's sifting through the accumulated snack pile and Steve's looking the opposite way, towards the kids. 

You clear your throat. "Are you guys gonna skate too?"

"Steve is." 

"I didn't bring-" 

"He's borrowing mine. It's too hot, I can't skate. And I don't have the coordination, anyway."

Steve looks at Robin, at you, Robin again. "I'm not good," he says. You take it for yes. 

Steve gets on his skates and straps out of his denim jacket, exposing the distracting lengths of his arms. He's better than he gives himself credit for, steady on his feet. He knows how to stop and start, and you smile to yourself when the two of you skate off towards Dustin and Lucas, following their journey around the skate park, careful to stay clear of the bowls and rails. 

"You're good! You said you weren't good!" you say to him. 

"I'm not good." 

"You're doing great!" 

He smiles gratefully, the expression at home over his warm features. He's not really a very smiley guy, you've realised, his lips often pulled up into a grimace or a cruel approximation of a smile, sarcastic. It suits him. You go to say as much, eyes eating up every little detail of him. 

"Hey Steve? You should-" and your foot pops over a rock. 

You shriek and throw your arm out towards him. Steve catches you with impressive strength and speed as your leg buckles. You've quickly righted yourself and he brings you to a slow but not quite stop. Stopping on skates is easier said than done, especially old skates with the front guards already worn down. 

"Are you okay?" he asks. 

You've taken his hand without thinking, the two of you widening apart and then coming together like the eclipse of a blinking eye. 

You pull your hand away apologetically, the warmth of his palm lingering. 

"I'm sorry!" you say. 

"Don’t be. Last thing I wanna do is have you crack your head open on my watch. I’m glad you didn’t wipe out." 

"Thanks to you." 

You slow and stop. Steve does the same, the two of you clumsy for different reasons. He watches as you calm your racing heart. 

"Shit, I really thought I was gonna fall. You're a lifesaver." You stare straight into his eyes, their sunlight honey brown, smiling with complete genuineness. He's more than pretty. "Thank you." 

Steve swallows and his smile is warmer, somehow, impossibly warmer. Maybe it's the beautiful weather, maybe it's the beautiful boy. You suddenly feel very, very hot. 

"I think I might need to sit down." 

"Oh, shit," he says, reaching for your arm. You're about to correct his touching – you're not dizzy, just a little nauseous. Only, his hand. His fingers clasped around your elbow, his face fiercely protective. 

You let him guide you back to the picnic blanket. One hand around your elbow, the other behind your sun-warmed back, and somehow his hand is the hottest spot. 

"Are you okay?" Robin asks, shielding her eyes from the sun. The book in her lap slips shut as she straightens. 

"She's okay," Steve says. “Too hot. Budge up." 

Robin moves over on the blanket and throws the basket open. Steve reaches in for a capri sun and passes it to you. It's lukewarm, though the day is so hot it's a relief to drink it. 

"Steve's really good," you tell her after a noisy suck, the orange plastic straw stabbing your lip. You frown down at it.

"I saw you guys whizzing around. Public menaces, both of you," Robin says, though she smiles as she does. You know she's joking. You don't want to think it in case it's not true, but you feel like maybe she wants to be friends. 

"We prefer speed demons," Steve says easily, still kneeling at your side. 

"They should lock you up." 

You snort and almost squirt juice from your nose, spluttering and coughing as you bend at the waist. Steve pats your back less than gently and then more so as you move your hand towards him. 

"I'm okay," you cough, embarrassed at how you must look hacking your lungs out. 

Steve's hand, again on your back, rubs a stern line. "Chill out, Y/N. You can't die before dinner." 

"We're getting McDonald's," Robin supplies. 

"Don't tell the kids," he says, smirking. 

He's still rubbing your back. You suspect you might agree to anything while he's this close. 

"You sound like such a dad when you say shit like that." 

Steve scowls at Robin's words and pulls his hands away, crossing them over his chest. "Don't say that. Babysitter is more than enough, don't you think? Y/N?" 

"An older brother?" you suggest to Robin's extreme delight. 

She laughs. Steve scrubs at his face with both hands until his eyes are red. 

-

Robin's sick and Steve's going crazy by himself, manning the desk at FV with almost no energy and even less enthusiasm. A week since he'd held your hand and he can't seem to stop thinking about it. 

He catches himself staring at his own empty palm and clenches his fist, bringing his eyes back to the door in case someone walks in and he has to pull off the headphones of your borrowed cassette player. 

Steve had discovered a forgotten cassette inside, listening to it out of curiosity the night you'd given him the player and then every night since then. He felt guilty about keeping it without saying anything but he was only borrowing it, he reasoned. He'd give it back when Dustin fixed his skipping Walkman.  

The tape was Van Halen II. And Steve's not stupid, he knows who Van Halen are, but he's never sat and listened through any of their full albums. Now he can't stop, constantly rewinding back to the same song, over and over. 

He does so now, fingers clumsy and too big over small buttons until the first line kicks in, powerful and high energy like a burst of fresh air. 

Have you seen her?

So fine and pretty.

He grins as it plays, thinking of you instantly. Your smile and your legs, the wind whipping at your skirt and exposing stretches of skin he can't stop remembering. You on your rollerblades, the second time after an emergency PB&J, skating in front of him without looking behind you. 

"Don't let me crash into someone, okay?" you'd asked, swaying from one side to the other as you shifted your weight. 

"It'll be too late to stop you if I see someone! Turn around!" he'd demanded, though his fondness had peeked through. 

You'd thrown your hands out. "You'll have to steer me!" 

And so he'd grabbed your hands and you'd laughed like a fool as you skated together, squealing through close calls and bumpy ground. 

He thinks of your hands in his, their weight and size, the magnetic pulse he'd felt between them, how happy you'd seemed to be with him. 

He was harbouring a crush on you. Too old to deny what it feels like to want a pretty girl, Steve wonders if this is entirely a good idea – letting himself like you when the possibility of rejection feels high. You are, as Dustin had promised him, out of Steve's league. "Don't try your luck, dude." 

Steve thought for a second that his thinking about you had summoned your image, your easy walk and the elegant way about your hands and how you held them, in a blue dress with matching strappy mary-jane's, white socks with the ruffle tops. He blinks. No way he could think up anything as pretty. 

You push open the door and grin from across the room, a large tupperware of some type in your hands. His eyes move up from your fingers where they clutch plastic, your wrist, your arms. The puff sleeves of your dress are short and cuffed, similar to the matching ruched neckline that shows enough to make him swallow. A necklace lays in the valley of your chest, a silver chain with a blue flower at the end, small but thick. Five round petals, a cutout missing that shows a circle of your chest beneath. 

"Steve," you say, like you'd been in mid conversation. "Please tell me you have a sweet tooth."

He pulls the headphones from his head and leaves them around his neck, fixing his hair as casually as he can when he says, "Sure, I like candy." 

You set your container down on the counter and crack it open, the rich, buttery smells of its contents quickly filling the room.

"I made penuche for Dustin's mom's birthday, but I made so-" you drag the word out, lips a gloss-sticky 'o', "much of it. I can't eat it all. And she said I wasn't allowed to give it to Dustin 'cos he keeps using the f-word." 

His laugh is startled but genuine. "Not the f-word." 

The fudge is a light brown, almost pink in the neon tinted lighting. It smells divine, and he's saved from an internal debate about what's cool when you push the tub towards him. "Do you like fudge?" you ask him.

He takes one and you take one, and he tries not to look at you as you eat, or when you scratch gloss and a crumb from the corner of your mouth. 

"You’re a modern Martha Stewart," Steve says happily.

"Only on special occasions. Where's Robin?" you ask, elbows braced on the counter and leaning in. 

"Sick. Apparently." 

"Apparently," you repeat, grinning. "What, she didn't look sick?" 

"She talked to me on the phone. She sounded sick," he concedes. "Good things it's Thursday." 

You look around the completely empty store. "This is what it usually looks like on a Thursday?" 

"It's Hawkins. Half the people here get their VHS from the library, the others drive out to Blockbuster. We get about as much foot traffic as an ice cream stand in September." 

"It's 'cos you take too long to get the new ones,'' you say. "No offense." 

"The tone of someone personally victimised by a Family Video wait list." 

"You got me. I've been trying to get the Breakfast Club for two months!" you complain, scratching your chest lazily. 

Steve crosses his arms over his chest until his hands are hidden, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so this is bribery penuche." 

You blink at him and then your lips part in horror, pretty eyes widening. "No!" 

"It totally is. You're trying to butter me up," he says, suave tone disrupted by the need to giggle at his own pun. "Y/N, how could you? Here I thought we were starting to be friends and you're using me for my video store?" 

His mock horror puts you eat ease when you realise he's joking. "I really wanna see that movie," you say dejectedly. You reach for another piece of fudge and bite it in half, your chewing morose. "It feels like everybody saw it at the movies but me." 

"Of course they did. Why didn't you?" 

You glare at him. "I was busy!" 

"For the month it was in theatres?" 

"Yes!" you defend yourself from his teasing. "I have things to do!" 

"Like what?" 

"Like school!" 

"Everybody has school." 

"You're picking on me after I brought you candy. This is so cruel." You don't sound like you've suffered any cruelty. Steve might say you're really enjoying yourself. 

"Sorry, sweetheart."

You glare at his insincere pet name. "Whatever. Oh, hey, how's she treating you?" you ask, eyes on the cassette player. "Steve, you have my Van Halen tape! Thank god, I thought I lost it."

"Right. Sorry, I meant to give it back," he lies. 

You shrug your shoulders. "Keep it however long you want to. It's good, right? Which one's your favourite?"

He pulls the headphones out and rewinds back before setting the player in front of you. You raise your eyebrows at him but click play, and the audio starts abruptly, loud and mid quality. 

Yes, it's love in the third degree. 

You grin, head bobbing, eyes flitting to his with approval written all over your face. You don't seem to hesitate before you sing along under your breath, high pitched but quiet.

"Ooh, baby baby. Won't-cha turn your head my way?" 

He feels a little enchanted by you, that same magnetism he'd felt between his hands, can't believe how pretty you are and how sweetly you move. You laugh at yourself as you sing the next line, an intense, almost theatrical look upon your face. Like you're swooning.

"Ooh, baby baby. Ah come on! Take a chance, you're old enough to-" You flare your eyes at him and nod, mouth open encouragingly. 

He won't join in, no matter how electric he finds you. You roll your eyes and your shoulders roll in a half-dance as you hum along to the chorus. 

Dance the night away. 

"You're no fun, Steve," you complain, giggling. 

"You're enough for the two of us." 

You peer over the counter, still moving with the music as you ask, "What were you doing? Before I came in?" 

"Looking through the computer at what's late being returned. Riveting, extremely hard work." 

"Do you get, like, secret intel on what new movies are coming in?" 

"Sure we do. Wanna see?" he asks. 

You creep around the counter and stand by his side. He scrolls through the system and translates acronyms for you. "This is the coming in," he says, drawing a line down a list of movie names. "These are what's being moved back to the headquarters."

"Headquarters," you repeat, leaning in to see the screen more clearly. You browse the new titles idly, slipping closer and closer to the computer. 

"You'll burn your retinas." 

"Invaders from Mars, Youngblood, Black Moon Rising," you list thoughtfully. You turn on your heel. "I don't know any of those. You got a chic-flicks section?" 

You're really close. Steve looks at you, this close, this pretty, his hands itching to touch you. He leans in and your arms fall to your sides, the space between you growing ever smaller. 

"We do," he says slowly, eye to eye, almost daring you to look at his mouth instead. He wants you to. He wants to look at yours. 

You're steadfast, not impassive but certainly unreadable as you say, "Show me?" 

Steve reaches for the mouse behind you like he was always intending to, hiding any smugness he feels when you exhale noticeably. You turn back around, his arm brushing over yours as he sorts through the tag system to show you "ROM-COM INCO". 

"These are all the ones we have coming in. You know any of those?" 

"Hannah and Her Sisters. I saw that one." 

"Finally had some free time?" he asks wryly. 

"Shut up, Steve." 

"You know… I can keep the Breakfast Club for you. Next time it comes in." 

The smile you give him is blinding. "Thanks, Steve." 

"Yeah, no problem." He hopes the sudden increase in temperature is mutual. 

-

Your backyard is a field of flowers. Maybe dramatic, but Steve's never seen so many, a heavy green spotted in chartreuse, vermillion, bright oranges and pink-white. You lay on a towel in the grass surrounded by them, the sun lighting you up, your skin glowing and perfect. 

You're in black, spandex type shorts and a bikini top. Steve feels like a perv for looking, so he clears his throat. You don't budge. 

He creeps closer. You're in headphones listening to your Walkman. He can hear the music from where he stands at your backdoor, so it must be loud. He stands over you and hopes his shadow will wake you up. When it still doesn't he gets concerned, kneeling down carefully with his knees digging into your towel. 

"Y/N. Hey," he says. 

Still nothing. 

He pulls your headphones off gently, looking over your face in worry. You must be sleeping. 

"Y/N, you shouldn't sleep out here. You'll get sun stroke," he says. He strokes your arm though he shouldn't. He can't help himself, his fingers pressing into the crook of your elbow.

You blink awake and then slam your eyes closed. Steve adjusts himself to block the sun from your face and you manage to pry your eyes open, confused.

"Hello." 

"Hey," he says. He can't help the fondness that plays over his smile.

"Shit." Your eyes go wide and you cover your chest with your arm. "I'm naked." 

"You're not naked," he says. 

"I'm naked. Stop looking at me." 

Steve turns away obligingly. 

"Stop laughing at me, Harrington." 

"Is there anything I'm allowed to do?" he asks, though he does stop laughing.

"I'm so embarrassed. I was sunbathing and I must've fallen asleep." 

Steve lets his eyes stray to your naked thigh. He stares at your skin, follows a stretch mark upwards and then swiftly peels his gaze away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a total perv. I can go wait in my car." 

"You're not a perv. I'm being a priss. Sorry. I know I'm not, like, a model and I wasn't expecting to have this much skin on show. I don't look like Nancy Wheeler."

You sound more nervous than Steve has ever heard you. Worse, you sound dejected, though you've tried for nonchalance. Steve stares at you until you raise your chin, your fingers pinching meanly at your thighs. 

"You're messing with me," he says.

"What?" you ask, incredulous. "I'm not messing with you." 

"You gotta know you're beautiful. That's, like, a stone cold fact. A hard truth. You're beautiful. Who cares if you don't look like Nance?" 

You sigh, though it's not very believable when you're smiling so much. "She's really pretty." 

"So are you." 

"You know what I mean, Steve. She's… small." 

"She's a small woman," he agrees. "That doesn't make her prettier than you." 

"You're sure?" you ask quietly. 

Steve means it a hundred percent when he says, "I'm sure." 

The two of you sit there for a few seconds. He can hear your breathing and he's wondering if you can hear his. 

"What are you doing here?" you ask. 

Your hand is still held across your stomach but you're thankfully looking more relaxed. Steve meant what he said, you're beautiful, he couldn't care less that you're taller or that you weigh more than his ex. You're fucking pretty, and seeing you all laid out and sun kissed has made him kind of crazy. 

"Steve?" you ask. 

"Oh. I brought you The Breakfast Club. Just got it back in this morning," he rushes to say, grabbing the VHS tape from where he'd left it on the ground. The Family Video spine is glaringly ugly compared to you and your flowers. 

"Woah, thank you!" 

"You're welcome. It's under my name though, so don't keep it late. Can't disprespect the FV name. I'm going for employee of the month." 

You giggle. "You are? Are you the top contender?" 

"Nope." 

You laugh some more, the sound delicate and sweet as spun sugar, in Steve's humble opinion. 

"Not that my fellow employees try any harder, but Keith just picks himself every month for the free credits." 

You rub your fingers across the front of the box. "I won't be late. I mean, I'll watch it today, I've been so excited to see it." 

Steve stands up. "Sorry to disturb your idyllic sunbathing." 

"Idyllic," you murmur, smiling. "You're good, Steve. Thank you for the movie." 

"You're welcome. I'll see you later?" he asks, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, slowly backing away. 

"No," you say. He raises his eyebrows and you look sheepish but not shy when you continue, "Do you wanna stay? Watch the movie with me? I have stovetop popcorn and soda and everything." 

"What about the great weather? You don't wanna waste it." 

You force your hands between your thighs and hunch forward slightly. "I do wanna waste it. I mean, I've had enough for today, don't you think? I'm a half hour from heat stroke." 

"You're looking pretty warm," he says. Anything to take you up on your offer without sounding too interested. 

-

You're trying not to give Steve the side eye. Trying, but he's very attractive and very close, and he keeps making funny jokes. It's annoying how hot he is. 

Steve has slouched back and his jeans have slowly edged down, exposing the flesh of his hip. Not that you've noticed, or anything. 

You cram a big handful of popcorn into your mouth and flick your eyes back to the screen. You'd really wanted to see this movie but Steve keeps capturing your attention, again and again, over and over. You can't believe you'd asked him to stay and he had, can't believe he brought the VHS for you in the first place. 

That's a dedicated employee right there. 

You shuffle closer to him under the guise of sharing your popcorn. Your shoulders touch. 

"Thanks," he says. His thigh hits your thigh as he takes a handful. 

"Steve," you say softly. 

"What?" 

"I don't feel well. I think the sun killed me." 

He throws his arm around the back of the couch and twists, careful not to upend the popcorn bowl as he looks over you searchingly. You've seen Steve play caretaker before, but being under his watch is different. He's almost a different person as he checks you over. 

"You feel sick?" he asks. He holds his hand out between you, his knuckles at your eye level. "Can I?" 

You tilt your head back and close your eyes. Steve presses the back of his hand to your forehead and pets down softly, feeling for your temperature. 

"You're still really warm. Let's get you cooled down." 

Steve springs up and knocks the bowl. You blink, slightly disoriented as he disappears into the kitchen, picking up spilled popcorn off of the couch and eating it with slow chews. Now you think of it, your arms hurt, too.

Steve returns and sits on the edge of the sofa, a bag of peas in his hand. "I raided your freezer. Lean your head back." 

"I'm fine," you say, but tilt your head back anyways, gasping when the cold hits you.  

"You might actually get heatstroke. Do you know how dangerous heat stroke is? You need to cool down. Where's the A/C?" 

"It's on." 

Steve feels along your cheek gingerly. "I can't believe you fell asleep outside. What's that about?" He pauses. "Are you sleeping okay?" 

"I'm sleeping fine." 

"Are you sure?" 

His wrist turns and you feel the pad of his fingers rather than the back, the palm of his hand as he cups your face. 

You peek through your lashes at him. His eyebrows are pinched and his bottom lip juts out in a concerned pout. 

"You can tell me." 

The way he says it – well, you imagine you could tell him anything. He sounds warm and worried. This close you can smell his cologne, something heavy with sage, a little bit of lilac hidden under unmistakable bergamot. It's all so comforting and the sun has loosened your tongue. 

"Maybe not so much. It's… it's hot. You know? And…" 

"What?" he murmurs. Your heart skips as his thumb rubs over your cheek. 

You close your eyes like your confession might take form. "I'm kind of lonely, lately," it sounds like a question, "and it's- it keeps me up sometimes. I don't know, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud." 

"It doesn't sound stupid." 

"No?" 

"No, I get it." He pulls away but doesn't move too far, his hand still holding the freezing peas to your forehead, the other brushing against your arm as he drops it in his lap. "These days Dustin doesn't leave me alone. I don't want him to, either. The same with Robs." 

You let your head loll to the side. Steve doesn't look shy or scared to tell you, talking almost matter of fact. "But my parents were never home when I was in high school. They still aren't. I felt it more back then." 

"Yeah. I don't know. I never see anybody. Besides Dustin," you say. "We have him in common." 

"You see me." 

"When I'm annoying you at work." 

"You don't annoy me." He's stern though he abruptly turns into a conspirator whispering secrets. "Robin's fuse gets shorter with me everyday." 

"How come?" you ask, co-conspirator. 

"I can't stop watching the door." 

You lift your head. Steve takes back his bag of peas and feels along your forehead, now cold enough to ache. 

"Here, hold these to your chest. I'd do it for you, but…" 

You take the peas and hide a terrible smile, heart racing between your ears. Your nausea has flipped  completely into butterflies and they're rabid, knocking at your abdomen insistently. 

You're trying to think of a way to make him say nice things again when there's a knock at the door. 

"Dustin," you both say. 

"Jinx, buy me a soda," Steve says. 

You glare at him and he laughs all the way to the door. 

"Why are you always here? Where's Y/N?" 

"She's got heat stroke." 

"I don't!" you call hoarsely. 

"You sound like you do," Dustin says. "Can one of you give me a ride?" 

"She has heat stroke." 

You climb onto the back of the sofa to look down the hallway. Dustin stands at the front door with a huge piece of engineering in his arms that you don't understand, wires and ciricuits and things. 

"Remeber when you used to bike everywhere? What happened to that?" Steve asks, sounding majorly pissed. You can't work out why he's so frustrated but it makes you laugh again. 

The two boys turn to you with twin looks of confusion. 

"I can't bike there, genius. This won't fit in the basket." 

You laugh again, twice as loud. 

"What's wrong with her?" Dustin asks, shaking his head. 

"What don't you understand about heat stroke?

"Potential heat stroke," you interject.  

"She fell asleep in the sun. I don't know how long she was out there her brain might be totally jellified, dude." 

"You should take her to the hospital."

You clamber onto aching limbs and walk until your behind Steve, reaching for his elbow automatically. "I'm fine, babe. What's your doohickey?" 

Dustin smirks and pulls the weight closer to his chest. "Prototype." 

"For what?" 

"Top secret." 

You giggle some more, wobbling with the force of it. Steve sighs and wraps his arm around your back, his hand under your arm to grip you at the ribs. 

Dustin gets wide eyes like a looney tunes character. "What's going on here?" 

"Nothing," Steve hisses. "Look, let me set Y/N up with the works and I'll drive you where you want to go, you brat." 

Dustin drops his suspicion, having got what he wants. "I'll wait in the car. Feel better!" 

"That's three stamps on the shithead card, shithead!" Steve calls after him. The two of you watch his retreating figure and then Steve is manhandling you (not too roughly) down the hallway and back onto the sofa. 

"I'm not dying, Steve." 

Steve puts your popcorn bowl in your lap and the frozen peas back on your chest. He fills your glass either the warming carafe on the coffee table and then bends down to talk to you, entirely too intense. 

"Are you good?" he asks. 

"Perfect. I don't even feel hot anymore." 

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Listen, I'm gonna go drop Dustin off, and then I'm gonna call you to make sure you're not dead." 

"You don't have to do that, Steve," you say, moving down into the couch, a cushion falling over as you do. He straightens it out, cups your face in his hand so fast you think you've imagined it and then squints at you. 

"Don't die of heat stroke." 

He starts to walk away and you're startled. Unfairly, you don't want him to go, and you call, "Steve?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What about The Breakfast Club?" 

He grins at you, a lazy, King Steve kind of smile. "I was always gonna leave that here. So you can come 'annoy' me at work when you return it." He pulls a hand through his hair and gives you a once over and then spins on his heel. "Make sure you answer when I call!" 

You lose sight of him as he leaves, the couch backing too tall. He shuts the door kindly and you can just about hear the crunch of gravel as his car pulls away. 

"He was definitely flirting with me," you say to yourself, pouring a sweet handful of popcorn into your mouth. You're smiling so wide it's hard to chew. 

-

Dustin bursts into Family Video with his small entourage, Mike and Lucas, and an urgent look on his face. Steve quickly stops his facade of being busy when he clocks them.

"What? Need to borrow ten dollars?" he asks, rolling his eyes. 

"Actually, it's about Y/N," Dustin says. 

Steve stretches across the desk on his elbows. 

"What about her?" he asks, suspecting a waste of time.

"She was crying her eyes out in her backyard last night." 

Steve blinks, feeling a pit open up in his chest. "What? Why?" 

"Well…" Dustin says. "I didn't ask." 

Steve pictures your pretty face crinkled with tears, sitting on the paving stones outside your house. He wonders what would make you cry, sob, whatever it was. You'd confessed to being lonely though he sort of hopes that the feeling has ebbed now that he's calling you every day. At first, under the guise of checking up on you, but, I don't think I'm at risk of heat stroke anymore Steve. It's been a week and a half. 

Better safe than sorry. 

"Nancy said she saw her outside outside Bradley's Big Buy last night looking miserable," Mike adds, in one of his worst outfits, a mismatch of colours and long socks, a visor that Steve once tried to bribe Dustin to destroy on a hot day with his magnifying glass. The small burned spot perseveres at the caps edge. 

Steve feels weirdly proud at their concern and better, their detective skills. The three of them look like they could solve crimes, a mystery gang. Lucas is the only one dressed well in Steve's opinion, though that might be because he's in similar fashion, a nice polo and blue jeans. 

"You don't know what's wrong with her?" Lucas asks.

His pride wanes. "Oh, you guys are here for gossip?" he asks scathingly. 

"No!" 

"You're her boyfriend, right?" 

"Not-" Steve swallows, "exactly." 

Robin, who had been listening from her stool a few feet back, strides over and falls into place by his side, braced by her elbows. 

"If Steve were her boyfriend, we'd know why she was crying," she says, earning a round of boyish chuckles. 

Steve nods and then understands her meaning, feeling stupid for assuming Robin would say something that wasn't mean while at work. "Fuck off, I'm a good boyfriend." 

Four sets of eyebrows raise. 

"I am! I'm romantic." 

"You smashed our trellis and dislodged a drain pipe," Mike says. 

Steve pins the dark haired boy with a smarted look. 

"Sorry, is that not romantic? Sneaking out to see a girl?" 

"Sneaking in to a young woman's bedroom," Robin says dryly. 

"Pervert style," Dustin agrees sagely.

"Jesus Christ." Steve turns away from his band of adopted heathens and takes the phone into his hand. "I'm gonna call her." 

"And what? Tell her we were spying?" Dustin says. 

Steve holds the cold plastic to his neck. "Were you?" 

"Girls lie about their feelings, anyway. You're never gonna get a straight answer," Lucas says morosely. "Trust me." 

He slams the phone down. "What am I supposed to do?" 

They stand in a heavy silence. Steve can feel a headache clipping his heels, approaching fast, stress and a sharp worry for you. He really doesn't see why he can't call you and check in. 

"Something nice?" Robin suggests, picking at her nails. 

"Like what?" he asks. Though, as soon as he says it, he already has the beginnings of an idea. Whether its a good one or not is anyones guess. 

-

Somebody knocks the door and all you can think is, oh god why me? 

You're in a bad approximation of pajamas - your comfiest and yet your sloppiest, old and worn and unattractive. Fresh out of a stress-cry shower, you've only just managed to catch your breath. 

It's like you told Steve, everything lately feels so lonely. You'd gone grocery shopping by yourself and had known without a doubt that you were moving unseen through the world. Something about deciding between TV dinners. Nobody knew where you were, what you were doing, or where you were going. The only people seeing you were the storegoers of Bradley's Big Buy and your disgruntled cashier. You doubt you'd made a good impression. 

It was maybe a silly thing to feel overwhelmed by, but you felt it anyways. Sick with loneliness and then panic. A thousand what ifs had filled your head; you couldn't stop thinking, what if it's like this forever? 

What if I feel this lonely forever? 

You'd finished grocery shopping with a peculiar numbness weighing you down and then you'd gone home to cry in the garden, comforted and horrified by your flowers. They were pretty and you'd planted them and it didn't matter, you were still alone. A ladybug had crawled over the nearest planter and you'd watched it until you calmed down, knees crossed and elbows digging into your thighs, pins and needles in your hands. 

Another insistent knock. You consider ignoring it and curling up into a ball. Something hooks you out of it. What if it's Steve? 

If it's Steve, you're gonna feel very embarrassed about your appearance. You check your reflection in the sheen of a photo frame and sigh, rubbing your face with one hand as you open the door. 

Steve stands a few feet away, leaning against the side of his car with a pair of shades slipping down his nose. He takes them off.

You're so happy to see him you forget your rumpled outfit. 

"Hi," you say, half-shouting to cover the distance. 

"Hey beautiful!" Steve shouts, properly, loud and unabashed.

The door digs into your tummy. You don't know what to say. His compliment flusters you from the get go. 

"Hi," you say again, laughing under your breath. 

"Hey." 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Somebody told me you weren't feeling well!" 

You frown, thoughts racing, and suddenly summon the image of your nosey young neighbour. You take a step back instinctively and Steve must see it because his face goes stony. 

"I'm sorry, I know you probably didn't want me to know. But- when I found out you were upset, I couldn't ignore that. You'll have to forgive me." 

You try pushing the smile off your face with your hand and stand there scratching your top lip. "No. No, it's okay." 

He raises his eyebrows and takes a few big steps towards your house. You step out onto the porch and he closes the space between you, holding his hands out. You take them and he envelopes you, warm hands pulling you along and up the path. 

He walks backwards. "Don't let me crash into someone, okay?" 

A memory. The two of you hand in hand, ground flashing under your skates. 

"Okay," you say weakly. 

He squeezes your hands and drops them, a foot from the car. "Stay," and he doesn't finish, turning away from you. He opens the passenger door, the door behind and then the trunk. 

The smell is beautiful. A floral wave. 

The sight is something else. A carpet of bunches, bell-shaped freesias and carnations, roses in darkest red, chrysanthemums, dahlias, tiny orchids and irises; gorgeous purple irises with white centred petals buffeted by frilly sweetpeas. 

"They didn't want to give me the buckets but I told them I had a really pretty girl waiting for me, and if they suffocated in the heat then I was gonna drive right back and complain loudly." He stands by your side and nudges you. "Break out in tears." 

"That's a lot of flowers," you mumble. 

"Half the store. The other half's on standby." 

"Standby?" 

"I worried you might not have the space." 

"I won't." 

Your gaze flits over soft petals and light green stems, thorns and leaves and greenery, baby breath tucked in by plastic wrapping. 

"Why did you do this?" 

"You…" he laughs at himself. "Okay, so. The day you had heat stroke-" 

"I didn't have heat stroke. I had heat exhaustion." 

"Semantics. You were lying in the backyard. Just… sleeping. I was waiting for you to look up and see me, and I couldn't- I still can't get the image out of my head. You looked unreal." 

You feel hot all over as he searches for words. He's smiling wide as he talks, like he can't believe how happy he is. It's infectious. 

He shakes his head. "Anyway, I know you like flowers. Obviously. So." 

"So you got me a florists?"

"Half." 

You hug your torso. The idea that somebody would do this for you, that Steve would do this for you, is so alien you can't comprehend it. 

"They're for me?" you whisper. 

"For you. All of them." 

You look at him, the flowers, him again, and start to laugh. You throw your hands up to your cheeks and giggle like a little kid. 

"Why are you laughing?" he asks, an undeniable affection in his curiosity. 

"Why would you do this for me?" you ask in a similar tone. 

He purses his lips and shrugs. "You could've called me. I want you to know that." 

You scrub your hot cheeks and shift from foot to foot. "I was being silly." 

"It's not silly. It's not stupid. And even if it was, I still want you to call me. These are 'call me' flowers. Call me first." 

You wrap your hand around the top of the door and lean in for a look at the sea of flowers. Pollen sticks sweet in your nose. 

"Do you like them?" 

The smallest hint of insecurity. You can't stop laughing, joy warping every word. "Yeah, I love them," you say over your shoulder, feeling as though you've become nothing but a vestibule of breathless wonder. 

"I didn't know which one was your favourite." 

All of them, you think. Not sure you could pick one, your eyes bump from bouquet to bouquet. 

You try to blink them away but tears form quickly, lashes heavy with them as you stand up straight and wipe under your eyes with the back of your index finger. 

"Thank you, Steve." 

"You're welcome." Steve comes up behind you and takes your shoulder into his hand, thumb rubbing roughly over your shirt. "C'mon, don't cry. I got you all those flowers because I don't want you to cry, not to make it worse." 

"They're really pretty," you say, strained, pushing the bottoms of your palms into your eyes to stop from sobbing. That would be dramatic, you argue with yourself, so dramatic, but this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you. 

"Shit," he mutters. 

You tense up as his hand moves across your back to grip your other shoulder and he hugs you to his chest, left hand stroking the length of your upper arm, encouraging your hands from your face. 

"You're okay, baby," he says. 

You sniffle as his right hand climbs your shoulder to cup your neck. He pulls your face to his mouth and presses a kiss into your temple, warm and tingling, firecrackers under the skin. You turn your face to look at him and he pulls back, his chin jutting down. 

The shape of his lips lingers on your forehead, a burn. White hot.

Steve wipes the tear tracks from your face with the side of his hand.

"I know what'll cheer you up," he says. 

You miss his touch as soon as he's gone. He leans over the passenger seat, the chair and its footwell both bursting with flowers, and turns on the radio. You watch him click to the cassette player. He turns the volume up high and then pulls out. 

Slowly, the song builds into a zinging guitar. 

"Oh my god." 

"Have you seen her? So fine and so pretty," Steve sings with no hesitation. You're startled by his confidence.

"Fooled me with her style and ease," he continues, holding out his hand. 

You take it, listening to him fight his way to the right pitch, his voice cracking.

"And I feel her from across the room-" He takes your second hand, gaze electric. "Yes, it's love in the third degree." 

He tugs at your hand, nodding until you join in.

"Ooh, baby, baby," you sing weakly, searching for footing. 

"Won't-cha turn your head my way?" he begs. 

"Ooh, baby, baby," you both sing, Steve with more passion, pulling your arm one way and another in an awkward dance. 

"Come on, take a chance, you're old enough to," and here's where you both go weak and high and enthused all at once, glad the stereo's up so high you can't really hear it when you both shout, "dance the night away!" 

It's not quite night yet. You've a lot of dancing to do if you're gonna listen to Van Halen's instructions, the sun a half-disk of gold on the horizon, the sky raspberry pink bleeding up into darkening indigo. 

Steve grins at your growing enthusiasm and twirls you around. You only allow him this, too afraid to step on his toes as you come to a stop. 

He hums along and you clutch his hand. You covet the other where it's held to his chest, pushing your fingers through his. They fit together perfectly. 

"Am I ever gonna get that tape back?" you ask. 

"No," he says, laughing loudly. "No way. I love this song." 

"I love this song too. That's why I bought the album." 

"You said however long I wanted!" 

"I didn't think you'd stick around this long," you confess. 

"I did," he says. He leans down, stops. "Can I kiss you?"

You nod and beat him to it, hand at his collar as you step on your toes and press your mouth to his. You're both smiling, your eyes closed tight and your lips tight together until he pulls back, pulling his hand from your brushing grip to stroke the side of your face, rough in his rush. 

When you come back together it's slower, your lips parted mid-giggle as he moves in. You sigh, a high-pitched and embarrassing sound from the back of your throat that's quickly swallowed by his ardency. 

"Stop laughing at me," he admonishes playfully. 

"I'm not! I'm not, I'm really happy," you defend yourself, setting back on your heels. 

You've forgotten all about your pajamas and the icky feeling in your chest. With Steve's palms to your cheeks like this – like you're something worth being cradled in careful hands – you can't feel anything but happy. 

"I don't have enough vases for your flowers," you apologise as he chases you down, dropping kisses over the corner of your mouth and the apple of your cheek. 

"Good thing I begged for all those buckets," he says, brown eyes squinting with the force of his cherubic smile. His pert nose flares with a silent laugh. 

"Good thing," you agree. 

He holds you by the shoulders. "Good thing," he says again. 

You descend into another round of laughter that leaves you panting for air, your head dropping into his chest. "A really good thing." 

"I didn't go overboard, did I?" he asks, petting the nape of your neck.

"You did." 

"Sorry, I-" 

You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him as hard as you can. He groans lightly as he encircles your shoulders, the tip of his nose a butterfly's wing against your forehead, impossibly light and skipping, back and forth and back again. 

"I'm gonna make you flower shortbread," you say eventually, soaking in his warmth, his closeness. 

"Yeah?" 

"I swear. And more penuche. What's your favourite? I'll make you whatever you want. What do you have a sweet tooth for?" 

"Could I get another kiss?" he asks quietly.

You tilt your head back and wait. Steve isn't quite smiling though his eyes boast an emotion you're afraid to name, unbearably fond. 

"Are you gonna kiss me again?" you ask into the gap. 

"In a sec, just… let me look at you," he says, hand cupping your cheek. 

You blink back a stinging wave of tears and smile, tracing over his features greedily.

"You're beautiful," he says. 

It’s funny. You were thinking the same thing about him.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks for reading!

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

[woefulstar-deactivated20260405]

can i say black brothers after sirius left?

[sweetinsaniiity]

Closer To The Edge

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - sexworker!Wooyoung x fashiondesigner!reader ◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - slow burn, eat the rich, Wooyoung really dislikes wealthy people, heavy angst, slice of life, emotionally heavy, existential crisis, reader! is desperate and lonely, eventual smut (more lovemaking than anything really), star-crossed lovers, eventual reunion, open/ambiguous but happy ending ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-18+ so MDNI!!! depression, connotations and talks of self-harm (not described, but be warned!), sex work/prostitution (consensual and not forced, but I just thought I’d put it here just in case), smut, lots of kissing, fingering, cowgirl, cumshot, no protection (do not do this!) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 26.5K words ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - You've always led a very lonely and unfulfilled life where you were always alone. This isolation gets worse when you were sent into a remote office branch temporarily for a project. It wasn't until you met Jung Wooyoung, who you didn't know at first was a sex worker, and your fleeting encounter with him that changed the trajectory of your life and your views forever. It all starts when he found you one night on a rooftop. ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - I haven't written Wooyoung in a while, and I also haven't written anything simple, but extremely angsty, in a hot minute, as well. I figured I'd combine them both here. Personally cried while writing this. Enjoy! Title from 30 Seconds To Mars.◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @mallielovssyou ◄

You didn’t choose to live like this, didn’t choose to lead the melancholic and mundane life where you were all alone with nobody to lean on or trust to catch you if you fell - which was always and never.

But there you were, looking wistfully outside and taking in the scenario as the train you sat on rumbled on. It served to prove your point; you were also alone in the private cabin your work company had provided for you when they decided at the last minute to send you to another city that was literally situated on the opposite side of the country.

It wasn’t a difficult decision for you, after all, you really did want to advance in your career, but the sting of being alone just always caught on to you. Your co-workers were all pleasant and amicable, but they all had lives to lead. As for you, you were there to work, not to mingle. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t afford to wallow too much in your pity. You knew to yourself that this was a you problem. 

The train rolled to a stop and you got down with just a light luggage. People began to disembark with you, and one by one, they disappeared into the arms of their loved ones, voices rising with giggles and promises of catching up with one another. It was a painful reminder of what you did not have.

You smiled morosely. Indeed, you were no stranger to being alone, but that never meant that you liked being alone.

You were only human, after all. You craved the companionship, the intimacy, the late summer nights by the campfire roasting marshmallows in an open fire with someone, the drunken adventures that led to trouble and something to laugh out with friends, and the days where all you needed was a comforting presence.

You had to look away. You had to cut off that sinking, ugly feeling rising up in your chest called longing. You could not want what you could not have. This would be a hellish three months for you. 

The house you’d be staying at was a lot bigger than you thought, and a lot more luxurious even on the outside. It checks out, you thought. You did work at the biggest and most-well known fashion industry company as a director, after all.

You didn’t bother to explore, you had time for that, but you could tell that the interior was already suited to your tastes. It was bigger than you’d like. You didn’t mind it at all. All in all, the stay wasn’t going to be too bad. However, you have to start working as soon as possible. Even though you hated it and wanted to avoid it as long as you possibly could.

You loved your job, you really did. Being a director meant you had certain privileges that only you could exercise, but sometimes, you felt used.

Subject: Runway Project Help I hope this email finds you well, Y/N. The initial report is to be finalized by the end of the week. The resources you will utilize have all been provided for your leisure.

A humourless laugh heaves upon your chest at the callousness in which that email had sounded. Straight to the point, not even an attempt to ask if you had safe travel. 

You were aware that it wasn’t personal. You were one of the people that worked for something bigger; the one that made the rich even richer. Still, the lack of encouragement, follow-ups, questions about your well-being stung more than you’d like to admit.

It was just business. Just numbers on a report, a deadline to meet. You reached for your mouse, clicked the ‘reply’ button, and typed a simple acknowledgment. Subject: Re: Runway Project Help I will have it at your disposal within the desired time.

Before you could shut your laptop close, another email pops up from the other side of your screen. Begrudgingly, you clicked it, and the moment you do, regret fills your chest.

You shouldn’t have read it. You had totally forgotten that there was a company dinner to welcome the other employees who have travelled from other branches to help out the newly opened branch, such as yourself.

Disgruntled, you forced yourself to put on a decent outfit, not even bothering to accessorize that much, and you hailed a cab to the venue. The drive was only ten minutes away, but it felt like a lifetime of overthinking on your end. You didn’t even bother researching beforehand where you were heading, the intention was to come, mingle, and go.

It turned out to be a hotel, a fancy one fitting of your company’s reputation. You already felt sick as you began to walk to the front desk area. From where you were, you could already see a variety of people huddling to socialize, and you knew then and there that this would be a bore. You felt like you were going to get sick. You didn’t belong here.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Your attention was caught by a deep and gruff voice from behind you. He was tall, effortlessly stylish, with a crisp black jacket that hugged his frame just right . His dark hair was immaculately styled, and his posture was confident. "Mingi?" You asked in surprise that you had actually seen him. “Song Mingi?”

His eyes lit up with remembrance, his lips spreading into a friendly smile. "The one and only." 

You whispered a small thanks to the receptionist before following Mingi into one of the function halls. “Looks great, Director Song,” you complimented as you looked around. “Well done with the theme…”

Mingi was one of the interns sent to your branch for training a couple of years back. He was a fresh-faced kid back then, not knowing how brutal the fashion world was, but you could tell he was passionate about it, unlike his superiors who were in it for the cash.

Before Mingi could reply, a group of people started to make their way towards you. A suppressed groan sounds from the back of your throat, drowned out by the chatter. You knew these people, in fact, you knew virtually everybody in attendance today, and you weren’t interested in what they had to say.

“Oh my, Director L/N sure is a gem in the industry,” one of the people perked up, making the people around you nod in agreement.

“I suppose so, yes,,” you let out, jaw locked with tension. You might be a loner, but you weren’t oblivious to hypocrites when you encountered them.

Either these people were plain stupid, or they’re just ignoring the fact that you were clearly uninterested and disengaged. Thankfully, the speakers overhead blare up, instructing everyone to take their seats to get started. 

It was the most boring and uncomfortable time of your life, and that was saying a lot. You ran your fingers over the edge of your complimentary champagne flute, watching the alcohol slosh around inside. It looked like sweet nectar, but it tasted like disappointment.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You could slip away quietly, slip into the night like a shadow. No one would care. “Excuse me,” you placed your hand on Mingi’s arm to get his attention, your voice firm despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. He looked at you worried, but nodded anyway.

Without waiting for a response, you got up and  turned, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. You could see people watching and eyeing your every move, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t stand the environment you were in.

As you reached the door and stepped out, you allowed yourself a small, triumphant smile. You didn’t know where to go from here, but at least you were out of there.

With a sigh, you began to walk aimlessly to nowhere in particular. Come to think of it, you didn’t mind exploring the hotel. Despite your initial inhibitions, you actually did think that the venue was really pretty. 

And it was that aimless walking that led you to trouble. Just as you were about to make a sharp left turn to the lobby, a sudden collision jolted you out of your thoughts. You hastily tried to maintain your balance as you accidentally bumped into someone. “I’m sor—”

“Watch where you’re going,” the man you stumbled on hissed, his face twisted in annoyance as he also tried to gain his balance back.

You were taken aback at the vehemence in his voice. It was as if you had dangled this man’s puppy by its foot and shot it point blank in front of him. You didn’t know what to do, so you tried to apologize once more.

“I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to bump into you,” you spoke up, trying to sound as sincere as possible to appease him. “It was purely accidental on my end, I understand that’s bothersome.”

He harrumphed obnoxiously, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you up and down in contempt as he tried to collect himself. It was so uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of whatever this was. “Typical,” he scoffed. “The types of you always seem to be too busy to look where you’re going most of the time.”

What the hell did that even mean? You blinked owlishly, temporarily rendered speechless at whatever you just heard. “E-Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” his voice dripped with disdain before it dropped into a quiet grumble. “Jesus, do rich people get away with shit like this on an everyday basis? Unbelievable…”

You froze. Rich people? Is that what this was about? Still, that didn’t make any lick of sense. You understood where he was coming from - even though you picked your most minimal outfit, it was painfully obvious that you were decked out in clothes that the regular consumer couldn’t buy on an everyday basis.  But that stung, though, because you designed these, yourself. 

“I-I'm really sorry. It was an accident,” you reiterated, trying to keep your voice steady, but this man just wouldn’t give you a break.

“Sure, it was,” he said sarcastically. "Maybe if you spent less time with your head in the clouds and more time assessing the people around you, you'd be less of a problem."

You were, once again, taken aback by the hostility. Your pulse quickened, you hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. You had simply wanted to leave that suffocating event. But, despite this guy’s clear distaste for the wealthy, you were inclined to agree. You had enough clientele in your career to attest and support his claims, but still.

“I don’t think the punishment is befitting of the crime,” you frowned, an unspoken connotation that referred to how mean he was being to you and you didn’t appreciate it. 

He scoffed again, though this time it was more of a weak exhale and it held less weight in it. He shifted his feet to start walking forward, but he paused, his face holding a small grimace, clearly not meaning for you to see that.

It hit you then and there. The exhaustion in his eyes was undeniable, as though every word he said drained him more than he cared to admit. His body was swaying unnaturally as he stood in front of you, and you bumping into him must have exacerbated whatever he was already going through.

He wasn’t just angry at you; he was angry at everything. Maybe it wasn’t about you at all. Maybe it was just about his own tiredness, his own frustration with the world around him. Against your better judgment, you opened your mouth. “You look tired,” you said  gently. “It’s been a long night, hasn’t it?”

His expression faltered in surprise, only for a second, before he quickly masked it with a scowl. “That’s none of your business,” he muttered, but the anger in his voice was quieter now.

You didn’t reply. There was no need for further words; you understood to a certain extent what he was feeling and he knew that you weren’t going to relent.

You mustered up a small nod, a finality, as you turned around to leave, but not before glancing back at the man once more. “Good night, I hope you feel better.”

You didn’t look back to see if he was going to say something nor did you stay to hear if he was. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but take in his features, imagine them without the scowl that overtook his face.

Being in fashion allowed you to see physical features in depth. He was young, looked about to be your age. His features were a delicate harmony of sharp angles and soft curves, his eyes, dark and intense, were very reminiscent of an angry fox. You reckoned that his fox-eyes would look marvelous had he been smiling.

You shook your head, continuing to walk towards the direction you intended to in the first place. You had no idea where it led, but you didn’t really care anymore. You just needed to walk that experience off.

But that was before you realized that it was restaurant, a nice looking one. As if on cue, your stomach started rumbling. The function provided dinner, but there was no way you were going back in there.

It was nicer on the inside than the outside. However, you were a bit surprised to find the entire place empty, the tables all wiped clean with the corresponding velvet seats tucked in, save for one, lone waiter who was on their way to approach you.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he began to apologize profusely, bowing slightly to emphasize his point.  “We had just closed the daily restaurant to get ready for our overnight bar.”

“Oh,” you faltered, resisting the urge to deflate on the spot at the information.

The disappointment must have been apparent on your face. The waiter perked up to get your attention, clearing his throat. “Would you like to get a table or sit by the bar to wait for the opening? I reckon we’d be able to do so in less than thirty minutes.”

“A-Are you sure?”

He gives you a shrug in response. “It’s just me for now, anyway.”

The next thing you knew, he was beckoning you over with a small wave of his hand. You chose to sit by the furthest corner of the bar, thanking him with a small whisper that carried the biggest gratitude you could offer for tonight.

You were getting a bit dizzy, when was the last time you ate? It didn’t matter now, a drink or two - or maybe, ten - was what you currently needed.

As if on cue, the distinct clinking of glass sounds from your ear and the familiar slide of it nears your direction. It was a strawberry fizz, you reckoned, the mixture of said fruit and vodka with a hint of tang in it wafting up your nose.

You frowned, looking up at the bartender in palpable confusion. “It’s not much, it was the only thing I could make given my time constraint,” says the waiter, who was apparently also a bartender,  who shrugged in nonchalance.

“Uhm, thank you. I would have been fine waiting, me sitting here was enough of a bother for you,” you softly replied. You took the cocktail, sipped on it, your face lifting up in a pleasant surprise. “It’s good, but why?”

“You looked like you needed it,” he said. His voice was calm, like the sound of rain against a window. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house.”

Maybe you really did look that downtrodden. Shame started creeping up your cheeks, the fact that you were obvious even to someone who you haven’t even been around for more than five minutes was very telling on your end.

He leaned forward, elbows on the counter, and tilted his head toward the stairs. “The rooftop’s empty tonight,” he said casually. “Good place to clear your head.”

He didn’t push. Didn’t say anything else. Just wiped down the counter like he hadn’t just handed you an escape. It was a no-brainer -  the open air, the city stretching out beneath, the weight of your thoughts carried away by the wind. Without a word, you stood, drink in hand, and made your way to the stairs.

Indeed, the rooftop was remarkable, by far the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen in a while. The stars were twinkling bright tonight, and you were one of the only specks in the world that have been blessed to stare at their beauty all night long. Though, you had a feeling that people aren’t to stare at the stars.

You liked it much better up here. Not a single person to be seen, noise drowned out by sheer distance. This is what you wanted. Distance. To be away. To be gone. And then, before you could stop it, your chest tightened. Tears brimmed your eyes, blurring the beautiful glitter of the stars above the skyline. You covered your mouth to quiet your sobs, but the rooftop was empty and there was nobody to hear your distress.

You felt pathetic. It was everything bottled up inside you - the lonely train ride, the empty house you’d be residing at for three straight months, your stuck-up supervisor who sent you to this God-awful place knowing that nothing and nobody was going to hold you back, and the people you left at the function being happy while you were by the rooftop railing bawling  your eyes out.

It was everything. You didn’t know how long you were there for, the cocktail long forgotten on a random table somewhere while you leaned towards the railing, just taking in the wind while more tears flowed from your eyes. 

You leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the metal. As you did, you realized that there was an extra step you could take to get closer to the edge. And so you did. It was a risky position, but everything looked much different up where you were. Your tears lose themselves to the breeze. The city sprawled beneath you, indifferent, endless. This was a distraction, nothing more.

“Hello?”

The thought wasn’t even dramatic, nor was it frightening for you. It was just there. And for a moment, the weight inside you lessened.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you know that’s fucking dangerous?”

Maybe you could run away. You had enough money to literally start over anywhere you wanted. You could take an extended vacation, and even if you never worked again, you’d have a good chunk of money still left. The thought of it made more tears in your eyes.

“Hey!”

You were startled out of your thoughts by the sudden voice that cracked through the air. Your hand darted out, gripping the edge of the rooftop to steady yourself. “What,” you flatly said, not bothering to turn around, mostly because you still felt slightly disconnected from reality.

“I think you should step away from the railing,” they said. 

You hummed, annoyed. That voice sounded awfully familiar. “I think you should stop telling me what to do,” you replied sarcastically.

There wasn’t a reply for a second, only the shuffling of shoes and the creak of a closing door. “I just think it’s a very risky position you’re in,” he clicked his tongue. “It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, almost laughing, though it came out more like a sigh. “What, can’t a girl admire the view without being criticized now?”

“Cut the crap. You didn’t come here for the view.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You obviously came from that godforsaken party in the hall down the lobby. Why aren’t you down there having the time of your life?”

Your death grip loosens from the railing. You turned sharply, breath uneven, ready to mouth off to whoever was behind you, and you were faced with the last person you ever expected to see in a setting like this.

It was the attractive, fox-eyed man you had bumped into earlier. His face was calm, devoid of any panic at seeing you so close to the edge of the rooftop. He didn’t lunge toward you, didn’t bark orders or plead. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. It was such a contrast from his scowl when you encountered him.

“That’s none of your business,” you gritted your teeth angrily, more tears starting to form in your eyes, looking up to stop them from falling. “I don’t need to hear how snooty my kind of people are from you. Earlier was enough.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t push. Just stayed. “So, what are you doing here, then?”

“Does it really even matter why?” You snapped, your pulse slamming against your ribs, anger flaring before you could stop it. “I don’t want to be there.”

He shrugged, his observing eyes not leaving yours. “Alright, that’s fair.”

You wanted to scoff, but all you did was avoid eye contact, looking back to your sides to hopefully catch anything but his eyes. “That’s it? You’re not going to ask for more?”

He exhaled, the sound barely audible over the wind. “No,” he said. “Not my place, though I can’t say I’m not curious.”

You raised your brows ever so slightly. You obviously didn’t know this man, but based on the minute encounter you’ve had with him, this seems to be on par with his personality. There were no lectures, no false concern, no sweet nothings to convince you otherwise.

He shifts his foot, his hand slipping in his pocket to retrieve what seemed to be a small packet of cigarette. “Listen, I don’t smoke, not at all,” he said casually. “But there’s a first time for everything. You either do it downstairs with me, or I could stay here with you until you’re done being dramatic.”

That should have made you mad, the way he said was so callous and indifferent, but instead, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. You liked this, you decided. Slowly, you stepped off from the edge and chose to sit down on the concrete below it, instead, your back leaning against it, not caring if your dress got dirty.

Certainly not caring at how he would’ve been annoyed had you not listened and how his face softens a little bit, the most miniscule of emotions peeking through at the sight of your tired body and your teary eyes.

Without waiting for your response, he sits down next to you, plopping his ass so close to you that your knees touch each other. He waves the packet of cigarettes in front of you. “Here, take one. Hell, take them all. A friend gave them to me.”

You shook your head, pushing them back. “I stopped.”

“Wonderful,” he hummed. The next thing you knew, he threw the whole packet away, off of the rooftop, to never be seen forever. He only raised a brow at your flabbergasted face. “I wasn’t going to give you one, anyway. Just wanted you to get down.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t say anything. The both of you didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity, just the two of you there, each caught in your own thoughts. There was something in the air that kept you from feeling entirely alone.

“I don’t know what you were assuming, but I wasn’t going to jump,” you mumbled after realizing that that’s what it must’ve looked like from his perspective. “I genuinely just wanted to enjoy the view.”

His expression was still unreadable. “I know,” he raised a brow, side-eyeing you for good measure. “You don’t look like you have what it takes. No guts.”

You scoffed, not knowing if you wanted to be amused or be offended at his dig towards you. One thing was for sure, though - whatever he did, it was an effective way to get you out of your head without making you feel worse. You sniffled, embarrassingly so, before you decided to change the topic so as to not make it awkward for the both of you. “Are you here for a drink, too, or something?” 

“No,” he replied. “Yunho’s a great friend of mine. Said something about giving this sad girl a fruity ass drink and was worried that you were taking forever to come back downstairs.”

You scoffed, you didn’t even realize that you spent so long in here that the bartender had even noticed your extended absence. He stared at you, watching your expression, before he let out a small chuckle. “I guess you really did need that drink,” he expressed.

You narrowed your eyes, feeling annoyance creeping up your chest at his tone. “You think you’re funny? I’m fine.”

He titled his head towards you. “Your tears are telling me otherwise.”

Your jaw tightened, fingers twitching at your side. You hadn’t even realized you were still crying until he pointed it out, and somehow, that only made the frustration burn hotter in your chest. “Is this a thing of yours? Judging everything you see at first sight?”

Suddenly, he frowns. “Look, if this is about earlier, I do admit that the things I said were way out of line.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “What an inspiring apology.”

“I’m not apologizing,” his tone was blunt, almost irritated, like he didn’t want to be having this conversation in the first place. “Nothing personal.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Still,” he sighed, “It doesn’t feel right leaving someone up here looking like they might just let the wind take them.” You rolled your eyes at that. “And I’m not an ass. Not entirely, anyway.”

“I told you,” you let out a frustrated sound from the back of your throat. “I just really needed air. Been a shitty day for me, is all.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

You weren’t even surprised at the casualness of his voice anymore. He sounded almost careless, like he wasn’t used to talking to people like he was doing right now. Still, you were perplexed when he asked. “Personal crap, especially work, the usual suspects,” you shrugged, cryptic as possible. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t used to talking about certain things. “So, do you work here?”

He peers at you. “Something like that. Occasionally, yeah. Usually, I do drink here but my mood was kinda ruined when someone bumped into me earlier.”

Well, two can play this game of being cryptic about work. You narrowed your eyes, but before you could respond, he cleared his throat. “Anyway, tell me what’s up with work, then. Might make you feel better to talk about them.”

You raised a brow, skeptical. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He stared at you dead in the eye. His fox-shaped eyes looked so intense that for a second, you faltered. “Try me,” he deadpanned.

You had nothing against this man, but you were still wary. He was a stranger, after all. “I did come from that party down the hall. I, uhm, it was just suffocating,“ you said carefully.

“Interesting. I thought those bullshit events are supposed to be fun and all. All the dickheads that come out of there always brag about them,” he murmured. You raised a brow in question. “There’s a huge ass banner above the hall,” he explained. “Not social, I suppose?”

You took a second to think. “No,” you admitted. “Not really.”

“Then why the hell are you even there, then?” He raised a brow sarcastically.

“Because that’s kind of my job? I don’t know how else to tell you,” you frowned, though you couldn’t argue back with that one since you do get his vision. You didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t that simple.

He begins to shake his head as if disbelieving the things that were coming out of your mouth. If you were a douchebag, to be crass, you would’ve socked his pretty face immediately. He was lucky that it was you he was encountering. Or maybe someone else has already done it. Fox-eyes to you was such an interesting character.

“That can’t be it,” he scoffed. “You’re telling me that you were crying because you can’t put your big girl pants on and suck it up?”

You blinked owlishly at his bluntness, but he wasn’t finished. “So fucking quit then,” he chuckled sarcastically. Then, he mumbles something under his breath, something you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear.

“I swear you rich people always have something to cry about.”

It was definitely a stark reminder of the things he had told you earlier when you bumped into him. You understood him, you really did, because things like those never come out of nowhere. You were positive that he probably experienced something that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You wouldn’t understand, then,” you shook your head.

Just then, he laughed. That caught you more off guard than anything he’s done so far tonight, if you were being frank. You have to admit, he had a very pretty laugh, sure it was a little bit pitchy and squeaky than you’d like, but for some reason, it did suit him.

“You’re right, I won’t, and to be completely frank with you, I don’t want to. I wish I had your problems because I know I won’t be such a pussy about it,” he sighed, long and hard. “But you’re the one moping right now, not me. I can’t stand people like you, but lay it on me, anyway.”

And he was very crass, too. Such a contrast from the overly respectful and polite environment you were used to. It was very refreshing, regardless of his mean and underhanded comments. One thing you absolutely detested was false positivity, and this man was able to provide you the opposite in less than thirty minutes of you knowing him. 

There was absolutely no sympathy in his tone, none at all, and in a way, you liked it that way. You didn’t need sympathy. It suddenly dawns on you why - it all came down on the supposed wealth he thought you had. You lived in luxury, and you got everything you wished for immediately, so to him, that must mean that you had no reasons to be down.

“My job sucks,” you muttered, half to yourself. “It’s just miserable. I’m required to be in the presence of people I don’t care about to make a profit with their money that I won’t even get to touch and impress some big kahuna I don’t even care about.”

He hummed, nodding his head to indicate that he was listening. “So, an existential crisis disguised as work complaints?”

You snorted. “I suppose so, yes.”

“How tragic,” he lets out a short, unimpressed breath, barely sparing you a glance. “Must be hard.”

You closed your eyes to contain yourself, just when you thought that maybe he was showing some sympathy, but you get it. You were one of the few lucky ones out there. You were willing to bet that you earned what he did in a full week within half the day.

So yes, in a way, you understood, and even though his hostility isn’t making you feel any better, you welcome it with open arms. You exhaled the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You sound like you hate your job, too.”

“Oh, a thousand-fucking-percent,” he didn’t hesitate to supply, spitting on the ground to make his point stronger. “I fucking hate it with every inch of my life. But it works.”

You wanted to ask what it was he did, but you held back. “So, you understand where I’m coming from, then?”

He gave you a look, something unreadable flickering behind his expression, but then he just shook his head. “No. We’re different. It’s not about whether I like it or not,  it’s about whether I can survive doing it. The same should apply to you.”

You frowned. “That’s a really depressing way to look at life.”

“Yeah, well,” he leaned his face closer to yours. You didn’t move an inch, mesmerized at how prettier his eyes were up close. “Tears can’t pay my bills. You’re probably getting paid right now as we speak.”

For the first time ever since you had this conversation, burning shame encapsulates your insides, a trailing fire in your pit that didn’t cease to be put out. He was right, and he knew it. He scoffed, leaning away. The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy. Shared.

After a while, he spoke again, his tone quieter. “You quitting?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten to a point in my career where I wouldn’t know what to do if I did.”

“So, all of this was for naught then? Wasted tears?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He hummed like he understood. He didn’t question it, didn’t argue, didn’t say anything at all for a long moment. His face was unreadable, his posture relaxed, but his fingers tapped absently against his leg. He leaned his head back on the railing, closing his eyes.

“Find something,” he mumbled, eyes still shut.  His voice was so low that you didn’t even realize he was talking to you at first. “Then start figuring out how to get there.”

“If it were that easy,  I would have done it,” you sighed.

He sighed back. “I never said it was. We have only one life to live, but it doesn’t mean that we only have one life to lead. You’re in a position to be anything for yourself, one that won’t drain you mentally and emotionally. Heaven knows that some people don’t even have that option.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. Like he wasn’t just talking about you. You stayed silent, internalizing what he said. Just who was this man you had encountered tonight?

He was right. You had witnessed it first hand. The amount of people you’ve known and lost who have experienced a burn out so bad that they had pretty much lost their minds over it and it never recovered. They were the reason you were still here; you didn’t want to be like them.

You watched him stand up, raising your head to look at his towering figure as he looked down on you. “You want another drink?” He asked softly.

You hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, you nodded. He nodded back, turning toward the rooftop door. “Alright,” he said, as if that settled something. “Wipe your tears and freshen up. I’ll tell Yunho.”

And just like that, he had disappeared from your sight. It was as if nothing happened, like your encounter with him was a fever dream.

When you were sure that you looked at least presentable, like you didn’t just cry over your job in front of a total stranger who disliked you for your money, you made your way back downstairs, pleased to see that the bar had picked up and that the bartender earlier was busy with the patrons.

But the fox-eyed man was nowhere to be seen. Not on the bar stools, not on the tables that were spread out.

Your heart sank as you sat in the exact spot you were at before you went to the rooftop, waving your hand subtly at the bartender who immediately walked over you with a questioning look. Your mouth suddenly went dry, and then, you wanted to hit yourself. You didn’t even get fox-eyes’ name.

“He’s gone, sorry. He’s not really one to stay for long because of his job,” the bartender - Yunho - explained with an apologetic tone, reading the look on your face. “He did leave you this, though.”

Déjà vu settles over you from head to toe when Yunho hands you another drink, the very same drink. Only this time, he has a genuine smile on face as gave it to you. “He already paid for it, says his apologies for not staying,” he leaned over the table closer to you with a smirk. “So, how’d you know each other?”

“We don’t,” you supplied truthfully. “We bumped into each other tonight.”

“Ah,” he sounds out an acknowledgement. “I’m sorry you had the displeasure, then. He, uhm, can come off as very strong,agree  personality wise. As his friend, I hope he didn’t offend you.”

You think about the sound advice he left you before he disappeared and shook your head. “Don’t be, I do agree that he’s, uh, quite assertive, but he seems like a very insightful person.”

He raised a brow in amusement. “You sure about that? I remember wanting to throw him off the rooftop when I first met him.”

You nodded, laughing. “I’m sure. He has a refreshing personality.”

Yunho stared at you with a very inquisitive look. You squirmed in your seat, his eyes were quite sharp, now that you were up close and personal with him. What was up with you encountering very unnerving people tonight? Were fox-eyes and his friends really this daunting?

“Hold on a moment, please,” he murmured, finally leaning away, only for him to open a cabinet you didn’t know was there and grab a sticky note, scribbling something quickly on it before handing it to you. Confused, you took it, and gave him a questioning look as your eyes settled on the pad. It was a phone number, that you could tell.

“Look,” he began awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not supposed to do this, and this is literally a violation of my job, but that,” he pointed at the paper. “Call that number if you ever need a companion. You really look like you need it.”

“Is it his number?” You blurted out, gripping the note.

Yunho shook his head. “No. I would never do that, he would butcher me on the spot. But it is directly related to his job.”

“That…does not sound sketchy at all,” you trailed off, your frown getting deeper as you felt more unsettled.

He shrugged, turning around for you to think about it, and coincidentally, another patron from the bar flagged him, anyway, so he would have left regardless. Tonight was definitely the weirdest night of your life. 

You put the now crumpled note in your purse as you finished your drink fast, intending to forget about it even though it was given to you in good will.

You knew that called companions did exist for lonely people. It was a whole new meaning to ‘call a friend’. You’d occasionally hear your co-workers gush about it every lunch break, that the experience was life-changing. 

Regardless, you thought it was pathetic to resort to doing it. Being alone sounded more appealing than being so desperate to be with someone that you’d pay for their time. You would never, ever call that number.

You called the number the next day.

But not without doing a little bit of research, of course. While you were browsing, you were genuinely surprised to see that called companions were a booming business, a billion-dollar one, even. 

In a way, you understood, especially for the wealthy. Lord knows that you know plenty of people who’d rather die alone than have people around them only for their cash. Paying for comfort sounded logically sane even though the concept seemed uncomfortable for some, even for you. 

You pay for a temporary friend and when your time is up, it’s like it never happened. No strings attached, no worries. You paced the living room back and forth as you chewed on your nails anxiously as you waited for the other line to pick up, the prolonged ringing echoing in your ears grating, and for a second, you were concerned that Yunho had played a mean prank on you.

The conversation with fox-eyes made you realize how truly lonely you were, that maybe you really did just need someone to talk with. You hoped that you could see him again, you wished to talk to him once more, but you knew that was wishful thinking on your end.

We only have one life to live, but we have only one life to lead. That never left your mind, repeating in your head like some sort of gospel like it was the answer and solution to all your problems.

You didn’t care anymore, you were at an all-time high desperation. Besides, you weren’t staying here. You’d be gone in three months by the time that the company branch would be good to stand by themselves.

“Thank you for calling The Wonderland of Desire and Utopia where your hands aren’t the only thing that’ll be busy tonight, and where there’s no small talk, just big conversations. Our lines are open, but so are we. My name is Kang Yeosang, would you like to set an appointment?”

Your foot stopped halfway from taking a step, still in the air, as your jaw dropped at what you had just heard. Your eyes were wide with disbelief, especially at how deep the voice was on the other end. Well, that was certainly one way to begin a phone call like this.

“I know, right? Most of our clients say the same thing!”

You yelped, audibly startled. You mentally cursed, you must’ve said that thought out loud like a blithering idiot. But more than that, what in the hell did you just call? Was Yunho really playing a mean prank on you?

“Uh, h-hi, uh, I’ve never done this before,” you laughed nervously. “Can you explain how this works and how…discreet it is?”

Yeosang hums thoughtfully, his voice taking in on a cheerful note as he lets out a merry laugh. “Our services are very discreet, rest assured. We make our workers sign an NDA that our clientele can set up, if need be. Our companionship requires a certain level of respect and vice versa.”

“I see,”  you murmured, sitting down on the couch to get your footing. Something tells you that this will permanently change the trajectory of your life. “So, how does this work? Like I said, I’ve never done this before…”

“If I may, you seem to be the shy type,” Yeosang said. “Usually, almost all of our clients are repeat customers, so that means they have their go-tos. Our rates are by threes and are extendable, of course. Would you like me to send a list of companions and call back?”

That didn’t sound too bad, three hours seems like a very reasonable time for you, especially if all you’re looking for was a friend who you’ll hopefully click with and take a liking to.

“No, no need,” you denied politely. “Would you be able to pick out one for me? I-I’m not really fussy.”

There was a pause on the line, the discernible clicking of the keyboard filling in the silence. “Are you free by nighttime?” Yeosang asked. You made a small sound of agreement. “I have someone perfect for you. I can vouch for him, he’ll make the entire experience very comfortable for you.”

Your chest heaved as Yeosang talked about the rate and the payment as well as the paperwork he was to send you in a bit that details your companion’s details. You did like this bit of the process - hell, if you were about to pay someone for their time, as sad as that is, you did want to know things about them, at least.

Before you knew it, you were being thanked for your payment and you were thanking Yeosang for the help. A file was sent to your email so you quickly opened your laptop.

It didn’t really hit you what you’ve done until you’ve hung up and the only thing around you was silence. “Oh my God,” you muttered in horror as you opened the file and read the contents.. “Did I just do that…?”

Recipient: Kang Yeosang - Wonderland of Desire and Utopia Subject: Companion Information (Important!) Name: Jung Wooyoung Birthdate: November 26, 1999 Current Residence: Busan, South Korea Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Blood Type: A+ Height: 173 cm (5’8”) Allergies: None Tattoos: Four Piercings: Four Green: soft touches, massages, bondage, exhibitionism, blindfold, degradation, age play, biting, spanking, corruption Yellow: multiple participants, feet, breath play, wax play, CNC, voyeurism, somnophilia Red: knife play, furries, assault, food play, uncommon roleplays, blood, other bodily fluids besides arousal, watersports

You blinked repeatedly, frozen on the spot. You even went as far as rubbing your eyes before re-reading the entire thing. Did Yeosang send you the wrong information? This was a bit too oddly specific for just a called companion.

You could feel your face heat up as you soaked the information one by one. And blood? You practically gagged, that certainly something you had no interest in knowing, but now, there was no way to unread all of this.

“Jung Wooyoung,” you mouthed silently, feeling and testing the weight of the name on your tongue. It had a nice ring to it, you thought it was a very pretty name. There was no picture attached to the file. Not that it mattered, appearances definitely don’t mean a single thing to you.

It was when you were done eating and were currently washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. Another thing you fancied with this house was that there was an intercom in the kitchen so you didn’t have to go directly towards the door. You were suddenly reminded of fox-eyes, wondering what he would say about rich people and their toys. You could picture the sneer on his face and it brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! I already unlocked the door for you. Go straight and you’ll see me in the kitchen,” you talked through the intercom, hoping the crackling of it hid the nervousness in your voice.

The telltale sign of someone entering the house made your nerves shoot up. You were still washing the dishes and putting them on the rack, you didn’t want to break anything, but you were just very nervous. Your back was turned from the new incomer and it was when you heard the shuffling of feet from behind you.

“J-Just a m-moment,” you stammered pathetically. “L-Let me just wash my hands…”

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, drowning out everything else. He was here - right behind you. You could practically feel the subtle shift in the air. A faint, amused chuckle sent a shiver down your spine.

“Take your time, dollface. I have all the time in the world to make you relax,” the newcomer’s voice was smooth, it was husky and had a teasing edge to it that literally made your knees want to buckle.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and turned around. That was a mistake. The polite, neutral greeting you had prepared died in your throat the second you saw him.

Apparently, he was just as surprised as you. The cocky smirk he had on his face as he was leaning on the dining table fell down in slow motion to be replaced with shock as he took your face in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the fox-eyed man you wanted to see again scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head as if this was a nightmare he couldn’t wait to wake up from. “You? You’re L/N Y/N?”

“And you’re Jung Woooyung,” you drawled out, biting your lips after saying it out loud.

“Why?” Wooyoung asked, tone snappy, challenging you, it seemed. “Did you have something else named for me in your pretty little head? What is it? Asshole? Jerk? Doucheface?”

You hesitated, holding the edge of your skirt in a tight bunch in your fist. The gesture doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s attention, but he doesn’t make a comment on it. Finally, you shook your head and shrugged. “Fox-eyes.”

His brows twitched. “Excuse me?”

A sharp exhale heaves from your chest. You turned your head to avoid eye contact with him, a deep crimson coating your cheeks. “Fox-eyes. Your, uh, eyes. They reminded me of a fox.”

You caught the way Wooyoung’s eyes were trying to decide if he should just walk out now or endure the rest of the night. He crossed his arms, staring you down. You shifted your feet, uncomfortable at how intense his eyes were.

“Unbelievable,“ he muttered under his breath, but due to how silent the house was, you were able to hear it. “It’s like this world is forcing us to meet at every turn.”

You couldn’t agree more. Here you were, literally thinking about how you didn’t mind it if you saw him again, but now that he was not only in front of you but literally in the house, you didn’t know what to do.

He began rounding the table until he was only a couple of feet away from you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He narrowed his eyes irritatingly. “I’m not going to eat you.”

You frowned. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His lips twitched into a small smirk ever so slightly, it was very reminiscent of what you told him last night and you were pretty sure that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “Were you really that lonely? You were many things, but the last thing I expected was for you to call a service so you wouldn’t be alone. Money really isn’t everything, huh?”

And there it was. You purse your lips, deciding to ignore his last statement. Nothing good was going to come out of it. 

It certainly wasn’t helping that you were able to look at him up close and personal now that your tears weren’t clouding your eyes and it was brighter than the rooftop. My God, you thought. He was more attractive than you initially thought. His eyes were sharper, his nose more upturned, and his lips were plumper and juicer.

Wooyoung started to massage his temples as if he was already tired before the conversation even began. “Let’s discuss boundaries, both for you and me. Let me know anything, and I mean anything, even if it’s just as simple as turning the lights off or not.”

You crinkle your brows in confusion, but he continued. “I also want to know your pain tolerance, and especially your safe word. This is my job and I do take it seriously. If there’s anything you’re looking for, I need to know before we begin.”

“H-Hold on, what on Earth are you talking about?” You blurted out, your entire face completely scrunched up in visible confusion. “Why do we need the lights off? And pain? What—”

He scoffed, eyes darkening as his jaw locked in impatience. “Y/N,” he deadpanned, voice devoid of any emotion. His tone sent shivers up your spine once more. “This is already humiliating for me as is, and if this is your way of getting back at me for last night, don’t.”

“I really don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about, seriously,” you said exasperatedly as you slowly got more and more aggravated at what’s happening.

Wooyoung stopped talking, his eyes lighting up with something like he just realized something. He narrowed his eyes, his head tilting slightly as he studied you in a way he hadn’t before. 

Something in his expression shifts into an even deeper realization and his eyes widened, a startled gasp leaving his lips. Wooyoung looked so shocked that the way his entire body stiffened honestly scared you. 

“You don’t know,” he whispered, his voice taking on a horrified note. “Holy shit, you have no idea.” A dry laugh escaped him, short and bitter. "Unbelievable."

You blinked. "Know what?"

His expression didn’t change. He just kept staring at you, unblinking, his breathing slow and measured. Your pulse kicked up. "You’re freaking me out," you admitted, forcing out a nervous laugh.

Still, he said nothing. His silence stretched too long, too unnatural, until finally, he let out a sharp exhale and raked a hand through his hair. "No fucking way."

Your stomach plummeted. "Okay, what is going on?”

“I need to ask you something,” he said slowly, voice eerily careful. “How did you wind up calling the number you did?”

For a moment, you thought about lying, but there was no point. “Yunho gave it to me,” you admitted. “Said to call if I need a companion.”

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, his fist lightly bumped the table. His jaw tightened impossibly more than you thought possible. His intensity was honestly worrying you. “That motherfucker,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “I’ll kill him.”

Something in your stomach twisted as you watched him rub a hand over his face in frustration. “Listen to me, dollface,” he muttered. “I have to refund you your money.”

You were confused. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he snapped, his eyes widened in anger. “I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here for a different type of job. I want you to think really, really hard right now. Use that noggin of yours, think.” 

But how were you supposed to do that? You were the director of the biggest fashion chain in the country, pressure was one you were used to, but right now, you couldn’t think straight. You swear you’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

“I still don’t—”

“I’m a sex worker, Y/N. A male prostitute, if you will. I get paid for sex. To fuck.”

At first, it still didn’t hit you what he was saying, but when it did, everything clicked all at once. The weird conversation with Yeosang, the overly kinky information sheet, the boundary talk, the lights, pain—

“Oh my God,” the blood on your face disappeared and you paled.  "Oh my God."

How could you be so stupid? You quickly turned to him even though you wanted the earth to swallow you whole. “I didn’t know, I swear to God I didn’t know. I wouldn't have called, I swear.”

His jaw clenched. "Yeah. I figured that out about five minutes ago."

“B-But Yunho,” you blurted out. 

“He didn’t know,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Called companions do exist, but I wasn’t exactly going to tell my friend that I fuck people for living now, would I? He gave you the number in good faith, because I told him I was a regular companion.”

It all made sense now. All that conversation of him hating his job and why he looked so forlorn about it, why he didn’t want to talk about it, everything made so much sense now. 

A long silence stretched between you, thick and crackling with something unspoken. You tried very, very hard not to think about the actual reason why Wooyoung was technically here. If you blushed now, it would be very obvious to him what you were currently thinking.

Amidst that, you couldn’t stop the ache in your chest. You were an idiot, he did say that this was humiliating for him, and now you knew why. You thought about all of the things he said on the rooftop.

He gave you a look, something unreadable flickering behind his expression, but then he just shook his head. “No. We’re different. It’s not about whether I like it or not,  it’s about whether I can survive doing it. The same should apply to you.”

“You’re in a position to be anything for yourself, one that won’t drain you mentally and emotionally. Heaven knows that some people don’t even have that option.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. Like he wasn’t just talking about you. You stayed silent, internalizing what he said.

You didn’t want to assume, one blunder was enough for tonight, but it would greatly explain his aversion to, as he would put it, rich people and their drama.

“Stop that.” 

You swiveled your head towards Wooyoung’s direction, confused if he was even talking to you. “What?”

“Stop that,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He pointed at you haughtily with his index finger. “That look in your face, that pity. I hate it, I don’t need it. Certainly not from you.”

You tilted your head. “I’m not, though. I think you’re quite resilient.”

It was true, but of course, he wasn’t going to believe anything that comes from your mouth. “Really?” Wooyoung scoffed sarcastically. “Is this rich people lingo? Anything that deviates from what’s proper is seen as quirky and shit? Or is it because my job is seen as dirty?”

A frown settles on your face. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to pick a fight, just like he did when you met him for the first time. “Wooyoung,” you said slowly, the weight of his name heavy on your tongue this time. “You know I don’t have a problem with what you do, right?”

He stilled, and for the first time since this whole mess unraveled, he actually looked surprised. Not angry, not disbelieving, just surprised. Like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to say that.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, turning around to open the fridge nearby before looking at him from behind your shoulders. “I was about to help myself with dessert when you came. I believe I made too much of it.”

It was an open invitation, one you hope he’d take. He narrowed his eyes at you and you could clearly see the simmering anger in them. He shook his head, still looking at you like he wasn’t sure what to make of you.

But then, he exhaled softly. “Where can I wash my hands?”

You perked up, your chest feeling lighter. “You’re staying?”

Wooyoung gave you a look. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I might as well. You paid for my time, and plus, if I’m going to be pissed about this whole situation, I might as well get pissed off eating dessert. Now, can you please tell me where the bathroom is? I’m not particularly interested in eating with dirty hands.”

It's how you found yourself trying hard not to stare at Wooyoung as he helped himself with the cheesecake you whipped up quickly for yourself this afternoon while you were passing time. You swallowed, how can this man be this attractive by just eating?

“Damn,” he mumbled, nodding in approval before he looked at you impassively. “This is pretty good. You could just quit your shitty job and do this, it’s lucrative.”

Your heart just did a flip-flop then and there. Looks like he still remembered what the both of you talked about.  “Hmm. I’m not as good as you think. I bet you could do better.”

Wooyoung raised a brow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What gave it away?”

You leaned forward, your elbows leaning on top of the table. “You don’t just suggest someone to switch careers. Only someone who makes food, themselves, knows what tastes good enough to sell.”

That actually got a real laugh out of him - not bitter, not forced - just tired, a little exasperated, but real. “You are, by far, my strangest client, dollface,” he shook his head. “And that’s saying a lot.”

Your lips twitched, fighting off a smile. “I’m serious,” he said. “When I get called over, it’s usually not to eat cheesecake with my clients.”

You hummed, mostly to hide how nervous you were to ask your next question. But when you tried to open your mouth and ask away, nothing really came out.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you. “Just ask,” he said. “It literally doesn’t bother me anymore. Were you going to ask how I got into sex work?”

You blushed beet red, nodding sheepishly. He scoffs, but it wasn’t out of malice, it was more of teasing disbelief. “Lesson one, Y/N. If you want something in life, all you have to do is ask.”

“Anyway,” he took a big bite out of the cheesecake. “It’s quick money. Out here, there aren’t many opportunities for people with lesser education. I have a younger brother depending on me. This is my only way to make a decent living while making my own schedule.”

“I see,” you nodded in understanding. “What about your parents?”

Wooyoung’s face darkened, and for a second, you regretted even asking in the first place. “Mum passed from giving birth to my brother, dad can’t hold a job to save his skin so he relies on me. Make this the last time you ask about him, though, I detest him.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you mumbled more to yourself, but of course, that doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s attention.

“Huh. So not only are you so lonely and desperate that you resort to seeking comfort with a prostitute, but you also have daddy issues,” he said flatly without missing a beat.

You snorted at that. As insensitive as it is, when he puts it like that, it does make a lot of sense. You couldn’t get mad at Wooyoung for that, if anything, it puts things into perspective and it eases your mind a little. “Thanks,” you smiled.

He huffed out a laugh. “You’re thanking me for being an ass to you?”

“For being real,” you gently corrected. “As unsympathetic as you come off, it’s not like the things you’ve told me weren’t true.”

He hummed. “You are an oddball.”

You didn’t reply, staring down your plate that had the unfinished cheesecake. You just realized something and your appetite started to wane down, and you almost felt bad. He noticed this and raised his brow at you. “What?”

“When I bumped into you yesterday,” you mumbled, poking your cheesecake with your fork absentmindedly. “No wonder you looked tired. Did you just, uhm.”

You didn’t know how to say it, you didn’t know what to say without sounding like you were prying, especially when you said that what he did didn’t bother you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything - just stared at you like he was trying to decide if he should be amused or annoyed. You both knew what you were trying to ask.

“Yeah, I just finished working that night,” he admitted, leaning back on the chair with a deep sigh as he stared up at the ceiling. Somehow, he looked even more tired than before. “Client was an asshole. Gave me those nasty cigarettes as half of the payment.”

“And you sort of took it out on me,” you said slowly.

He huffed a dry, humourless laugh. “Yes.”

For a second, you thought he might say something more. Maybe an apology for snapping at you, or maybe a thank you for the night, just something to acknowledge whatever had just passed between you two. But nothing. Something in his face changed. Wooyoung pushed the plate away from him as he glanced at his wrist for the time. “I should go.”

You blinked in surprise. "Y-Yeah, sure," you tentatively stood up from your chair and he did the same. He didn’t even look back, just walked straight to the door and held the doorknob.

Wooyoung paused, rolling out his shoulders like he was resetting himself.  When he looked at you again, his usual smirk was back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he said, his voice light, almost dismissive.

You weren’t sure why that made your stomach sink a little. But, you had to let him go. He technically had no reason to be here. You let out a small huff, shaking your head to yourself. "Yeah. See you around."

And with that, he was gone. You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he’d been, the weight of the night pressing down on you in ways you hadn’t expected.

See you when I see you. Somehow, you got the feeling you would.

The next time you saw Wooyoung again, it was a by-chance. It was a week after, an entire week where you couldn’t stop thinking about Wooyoung.

You had just gotten off of the phone that morning when you decided to get out and cool off. Your boss was already on your ass about the oncoming project, and you did try to protest, but you were quickly shut down without a single hint of patience.

It took everything in you not to chuck your phone out the window. One of these days, you could just envision yourself snapping, but for now, you were going to take it one step at a time.

There was a nearby cafe tucked in a corner that you wouldn’t even have seen at all had you not decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood. The moment you opened the door, you knew you were going to like it there. You were the type to make coffee at home, but a little trip here and there didn’t hurt anyone.

You distracted yourself by grabbing a smaller version of the menu that held pastry options lying on the table as you watched the barista make your coffee delicately. That would have been fine, but it was when you saw him.

Wooyoung took over making your cappuccino as the other barista took another person’s order. Your mind just about exploded by then, it was like he said the other week  - that this universe was trying to force you onto one another lately.

You cringed, anxiety flooding you, so you lifted the menu and covered your face with it so Wooyoung wouldn’t see you. That didn’t really do anything, you still peeked from behind the menu to glance at Wooyoung as he worked on your coffee.

You let out a small whimper when your eyes landed on Wooyoung’s arm as they flexed while he worked - there was a medium-sized tattoo of a thorny rose displayed on his veiny arms.

Holy hell, you thought. If that wasn’t attractive enough, his unfairly thin waist kept distracting you from the task at hand and while that may be so, it was pretty obvious that he was built despite all the features mentioned.

As if this world was against you, Wooyoung began to make his way to your table, cup in hand. You didn’t even have time to react and by the time you thought about it, it was too late. He had seen you.

“Well, blow me the fuck down,” Wooyoung smirked as he placed the cup in front of you before crossing his arms. “You’re alive.”

You scoffed, putting the menu down, your head rising to meet his teasing eyes. “Didn’t think you’d even remember me, let alone care that I’m alive, or something.”

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms tighter against his chest, stepping closer to your table. “Cut me some slack here, dollface. I’m not that much of a dickhead,” he rolled his eyes. “Just surprised to see you, is all. Last time I saw you out, you were an inch away from falling to your death.”

Somehow, your chest warmed at hearing his voice again even though he was definitely the most insensitive person you’ve ever met. “I thought you couldn’t stand me because I’m rich?”

“You’re right,” he agreed flatly. He gestured to your drink and the laptop you had set up while waiting for your order. “Well, carry on doing your rich people thing, I guess. I’ll get back to work.”

You waved him off, pretending that you didn’t care what he said as he walked away. Work was calling you, however, so it was easier to get back in that groove.

But after half an hour of staring at the screen, frustration twisted in your chest. I snapped the laptop shut, pinching the bridge of your nose as you cursed your supervisor to death in your head. You pushed back your chair a little too hard before walking off, grateful to be sat next to the door, but you were held back by a firm hand wrapping around your arm to stop you.

Wooyoung’s eyes met yours when you turned around in irritation. Damn it, he was even more attractive up close. You shook your arm off of him harshly before glaring at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let go.”

“Easy, dollface,” he tried to placate you, making a move to hold your arm again. “You need to calm down. I don’t want you walking off when your emotions are all over the place. I could practically feel it behind the counter.”

“So, what?” You hissed, looking around to see if there were people to see the spectacle, but when there were none, you raised your voice a bit at him. “You’re going to keep me hostage now because you’re scared I’d go crazy on the streets?”

“Yes, actually,” Wooyoung answered sarcastically, nodding to emphasize his point. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Y/N.” 

He grabbed your arm again to pull you and sit you down back on the chair where you just were. You were taken aback when he put his hands on your shoulders firmly as he looked down to you. “My shift will be over in ten minutes,” he began. “You will sit here and wait for me and then we can take a hike somewhere so you can let out whatever’s bothering you.”

You stared at him, completely thrown off. “Why would I do that? Why the hell do you care?”

His face softened, just a little, like he wasn’t playing some game. “Make no mistake, I don’t care about you, not in the slightest,” he sighed. “But, again, I’m not an ass. I’m not about to ignore somebody who clearly needs to unwind.”

You purse your lips, not replying, but not ignoring him. “That look on your face on the rooftop, I can’t. I know what it’s like to be on that deep end.” 

"This is ridiculous," you muttered annoyingly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He gave you one last look before turning around, but heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that you were going to stay put. "I’m serious. Whatever’s bothering you, you don’t have to figure it out alone."

You didn’t know what to say, his genuineness caught you off-guard. Just as he said, he really gets off in ten minutes. Wooyoung haphazardly throws his apron on the counter, not caring where it landed, before he cocks his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

You had no direction in mind, and apparently, neither did Wooyoung. “Where are you taking me?” You asked.

He paused from walking the moment you were both a couple of blocks away from the cafe. “Give me your phone,” he demanded, putting his hand expectantly in front of you.

You blinked, confused. “Why?”

He curls his fingers impatiently, gesturing for you. “Come on, I don’t have time all day.”

Not knowing what else to do, you tentatively hand him your phone, to which he snatched it rather rudely from your hand. He tinkers for it for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he glances back up at you. After a while, he gets his own phone and also tinkers with it.

“Here,” he hands you your phone back. He didn’t even look at you and just continued to type on his phone. “I just cancelled another client. We have three hours until I have to go again.”

Oh, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You hurriedly checked your phone and indeed, Wooyoung had just set up another “companion” appointment for you. You reckoned he was surprised because when you looked at the payment option, you had eight different cards that were all filled with cash and he saw.

You blushed hard, your face so hot to the touch that you reckon you’d get burned if you put a finger on your cheek. You knew you weren’t supposed to feel like this, that if you were going to be frank, you two weren’t going to have sex, but the implication was there and you couldn’t help but think about them.

You resumed walking and it felt like it was the most normal thing ever. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, but you followed him, anyway.

“So, what do you do for a living, anyway?” Wooyoung asked good-naturedly the moment he put his phone back in his pocket and looked at you.

“Oh,” you sounded out in surprise, not expecting the question. “I’m a director of something.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s working to earn money. I asked you what you for a living.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the distinction. "What’s the difference?”

Wooyoung scoffed, like you had just said something completely ridiculous. "One is just surviving. The other is actually living."

"I mean, I do work," you tried again, feeling oddly self-conscious under his expectant gaze. "And then I go home. Sometimes I watch something. Sometimes I read. That counts, right?"

Wooyoung tilted his head, unimpressed. "So, you exist."

"Wow, okay, rude," you muttered. “Do you even have a hobby?”

"Relax," he chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "And yeah, I swim sometimes. I’m just asking what actually makes you feel something. Like, what’s the thing that makes you want to wake up in the morning?"

You faltered. Because, honestly? You weren't sure you had an answer. “I don’t know,” you admitted shamefully, avoiding eye contact with him. “I actually don’t know. Well, what about you, I guess? I didn’t know you worked here, either.”

“Well, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Y/N,” he chuckled. “Watch your step. I won’t catch you if you trip.”

You wanted to glare at him, but the hotel entrance held your attention instead. Your mouth went open, it was the same hotel you had the event at. You stared at him in disbelief, the blush now traveling from your cheeks to your ears and neck.

He seems to have realized the same thing you did and rolled his eyes. “We’re not here for that, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he scoffed. “I needed a drink, I figured you wanted to tag along. Yunho is working tonight.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, following him to the same resto-bar. Wooyoung looked pleased with your reply.

Just like the last time you went, the daytime restaurant was already closed, the bar part of it getting ready to be in full swing. It was certainly a repeat of the very same night.

“Wow, you guys sure got along better than I initially thought,” were the first words you hear upon entering the empty bar.

Yunho was wiping the counters on the farthest part of the bar, but looked up to comment when he saw the both of you enter. Wooyoung laughed and raised his middle finger up. “You almost fucked me over, too,” he said cryptically. He sits down on one of the barstools and gestures for you to do the same. “Come on, Y/N—”

“Yah, Jung Wooyoung, you absolute bastard, you! You left me with that old bitch tonight—oh, who’s that?”

You winced, a bit startled at the new person’s loud voice that came from the back door. He was wearing a fancy suit, the types you’d see your bosses wear, and my, you thought. He was a pretty boy. Much like Wooyoung.

“Hello, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said dryly. You cringed when he pats your shoulder once. “Watch it. This one’s my client. A friend, you could say.”

Hongjoong raised a suspicious brow. “A friend? You? You don’t make friends, Wooyoung,” he looks at you up and down in slight distaste. “Certainly not with the rich type.”

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung warns with a slight edge on his voice. He points at the bartender watching the scene unfold. “Why don’t you tell Yunho to make us four drinks? On this one,” he juts a thumb on you.

You scoffed when Hongjoong left and turned to Wooyoung. “So you took me here to pay for the drinks? Should’ve known you’d only use me for my money.”

Wooyoung laughed, genuinely laughed. His high-pitched voice echoed through the bar, his eyes crinkled up in pure happiness as his mouth split open as he let out that beautiful sound. “You’re funny,” he said. “But no. It’s to appease him. He has a clear distaste for people like you, too.”

“I can see that,” you replied dryly.

“He’s not that bad. A bit straightforward, but he means well. He’s my longest friend.”

“He does what you do, too?” 

“Yes, don’t tell Yunho, he doesn’t know either,” Wooyoung said. “Though he does it full-time. I pick my own schedule because I have my job at the cafe and then I have another during the mornings. I unload trucks for that big ass grocery store downtown. You know that one right?”

Your eyes widened at that. “Three jobs?”

"What, you thought this was it? You thought I just fucked people all day, all night?" Wooyoung gestured vaguely to himself. "No. I have to survive. Though you wouldn’t get it, you earn what I earn in those three jobs within a week, probably."

You blinked, unsure how to react to that information. He always carried himself with such infuriating ease, like he didn’t have a single worry in the world. But three jobs? That wasn’t just busy - that was barely surviving. "You’re a hypocrite, then,” you mumbled. “You and I are no different. You have no living either.”

"Gotta do what you gotta do," he shrugged like it was nothing. “Though, I wouldn’t say we’re the same. I’m merely doing it to put food on the table.”

You knew it, at the back of your head, that there was more to Jung Wooyoung than you initially thought, but now, that thought was sprinkled with utmost respect. It was a dangerous thing to feel.

Just then, Yunho approaches where you were seated as Hongjoong chooses to sit beside you and places four shot glasses on the table - one for each of you.  

Wooyoung didn’t even get to taste anything, his phone suddenly rang, the shrill of it loud against the empty space of the bar. He takes one look at it and closes his eyes in concealed frustration.

“It’s Seonghwa, fuck,” he cursed, looking at Hongjoong, who looks at him in worry. “Shit, I gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”

Wooyoung runs to the rooftop, not even bothering to see what you’d say about the matter. You watched him go, flabbergasted, and not knowing what to do now that you were basically left with his two other friends.

“Seonghwa’s our boss, you could say. Anyway, what’s a person like you doing with the likes of Wooyoung?” Hongjoong suddenly quipped, downing his shot with a grimace on his face. “Fuck, Yunho, what you put in here? Gasoline?”

“You’ll find out if you suddenly drop dead,” the taller man deadpanned.

You turned to Hongjoong’s direction, frowning. “Believe it or not, this is purely coincidental.”

“I don’t know about that,” Yunho shook his head, downing his own shot without any reaction, which pisses Hongjoong off. “Wooyoung’s a busy person. He doesn’t just bring friends around.”

You couldn’t help the snort that comes out from you. “We’re not friends. He tells me he doesn’t like me all the time.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s one thing to get paid to do…you know,” Hongjoong gives you a look, one that Yunho doesn’t seem to notice. “But it’s another thing to hang outside of that bubble. I’d say he’s fond of you.”

You should have laughed it off, but instead, you sat there, rooted in place, heart stumbling over itself in a way that made you feel unsteady. “Seriously, it’s not like that,” you reiterated. “This is a purely transactional relationship. Nothing else.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Yunho smirked.

Turns out, Wooyoung was right - Hongjoong wasn’t all that bad. If anything, he was equally as wise and insightful as Wooyoung was. You realized it might have been because of what they’ve gone through in life. Makes you really think about the other side of this life.

As it turns out, Yunho and Wooyoung’s mothers were close friends. Life was good until Wooyoung’s mother passed away. On top of that, Wooyoung’s father was a raging alcoholic who had no incentive to look for a job, so that left Wooyoung to fend for his little brother’s needs. It’s no wonder why Wooyoung looks and sounds so tired all the time.

“Sometimes, Wooyoung doesn’t even want to go home,” Yunho said quietly, glancing up the stairs to see if Wooyoung was there. “If it weren’t for his brother, he wouldn’t even. His dad is getting worse everyday. God, I hate that freeloader.”

“His pride is higher than the sky,” Hongjoong pitched in, his expression crestfallen, his eyes laced with hidden pity for his friend. “Sometimes, we don’t even know where he sleeps, or if he even sleeps. I’m so scared that one day he just won’t show up to work because he’s worked himself to death with his other jobs.”

You understood why Wooyoung feels such hostility towards you. You really did. He works himself to the bone and gets virtually nothing. You had everything you wanted.

“He’s a good person,” Yunho said softly. “You’ve seen it yourself. He’s a certified asshole. Him still hanging out with you is a proof of the opposite. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I’m sure he is,” you said. You just found it difficult to imagine Wooyoung warming up to you.

“He is, and to be fair, it’s not every time a rich person acts normal around these parts of the country,” Hongjoong scoffed. “All they do is step on us. Feed the hungry, feed them shit, feed them bones and politics type of a thing, and in a way, I’m definitely on his side. Trust me, he’s taken a liking to you. Maybe he’s trying to understand.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you counteracted.

“Listen, Y/N is it? He’s been through a lot with the cards he’s been dealt with. Even if he doesn’t understand, he’ll try. You have to cut him some slack,” Hongjoong eyed your shot, the one you haven’t touched. “You gonna drink that?”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, eyeing you like he had officially deemed you a fascinating case study, as he crossed his arms comfortably in front of his chest. “Your turn,” he smirked. “I told you something about me. Tell me things about you.”

The first time you called him again, you told yourself it was just because you had nothing better to do, and maybe Wooyoung didn’t have other clients.

The second time, you told yourself it was out of convenience. As blunt as he was, he was easy to talk to, someone who could distract you without trying too hard.

By the third time, Wooyoung stopped knocking on your door and just let himself in every single time. To be fair, you stopped locking your doors on the nights you knew he was coming.

And by the tenth time, you stopped making excuses. It was an unwritten rule between the two of you at this point - you were lonely and in need of a friend, and he was trying to pass time.

“Well,” you shrugged. “What do you wanna know? There’s not much I can tell you, as you said, I do lead a lonely life.”

He thought about it for a moment. “You aren’t close with your parents?”

“Next question,” you said a bit more hastily than you intended to. They were the last thing you wanted to talk about, you didn’t want to ruin your good mood.

Instead of questioning it, Wooyoung nodded. Your chest almost caved in on itself. He didn’t push, nor did he look remotely disappointed about being denied an answer. “What’s it like?”

“What’s it like to what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, pulling his knees to his chest as he sat comfortably on your couch. “What’s it like to have a lot of money? To never worry about the next day or your next meal?”

You stayed silent, contemplating on what you should say. In the end, you decided to be truthful. “Though I do make a lot of money now, I spent most of life with my parents’ money,” you admitted softly. “The saying is true. It doesn’t buy you happiness.”

“Oh, come off it,” Wooyoung hissed, banging his fist on your coffee table, taking you by surprise. He seemed actually mad - his face was contorted into a grimace, reddened with emotions. “I can’t stand you people, but you know what I can’t stand more? It’s when you people say that bullshit.”

“Wooyoung—”

“No, you listen to me,” he barked, breathing hard. “You get whatever you want, get whoever you want. Money is the world’s oyster, and you have plenty. Why the fuck aren’t you happy?”

You sighed, watching him centre himself and not saying anything to anger him more. You understood where he was coming from, and in truth, you understood more than you’d ever tell him. But no matter how much you explain, Wooyoung will never understand you.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself before speaking. “You think money solves everything,” you began, voice measured. “And I get it. It makes life easier. It gives you options. But having money doesn’t mean you automatically have happiness.”

Wooyoung scoffed, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed as he watched you talk. “Money gives you access, not fulfillment. Comfort, not peace. In this world, in a material sense, all of those are true. I never worried about my next meal or my next rent money. ”

You watched Wooyoung’s jaw tense. He licked his lips, turning away from you.

“However,” you continued when you saw he wasn’t going to say something. “It doesn’t buy what’s real and important. It doesn’t buy purpose, love, meaning. If anything, having those makes things harder to find. I don’t have a Yunho or Hongjoong in my life because they’re usually after my money.”

His expression flickered, and you can see the contemplation in his face, but you didn’t stop. “The worst part is I can’t complain. People like you look at people like me and say exactly what you’re thinking. This isn’t my first rodeo, Wooyoung.”

His jaw clenched. “Because it’s true.”

“To you,” you shot back, trying very hard to stay patient despite his biting tone. “This might sound ungrateful, but I didn’t ask to be born drowning in money. What if I was never given the chance to figure it out because everything was always there before I even had the chance to want it?”

Wooyoung just stared at you, something unreadable in his gaze. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” he admits after a while. “But, I appreciate you telling me.”

You hummed, accepting the response. He motions to you, and then to himself. “So there’s no point in all that wealth then, because clearly, we both have the same mental issues.”

“You could say that,” you laughed dryly, turning on the TV on the most random channel as background noise. 

“I hope it gets easier on you eventually,” he says softly, so softly you almost didn’t hear it if it weren’t you concentrating on his presence. “I hope it also gets easier on me.”

You let out a small smile. “Yeah, me too.”

There were nights you called him just to sit in silence, his steady presence somehow anchoring you. It was to the point that Yeosang memorized your number and their boss, Park Seonghwa, would personally book Wooyoung for you at a discounted rate. That was naturally disgusting for you to think, but it was what it was.

"You really have no one else to bother, huh?" Wooyoung would say the moment he’d enter through your door. Sometimes he brought coffee, sometimes doughnuts, most of the time with nothing but himself.

You’d roll your eyes. "Shut up."

And he would. Not because you told him to, but because he knew when you needed silence. You were getting attached, and that was a very, very dangerous concept to think about. Maybe it was, and perhaps you were, but it never stopped you from booking him.

But the most terrifying thing of all? He never once turned you away.

Granted, you were literally paying him for his time. Of course, he was guaranteed to show up. It was fucked, everything was fucked. You were calling a sex worker not to have sex with them, but for their presence.

Right now, you were at the bar waiting for Wooyoung to finish working with one of his regular clients. Yunho and Hongjoong would keep you company most of the time, and you were beginning to genuinely like their presence as well.

“Come on, why even get a pet, Joong?” Yunho asked exasperatedly as he gave you your free drink, putting his hands on his hips. “That poor animal, you’re barely home.”

“Humans ain’t shit; animals won’t betray you or let you down,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes. He grinned at you. “Isn’t that right, rich girl? Bet you can relate, people usually only want you for your cash.”

You were inclined to actually agree, and you voiced that out loud, much to Yunho’s chagrin. “Sure. What were you planning to get anyway?”

“A dog, a real cutie, I’ll go to an adoption centre,” Hongjoong said proudly.

“For Christ’s sake,” Yunho pinched his nose bridge, before he smirked and looked at Hongjoong teasingly. “Isn’t one bitch in the house enough?”

Your eyes widened, especially at Hongjoong’s appalled face. You had to admit, that was good. “You don’t get it,” Hongjoong pouted. “You hate animals.”

Yunho rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate animals.”

“You hate fish,” Hongjoong counteracted.

“Hate is a strong word. I don’t know how to take care of them.”

“You have an aversion to cats.”

“The fuck? I love cats,” Yunho genuinely looked scandalized by that.

“You hate roosters and cocks.”

“What? I love co…” Yunho trailed off, the smirk on his face slowly fading. “Bastard.”

Indeed, you really did like these two. They made you feel less alone. Now you knew what it felt like to have friends, and it felt great. While those two were bickering, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Wooyoung cocked his head with a small smirk. “Leave ‘em,” he chuckled. “They could keep going all night.” He holds his hand out and curtsies mockingly at you, not the bad kind. “Ready to go, Your Highness?”

True to his words, Hongjoong and Yunho were still bickering when you walked out. They didn’t even notice that Wooyoung had arrived and was now leaving with you. 

You had no direction in mind this time. It was only nearing four in the afternoon, much earlier than the time you would usually see Wooyoung. A nice walk in town wouldn’t hurt for a change. You didn’t want to go to the house this time, you were in a horrible mood.

Your co-workers from your own branch had their getaway without you. Sure, you were technically on the other side of the country, but you weren’t the only one. Some of your co-workers who were sent to other branches went as well. 

You were snapped out of your brooding thoughts when Wooyoung elbowed you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Crappy co-workers,” you said, not even bothering to sugarcoat what you really thought.

Wooyoung chortled, sitting down on the park bench that overlooked the entire greenery. You chose to sit with him. If you weren’t tied to your work in Seoul, you wouldn’t mind living here permanently.

“Still don’t like me?” You teased him.

He scoffed, side-eyeing you sarcastically before his eyes returned forward. “No.”

“But you’re here with me,” you shrugged, pulling your cardigan closer to your body as the wind picked up.

“Doesn’t mean I like you,” he pointed out. “Plus, you’re paying me. It’s literally my job to be with you right now.”

“Right,” you chuckled, leaving that conversation for another day. “Can I ask you something?”

Wooyoung hummed a go-ahead answer, a permission for you to ask what you wanted. “You said you have a brother?” He nodded his head once. “May I ask how old he is and what he does when you’re…working?”

“Interesting question, dollface,” he raised a brow. “But it’s oddly on brand with you.”

You shrugged. “I have nothing to lose.”

“I admire the audacity.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. There was something almost vulnerable in his expression. “He’s twelve. When I’m not around I drop him off to his babysitter. I trust Jongho with all that I have to take care of him.”

Wooyoung hesitated, running a hand through his hair before he continued. “He knows,” was all he said.

There was a beat of silence. You waited until he continued. “My brother knows that I do sex work,” he said, a hint of pain laced in his voice like it has always been there. “He knows, but at the same time, he doesn’t understand. I want to keep it that way for as long as I can.”

You have talked about his father before. You never asked, Wooyoung would just talk about him out of the blue, however, this was the first time you talked about his brother. 

Every single time you meet with Wooyoung, you learn things about him little by little and you can’t help but look at him differently each time you do. He likes to pretend he isn’t afraid whenever the topic about his family arises.

Behind all that cockiness and bravado, is an exhausted little boy who grew up faster than the world should have let him. You want to imagine you understood.

“He used to be good, you know?” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, putting his hands in his pockets. “My father, I mean. It wasn’t until my mother passed away that he started turning into the alcoholic bastard I now know him to be.”

Somehow, that stung more than you’d like to lead on. The fact that there was a potential in this lifetime for Wooyoung’s life to have been the other way around, only for his own father to snuff it out of him.

“It doesn’t hurt as much to remember, that I could have had what a normal person could have had, but it still fucking sucks,” he said. “This might be cheesy, and I don’t say it often to their faces, but this is why I cherish Yunho and Hongjoong in my life.”

“How so?” You asked, though you had an inkling as to why.

“They’re my chosen family, wouldn’t trade those motherfuckers for anything,” he chuckled, a fond smile spreading through his face. “There’s not a lot of things I believe, not anymore, but I do believe you choose the people you want in your life. Hell, I would have dropped my father a long time ago if I could. It’s the only way I’ll ever get to be free.”

“You will be,” you muttered automatically before you could stop yourself. Wooyoung stared at you expectantly. “Being free, I mean. Time will grant you that right.”

He laughed incredulously, and for a second, you wanted to berate him for putting himself down. “Seriously,” you tried to convince him. “This might be difficult to imagine right now, but this will pass. You never know, maybe you’d get to take yourself and brother away and be your own person eventually.”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” Wooyoung sighed. “This is all I’ve known all my life, it’s difficult to not get stuck in this rut when all I want most of the time is to kick my father to the curb or to bash my every client’s head who pays me to suck my dick. It’s a cycle; I think, I sulk, I work, because if I don’t, we’ll starve.”

“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you?” You raised a brow in response.

His lips curl in obvious distaste and irritation. “Don’t get me started on what it means to be alive, Y/N.”

“There’s your answer, then,” you shrugged. He tilted his head in confusion. “You’re a fighter, Wooyoung. As long as you're breathing, you keep fighting. You hold onto that vision of your perfect future, and no matter how painful the steps, you keep moving toward it.” 

Wooyoung stared at you like you had all the answers to his questions. If you couldn’t read him before, you sure as hell couldn’t now. His expression morphs into something you couldn’t explain, yet it made your heart tremble. “I rely on myself, just making sure that was clear,” he said. “And I want what I know I could have, but goddamn it, why does the thing I want so fucking bad always out of my reach?”

He leans back on the bench, tilts his head up to stare up the sky with the most faraway look in his eyes. “I want to get the fuck out of here,” he swallowed. “So fucking bad.”

“And you will,” you assured him. “You deserve freedom, Wooyoung. Just like me, just like the rest of us. It might not be today, might not be tomorrow, but you will get there someday.”

“God, you really are the strangest rich person I’ve met. It’s like you’ve seen more shit than I have.” He shifts his head in your direction. “Will you get out, too?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. You shrugged.  “You asked me before if I wasn’t close with my parents,” you said, instead, the wind carrying your voice for you. “Are you still curious?”

The sharpness in his eyes had softened, just a little. He doesn’t say anything, but he turns his body ever so slightly in your direction to indicate that he was ready to listen. You had to smile at that.

The last thing you wanted to talk about were your parents, but it was time. “I didn’t exactly have the best relationship with my parents, if not, ever. I had no siblings either, so I pretty much grew up alone,” you began, sighing afterwards to brace yourself.

It already pained you to remember these, but your mouth wasn’t going to stop now that you had started. “My mom was the classic narcissist that literally questioned everything I did with all the hours that God had made everyday,” you chuckled bitterly. “Nothing was ever good enough for her.”

“If I’d get an A+, she’d tell me it wasn’t enough since A++ still existed,” you continued, your voice hardening the more you spoke. “I had to lose more weight, I had to act classier, I had to have this, that, and be everything that I already was even though I knew to myself I was good enough.”

You hadn’t meant to rant. Wooyoung titled his head, his entire body shifted fully to your direction at this point. “Your father?”

“He’s a different story,” you let out a dry laugh. “I love him, by God, I still do. But the love he held for my mother blinded him to my suffering and need for comfort when she berated me over nothing. To this day, he still doesn’t believe me when I tell him what mother did.”

“To be quite honest with you,” you spoke. “I don’t know who is the worse between the two.”

Wooyoung was quiet, watching you carefully as he listened to you. “You know what the kicker is?” You shook your head in disbelief. “They’re miserable. My mother stopped loving him a long time ago. But they have to stay together, it would be a disgrace to divorce in our world. It’s utter madness, I tell you. I have to be in the middle of that because I carry the family name.”

It wasn’t much of a secret that this is where your need for isolation started. You’d rather be alone. You already had a lifetime of baggage and weight you didn’t want to pass to anyone.

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt like understanding, like an acknowledgment of something that didn’t need to be put into words.

“I give a quarter of my total earnings to my father,” he said after a while. “Unfortunately, at the end of the day, I do live under his roof. If I didn’t give him my money, he wouldn’t hesitate to not only kick me, but also kick my brother out. His sons.”

He shrugged, exaggeratIng the move, as if he was proving to himself that it didn’t bother him, but you could clearly see through him. “At the same time, he can’t do that,” he clicked his tongue. “I am his only source of income, after all.”

You would consider yourself to be a very sympathetic person, but all the sympathy in the world cannot encompass what you feel for this man sitting beside you. Jung Wooyoung was everything you wished you'd found earlier in your life.

And you wished he found you earlier in life so that maybe, he wouldn’t be alone dealing with all of this. He’d have you even though he didn’t want you.

He stretches his limbs with a small groan before turning back to you with a bright grin on his face. “Both of our families suck ass, huh?”

You thought you were used to how crass he was, but still, he never failed to surprise you. “Yeah,” you laughed. “Yeah, they do.”

The topic just changed from there. You had no idea who started it, but all you know was that right now, Wooyoung and you were talking as if you weren’t his client and you weren’t paying for his time.

The sun was almost setting in the horizon, but the conversation carried on. You had no idea how long you two had been sitting on that bench, it was to a point that you were sure that your butt had imprints on it, nor had you any idea what time it currently was.

Usually, you would check your phone, but you didn’t bring it today. You had no reason to, you didn’t know you’d spend time with Wooyoung outdoors. But it was good, you didn’t want to be interrupted. You were too busy being with Wooyoung. 

You wanted to remember this day. You could forget everything that has ever happened to you, but not today. It was the first time Wooyoung had completely let his guard down to talk to you. His gestures were more animated, his face brighter than you’d ever seen it.

“When I was a kid, I loved climbing that big ass tree over there,” he laughed, pointing at the big tree across the park. “Always fell flat on my ass, too.”

He laughed the way he did when he was with Yunho and Hongjoong. Wooyoung said you had money, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t have enough to pay to see even a glimpse of young Wooyoung back then, before everything.

You probably looked like a fool staring at him the more he talked. You wished Wooyoung could see his own face right now, and all you did was wonder how he used to spend his days and how many more stories of his life he had to tell you.

Tell me all of them, you thought. So I can stay alive for a little while longer.

It was when you felt it - the first fat raindrop that splashed against your cheek. You looked up just as the sky darkened. It startled you a bit, you could have sworn it was still a bit sunny earlier.

"Great," you sighed, getting ready to stand up. "We should go before this turns into a downpour."

But, Wooyoung only grinned. He held your arm to stop you. "Or," he said, tilting his head towards the sky with that irritatingly smug expression. “We could stay.”

A drop landed on your nose. Then another. But that wasn’t what got you, it was when Wooyoung’s hand dropped from your arm to your hand. You stared at him, horrified. "And get soaked?"

“Listen to me,” he began. “What if we forget everything just for tonight? No work, no shitty parents, just us and the rain.”

In your peripheral vision, you could already see people running to get cover, but your eyes never left Wooyoung’s.

“We’ll sing like we’re alone. Just imagine, Y/N,” he laughed so carefree, it hurt your heart. “We could literally be a force that could shake this whole damn world if we stood up to it, but only for tonight.”

"You're impossible," you sighed, but deep inside, you could already feel that fire inside you rising.

“You still have a lot to learn, I’m telling you,” he said excitedly, bringing his palm up with his other hand to feel the raindrops hitting his skin. “This is what it means to be alive. Don’t take for granted these little things,” he squeezed your hand tighter. “Because these little things are all that we have.”

The rain started to pick up, and it poured down so hard, the both of you were already soaked from head to toe within five minutes. 

“Everyone gets their freedom, it’s just a matter of time,” he said over the rain. “But right now, let's pretend we’ve reached the finish line.”

There you were, holding Wooyoung’s hand as you let the rain pour over you. It was so ridiculous, that you started laughing. It triggered Wooyoung’s own laughter, but the rain was so loud that it only carried your laughter over it, to be unheard to nobody else but the two of you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed like this - breathless, uninhibited, real. You weren’t even cold, and your clothes didn’t feel heavy on your body. There was just peace around the two of you, and strangely, that was all you needed.

The rain, you, and Wooyoung. That was all you needed.

You got slammed with so much work, you were surprised that you even had time to eat and shower. Phone call after phone call, Zoom meetings after the other, it was hectic. 

But, you were slowly beginning to realize that this trip wasn’t to help the other branch that they’d opened - it was just so they could have an excuse to have you out here doing something else. You’ve always been true to your work, working with clients for their utmost satisfaction and not their money. Well, your co-workers didn’t function like that. It was their loss, really.

These times were the moments you wished Wooyoung was here with you, but you haven’t booked him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to - it was that you couldn’t. You chose not to.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself wondering what he was doing, if he noticed your absence, if he even cared. You’d tell yourself that it didn’t matter, but then you’d be lying to yourself.

You decided to go to the bar, hoping to pass time or have a drink. Wooyoung wasn’t the only company you have, but as you entered the empty space, you knew that he was the only person you wanted.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, rich girl,” Hongjoong greeted you the moment he saw you, surprise flickering in his eyes. He pats the barstool beside him as Yunho nods his head at you in greeting as well.

“Wooyoung won’t be coming tonight,” the bartender said apologetically. “Were you here to wait for him?”

“Has he been busy lately?” You asked, automatically biting your tongue the moment the words came out. 

“He hasn’t been at our job for days now, ” Hongjoong cleared his throat, side-eyeing you again as if to tell you to not say a word about the job. “But he’s been taking extra shifts at his other jobs. I think he’s piling them up so he’d have more free time with you.”

Oh, that certainly caught your attention. “What does that even mean?”

Yunho smirks, temporarily leaving his station to humour you. “You know damn well what that means, aren’t you rich people educated on shit like that?”

You raised a brow. “I didn’t know you thought the same.”

“The point is,” he waved his hand. “We’ve never seen this excited to be with someone in a while. He looks so…what’s the word?”

“Alive,” Hongjoong supplies. “He’s never looked more alive than he does now, and it’s all because of you.

You blinked, the weight of Hongjoong’s words settling deep in your chest. Alive. They weren’t joking. They weren’t exaggerating. They both meant it.

“I mean, not to be callous about it, but I do pay him a hefty sum,” you shrugged, trying to tread the topic carefully. “He’s probably always been like this?”

“Has he?” Yunho raised a brow, leaning forward. “Because the Wooyoung we know doesn’t let just anyone in. He doesn’t show up for just anyone. Money be damned, if he doesn’t want to, don’t even expect anything. He doesn’t give a shit.”

“You’re what he looks forward to at the end of his days, Y/N,”  Hongjoong pauses, hesitant to say his next words. “Which is why he’s been in a horrible, horrible mood when you stopped booking for his time. It’s been almost two weeks now, what’s going on?” 

“No, but to be fair, Wooyoung hasn’t really showed up either, now that I think about it,” Yunho frowned. “Jongho says he hasn’t been going home, either. Just calling to check in on his brother.”

That was the thought that kept circulating in your head as you walked to the direction of the park. You were certainly worried now, was it a mistake to not seek Wooyoung this time?

And just like before, it also started raining. This time, though, you brought an umbrella with you as you were aware that it was going to rain before you went out today.

And just like before, you found yourself heading towards the park, towards the bench where you last saw Wooyoung. But, the bench wasn’t empty.

Wooyoung. The tears have left a blur in your vision that you couldn’t explain. The pain of seeing him sitting down the bench just staring out into nowhere has left a hole in which your heart should have been.

And just like before, his clothes were also soaked under the pouring rain. Only this time, his laughter wasn’t present in the air.

Not like this, you thought. Not like this.

Without hesitation, you quickly strode towards the bench, stopping short behind it and covered Wooyoung’s soaking form with the umbrella. If he noticed that the rain had suddenly stopped pouring where he sat, he didn’t react to it.

“I don’t reckon your umbrella is big enough for the both of us, dollface,” was all he said. He sounded calm, calmer than you’ve ever heard of him.

How he found out it was you, you were never going to know. You huffed, shifting the umbrella slightly so that more of it covered him than you. “I don’t reckon you care whether you get sick or not.”

Finally, he looked at you, and if it was possible, your heart broke even further. Wooyoung looked even more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him. His cheeks were more gaunt and hollow than you remembered, his eyes more sunken than the average person.

Then again, Wooyoung’s life wasn’t normal. You couldn’t even begin to imagine all the things that kept him awake at night. “I don’t,” he admitted. “Not really.”

You made a small noise, gripping your umbrella so hard, your knuckles turned white. “I hope you know that there wouldn’t be enough rainwater in this world to drown you no matter how long you stay here. You might as well seek shelter.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I know. My demons came to take me to hell, but I’m already there. Plus, they know how to swim, anyway.”

You didn’t argue, there was no point, letting the silence stretch; just standing there behind him hoping to shield him from the rain even if you couldn’t save him from his demons. You left the house to go to the bar at six in the evening, and an hour later, you found yourself standing in the rain with Wooyoung.

Another hour later, the two of you were standing like idiots in a small boutique to find some spare clothes for him. By midnight, he was laying in bed next to you after he had showered and changed his clothes.

You didn’t question why he was out there. He hadn’t questioned why you haven’t called for him in two weeks. You didn’t offer him your bed. He didn’t leave a single space in between you as he laid down next to you. You didn’t push him away.

You just stayed there, listening to the rain against the window, to the sound of your own heartbeat, to the quiet presence of Wooyoung beside you.

And for reasons you didn’t quite understand, you felt like a brand new person. You felt normal, like you were just another person on this planet.

“I’m tired,” he suddenly whispered, his voice cracking through the darkness as his hand mindlessly played with your hair. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Go to sleep,” you said, not acknowledging the hidden meaning behind his words. You know he’d hate you for it.

“Thank you,” he said.

You didn’t bother looking at him, didn’t bother opening your eyes as his fingers traced your cheeks. “For?”

“The bed. Usually, I don’t have one to come home to.  Thank you.”

The indication was there. He hasn’t gone home in days when you saw him in the rain, and even if he does go home, he never stays long enough because even in his sleep, peace doesn’t visit him.

Humans have their limits, and you had always hoped that Wooyoung would never, ever reach his. The moment that fight left his eyes, would be the moment you would stop fighting, as well.

“You’re welcome,” was the last thing you said before you both fell asleep like everything was going to be okay the next day.

And for a moment, it would be. The both of you woke up to Wooyoung’s phone ringing incessantly. You watched him closely as he spoke with whoever else was calling him at seven in the morning.

You watched as his expression changed from annoyance, to surprise, to genuine relief. You could have even sworn there were tears in his eyes. But they’re happy tears. You would take those over the other kind any day.

“That was my mother’s lawyer when she was still alive,” he explained the moment he hung up the phone. He tried hard to keep the excitement off of his voice, but you’ve been spending enough time with him at this point to know.

“Is everything okay?” You asked.

Wooyoung nodded. “Apparently, my mother signed a will that when I turned twenty-five, which I did two months ago, I’ll receive a lump sum of money to put into my little brother’s future. She knew she would pass soon before she even gave birth.”

His smile grew like the rising sun that rivaled the horizon outside your window right now. “My brother’s set for life even after college, Y/N. I can take a break from working too much for now.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread all over your face as well. A break. You deserve one. Heaven knows you do. That night, for the first time in your life, you didn’t have to watch the sunset alone.

Over the next few days, your closet would slowly be filled with Wooyoung’s spare clothes and belongings. It would be the first time in your life that you had to make space in your closet for someone else.

“This is a fuck ton of clothes you don’t even need, Jesus fucking H.,” he grumbled in annoyance when you asked him to shover your clothes on the other side of the drawer one day.

You rolled your eyes, but kept a smile on your face. “Most of these are my designs, I just keep them for layout purposes.”

He picked a particular piece that you hadn’t seen in a while - a blue, loose, lace crop top. It was when you were dabbling with genderless concepts. The fit was masculine, but the material was feminine. He didn’t even wait for you to say anything, he just shoved it in his space along with the rest of his clothes. Wooyoung would come and go to your place more often than not. Sometimes, you’d be surprised that he was already sleeping beside you, his face more peaceful than you’d ever seen it. Most of the time, it was the nights where you didn’t even book him. He would just do as he pleased.

As you watched him, this feeling that had quietly crept into your heart began to grow. It was something new. Something delicate and real, like the soft glow of the sunset outside your window.

You couldn’t help but wonder when this feeling had started, when the lines between just sharing space and something deeper began to blur. Was it the laughter you shared during late-night conversations, or was it the way he made everything feel so much more possible?

“I was actually going to do it that night.”

It certainly wasn’t the best way to start what you hoped to be a normal Wednesday morning. Your statement catches Wooyoung off-guard. There weren’t many things that made Wooyoung freeze, but sometimes, it seemed like you really never failed to surpass his expectations. It was fascinating.

He sighed, putting the spatula down on your sink so he could wash his hands, the pancakes he was making for the both of you for breakfast in your kitchen temporarily forgotten as he took the apron off to cross his hands over his chest and stare you down.

He knew exactly what you were referring to, you didn’t need to elaborate which night it was.

Still, you tried to tread the topic lightly. It wasn’t because you were trying to appease Wooyoung into liking you, but it was more because you didn’t want to make even more mistakes. Avoiding him for two weeks was a huge mistake on your part.

You tried to convince yourself it was the safe option. You only had less than two months left before you had to go back. You both knew that. At the end of the day, you knew that Wooyoung was afraid and uncertain, and he was especially fragile despite all the walls he built upon himself.

Wooyoung blinked at you, unmoving. “I know,” he said flatly. “I’ve seen and experienced too much shit to not know the look in someone’s eyes when they want to transcend wherever.”

Two simple words, spoken so flatly, so matter-of-factly, that it made your stomach twist. It was so Jung Wooyoung of him. The way he looked at you right now, though? It was the kind of certainty that you’ve never seen from him before. Still, you didn’t miss the way he shifted from foot to foot as he tried to keep his composure.

“That’s bullshit,” your voice was thin, almost unsteady, but you pushed through it. “You told me I didn’t have the guts to jump off of that railing that night. I know you did.”

You remembered that night vividly - the cold bite of the air, the way your hands had gripped the railing so tightly they ached, the way he had stood there, just close enough to reach if you lost your balance, but far enough to agitate you.

“So, I lied,” he closed his eyes before sighing and opening them again to look you deep in the eyes, as if he was trying to convey something without fully saying them. “It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, dollface.”

The breath you had been holding slipped out shakily. You felt dizzy, off-kilter, like the universe had shifted and left you struggling to find your balance. “If I told you the truth,” he murmured, “I don’t think you would’ve come down.”

You’ve been alone all your life, so you were used to being invisible. The last person who you thought would actually see you was a tattooed sex worker who disliked wealthy people. Maybe it was the confusion talking for you, but then, you said something you shouldn’t have. Maybe you were no different than all the people that had made Wooyoung the way he was.

“I don’t understand,” your voice was sharp, cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened, his posture stiffening. “You don’t understand,” he deadpanned, his voice twisting into something angrier by the minute. “You don’t understand. You know what I don’t understand?”

You watched and held your breath as he harshly pulled a chair to sit down on it, closer to you. “The things I’d do to get what you have, they’re almost non-human in aspect,” he said, low and seething. “I still think that, and that’s never going to change. Not now, not ever.”

“You have nothing to escape from, absolutely nothing,” he continued, glaring at you. “God knows you have more than enough, surely you can’t be greedy and take what’s not yours to take, Y/N? Don’t be an idiot.”

Life, is what he’s trying to say.

You stared at each other for a lifetime. Wooyoung still looked exhausted. His chest heaved, his eyes dry, and you could practically see his collarbones peeking through his skin and the veins that marred them because of how transparent his skin was. Still, you couldn’t help the rising pride in your chest that overtook your shame because Wooyoung went through everything, yet he’s still so brave.

If Wooyoung can be brave, then why can’t you?

“I’m sorry,” you put your head low, looking down at your lap where your hands laid still. 

“You better fuck off with that, Y/N. I’m warning you,” he growled venomously, and suddenly, he was scooting closer to you. He takes his fist, that one where the thorned rose lay, and hits his chest.

“You’re not the only one who wanted to check out a long time ago. You know how I feel here? Everytime I take a fucking breath, there’s something inside me that feels like I’m breathing in sulfur. ”

You sighed. “I just want to live the way I want, you know? I don’t want everything, I just want to be happy.”

“So do I,” he replied.

You knew he wanted to say more, and you did too, but just like him when he holds back on talking smack about the type of people you belong to, you hold your tongue. It wasn’t because you couldn’t stand Wooyoung and his status, but it’s because you know you have no right to say anything about it.

Then again, maybe you were assuming things, maybe he was fine, maybe Wooyoung does sleep well at night, or maybe he was afraid despite not showing he was.

You didn’t notice Wooyoung’s chair scoot even closer to yours when you began to talk. “I mean, I get it,” you said. “We’re not the same and you’ve drilled that in my head so many times, but it really doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe we are the same, we just want to be happy.”

Wooyoung nods once, not looking like he even understood a thing you said. “You’re not doing shit,” he mumbled. “You can’t do it. Not in front of me. Not while I’m still standing.”

He puts his hands behind your neck before he pulls you and puts his lips against yours. His eyes were still open, tentatively watching you. He doesn’t move his lips, just meeting yours in a modest touch, his hand still holding your head tenderly like you were fine glass. There was no warning, it was as if he was trying to silence the raging storm between the both of  you.

You froze, your body short circuiting as both your mind and your surroundings dissolved into static. You didn’t kiss him back, not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how to do it with him properly.

You pulled away, your eyes widening ever so slightly as you caught your breath. Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his face blank except for his small pout and furrowed brows. 

“W-Wooyoung?” You tried to say, but it ended up sounding like a squeak.

“Hmm?”

“You just k-kissed me.”

He completely pulls away from you, his face back to that indifferent look you knew him for. “Yeah?”

Your entire just shut down at that moment, your lips tingling because you could still the imprint of his on yours. “W-Why? What the hell—”

He shrugs with an incredible amount of nonchalance that you couldn’t decide if you should be amazed or offended. “Does it matter? I wanted to do it, so I did.”

You were so flabbergasted, your face blushing as you blinked at him repeatedly. You were surprised your heart hasn’t leapt out of your chest yet. The only reason why you haven’t really tumbled down is purely because of the sheer adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream by the buckets. It felt intoxicating yet dizzying at the same time.

Wooyoung lets out a small laughter, his fingers lifting to flick your forehead softly. “You’d think by now you’d know that I just do whatever comes to my head,” he said, fondness in his eyes.

“It doesn’t work that way, and you know it,” you frowned. But how does that work, exactly? You could barely think of anything right now.

“How does what work, dollface?” And just like that, he was able to render you into silence. You don’t know how he does it, but it’s making you panic. You decided to shut your mouth, you knew that you’d fumble if you spoke.

He barked out another laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What, cat got your tongue?” He tapped his own lips. “Or is it me?”

The heat rose to your face so fast you swore you felt it burn. Wooyoung stood back up and walked away from you, his hands slipping into his pockets like none of this had just happened. He motions towards the clock overhead the kitchen door.

“I have to head out,” he said. “I got booked by this tourist who wants a pretty boy to fuck.” He clicked his tongue, nodding towards you. “You should eat before you go to work, too.”

You stifle the smile that threatens to break from your lips. “Didn’t know you suddenly cared about my well-being.”

“Debatable,” he replied nonchalantly, but that was accompanied by a solid bite of his bottom lip to stop his smirk from showing.

“I’m just saying,” you chuckled, getting up from where you were as well to grab your purse and work folders. “I’m more than the lonely office worker that hires sex workers for the company. Just like there’s layers upon layers under all the sex work you do.”

Wooyoung’s smirk, or what’s little of it, completely drops. He tilted his head at you, curiosity filling his eyes. You blinked at him repeatedly. “You do…realize that, right? We are always more than what meets the eye.”

His lips curl into distaste. “Sure, I guess,” he shrugged.

“I mean, I know your revulsion is for my background and not me, specifically, and you’re biased, so I understand,” you said, hurriedly grabbing a couple pieces of pancakes on a small napkin to take. “It’s just you, Wooyoung. I’ve never disliked you. I’m not sure if that counts for something.”

Wooyoung’s lips parted, his forced guise of cynicism cracking. There was something else in his expression now - something softer, something fragile, beneath the bravado he always carried.

His direct eye contact wavers. “It does.”

Somehow, that admission settled into your chest like a quiet ache, a warmth you didn’t know what to do with, but you knew the weight behind those words, and he was aware of that. “My God, you’re strange,” you joked, trying to lighten up the situation. “It’s fine, really.”

Wooyoung hummed, stepping past you. “And you’re a fucking weirdo. That balances us out.”

Just before he reached the door, you stopped him by calling his name. He pauses, but doesn’t acknowledge the callout. “Wooyoung,” you said. “Will you be here when I come back from work?”

Then, without turning around, he asked, “Not sure. Why?”

“So I can order extra dinner,” you shrugged, holding your breath without knowing. “I, uhm, booked you for nine hours this time, but you don’t have to. You’re free to do what you want, as usual.”

Last night, not only did you tell Yeosang that you’re tipping extra, but you had to steal Wooyoung’s reservation from someone else. Admittedly, it did cost you a pretty penny, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

Sometimes, you’d book Wooyoung when you weren’t even home. That would prompt him to do whatever the hell he wanted, regardless if he was with you or not. He wouldn’t tell you, but Yunho would. Wooyoung would crash at the taller man’s place to rest and sleep. 

Wooyoung’s eyes met yours and you found that his face was filled with more than its usual heaviness. There was something subtle in there - determination. There was a hint of hope and gratitude. There was something other than pain.

“I’ll see what I can do, dollface,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t a promise, but you were going to take what you can get.

He walks off, not bothering to close the door since you had to leave as well, but barely. Wooyoung would pause and hesitate, because he kept looking back and sneaking glances at you constantly, knowing that he has to go but not wanting to leave at the moment.

It’s okay, you thought. We still have more time.

The office felt suffocating today. You had to re-introduce yourself to the newer employees for this other branch, and so far, it wasn’t all too bad. From the looks of it, you were hoping that this environment wouldn’t be just like yours in the making.

Fabrics upon fabrics met your eye, new designs from fresher perspectives that genuinely impressed you. You missed this, you spent most of your time here with only Zoom meetings to go off of, and it felt great to be back in the scene in an actual office where you could review potential projects in person.

You were staring at a new recruit’s portfolio, which was admittedly quite good since they knew how to match colours with patterns, trying and failing to focus, when Mingi’s voice pulled you out of your haze.

“You look different.”

You blinked, turning to him. “Pray tell, Director Song.”

His head tilted slightly as he studied you, eyes sharp but unreadable. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “There’s just something different about you today.”

You hesitated. You wanted to tell him. Some of it, at least. But the details felt too complicated, and plus, you had always tried to separate your personal life with your professional work.

But Mingi was your long time friend, both of your parents were acquaintances - it was how he became an intern at your company - so if there was anyone who might understand your dilemma, it would be him. You picked your words carefully, skimming the surface of the truth without diving too deep. “I met someone,” you admitted.

Mingi’s brows shot up in shock.  You could tell he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?”

You gave a small, almost self-conscious nod. “Yeah. He’s, uhm, quite complex. Very curious.”

Mingi scoffed, smirking. “Aren’t we all?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I would suppose so. Our circumstances are very unconventional. I can’t even put a label on it, there’s no precursor for it, if I’m being completely honest.”

Mingi laughed, but then he caught the way your voice softened at the edges. He exhaled through his nose, a small, quiet sound of understanding. “I’m happy for you,” he said. “People like us…it’s hard to find something worthwhile to hold onto. You know how it is. Love is almost unheard of. Laughable, even.”

Your chest tightened. People like us. What is worthwhile? You had no idea. Neither did Mingi. He could relate; his family was just like yours, after all. You were both born on a different standing and calibre, and it was just an unspoken and unwritten rule that apparently, with high economic statuses comes along a complicated life.

He patted your shoulders affectionately, speaking low enough for you to hear. “Regardless, I’m happy for you, Y/N. It’s a privilege to feel the way you do in this world,” he said. “You deserve to be happy, too. We are not our parents, remember that.”

Mingi dismissed you afterwards, something he might get in trouble for. You were relieved.

Coming back to the house was the most anxiety you’ve ever felt in your life. You’ve learned not to expect Wooyoung to be there. You wanted to give him his freedom, something this world had seemed to have forgotten to give to him.

But there he was. He sat on your couch like he belonged there, like he always had. His phone was in his hands, but the second he noticed you, he locked the screen and tossed it aside.

“Took you long enough,” he mused, tilting his head at you with a smirk.

Wooyoung looked exhausted. It showed in the dark circles beneath his eyes, his usual sharp gaze dulled by something you couldn’t name, and his smirk that usually looked so smug, now looked hollowed.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Wooyoung stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin before settling back down. “Neither did I.”

You furrowed your brows. “Then, why are you?”

He shrugged, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “Misery loves company, I guess.”

Wooyoung pushed himself off of the couch. He didn’t say anything else as he stepped closer to you, just tugging your shirt a little to pull you to him so he could lean in and slot his lips against yours in a serene kiss - another one you couldn’t return.

Wooyoung’s younger brother looked just like him.  And when he looked at you, something in his gaze lingered. It was very curious but knowing, like he already knew exactly who you were to his brother.

You wished you knew because you had no idea and if you were being honest to yourself, maybe you didn’t want to know. The house was quaint and a bit neglected, but it was home to Wooyoung, who was currently outside with Hongjoong and Yunho.

Wooyoung’s little brother was seen loitering around cold and hungry by Hongjoong, who took him straight to Yunho at the bar to call Wooyoung. Their father had left the poor child to go get blackout drunk somewhere else. You followed an understandably pissed Wooyoung there.

Luckily, Jongho was free tonight. He had come straight to the house to spend the night since Wooyoung’s schedule lined up with his other job after his time with you.

“He talks about you a lot when I’m done putting this one to sleep,” Jongho gave you a glass, a cracked one, of water. “But never the full story. Like he was keeping something safe.”

You looked away. Maybe it was safer this way. You gripped the glass hard, indescribable anger coursing through your veins at the unknown man who has supposedly fathered him.

“Ready to go?” Wooyoung’s voice suddenly filled the small living room as the other two followed him. He nodded at Hongjoong, who took it as his queue to distract his little brother.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jongho,” you smiled warmly at the babysitter, giving him a small hug. 

Wooyoung, whether it was subconscious or not on his end, held your hand in his as he started to walk away. It was a challenge ignoring Yunho’s smirk and wiggling eyebrows.

“I owe you one, man, big time,” Wooyoung spoke quietly towards Jongho. “I mean it. I’m not in the mood to see my father after this.”

“What ‘ya want me to tell him if I do see his sorry ass tonight?” Jongho asked. 

Wooyoung’s hand squeezed yours. “Tell him that he can take anything he wants, but he better not take it from me,” he flatly said. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks if you tell him he can go fuck himself.”

“Deal,” the younger man grinned. “Where are you going to stay, then?”

Wooyoung opts not to answer, instead patting Jongho on the shoulder once before dragging you with him to your car. As you drove, you didn’t need to ask him either. You knew what the answer would be.

The moment you get into the house, Wooyoung showers, presumably to cool off. You get it, you really did. You were left standing in the hallways, staring at the shower door, your mind replaying a specific moment you shared with Wooyoung one time. 

“Nightmare?” Wooyoung asked in concern, pulling your head to his chest. When you nodded, he asked, “What do you usually dream about?”

“Something to kiss the demons out of my dreams,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as your face was pressed on his firm chest. “You? What do you usually dream about?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, his fingers tracing your back lazily. “Water,” he said.

“Water?”

“I dream of water that can wash the weight of the world off my shoulders.”

You were so drawn to him. It was silent, unseen, hard to ignore. No matter how often you told yourself to walk away, you never could. 

Walking away was lost on you, because the truth was, you’ve started to look forward to ending your days with him. Wooyoung’s ghost haunted every corner of the house now, especially now when he was trying to temporarily wash away all his burdens.

You didn’t even notice him get out of the showers, your mind very much preoccupied with thoughts of him and everything that's happened so far. 

So when he tilted your chin upwards, you were startled. Your breath got caught in your throat, your body stilling as Wooyoung started to lean in, his lips almost touching yours.

But just when you thought he’d close the space between you, he stopped. “For someone who doesn’t return my kisses,” he murmured, voice low and heavy. “You sure always expect it.”

You looked down, shame filling your chest. You swallowed your words like it might poison you if spoken aloud. Wooyoung sighed, pulling you to the bedroom and sitting beside you on the bed.

“There’s not a lot that I can choose for myself, given my line of work,” Wooyoung began. “It’s an entire process, dollface. When the sun comes down, all the filth run free. I have to be the finest specimen of filth for a living so some daddy’s little angel would get dirt on her knees. I get paid, I go home.”

His words catch you off guard. Wooyoung doesn’t talk about his profession, if not, ever. And you never really asked, but you wouldn’t mind listening. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he continued.

“Then I get so blind with rage to the point that no matter what I do, I could never shake the feeling out,” he chuckled bitterly. “I hurt much more than anytime before, and sooner or later, I have no options left again. Rinse. Repeat. All I know is that all I want is to feel like I’m not stepped on.”

Wooyoung was so calm and collected while your heart felt like it wanted to explode. You hated that he seemed like he accepted all the unfairness that’s been happening to him.

“This might be my job, but sometimes, I feel disgusted with myself. I feel used. Dirty.”

You snapped your head to stare at him in horror at what he said, but you found that he was already staring at you.

You didn’t know what hurt more - the way he said it so plainly, or the fact that he truly meant it. He puts a finger against your lips, parting them slightly. “This. I chose to kiss you. I’d rather do it than not do it at all,” he finishes off. 

He pulled his hand back, just enough to let you breathe again, but you stopped him, holding onto his bicep for dear life. His gaze lingered, steady and unwavering.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Wooyoung asked, a hint of insecurity audible in his voice.

When you nodded enthusiastically, Wooyoung wore the most honest and brightest smile, as if all the heaviness that’s weighing him down had slipped off quietly away from him at your answer.

And then, he leaned in - slowly, deliberately, as if every movement was meant to linger. Kissing Wooyoung was like standing on a cliff where you were just a heartbeat away from falling, and for a moment, you felt weightless, caught between fear and the exhilaration of just being with him.

He deepened the kiss slightly, testing the waters, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you closer. It automatically sends shivers down your spine. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the soft, steady beat of his heart in sync with your own.

His lips parted from yours just enough to let the air in, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours. Both of your eyes stayed close.

You held his face in between your shaking hands. “You’re not alone and you never will be,” you swallowed the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “Thanks for finding me that night, Wooyoung.”

He doesn’t respond, kissing you again. This time, it was more certain, more of himself. If this world fell apart, the both of you wouldn’t notice, if only for this fleeting moment.

The kiss was never brought up ever again after that night, even after another week. You both acknowledged that it happened and moved on.

A bubble of frustration was beginning to settle in your chest. Only the clicking of your keyboard could be heard around the room as the night settled. 

Wooyoung was next to you, his legs stretched out, head resting lazily against the headboard. You were hunched forward, eyes fixed on the glow of your laptop screen, fingers moving without pause. You felt the bed dip when he inched a bit closer to you.

“That looks nice,” he suddenly murmured as he pointed at the design you were currently working on. “You’re good at what you do.”

“Hmm?” You hummed noncommittally,  not looking away from your screen.

“Whatever you’ve been obsessed with since this lunch time, you’re decent at it.”

It was a rare praise coming from Wooyoung. You smiled, certainly happy because you genuinely needed to hear something good right now. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress. ”

He shrugged, trying to look indifferent, but then, you felt his leg touch yours as he scooted even closer. “What’s it for anyway?”

You didn’t respond right away. “Portfolio,” you replied robotically, your mouth doing your work for you. Your mind just wasn’t there; the words, notes, and deadlines loomed upon you.  It was easy to get lost into this rhythm and forget your surroundings, including Wooyoung.

Until your laptop was suddenly shut down. You looked up, startled, to see Wooyoung’s hand still on the lid of your laptop, having just shut it close. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on you. “You’re not busy right now,” he said, tone flat but final. “You’re with me.”

He wasn’t asking. You wanted to argue, mostly because you really wanted to get some work done. It was what set you apart from your co-workers, it was what made you ahead of the curve. 

You sighed, setting your laptop aside on the bedside table. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Wooyoung shifted, one knee bent lazily, head tilting toward you. “I’m just saying, you’re so tense,” he makes random gestures with his hand. “You need to get laid, or something. Blow off some steam, you know?”

You choked on your own breath, turning sharply toward him. “Excuse me?”

Your face went up in flames as your heart began to fumble. You could feel the heat blooming in your chest, crawling up your neck, painting your cheeks in something unforgiving. It felt criminal, the way your body reacted. The way the suggestion rooted itself somewhere deep inside you, unsettling and uninvited, curling like smoke around the idea of him.

Wooyoung leaned closer, peering at you with exaggerated curiosity. “This is so entertaining. I say one thing about sex and suddenly your whole system reboots.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, face still on fire. “Be for fucking real, Wooyoung. You can’t just lay that on me.”

He raised a brow at your crude language, but shrugged anyway. “Come on. Don’t be two-faced, you’re acting like you’ve never used someone as a means to make yourself feel better at one point. ”

“Kinda hard when nobody has ever finished you off once,” you gritted your teeth. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it was too late. You slapped your mouth so hard it stung. Oh, you wish this Earth would swallow you whole.

Wooyoung’s eyes were so widened to the point that he looked like his soul had momentarily left his body through his pupils. “That has to be some bullshit,” he began, sounding uncertain, himself. “That has to be—”

“It’s not like I’m broken or anything,” you added quickly, like you were trying to defend something you weren’t even sure you believed. “I-It’s just the men I’ve been with have been selfish. They, uh, assume I’m fine. And I don’t really speak up, so…”

You trailed off, biting the inside of your cheek. “I guess I just got used to faking it.”

There. You said it. Might as well set the whole house on fire. You glanced at him, ready for the smirk, the joke, the playful jab you always braced yourself for, but Wooyoung was quiet. 

His silence felt intentional. He was thinking. His eyes didn’t leave your face. They flicked down to your lips for a second, then back up, like he was scanning every inch of you for a crack in the surface. 

You watched the muscle in his jaw twitch, barely visible, but there. His fingers curled into the blanket between you, slow and restrained, like he was grounding himself. You saw him eye the way your hands clasp together so hard, your fingers turn pale and white.

“That’s not right, Y/N. That’s not normal,” he finally said, his voice low, barely above a murmur. “May I?”

You found yourself scrambling backwards the bed as Wooyoung started crawling forward, his entire body encasing yours as he got on top of you, his hands holding the entire expanse of either of your waist. He was looking down at you with such fondness in his eyes that it momentarily stole your breath away.

“I’m trying really hard not to say something I can’t take back,” he added after a beat, voice a little rougher now. “Because right now? I kinda want to prove every one of those assholes wrong.”

Your breath hitched. He didn’t move, but the way he looked at you felt more intimate than anything else could’ve in that moment, like he was offering something without saying it outright, and he was giving you the chance to take it or walk away.

It was a no-brainer for you - you’ve never wanted anything this bad in your entire life.  It wasn’t difficult to pinpoint why - Wooyoung and the way he moved that made him who he was, the things he’s experienced, his voice and the way he told his stories, the way your heart just clung to him.

You thanked him a couple of nights ago for finding you, but you should have thanked him for far more than that. After all, as many times as Wooyoung made it clear he doesn’t like rich people, he still stuck around you and he let you stick to him as well. He didn’t have to say it outright, it wasn’t very difficult to figure it out on your end.

“Don’t think too hard, dollface,” he whispered. “I promise to make it good for you. And I want you to know that I won’t treat this like I treat my clients even if you’re technically still paying for my time for it.”

That didn’t even cross your mind, but admittedly, you did completely forget that this was his job. “Remember when you asked me what my hobby was and I told you it was swimming?” Wooyoung softly asked. You nodded and his eyes softened. “I won’t let you sink. Not like this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you said softly. “How do I know that, though?”

“Well, for one,” he whispered. “I’ve never kissed my clients. Ever. Not once, and I’ve had people offer me a fuck ton of money.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You lifted your head to meet his lips even though you were quivering. He was surprised at first, but he soon fell into a rhythm when he groaned softly in your mouth as his hands started to roam under your shirt. Your breaths came in short gasps but he had no problem swallowing those sounds from you.

“You sound so pretty,” he murmured in between kisses, the trail of saliva connecting your lips serving to turn the both of you on as evident in the way his hardness started pressing onto your clothed core. 

You hummed, never having felt an arousal like you did at this moment. Heat courses through your veins, especially when he started to move down your neck, kissing and sucking on your most sensitive spots.

“Feels good, Woo,” you mewled, wrapping your arms around his neck, your hands finding their way onto his hair to mindlessly tug on them. You didn’t dare open your eyes, afraid that if you did, this dream would suddenly vanish from your sights.

“Yeah?” Wooyoung mouthed against your skin, his kisses not once stopping as his hand lifted your back slightly so his other hand would fiddle on your bra until it came off. Only for him to freeze when he realized you were wearing none.

“Oh, W-Wooyoung,” you gasped in surprise when he suddenly lifted your shirt up to your chin to expose your ample breasts, the cold air automatically stiffening your sensitive nipples. 

You covered your face with your hands, ashamed and embarrassed of the way Wooyoung was drinking the sight of your naked chest up with so much lust. Compared to him, you were highly inexperienced in this regard. Not the sex part, you were no longer a virgin, but in the foreplay aspect. You’ve never had a man do it to you before.

“Don’t,” he coaxed softly, his hand prying yours away. “Don’t shy away from me now, baby.”

“I’m not the best in the looks department,” you blurted out. “You’ve been with better looking women during…you know.”

“You might be right,” he said, both his hands palming your tits and kneading them expertly. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud, especially in the way he relished your expressions with a small smirk. “But, none of them are you.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in your chest loosening just a little, but his words lingered, settling somewhere deep inside you.

Wooyoung leaned down to, once again, kiss your neck until he slowly moved down to your chest, sucking and biting the skin between your tits. You moaned loudly when his tongue slid out to sensually lick your hardened nipples, not hesitating to push your chest up towards his warm mouth, almost begging him to suck on them harder.

“So pretty, baby,” he growled, his mouth closing around your aching nipples, his tongue lightly flicking over it back and forth, making you squirm against his hold. “Too much?”

“N-No, keep going,” you gasped when he grazed his teeth on your nipple. “J-Just overwhelmed.”

He hummed, pausing as he looked at you through his lashes. The sight was so erotic, it made you hiss in pleasure, bucking your hips more to his touch. 

Your heart felt a rush of excitement, it kept you craving for more. Wooyoung latches his lips back to yours, deepening this kiss immediately by parting your lips with his tongue, coaxing you to play and intertwining your tongues together. You felt feverish, your lust for this man spiking higher towards different heights.

You almost didn’t feel his fingers toying with your underwear, but when you did, you took the initiative to take all the barriers that stopped him from touching your core. Wooyoung sighs in approval, not breaking the kiss. 

His fingers don’t hesitate to brush against your clit. The sensation was electrifying, your body almost giving out all at once with just one single touch. However, you tense when his fingers start to dip down your hole. He senses your hesitancy and moves on to kiss down your neck, nibbling the skin to calm your senses.

“Shh, it’s okay, I got you,” he whispered as you felt him circle around the outside of your quivering hole. “I promised you, dollface. I got you, you believe me, right?”

You draw in a deep breath, whimpering an answer since your tongue seemed too tied to even speak. His other hand continues to caress your hips, further calming your body down until you feel yourself release all the tension. It was all it took for Wooyoung to breach inside you.

Wooyoung’s fingers were gentle, taking his time to stretch you out slowly. You moan loudly, he was very considerate about it, too, but the pleasure he was giving you was immeasurable. You’ve never felt like this before, never had someone reach that specific spot that had you writhing in satisfaction.

You could feel his smirk against your neck, his teeth biting and nipping you at random places, eagerly leaving you with love marks you hoped wouldn’t fade for a while. Each mark said one thing, and one thing only - you’re mine.

“W-Woo, mmm, I-I feel weird and tingly,” you whimpered as you closed your eyes tightly instead of the one thing you wanted to tell him - I’m yours.

“Relax, baby, breathe,” he instructed, suddenly bending his fingers up to hit a spot so sensitive, it had you crying out against his hold. “Let it go for me.”

That was how you got your very orgasm from just foreplay. Your mind exploded, a searing, lightning-like pleasure erupting behind your eyes. It left every muscle in your body spent and worn out.

You were a panting mess when he pulled his fingers out. He grabbed your head tenderly, peppering your faces with little kisses, all the while whispering ‘good girl, good girl, good girl’ over and over again in between the kitten kisses he was giving you.

While you were still recovering, Wooyoung shifted, his strong arms lifting your back as he lifted you up with ease so now you were situated on top of him. You gasped, settling your hands on his chest like you’ve always belonged on top of him like this.

You blushed when he tapped your thighs twice, prompting you to sit up a little so he could take his pants and boxers off. You swallowed, feeling his hard cock pressing up your wetness when you sat back down, his arousal coating your labia and mixing in with yours. 

“Take me,” he whispered, his hold on your hips tightening with unspoken tension. “This is your justice, dollface. Take your pleasure for me for all the ones you’ve never gotten before.”

Your breath caught, your fingers curled into his shoulders, and for a second, you couldn’t move, not because you didn’t want to, but because something about the way he said it bloomed fire in your lungs.

There was that familiar burn behind your eyes. Wooyoung wasn’t offering himself just for the sake of it - he was giving something back.

You bit your lip when he lifted you slightly, his other hand guiding his cock to your entrance. His gaze stayed on you, unwavering, almost reverent. “Let them take, but let me give,” he murmured, finally lowering you onto his cock.

“Oh, fuck, Wooyoung, fuck,” you gasped when you felt his cock reach all the way up. He felt good, divine even.

He started thrusting up and down, with you matching his pace after as you rode him, your feelings lost as your mind started to go blank at the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

“Oh, Y/N,” Wooyoung says, like it’s the only word that’s ever mattered - drawn out, cracked at the edges, reverent in its ruin. The sound lands on you like heat and thunder, blooming into shivers that tear through you without mercy.

You arched your back, Wooyoung’s hands keeping you in place, your hips and tits bouncing up and down along with the motion as you impaled yourself on Wooyoung’s cock over and over again. There was no holding back for you, not anymore, your moans filling the entire room as you kept pushing yourself further, moving faster.

“Look at you,” he groaned, gazing up at you with impassioned eyes and the little sparks of affection through them. “You're heaven sent, Y/N. My God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my fucking eyes on. Fuck me, keep going - yes.”

All the things that matter that you wanted to say die in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to tell Wooyoung, your chest overflowing with feelings you’ve never dared name, let alone think about. It’s all too much yet nothing because not once in your life had you had someone make you feel like this before.

Not until some sex worker walked through your door by mistake one day then everything shifts and gives your life what it was missing.

You felt your thigh muscles getting tired, but you kept pushing, riding his cock, even though the way you ground your hips to him felt more uncoordinated than anything. As if he was taking mercy on you, he braces himself and with one strong push of his hips, he began fucking up onto you.

“Wooyoung!” 

“I love the way you say my damn name,” he growled as he continued to thrust up at you, and all you could do was whimper while his throbbing cock was all you felt.

Your tits bounce with every, almost painful thrust while your pussy clenches and flutters around his rigid erection. Your eyes roll back, and your moan is hoarse and breathless as you say his name just the way he liked it. The effect was immediate and you could tell that he was close to chasing his own orgasm with you.

“I-I think I’m g-gonna come,” you whimpered pathetically, giving up and letting Wooyoung take control.

“Are you?” Wooyoung smirked, having the audacity to chuckle at your predicament.

You whined, your pleasure clouding your judgment as you started to feel annoyed with him. “W-Wooyoung, please—”

“Relax, baby,” he chuckled. It quickly turned into a snarl when he pulled you down on himself and you started to flutter and tighten against his aching cock. “I’m not gonna last long either, dollface, come for me, I wanna see you.”

Your body tensed up, your back arching like the string of a bow, then suddenly, you released, stronger than your first, the pleasure overtaking your shame and you screamed Wooyoung’s name so loud, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard your voice from somewhere in the distance.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re beautiful,” he panted, tapping your thighs again. “Off, baby, off. I’m gonna come, fuck.”

You watched as he stroked his cock, all in its perfectly curved glory, until cum shot off from it, landing on his chest as he moaned loudly, his voice louder than you’ve ever heard him. “Ah, shit, shit, shit, Y/N…”

You both lay there, side by side, suspended in the hush that only comes after something intimate has unraveled between two people.

The sheets were warm, tangled somewhere around your legs. His fingers, calloused but careful, brushed faintly against yours, until he pulled you and kissed you deeper than any silence that’s ever tried to swallow you whole. 

He sighs deeply in contentment, embracing you. It was tighter than any fear you’ve known, and it was suffocating yet somehow freeing. You just held onto him, grounding yourself in the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Was it everything you wanted?” Wooyoung whispered.

You hummed an answer, staying quiet as you didn’t want to tell him what you really thought in your head.

You were everything I wanted.

Just as the silence thickened, your phone rang, sharp and intrusive, slicing through the stillness between you like an unwelcome guest. The sound was jarring, you had to pull away from Wooyoung’s warmth and get your phone, but your heart stilled when you saw Mingi’s familiar number on the screen.

“Hello? Mingi?” You asked tentatively. Wooyoung’s brow raises, his arms tightening around your waist.

“I am sorry to interrupt your night, Y/N,” Mingi said, voice audibly tired. “Can you come to the office real quick? We have an emergency, it’s about your branch.”

You frowned. It was odd. Your branch hasn’t really contacted you, so why did Mingi? He was a director of another branch, it didn’t make any sense. 

“I’ll be there,” you said before hanging up and looking at Wooyoung with a deep frown. “You heard that, I think. I’m sorry, Woo.”

Wooyoung’s gaze flicked to yours, unreadable for a heartbeat. Then he nodded, slow and steady, but the way his jaw tensed told you more than his expression did. “You gotta do what you gotta do, it’s fine.”

He watched as you got dressed, but it didn’t feel right. You had no desire to go, but he was right - you had to do what you had to do. Despite yourself, you rushed towards the bed, grabbing Wooyoung’s face urgently, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. You had to let him know. “I’ll come back to you.”

He stared at you for a moment. “I believe you,” he simply said. 

You never had an attachment to that house, not at all, but tonight, it was difficult to leave. Not when you could feel Wooyoung’s lips attached to your lips and his hands imprinted on your skin. You couldn’t wait to go back, especially since he will be waiting for you.

But it all came crashing down when you met Mingi. You will never forget the feeling of devastation from all the high when he told you that your branch will be firing every single employee and higher ups, minus you and some others to rebrand and weed out all the people that have been tanking your company’s sales.

That meant that you had to go back a month earlier than planned.

You don’t remember the journey back to the house. When you opened the door, Wooyoung was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed with that unreadable look in his eyes, just waiting for you. You couldn’t look him in the eye - you didn’t want to see his reaction.

But when you do, the look in your face told the both of you everything you needed to know. You looked at him, and he looked at you, and you both saw it.

Wooyoung does something differently this time when you book him. Instead of going with what you want, he asks you to go with him - to the tattoo shop. You don’t know what he gets, just patiently waiting in the lobby, until you go back to the house and he lets you see it.

I’m not alone and I will never be. Your fingers were shaking as you traced the words that now laid at the back of his neck, careful not to disturb the protective wrap around it. You were pretty sure he could feel it.

There was a thin, unspoken thread that wrapped the entire room. You knew those words from weeks prior as you were the one who said them. Your heart thudded unevenly against your ribs. “Thanks for taking me, it suits you,” you complimented him softly.

He finally turned around, eyes meeting yours, holding all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him. “Thanks for coming with me, I guess,” he shrugged.

A sudden silence ensued, like the seconds were stretching just to hold off what was coming. How could you even begin to say anything? How do you wrap finality in a sentence? How do you make something sound casual when your throat is tight and your time is running out?

All you could do was stand there and memorize the shape of him - his beautiful tattoos, his dark hair that covered his forehead in a complimentary way, his boyish charm, the curve of his hand that fit well with yours. “What changed?” You asked, barely a whisper. “You didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t want to like you,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “You were everything I didn’t have room for - hell, you were everything I wasn’t in this life and I still resent that.”

You let out a trembling breath. Wooyoung purses his lips, combing his hands on his hair. “People like you felt too much, yet nothing at the same time. And you were just like me. In essence…it really is just you as a person, Y/N. You hear me?”

He holds your chin, tilting it up to meet his obscure eyes. “It’s just you,” he repeated softly.

You smiled, a little crooked and cracked around the corners. “Just me.”

For you, it was just him, as well, and perhaps, that was the hardest part. It was one of the things that you admire about this man; he was very resolute in everything he said, like he already knew things before they happened. Like right now, the look in his eyes shone with acceptance.

Wooyoung smiled back, pushing your chin higher to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “The truth was,” he murmured. “Everytime we kissed, it felt like we were practicing how to let go.”

That pierced your heart like an arrow lodging deep in your chest, but you couldn’t get yourself to disagree. Kisses with Wooyoung never felt like beginnings - they were echoes of an ending you were too afraid to name.

“Did you know?” You asked, your smile wavering as you tried not to hold on to him, the shaking of your hands too much to feel even for you.

Wooyoung nodded. “I did.”

“So why’d you still do it, then? Why, when you knew?”

Wooyoung sighed, holding your face in his hands tenderly as if he was afraid that you’d break down if he didn’t. “Remember when I told you about my choices? The things I choose to do rather than not do?”

You nodded, gritting your teeth so hard to control yourself, Wooyoung had to massage your jaws to make you stop. You brought your hands to him and he held onto them without leaving your face. “I’m glad to have known you, Y/N,” he squeezed your hands. “I’m glad you proved me wrong in every aspect possible.”

Your lips parted, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you just let your eyes speak for you, and he understood. “This is it for us, this is all we’re going to get, but regardless, I’m glad I met you.”

We’ve always been on borrowed time, anyway.

You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m glad too, Wooyoung. I’m very glad to meet you.”

“You have your life, and I have mine,” he shrugged, his rigid shoulders betraying what he truly felt. “And we have to live with that. It’s the one thing all of us have in common whether you’re dirt poor or filthy rich - we just have to live out the consequences of the life we choose for ourselves. There is no way around it.”

You snorted, adoration coming through since it was such a him thing to say. “You make it sound so simple.”

He half-shrugged again, this time with the ghost of a smirk. “Maybe because it is. It’s just how the world turns, Y/N. And you,” he tilted his head, eyes sharp with meaning. “You know that better than most.”

You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, because only Wooyoung could say something like that with such maddening certainty - as if the world was some fixed machine with gears we were all doomed to turn, no matter how loud we screamed beneath the grinding. 

But he wouldn’t be wrong. You did know better than most. The world never stopped for anybody, and it certainly wouldn’t stop for the two of you.

“There’s, uh,” you paused, clearing your throat. “There’s a huge possibility we won’t see each other again, Wooyoung. My company is having a do-over, I might get shipped somewhere else.”

He nodded, eyes elsewhere. “It is what it is, Y/N. It’s something you have to live with. You and I both.”

“So that’s it?” You asked quietly, the words trembling like they’d walked barefoot over every memory you’d made with him. “You just live with it?”

His eyes met yours again. “No,” he said, softer now. “You carry it. Every day. In the silence. In the in-between. You carry it until it stops hurting, or until you stop noticing the weight.”

Right.

You watch Wooyoung, the way the light catches in his eyes. There’s hope in it, but there’s hurt too, layered and quiet, like a secret he doesn’t mind being seen but refuses to say out loud.

It wasn’t anything dramatic; it’s just how life worked sometimes. You meet someone, sometimes they don’t stay, and you both keep living. Most of the time, your paths cross only once and never again. You bit your lip, deep in thought. “What are you going to do then, Woo?” 

Wooyoung smiles, the kind of mournful fondness that almost breaks you. “Let live, and let die. I’ll do what I do best, and that is to keep moving forward. The process will be painful, but I’ll have to make do with what I have and work around it.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. It prompts you to do the same. “I’ll try my best to fight what I can control, and then learn how to surrender to the ones I can’t. This is one of those moments, my little doll. It was very easy to go along with this, but it was very difficult not to surrender to the race against our clock.”

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips staying there as he speaks. There was a sick part of you that wishes he’d leave a permanent mark on your skin somewhere.

“I don’t want to fully know every part of you, and I know that sounds unfair,” Wooyoung began. “Doing so means watching every piece of that knowledge walk away when you go. It’s easier this way, because if I did learn everything in the span of the three months you were here, I’m not sure I’ll survive watching that all go away in an instant.”

“I’ve already been through a lot in this fucking lifetime,” he said. “I’m through, you know? Maybe it’s better to leave some mystery. Maybe that’s how I’ll keep a part of you, even when you’re gone.”

His lips travel down, kissing both of your eyes this time as if he was searing this moment directly in your brain. “If somehow the odds are in my favour, I’ll find you again.”

A tightness gripped your chest, a weight pressing down, suffocating and relentless. It felt like every piece of you was unraveling, each thread pulling at the seams of your composure.

Your throat constricted, as if a flood was gathering the very same eyes he kissed. “Are you telling me to wait for you?”

“No,” he instantly rejected. “Absolutely not, Y/N. Never wait for something you are unsure of, please. Do yourself that favour. Do me that favour. I can’t have you waiting for me when I’m not even sure I can deliver.”

So, what do you want?

His grip on your face tightens ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I’ll get out of this city. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll make it out alive, not when every day here feels like a losing fight.”

“So,” he continued. “Let me remember you how I remember you right now, because if your memory is the only thing that’ll keep me going for the rest of my life, I’ll do it. I will always remember you, Y/N. Even if we don’t see each other again.”

Your fingers twitched, curling into fists, as if you could stop the feeling by holding yourself together. “What if I end up falling for someone else along the way?”

Wooyoung pauses, and for a second, your heart rate picks up. “If you've found someone else that will make you happy, then I will be thankful for it. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t, and if it doesn’t work out, then you move on. See where that takes you after.”

You understood. Not all souls were meant to cross paths in this lifetime. There was only so much you could learn about Wooyoung, and even then, you feel like you still didn’t know him at all. Heck, there were people who have been together for far, far longer and they still learn something new about each other every single day. And while you believed that to be beautiful, you didn’t know where that left you with Wooyoung.

You knew he couldn’t answer all the questions you were throwing at him. Life was unpredictable like that, even the most realistic person out there like Jung Wooyoung didn’t have the answers for everything.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t want to learn everything about Wooyoung, either. If anything, you wanted to begin to forget him as soon as possible so if destiny does move in the funniest of ways, falling back into him would feel twice as sweet and more so emotional on your ends.

Or maybe you wouldn’t even remember who he was anymore down the road. It was another part the both of you didn’t know yet. 

But alas, you’ll just have to see where life takes you because for now, the both of you didn’t have any room for love to grow. If Wooyoung finds you again like he did that night, then you’d go from there.

After much deliberation on his end, he gives in, his lips finally touching yours with a kiss that holds unspoken promises. He coaxed out the three words that laid on the tip of your tongue with his. They ached to break free, to give him the truth he deserved to hear from you.

Would that be the right thing to do, though?

It would be very selfish on your end, to leave him with those parting words, but damn it, if you haven’t been selfless all your life. 

Fuck it.

But before you could get the words past your lips, he raised a hand, a gentle but firm stop. He pulled away, his eyes meeting yours with a depth that made your heart stutter.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet carrying the gravity of a thousand unspoken emotions. “Not yet. Please.”

It was what he said that had the dam that contained all your emotions break and spill all the tears you’ve been trying to contain all this time. Wooyoung didn’t hesitate to wipe them with his thumbs.

“If we see each other again in the future and you still feel the same, then you can say it. But until then, keep it.” he continued. His eyes softened, filled with a quiet plea. “Give me a chance to turn my life around. Let me make it out of here and be someone I’m proud to be.”

Of all the things you’ve talked about today, that was the one thing that truly made fear settle deep in your chest. “But, I’m already proud of you,” you said, voice unyielding.

Wooyoung’s jaw tightened. "But, I’m not," he whispered, the finality in his words like a door slamming shut.

The sound of Wooyoung’s phone ringing breaks through the stillness, harsh and jarring, like a stone tossed into a quiet pond. Your heart sank, it wasn’t a phone call - it was an alarm. He had another client waiting for him somewhere.

With a quiet sigh, Wooyoung began to pull away from you. Just like that, the moment had already begun slipping like sand through an hourglass. 

For a moment, you couldn’t move, your whole body frozen in time, but when you saw Wooyoung turn around, you quickly moved to hug him from behind, pressing your face on his back. “Y/N,” he said, his hand holding yours and squeezing it.

Don’t go, please, I don’t know what to do.

Wooyoung turns around, cupping your face once more. “I know, baby, it’s hard for me, too. I have to go, but you listen to me, okay? And you listen to me well because this might be the only time I’ll ever get to say it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together in an attempt to get a hold of yourself. “Run free and wild, Y/N. You don’t belong here. This world is yours for the taking, all you have to do is make it yours. Make it worth your time when you move on to whatever the hell is next and know that you went in the end without a single regret.”

All you could do was nod again. You wanted to reach out, to scream into the silence, but all you could do was stand there as Wooyoung tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he smiled, bittersweet. “Give your company hell while I picture you in places I’ve never seen, meet people I’ll never know, live stories I won’t be a part of, and shape your own destiny in ways I won't be able to see.”

We have to fall, fall apart to work.

“And I’ll live my life wondering about what you’ll do next, here,” he takes your hand to place it where his heart was. “Even if I spend every single night doing so, just like when I spend it with you to end my days here. I don’t mind doing it for the rest of my life.”

He lets go for the final time, opening the door to walk outside, possibly forever. But, you couldn’t let go, not without giving him an option. “Choi San,” you blurted out before he completely walked away.

He halted his steps, tilting his head towards you in a way you once found endearing but now left you a finalized image of him before you parted ways. “Remember that name. He’s my new supervisor,” you swallowed a wave of new tears. “When you find yourself, please let me know.”

“Choi San,” he muttered, repeating the name as if he was marking it in his head already, training his lips to say the name over and over again for one day.

“Goodbye, Wooyoung,” you choked, the words burning through your throat.

For a second, Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and you saw the vulnerability there, the rawness of the goodbye. But then, without another word, he nodded once and turned, walking away from you, each step a little heavier than the last. 

He didn’t turn around once to look at you and you didn’t wait to see if he did, you wouldn’t be able to stomach it. You closed the door behind you, but you didn’t cry, didn’t scream. You just stood there, devastation filling in your chest, down to your feet, all without ever making a sound.

Run free, Wooyoung, so we can both start living.

You never really see each other after that even though you didn’t have to leave for another two weeks. You never went back to the bar nor did you book Wooyoung again. When you did try to call just to ease the pain, Yeosang wasn’t the one who answered. You immediately hung up.

And now, you were back on that train that took you here in the first place - the one that led you to a destination you never thought in a million years would alter the course of your life. 

There you were again, sitting alone in the train cabin, completely alone as you stared out the window and watched the passing scenarios fly by like they were nothing. You didn’t dare watch the city behind you get further and further.

It wasn’t something you were used to, you’ve always been alone all your life, but this was the first time you felt truly, utterly alone. It was some sort of poetic justice on your end; you came here alone, and therefore, you were also completely alone as you left. The only difference was, there was now something missing that you had left behind in that fancy, luxurious house - your heart.

You couldn’t bear to bring it - you didn’t want to -  hoping that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt as much without it. But even without it, the emptiness remained, lingering like a ghost in the corners of your soul.

The only way was forward at this point, the regrets would prove to be fruitless. The idea of embracing whatever comes, living fully, yet knowing that the end will eventually come for everything was daunting, but you had to do what you had to do. 

You will live fully, knowing that one day, you’ll let go. But until that moment comes, you embrace every second, because those moments, no matter how short or long, are the only things truly within your control.

To live and to let die. That was what you were going to do.

You bowed respectfully towards the people that surrounded the round table as their claps filled the meeting room. Another smile later, the meeting and presentations for the future designs in collaboration with a sister company was fully conducted.

“Great as always, Y/N,” your boss grinned at you as he began to approach you, setting your portfolio and tucking it under his arms so he could give you the handshake you deserved. “I don’t know how you do it, I really don’t. It never did feel right that I was your boss instead of the other way around even after all these years.”

You shook your head, jokingly rolling your eyes. Thankfully, you had a wonderful enough relationship with your supervisor that you could get away with this. “Oh, stop it, San. You know that’s just untrue. Your ideas have always been trend-setting. I just so happen to know how to make those come to life.”

People who were passing by from the meeting room bowed to both of you and San, but more so, they’d either praise you, or they would just use that as an excuse to ogle at the wonder that was Choi San. You understood, you really did. San was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. Hell, it took you a while to get used to the fact that he was, indeed, your supervisor and not one of the company’s models. It didn’t really help that the man was humble and kind.

He tugs on his shirt sleeve, peering at the time attached to his wrists in the form of a watch. “Company lunch to celebrate with everyone, on me, in thirty minutes downtown at that new restaurant,” he clicked his tongue. “Go this time, yeah? I need my best designer to unwind and be well fed.”

You scoffed softly, about to say something, when he interrupts. “I’m serious, Y/N,” San said, his voice dropping to whisper. “We won’t launch the portfolio for another month. Take a break. You’re good at what you do.”

You’re good at what you do.

You froze, the statement echoing in your head. The sound of those words, they sound so familiar. The memory teases you, just out of reach, like a shadow too fast to catch.

“Oh, by the way,” San stopped you before you walked away. “Come see me at my office after. There’s a package that came that’s addressed to you.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away, as you always did. It was easier not to think about it, to keep moving, to keep working, to bury the feeling under a mountain of new ideas. But it never quite went away. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, a text from one of your coworkers, confirming the time and place for lunch. You read it, typed a quick reply, and shoved the phone back into your bag. The noise, the movement, the busyness - none of it ever filled that void.

Lunch wasn’t bad at all, your coworkers were great company after all, but you couldn’t concentrate. You were supposed to be here at the moment, but you just can’t. You had made a name for yourself in the fashion industry after three years of working hard, but none of it ever mattered to you.

“When do you think they’ll close the restaurant for the bar tonight?” You absentmindedly asked your nearest coworker, who was sitting across from you.

They looked at you confused, even going as far as to wait for you to reiterate your statement. “Uhm, I don’t think that’s a thing around here, if not ever,” they frowned. “That would be great, though, do you know a place like that?”

You blinked, caught off guard, embarrassed all of a sudden. “N-No, I think you’re right. I don’t know where that thought process came from. I apologize.”

Yeah, maybe San was right after all - you definitely needed a break. Maybe it was just a side effect of being a designer. You were constantly moving and evolving, after all.

As promised, when you got to San’s fancy office, there was a package waiting for you. You held it curiously in your hand, tossing and shaking the box around to gauge what was inside it. There was no sender name written, only yours and the office’s address.

“Any idea what it is?” San asked with one brow raised, work phone on the other hand while the other paused from signing multiple documents.

You shrugged. “Not really. Anyway, I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He waved you off dismissively, not even bothering you look up as he began to speak to whoever just called him. Fine by you. The package was probably the fabric you ordered a while back for your new piece to add to your portfolio.

The apartment was quiet when you got there. It was heavy with the hum of a long, restless afternoon. You’ve been living in this studio apartment for only a year, but you love it. It was definitely an upgrade from your old apartment, but the biggest reason you loved it here was because you had plenty of space to sew and design a lot of things.

And you were excited. You’ve been waiting for this new fabric for a while now, but when you tore the package open, you were confused to see that it wasn’t the vibrant red you were anticipating. No, this was a faded blue.

What’s more was that it wasn’t a slab of fabric. You gingerly took it out, even more confused when you saw a lace crop top. Odd, you thought as your fingers brushed over the top. It was nice, very genderless in concept, but why was it sent to you?

Had you made this? You closed your eyes shut, a memory just beyond reach plaguing your head. You had designed countless pieces over the years, each one blurring into the next, but this one? This one was different. 

Maybe it was the forgotten details that seemed to belong to someone else. You couldn’t remember the last time you'd seen it, let alone made it. Your style had changed so much over the years, but there was something about this piece, something familiar.

When you lifted it up to inspect it, something fell out from the seams. You picked it up, surprised to see that it was a neatly folded piece of paper - a note, it seems.

‘If this reaches L/N Y/N, please call this number - XXX-XXX-XXX. If not, return to the sender.’

Your heart skipped. There was an urgency you couldn’t explain. Without thinking, you grabbed your phone and immediately dialed the number. The ring felt like an eternity, the seconds stretching into the unspoken, until a voice finally picked up.

“Hello. If you have a tattoo appointment, I’ll redirect you to your artist. This is the owner speaking, how may I help you?”

You were thoroughly confused now, you don’t have tattoos and you don’t see yourself getting one in the near future, but your chest tightened, that distant familiarity stirring in it.

“Uh, hi. I got sent a package that said I had to call this number,” you mumbled, walking to the windowsill of your apartment that overlooked the moon and the stars. 

There was silence on the other end, long and deafening. It was to the point that you had to double check if the call was still connected. The only reason why you knew it was was that there were external noises on the phone, assuming that whoever was on the other end was moving. “Hello?” You tried again.

The movement stopped, the call completely silent this time. Then, there was a quiet inhale, sharp and uneven, like whoever was on the other end had just remembered how to breathe, before it was followed by a sniffle and a low chuckle.

“It’s you,” the voice, a man, said softly. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

Your breath hitched. That voice. It was the one you kept hearing whenever you’d remember something. You knew there should be a face attached to that voice in your head, but nothing. The hollow ache grew a little deeper, a little more urgent, until it was almost unbearable. You could feel it pressing against your chest, like a hand reaching out to you, demanding attention. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself. “Who is this?” 

The man lets out a low chuckle again, only this time, it sounded more affectionate. It caught you off guard. By God, you wanted to remember so badly, but you didn’t know where to start. You began to wrack your brain for something, anything.

You didn’t know what you were searching for. However, through these years, you’ve always had this sinking feeling that someone, somewhere was out there waiting for you; somewhere in the quiet spaces between the thoughts you’ve tried to bury deep down.

The feeling was there. It was always there. You couldn’t say what you’d lost - only that something was missing.

“Tell me, my little doll,” he clicked his tongue. You could almost picture it. “Did you get to do what you were meant to do all these years?”

That was another blow to your chest. Doll. Little doll. Dollface. Your blood rushed to your ears, the voice starting to curl into your memory now, like smoke filling in every crack of a closed room.

“I suppose so,” you shrugged. Without thinking, your mouth blurted out that first thing that came into your head. “You? Did you manage to find yourself?”

You could hear the way he exhaled. It was slow and careful, like he was trying to keep himself together. “I did. It took me a while, but I did.”

There was something about the way he said it; the way his voice dropped slightly at the end. You stared outside to the twinkling stars. Something about them pulled you. And then suddenly, you could see visions of him.

The way he stood on the rooftop, hands in his pockets, staring at the same sky. A smirk would follow, one that felt like home and like something you’d never really gotten to fully know all at once.

You could picture him now - not just the shape of him, but him. The tired lines around his eyes. The tattoos that were etched beautifully on his skin. The way he’d tilt his head when you were speaking. His nonchalant and indifferent attitude towards things.

“I can hear your thoughts from where I am, you know? I really could,” he murmured. His voice felt too much now that you’ve pulled him out from deep inside you where you stored him in hopes of preventing all the hurt all these years. “You still remember the quiet parts of me.”

“There was a point in my life where I forgot your face,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“That’s okay. You used to close your eyes and trace it with your fingers, anyway.”

Your eyes stung, not even realizing tears were forming until one slid down your cheek. You inhaled sharply but you  didn’t speak. You knew. You knew what was coming next.

“We lived and let die, Y/N. We made it,” his voice was gentle, coaxing you out of the shell you’ve crawled into for safe haven. “The question is, do you still feel the same? Because I do. I never forgot that feeling.”

A soft, breathless laugh escaped you. It was shaky and wet with tears and it caught you by surprise. You tried to suppress it but the relief bloomed too fast. It was the sound of a weight lifting off your chest after years of carrying it in silence.

“Yes, Wooyoung. I still feel the same about you.”

On the other end of the line, there was no reply. Just the sound of him exhaling, quiet, and disbelieving, like hearing his name from your lips was all he’d been waiting for.

Then Wooyoung laughed. It was warm and raw and full of something that sounded like finally. You could hear him wiping at his face, hear the way it caught in his throat.

“What now?” You asked after a while. Your voice was still raw, but it was also lighter at the same time.

There was a pause, just long enough for you to wonder if maybe Wooyoung hadn’t heard you. Then he spoke, his voice as steady and sure as ever. “You could look down.”

You were confused at his request, but you did as told. You pressed your hands and face by the glass window and peered down. At first, all you saw was the busy road and some cars passing by, but then, your entire world stopped when your gaze landed on the sidewalk. Wooyoung.

You could tell it was him even from this distance. The same posture, the same silhouette. But he looked different. More polished, more alive, somehow. His hair was shorter, styled neatly, and his face was more refined, like time had carved away some of the youth and left something more certain, more grounded.

He held his phone in his ear as his eyes found yours through the reflection of the glass. And there was a smile on his face, so subtle, but it was there. 

“Oh my God, Wooyoung,” you choked out. More tears found their way up your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged on your lips. 

Wooyoung wasn’t faring better. From this distance, you could see his eyes gloss out, his unshed tears audible on the other end.

He smiled, wider this time, up to you, his gaze never leaving yours. Wooyoung’s eyes twinkled like the stars did when he found you three years ago on the rooftop. “I guess the odds were in my favour, after all.”

You covered your mouth, torn between laughing and breaking apart entirely. You must’ve looked crazy. “Yeah. Yeah, they were.”

Your chest tightened, the simplicity of it all striking deeper than you expected. He wasn’t asking for anything. He wasn’t begging you to come down.

He was just there, looking up at you from the sidewalk like he had been waiting for you for quite some time now.

And it was enough.

𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @keopihaus @dove-net @othersideoutlawsnetwork @hiraya-m @illusionnet @pirateeznet

Dividers by: @enchantings-a

[chaosanddisaster]

was not planning to feel all these emotions 😭

[sweetinsaniiity]

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it!

[slmjaeyuns]

☼ kim sunwoo fics that altered my brain chemistry ☼

all time favourites ♡

(fics contain a combination of genres including fluff, angst, suggestiveness, smut)

♡ the boy ♡

♡ blurred lines ♡

♡ this is how we fall ♡

♡ heart shaped exhaust pipes ♡

fluffs ❀

❀ pose ❀

❀ odds ❀

❀ yūgen ❀

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response.  Requested by anon! In which

❀ rekindle ❀

❀ love sick ❀

❀ seat filler ❀

❀ safe place ❀

❀ you’re safe ❀

❀ hoodie talk ❀

❀ aquaphobia ❀

❀ when it’s right ❀

❀ goal: your heart ❀

❀ walking on sunshine ❀

❀ from my moon to yours ❀

sequel: ❀ under our stars ❀

❀ you look hideous on me ❀

❀ when the hydrangea bloom ❀

❀ what type of cheese are you? ❀

❛ WHAT TYPE OF CHEESE ARE YOU ? ❜ 𖤐 in which sunwoo really likes buzzfeed quizzes. 𖥻 pairing. kim sunwoo x f!reader 𖥻 genre. fluff | be

❀ what happens in vegas, stays in vegas ❀

angst ☽

☽ jeong ☽

sequel: ☽ commitment ☽

☽ clouds ☽

☽ daisies ☽

☽ die for you ☽

☽ going high ☽

☽ dandelions ☽

☽ spring snow ☽

☽ run with hell ☽

☽ take me back ☽

☽ dear stranger ☽

☽ stubborn love ☽

☽ bloom for you ☽

☽ come back home ☽

sequel: ☽ promised you the moon ☽

☽ today’s happiness ☽

☽ the girl i haven’t met ☽

☽ maybe in another life ☽

☽ a pink sweater in spring ☽

☽ rewind, revive (all that we are.) ☽

suggestive/smut ☁︎

☁︎ ridin’ ☁︎

☁︎ bbgg ☁︎

☁︎ insanity ☁︎

☁︎ attention ☁︎

☁︎ unnamed ☁︎

☁︎ consuming ☁︎

☁︎ lucky charm ☁︎

☁︎ plein d’amour ☁︎

☁︎ ditching plans ☁︎

☁︎ st. fratty’s day ☁︎

☁︎ relax, let’s do it ☁︎

☁︎ so much for self control ☁︎

☁︎ a little tmi between friends ☁︎

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

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[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 ꒱ 김선우

summary : little innocent, top student, you, suddenly gets partnered up with the one athlete everyone at your school is obsessed with, for a homework project that turns into much more

genre : mdni !! smut, fluff, some angsty thoughts (occasionally, for the plot) athlete!sunwoo x afab!reader, school!au, pwp (a little), inexperienced!reader, strangers to lovers tws : explicit sexual content, language, pet names, body worship, praise, dirty talk (but like nice), dom!sunwoo, slight orgasm denial, slight edging, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (reader), almost dumbification (reader goes non-verbal for most of it), slight overstimulation, spitting in mouth (once), oral (reader), biting (once) author notes : did i get carried tf away? maybe (yes) word count : 5k

the harsh ultra-violet rays warmed your skin, sending a gentle goosebump-ridden pattern over it. you looked out ahead, watching as the soccer team practiced hard—almost daily now (only taking a break on wednesdays). a breeze passed through the air, weaving its way all around your body, which was wearing the school’s uniform loosely. you sighed, looking up to the wave of lustrously-green trees against the clear-blue sky. 

your body was relaxed, leaning ever-so-slightly back against the bleacher behind you. your hand came up when a particularly bright ray shined through the dark leaves of late spring and you blocked it. then, just as you were about to let it fall back down, your attention caught on one particular member of the team, when a shout of victory wafted into your ears: kim sunwoo. 

he was the main character of your daydreams, racing heartbeats, and physical ache. you knew it was stupid to be caught in his grasp, like the rest of the school was. you knew you weren’t special in the way you’d look at him longingly—so desperate for any kind of appraisal from the athlete. 

however, unlike the rest of the female (and male) population, you were contemptuous with your delusion over him. even if it was an unrequited love, you were closer with yourself—and schooling—in its result. your parents definitely weren’t complaining with your top-student status and class president tasks.

it seemed like a win-win, but still, you sometimes caught yourself wishing for more in the loneliness of the night; when your mind was the best at focusing on things it shouldn’t. you’d imagine things you’d rather keep in the depths of your archives. secrets you were prepared to take to the grave: everyone loved sunwoo, but no one knew you did as well.

the prejudice was that you were too caught up in said studies to even look up, especially not in his direction. you had only a couple of friends, ones you truly trusted with your life, and even they had no clue about your feelings for the soccer player.

you watched his celebration, a fist pumped into the air and a bright smile that caused a blush to litter your cheeks. In moments like these, you were glad he really had no idea you existed when you weren't standing right in front of him. he high-fived the team members, walking over to the sidelines and throwing a small towel over his shoulder. 

it was honestly a little pathetic the way you couldn't peel your eyes from the way his muscles strained against the spandex of the shirt, or the way the sweat would roll down his perfectly sun-kissed skin. the softness of the genuine smile that pressed against his mouth and up into his eyes, the ones that flirted so effortlessly with his slow and cool mannerisms. 

genuinely, when he looked so good, it made it hard for you to not drift off into another fantasy where he’d walk up to you and sweep you off your feet like a prince in a fairytale—and, he always looked this good. 

you huffed out a breath, one you weren’t even sure if you were holding or not, and crossed your legs over one-another. you narrowed your eyes (in some weird attempt to zoom in), swearing you could see the man of your dreams—and reality—walking in your direction. 

He flashed a devilish smile, you weren’t convinced was meant for you, breaking from the teammates he’d been walking with. his eyes met yours, and for a moment you thought you were asleep—or dead. 

frankly, you think this scenario would suit a chuckle from the athlete who watched your eyes go wide as he further approached.

he took a long drink from the bottle in his hand, holding said eye contact as he lightly swallowed. you mimicked him with a dry throat, admiring how his adamsapple bobbed with each gulp. 

he straddled the bench, setting his things between his open thighs. “y/n?” he asked as he raked a hand through his sweaty hair. you couldn’t look away, like a must-watch thriller that you’d spent your hard earned money on. you could feel the way your heart rattled your ribcage, just aching to escape and feel his against it. 

an audible hum left your lips in reply. you could feel the heat that radiated your features and spread throughout your body. and, you knew, despite opposition, that he could see its pink shade.  

the one-sided tension was suffocating. you shifted uncomfortably—or maybe in some desperate attempt to ease the ache—and clasped your hands together. then, once again, he smiled at you. your heart didn’t know whether to shatter or melt in the presence, which you’ve only been able to see up close a couple of times. 

“your place or mine?” 

you wouldn’t have believed the way your eyes could grow three-sizes larger than they already had previously. 

“w-what?” you choked out. 

he chuckled at your flustered state. “ms. park posted the partners for the group-projects.” he stated matter-of-factly. “and, guess what class president?” you all but asked what; gulping loudly, tensing your legs together, as well as your fingers and lips. “we’re partnered.” 

you wanted to play it cool, but the excitement at the revelation was fast-approaching. you’d never had the opportunity to see him outside of school—and granted, it was still over school-work but, a win was still a win in your book. 

“o-oh!” you ragged out along with a shaky breath. “right, i was waiting until after practice to ask you about it.”

you lied.

you had no idea that the groups were announced. you just spent your free-time on this bench pretending to do work often enough that it seemed reliable.

his eyebrows rose, like he could see right through your antics. it was honestly a little intimidating; or maybe that’s not exactly the right word to describe the feeling hot-spotted in you.

he glanced back at the field momentarily, watching the rest of his teammates leave the outlined grass. “whatever you say, class president, but i knew exactly where to find you… except on wednesdays.” the undertone was something you couldn’t read, just out of your depth, but still plunged you further into curiosity. “we’ll go to my place then, and i’ll shower while you get started. how’s that sound? practice is done anyways.”

you wanted to protest his offer, but there was something intoxicating about seeing his room and smelling the cologne that lingered in the air. the shampoo and body wash that would waft out to you. you’d dreamt about it, and simply, you wanted to see if it was anything like the picture you painted in your head.

“i can just meet you later—you can shower in peace.” you started to pull the phone from the bag at your side, opening it, and holding it in his direction. “maybe, in like two hours?”

he took hold of the machinery. “what’s the fun in that? you could’ve joined me if you got too bored.”

you laughed painfully, shifting once again at the heat between your thighs. you wanted to accept the offer more than anything, however you know you shouldn’t.

but, what was the fun in that?

“a shame.” he chuckled lightly, holding the phone back out to you after inputting his number and texting himself the address. “i’ll see you then, y/n.”

it was the exact house number you were now staring at, eyes shifting between the text on your screen and the apartment door. it had been a little over two-hours, you having to hype yourself up before you left. and you had decided to relax by taking a bath as well, getting a little carried away with your imagination—which ultimately caused you to be late as well—but, you didn’t think delinquent-athlete, sunwoo, would care all too much.

“you could’ve knocked,” you hadn’t realized the door was now open, revealing the dimly lit (because the curtains were closed and it was approaching 6pm) living space. “or called.”

“s-sorry. i wasn’t sure if this was the right place.” you watched as he moved aside, creating just enough room for you to brush past him, giving you an oh-so desired smell of his cologne.

you cursed yourself for getting so worked up over the little things he’d do, but now you were finding it hard to believe that that wasn’t his intention. he kept you coming back for more, and you were always eager.

“do you want any water?” he asked, watching your frame stand awkwardly in his living room. “my rooms over there, i have a couple of things for you.”

you choked again. “f-for me?”

he laughed. “to use on the poster, y/n.” and he mumbled something after that you weren’t able to catch.

your head panned as he walked to the kitchen, ears listening to the light rattle of glass cups and running water. you plastered your hands to one another politely, scanning over the couple pictures sunwoo did have laying about; his apartment only had the necessities. the few pictures were ones of a younger girl, who you assumed to be his little sister—who he obviously loved enough to display. but you thought there must’ve been more to them, to him, and deep down you knew you’d like to find out one day; to comfort him in his time of need. to be his.

sunwoo came back, two glasses in his hands as he motioned for the closed door on your left. “you can open it, i’ve got nothing to hide from you.”

you don’t know why those words made you blush, maybe it’s because they’re from him, and anything from the athlete is enough to send you reeling.

your hand trembled as it reached to the knob. “oh, okay.” you said, trying to block it with your body. “i was thinking we could start with reading the book a little bit more, to familiarize ourselves with the data before making the final draft. that’s if you don’t mind?”

the door swung against its hinges, making the site of a dark, but minimalistic room meet your view. you took in the smell of cologne, but it didn’t seem to be overpowering like he had just sprayed it around carelessly. his bed was neatly made, black sheets and black pillows placed meticulously: as if a house keeper had been around to do it for him.

he placed the glasses against the wood of his nightstand, a charger and lamp being the only other decor on it.

he pressed the lamp and illuminated the room just a little more. “not confident, class president?”

“that’s not it,” you blurted out, his brows knit and arms crossed as he awaited your explanation. you could barely look in his direction, biting your tongue to not say: i just get flustered enough to forget around you.

“i, uh, it’s just that… nevermind. let’s begin!”

he huffed out another laugh, his actions too fast for you to process as his hands met your shoulders, pushing you to sit on his bed.

your eyes seemed to be in a perpetually widened state, but you found it telling that you put up no protest. the bag on your back made it into your lap, and you unzipped it, taking out multiple pens, markers and whatnot to make a decent poster. sunwoo had grabbed a paper, putting it on the floor and holding out his book for you to take. your hands brushed as you accepted it, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

you began to lay a couple of your class-taken notes onto his bedding, and sunwoo made his way around to the other side. he plopped down onto his stomach, making you bounce slightly.

“you know, class prez, people think you’re scary. you’re always studying, you barely look up, and when you do it’s to tell people off because they’re interrupting said studying.” you tried to read over the notes, but found it hard to ignore the harmonies within his voice. and that your leisure-clothes were getting too warm around your skin. “but they don’t know you, i guess. you’re smart but i bet you know how to have, at least, a little fun, don’t you? and, it’s no secret the school thinks your looks are top-tear. it’s just a shame you reject everyone that asks you out. it’s a waste of your time, i presume. anyways, that’s enough. let’s get started, shall we?”

“w-why?” you asked in such a hushed breath that sunwoo barely heard it. and if he lived with anyone else, or if a car or plane went by at the perfect time, he wouldn’t have. “why is that a shame?”

“because you are beautiful, y/n.”

fuck your clothes, your skin was getting too hot against you. your breath was labored, and now the words on the paper were congregating. you couldn’t focus with sunwoo next to you, and that’s exactly what you feared.

why’d you have to ask? curiosity did kill the cat.

the way you shifted didn’t go unnoticed by the athlete and he let out a chuckle that should just be his signature at this point.

he sat up now, burning his eyes into the side of your head. “what’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, but you refused to look away from the notes, even if you couldn’t get your mind to read them. “has no one ever called you that before?”

you bit your lip, thumbs ripping at the skin around the nail. truthfully, yes, one person has called you that, but it didn’t feel the same as when he did it. sunwoo made your heart beat out of your chest, breath leave your lungs so fast it made you lightheaded. he made you weak in the knees, like you were just jelly to begin with, melting in the sun.

you felt a soft hand reach across you, taking the farthest cheek within his palm and focusing your vision towards himself.

his skin felt like fire against you, but even this smallest touch made you crave more, made you need him in a more than innocent way. and, you were starting to believe his intentions were exactly the same as yours.

your eyes finally focused at the feeling on his hand sliding to rest against the side of your neck, as if he was caressing it, running his thumb over your windpipe gently.

you’d never seen sunwoo so close to your face, but you had imagined it, and it was nothing in comparison. he was beyond beautiful, a sight to see: tan skin untainted by pores and blemishes, soft features like his lips that contradicted, but complimented shaper ones such as his eyes and nose. he was the perfect harmony in your opinion, the perfect—

“god, y/n. i must be crazy.” he broke you from your admiration, breath hitting your lips. “would you treat me any different from the guys who have asked you out in the past?”

god, yes.

your stomach was beyond knots now, the whole damn zoo being let loose. your hands were gripping the sheets at the anticipation that seemed to be agonizing enough to kill you where you sat. in reality, sunwoo wasn’t even doing anything, but he had you at his fingertips, and you weren’t convinced you couldn’t pass out right now.

“fuck, maybe i am crazy…” his eyes flicked to your lips momentarily. “do you want this? i know i’d be interrupting your studying, class president.”

and you don’t know where your confidence came from, but the way you closed the gap was desperate. however, sunwoo put up no protest, and quickly gained control over the situation.

his other palm pulled you by your cheek to deepen the kiss. well, that was until he had enough of the angle you were sat at and gripped your thigh to fully get you onto his bed.

he was a good kisser, a great one in fact, and it made you crave his lips in other places to experience the full effect.

now he was pushing your body by your lower back, trying to get you as close to him a possible, and as if you could read minds, you threw your leg over him to straddle his lap.

he broke the kiss. “good girl.” he said before reconnecting with the skin on your neck, and smiling against it when he heard you whine quietly. you could feel him growing hard underneath you, and wondered if he’d take this all the way, wondered if he wanted you like that. “you do want this, don’t you?”

inside your head you couldn’t help thinking that maybe you weren’t desirable, maybe he was only doing this to prove a point: that the whole school was within his grasp. maybe it was to brag tomorrow, as locker room chatter before soccer practice, because why would sunwoo like you outside of your delusions?

his arms caged you against him, stoping all minor movements and actions. he looked into your eyes, and for a moment it’s like the world had ceased. the only thing you could hear was the thumping within your own chest and the echoes of your doubts.

“do you want me, sunwoo?”

he kissed your lips gently—almost lovingly—before stating. “more than anything right now.”

and you wanted to ask if it was only right now that he wanted you, but you couldn’t will that to leave your lips, as his eyes locked onto your own, mixing like watercolor.

you’d wanted him to want you for a long time, so you hoped it wasn’t only now that he felt the same.

“are you okay?”

your palms now laid against his cheeks, biting your bottom lip, half-nervously and half from feeling his hands curve where the seams of your thighs met the underside of your ass. you pulled him quickly back to you, breaking away only to mumble a quiet yes before being fully taken over by your lust.

he flipped you over quickly, and you found comfort between his soft pillows and blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, slotting himself in between to attach back on your already swollen lips.

his voice came out in a hushed tone, only for you. “class prez, has anyone had you like this? have they seen how perfect you look with messy hair and puffy lips? i bet you’d look so cute crying, wouldn’t you?” you whimpered at the words—the thought—you wanted him to think you were cute, attractive in any way, it was human nature after all; and everything about this was primal. “how far do you want me to go?”

your voice was once again barely audible over your own heartbeat. “whatever you want.”

“yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

you were beginning—ignoring all previous warnings—to feel overwhelmed, his tongue sending you into overdrive. you didn’t know what to do as you felt him ghost his lips on your collar bone, then down over your chest, eventually landing at your stomach. he pushed the fabric up, latching down onto your hip bone, which had you shifting to get any sort of friction on your core.

all his minuscule teasing was actually beginning to feel painful, but he got the hint. you knew he would.

sunwoo grabbed at the waistband on your pants, looking up to you for reassurance, but you just lifted your hips to make it easier for him. he chuckled, pulling both of the fabrics blocking you from him down.

you heard him mumble something along the lines of pretty as he placed open-mouth kisses against your inner thighs.

one thing about sunwoo is that he left you no room to feel self-conscious or embarrassed. he knew how to love you right, (you didn’t want to know why that was) and was determined to show you that.

you might not have believed this was something more than locker-room chatter, but now…

you moaned when he finally attached to your aching clit, sucking gently before alternating between kissing and licking at your slit. your hand covered your mouth out of embarrassment at the sounds that you couldn’t stop from making. truthfully, the last (and only) guy you were with didn’t even make you finish, so you didn’t have to worry about being too loud—or god forbid, annoying.

but, sunwoo hated that you weren’t letting him hear how good he was doing. he wanted the praise just at much as you did, nonetheless he let you continue. he’d let you until you were completely at his mercy, malleable under his touch. he’d let you because that made you comfortable.

and, to be honest, it still fueled his ego.

“c-close,” you managed to mumble through your fingers, eyes squeezed shut and head lulled back. “woo, please?”

and that fact that you had asked him almost made him cum untouched. so, you were his? he thought to himself, before he groaned into your pussy at the feeling of your fingers attaching to his hair, only adding to your pleasure.

the hands squeezing your plush thighs pulled you closer to his face, close enough to suffocate, but he’d die a happy man.

he continued to eat you out like a starved man, only bedrudgingly pulling away right before you had the chance to properly orgasm.

“w-wait!” you tried to push him back, frantically searching for the edge you were just about to topple off. “w-wh—sunwoo, fuck, d-don’t stop. please.”

tears were pricking your eyes out of frustration—the whole thing being so emotionally and vulnerably charged, you weren’t sure you could hold them back. then, shivers were sent throughout your shaking body as he soothed over your sides and stomach with his hands, lips back to their spot on your thighs.

he propped himself up, staring down at the godly figure he never truly thought you’d let him see. and after a minute, you got embarrassed at the strong gaze on your glistening core; your knees coming together.

his fingers slotted between them, pulling your legs apart. “don’t hide from me, baby. you’re so beautiful—god, all for me, right?”

you whined, quickly sitting up and reaching out for anything he’d give you.

sunwoo kissed your lips again, keeping you at his level with a hand on the small of your back and one gripping the hem of your shirt. you were dizzy from the taste of yourself on him, sunwoo only breaking apart to get the fabric up, and fully over your head. he took off your bra and suddenly the realization that you were fully naked in front of the prized soccer captain, while he was fully clothed, sunk in.

you whined again, too drunk off him to formulate anything coherent. he laughed at how desperately you were pawing at his sweats. “what’s wrong?”

you looked up at him. “fuck me?” and if your eyes weren’t the definition of puppy-dog, he didn’t know what was.

he smiled, grabbing your wrist. “patience, baby. i’ll give you what you want.”

you fell back again, opting to obey him because you were honestly too far gone to come up with anything else to do.

and he did, taking off his sweats, along with the rest of his clothes and pressing his body to yours. his lips were connected back to you and you clawed at his shoulders—anything to ground yourself—while his held your torso down firmly.

he looked between your bodies as he lined himself with your entrance. your head was thrown back, and he pressed a chaste kiss to the middle of your neck before mumbling. “you are pretty when you cry, y/n.” and pushing in slowly.

the stretch only burned for a minute until you moaned almost embarrassingly loud with each shallow thrust. a hand instinctively come up to hide them away. but, that only lasted so long until sunwoo intertwined his fingers with yours, pushing them into the bed on either side of your head.

“don’t hide them, baby,” he sighed against your lips. “please.”

and, whether you wanted to or not, you didn’t have a choice. the noises fell freely from your lips into his shoulder, as he sucked and nipped at your neck again.

“i-is it good?” you could barely hear him, your ears ringing with pleasure; was it good? is he stupid?

you choked on a chuckle, feeling him angle himself just perfectly inside you to brush against your g-spot. “holy fuck,”

“right there, baby?” he did it again, taking notes and storing them away in the back of his mind. your head lulled back again, and he watched your face contort, mouth falling open. “does it feel good?” you couldn’t reply, his thrusts only getting harder after that.

you could feel the band in your stomach tightening, and you feared you wouldn’t even be able to tell him you were getting so close, so fast—too fast.

but, somewhere deep-down, he already knew.

“fuck, you feel so good, y/n.” he sighed, lips ghosting over yours. “i must be the luckiest man in the world, right?” it was rhetorical, but even if you felt the need to answer, all that was coming out of your mouth was moans, groans, and mewls. “perfect body—fuck—perfect personality, perfect pussy, perfect fucking mouth,” he grabbed your chin, your free hand now going to clutch into the skin on his arm. his eyes met your tear-filled, and blurry ones. “open your mouth,”

there was a fire within you when you did as he said, mouth falling open. he spat on your tongue, and you didn’t know whether you came right then or just flat-out died.

“swallow it,” he said—no, demanded—almost making it an impossible task by putting his fingers into your mouth, pushing them to the back of your throat, and making you gag around him. he felt you clench harder at the act. “gonna fuck this throat one day, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you would.

but, he was spewing heated words into a brick wall. “you’re mine, right?” he asked, taking his saliva-covered fingers from your mouth and bringing them between your bodies.

the moment his fingers landed on your clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the hand that was still intertwined with his was losing circulation from how hard your were gripping it, and the other was scratching his perfect skin hard enough to bleed.

no one had ever made you feel so cold, yet so fucking warm at the same time. nothing you've ever experienced has been as intense and kim sunwoo; the delinquent soccer player. you feared no one could ever make you feel like this again.

so, of course you were his.

“look at me, y/n.” he whispered, kissing along your jaw gently—in contrast to the heavy and hard thrusts he kept at a steady rhythm. “c’mon, y/n, be a good girl. please.”

you felt the impending desire to now, head leveling. his forehead then came to rest against it, fighting off your urge to let it roll back again.

he pecked your lips between sentences. “mine, right?” god, he kept asking an obvious question. “be mine, okay? cum for me,” he circled your clit faster, determined to make you finish one last time. “i got you.”

his voice alone was enough to make you topple over the edge, your noises raising a couple octaves. your vision went white, body convulsing under sunwoo, who kept his eyes on your face the entire time; in awe of you. he fucked you through it of course, mumbling praises, before the overwhelming feeling of fire bloomed between you two; disguised by overstimulation.

you mewled. “woo, p-please stop.” he kissed you quiet, slowing down. but, you didn’t actually want him to stop. “h-hurts… just a little,”

his hand intertwined with yours again. “being such a good girl—taking it so well. just a little more, okay? i promise,” he sighed, feeling the way your walls clenched him in, barely letting him pull out, only causing him to thrust harder. “almost there, y/n, where do you want it?”

your legs caged him against you. “fill me up, please.” and you weren’t above begging for it, especially not in a state of post-euphoria. “cum in me.”

he threw his head back momentarily, fighting off a strong urge to start a second round. how in gods name did he get so lucky? he thought to himself, bringing his forehead back to yours.

he locked eyes onto you. “yeah?” you nodded slightly, eyes full of tears you didn’t know if you’d shed. “gonna be so good and take it all?”

you moaned when he started grinding against you, your clit being stimulated by his pubic-bone.

“could fuck you forever.” he admitted. “do you want me to?”

you spewed out a quiet yes, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was being serious—maybe he was. you were too far gone to even begin guessing.

he kissed you again, desperately fighting your tongue with his. he continued to kiss down your jaw and into your neck, leaving glistening marks in his wake. he sucked on your collarbone, finding a sweet-spot you didn’t even know you had, and biting down for a second. your mouth fell open in a silent scream, an orgasm you didn’t even know was there, washing over you.

sunwoo just kept forcing you to learn about yourself—you guess, it’s a good thing you’ve always been known for studying, isn’t it?

your intense orgasm triggered his, a soft groan leaving his lips as uneven thrusts made sure you both were fully satisfied.

you felt fuzzy, brain completely melted under his touch. your heavy breathing mixed with his, his body fully collapsing from exhaustion. however, his weight wasn’t enough to suffocate you, so you let him stay where he was, breaking your hand from his and threading it into his damp hair.

the silence was loud—heartbeats intertwined—as you both came down, the reality about to set in.

would he push you away after this? did he even mea—

“i meant it, by the way.” your eyebrows creased. you weren’t even sure if you had imagined that. and, if you didn’t feel the rumbling of his chest on yours as he spoke, you might’ve believed it was only in your head. “be mine, okay?”

little did he know, you already were.

you whispered out a reply. “okay.”

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

some things are worth it

a/n: so, because i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this guy, especially in this au (literally had multiple dreams about him this past week) i rewatched the longest ride for the yeehaw vibes and this fantasy popped into my head.

summary: “oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

warnings: farmhand!tyler owens x farmer’s daughter!reader, smut, farmer au, bull rider!tyler, takes place before the previous fic in this au, secret relationship, bull riding (except i'm a suropean who has no idea what she's talking about, so apologies for the errors), love confession, secret relationship, kissing, clothed sex, car sex, size kink, manhandling, dry humping, dirty talk, handjob, fingering, thighjob, pussyjob, just the tip, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, why do i keep writing for this dude in the middle of the night?

word count: 4238

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“Hey,” Tyler cast you a glance as you came bouncing towards where he still worked, tinkering with the tractor that had quit halfway down one of the farm’s golden fields. 

“Hello,” you blinked down at him. A rusty toolbox was planted in the wheat by his kneeling form as he fiddled away at the machinery.

“You need help with something?” he kept on twisting a bolt. 

“Oh, no,” a shy giggle bubbled out of you, “my mom just sent me down here to invite you to stay for dinner tonight. She made a pie for dessert and everything, or well, we did, I helped… it’s rhubarb, if that can help sway you.”

“Rhubarb, eh?” he puffed out a short chuckle. 

“Yeah…”

Briefly glancing back over his shoulder at you and the way your flowy dress caught on the wind, he uttered, “I’d love to, Y/n, but–, uhm… I can’t tonight.”

“Right,” you exhaled, a nod swiftly accompanying your words, “you already have plans, of course…”

“Tell your mamma I’m sorry,” he tried to soften the blow, “next time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you breathed, and as he returned his attention back to the machine, surely assuming that you’d bid him adieu and saunter back towards the main house, you instead shifted to lean against the tractor, “so… what are you doing tonight?”

Briefly glancing up at you, a soft smirk appeared on his lips as he purred, “you’re awfully nosy.” 

“Just tell me what your plans are,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Bull riding,” he informed you, “I ride on occasion, tonight being one of those times.”

Sucking in a breath, you uttered, “of course you do…”

Halting his tinkering with a chuckle, he pressed, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, you just got adrenalin junky written all over you, so it checks out,” you gestured towards him and he let out a small laugh, retroactively confirming your accusation. As he shifted to look for a different tool, you opened your mouth once more and asked, “can I come?”

“Come what?” his concentrated gaze didn’t meet yours. 

“See you ride.”

Tyler’s eyes then snapped up to find yours, “you wanna come see me ride?” hesitation suddenly washed over his usually confident features, “uhm… I’m not sure your daddy would like that.”

“What? Me being around a bunch of rowdy and probably drunk strangers or going somewhere to see you?”

A warm chuckle then rumbled in his chest as a gentle shake found his head, “you’re trouble…”

“Is that a no?” you tilted your head in hope. 

“No…” he slowly exhaled and met your eye once more, “no it is not.”

You cheered for him at first when his name was announced and you caught a glimpse of him behind the fence, he even found your eyes in the crowd a moment as you clapped in anticipation. But then when it actually began, you stopped breathing entirely. It didn’t matter that he only had to stay on the beast for a few seconds, your heart still wouldn’t start beating again even after his boots were back on the ground and a proud grin stretched his lips. The petrified expression plastered on your features didn’t fade even when he found you afterwards and offered you a ride back home.

“You okay?” his deep timbre ripped you out of your stormy thoughts. 

Twisting your neck to blink over at him behind the wheel of his truck, you hummed, “huh?”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” he pointed out. 

“Oh… I’m just tired, I guess…” you lied, averting your gaze before you then heard yourself utter, “hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he held his eyes on the road. 

“How is it that you haven’t been hurt yet doing all of that?”

“Oh no, I have,” a soft chuckle bubbled out of the daredevil, “just not hard enough to stop me from getting back up.” 

A murmur then escaped your lips, just beneath your breath, “either that or you’re just too determined for your own good…”

“Maybe,” he cast you a glance and smirked slightly at the embarrassment that washed over your features at the realisation that he’d heard you, “but then again, determination isn’t always a bad quality to have.”

“It is if it could get you killed.” 

“Oh, how unromantic of you,” he puffed, “I could think of a handful of ways dying would be worth whatever goal you were going for,” his eyes momentarily flickered back to you in the passenger seat beside him. 

Holding his gaze a second before he redirected it back upon the dark road, you felt goosebumps tingle your flesh. 

“Hey Tyler?” you breathed, unsure if you were able to stop the words about to flow out your mouth. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever actually gonna do anything?” your vulnerable question was barely audible. 

Not yet catching onto your subtext, he inquired, “about what?” 

Staring over at him, you uttered, “me.”

His eyes immediately fluttered back to find yours, gazing back at you a second before it faltered, “I–… I don’t know what you mean...”

“Oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

His firm grip stayed on the wheel long after the car had halted.

“Y/n, I–…” he tried, though gave up in a soft sigh. 

As he refused to meet your stare, you felt your stomach begin to flip.

“Oh…” you then breathed, blinking down at your hands as they fiddled with the fabric of the sundress that you wore, “unless I apparently don’t, I–… you know what? Forget it, I’m sorry,” your eyes squeezed shut at the mortification, “let’s just go back to the farm and pretend I didn’t say anything…”

Though his grip didn’t shift away from the wheel, didn’t drift down to twist the key and restart the engine. Instead, to your surprise, you saw him in your periphery twist towards you before you felt his hands come up to cup the sides of your face and pluck it out of hiding. 

Pulling you towards him, he then pressed his lips to your own, rendering you reeling to claw your way out of the stunned pit his bold actions had cast you into. 

As one of your palms slowly floated up to rest against the back of one of his, a soft sigh flowed from your form as you melted into his warmth. 

However, before you sank in and lost yourself completely, you felt him withdraw, though still remained close, letting his nose ghost against your own as he exhaled, “this is a really bad idea… we shouldn’t… I can’t afford to lose my job.” 

“Why would you think you’d lose it?” your fingers curled around the back of his hand in a plea to keep his touch glued to your heated cheek. 

“Have you met your father?” he scoffed softly, “I should be grateful if he only fires me and doesn’t outright kill me.” 

“He wouldn’t do that.” 

“You sure about that?” Tyler half-joked before slowly retracting even further. 

Blinking back at him, your lips still tingled from his kiss as you quietly said, “…I thought you were the one who just insisted that some things are worth dying for… I guess you just have to decide whether or not I could be worth that kind of risk…” 

A gentle chuckle then bubbled out of him as he gazed back at you in amazement, “you sound like a fair maiden 500 years ago,” twisting his fingers and tangling them in your own.  

Puffing out a laugh of your own, you defended, “well you started it!” before you felt one of his palms slide to the nape of your neck and tug you back in for another kiss. His lips felt like fire, though the slow smouldering kind that licked you up and ignited your entire soul, “if you don’t think it’s worth it,” you breathlessly uttered against his kiss, “then you should probably stop kissing me like that…” 

As a gentle smirk tugged at his mouth, he answered you not in the form of words, but instead drifted his hands down your frame and scooped you closer, plucking you up and lifting you into his lap, wasting no time at all to claim your lips again.

It didn’t take long after you settled above him, the wheel of the truck poking the lower part of your spine, that the slow peck evolved into something more, something else. Something that had muffled whines crawling up from the depth of your lungs and vibrating against his tongue as yours desperately danced against his own. Something that had you rolling your hips and grinding down against the hardness poking your panties so perfectly beneath the billowy fabric of your dress, the material of which had begun to ride up as Tyler’s wild touch began to wander over the curves of your frame. 

Panting into his mouth, your head started to lull slightly as you rocked down against him, the sensation being nearly too much to stand in the way it was both overwhelming yet also not at all enough. Nevertheless, if he gave you the chance, you’d surely be able to cum just like this if he let you, if he told you to desperately rut against him like some animal in heat, then you would, because that was just the effect he seemed to have on you. He was always able to turn your brain off with but a glance and nearly cause you to faint if he ever flashed you a dazzling smile. 

To say you had it bad was the understatement of the century, but evidently, and thankfully, you weren’t alone in the predicament. 

Snaking a hand down in the non-existent space between your frames, you found the bulky buckle of his belt and began to undo it. 

“Please,” you panted, your tone sounding downright pathetic, “I wanna–, can I touch you?”

And before you could fumble to do it, Tyler didn’t hesitate to undo his jeans and seize your hand, stuffing it into his pants and guiding your fingers to engulf his girth, squeezing them lightly around himself for but a moment before his touch then faded and he left you to your own devices.

“Oh, fuck–,” he growled, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “just like that.”

His cock throbbed in your palm as he kissed you once again and let his wide hands raked down to your ass, kneading your softness as he groaned against your lips.

But he didn’t let your zealous touch stretch out for that long before you heard him crack the door directly to his left open. His grip on your bottom locked securely as he got out of the truck, effortlessly carrying you with him as he made his way around towards the back.

His hold on you stayed fast as he flipped open the bed of the truck and plopped you down on the ledge. A soft giggle bubbled out of you, even as your hands came up to cup his jaw and he slotted himself in between your parted thighs. 

“Shit…” he exhaled as his gaze fluttered down to spot the damp spot decorating your underwear, neatly on show as your sundress had ridden up even further. Your legs dangled slightly off the edge as his touch then reached down to trace the mark of desperation, your bottom lip swiftly getting trapped betwixt your teeth as he rubbed you through the soaked cotton, “guess you really do have a thing for me, sweetheart,” his teasing touch traced your core as the sodden fabric clung to you, “I mean, not that I didn’t already have my suspensions…” 

“You knew?”

“You’re not exactly subtle when it comes to these things,” he chuckled before letting his fingers dip into your waistband, “it’s cute,” he smiled as your eyes fluttered when his digits swept through your folds, scooping back up to your puffy pearl as it buzzed beneath his caress, “I always enjoyed all the random little reasons you came up with just to have an excuse to talk to me.”

“Okay, I know they weren’t always that smooth,” an embarrassed heat sparked in your cheeks, “but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it is.”

“Oh, I know,” he stated casually, grinning at the way your eyes suddenly grew, “what? Did you really think I just happened to always have some work in the barn whenever you went for a ride?” one of his long fingers then eased into you, causing your mouth to fall open in a silent gasp. 

“Wait, seriously?”

“And the time I needed your help learning the system in the tool shed?” another one of his digits found its way inside of your cunt, rendering you a panting mess in his grasp as he leisurely pumped his fingers in and out, stretching you till your pussy sang out for him, “I already knew where everything was.”

The reply that was ready on your tongue swiftly fizzled out and became a forgotten relic as his touch then dissipated and instead floated down to where his jeans were already half undone. Tugging it the rest of the way open, he then stuffed his hand inside and freed his cock. Like a moth to a flame, your eyes couldn’t help but stare, yearning as you watched his cock throb in his tight fist. 

“O-oh, fuck…” the curse flowed out your lungs as your gaze stayed glued, nearly drooling as he suddenly hooked his grasp behind one of your legs and yanked you closer, causing you to tumble back onto your forearms as he manoeuvred your core that much closer to him. Hooking his fingers in the material of your panties, he slid them down your legs and, to your amazement, stuffed them into his pocket. As he then began to tap the hefty weight of his length down against your puffy petals, causing glossy strings of your desire to cling onto him and keep you ethereally attached, your eyes snapped back up to find his and the same whimper left your body once again, “oh, f-fuck…”

Trailing the bulbous tip through your wetness, he teasingly nudged the head against your swollen clit fiercely enough to make your whole frame twitch beneath him. 

“God… you feel so good…” he groaned, staring down at how his fat cock slid through and parted your glistening folds.

“Uh, Tyler–,” you begged hazily, your little hole winking every time he denied it any attention, “p-please–”

“What is it, baby?” he cooed smugly, “you want me to fuck you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded foggily, your gaze flickering back down to watch his teasing. 

“You wanna know what my cock feels like inside your pretty little pussy, huh?” his touch then dented your thighs, pressing both of your legs together, enclosing them around his girth and resting your ankles atop one of his broad shoulders. 

“P-please–”

“Is it all you’ve been thinking about?” the softness of your thighs interlocked around him lend him to snap his hips against yours and freely fuck your folds, the underside of him sliding against the seem of your cunt, “what’s been occupying that brilliant brain of yours?” he smirked and you couldn’t help but rock back against his efforts, “because it’s all I’ve been thinking about… how warm you must feel around me, how tight, how fucking wet, how–, fuck!” he then moaned as the way you’d needily tilted your hips up towards him lend his length to accidentally catch your leaking hole and sink in just the slightest bit till he halted his movements.

A shuttering gasp escaped you as well at the sensation as he’d nearly caused tears to roll down your cheeks from how badly you wanted him. 

As he caught your eye, his grip digging into your legs in order to hold on to his last strand of self-control, you panted up at him just as he was about to pull back out, “don’t stop.”

Staring down at you, absorbing your every reaction, he slid the tip back out, but so painstakingly slow that it caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

“But what if I did though? What if I just stopped, right here, right now? Just drove you back to the farm and left you a needy little puddle just like this?”

“No, don’t stop! Don’t–, I–…” your walls clung around his girth, “please just keep going, it can just be the tip, I just–, don’t stop…”

When just the memory of him kissed your entrance, he gently sank back in and stuffed the bulbous head inside your cunt, “you sure you just want the tip?” he slowly found a pattern, fucking you with just the essence of him, “you sure you don’t wanna feel me so deep inside of you that you won’t be able to walk afterwards? That you’ll still be able to feel what we did for days and days?”

Blinking up at him, your legs trembling against his chest, you breathed, “I–…” till your dizzy head began to rock in a nod. 

“Yeah?” he cocked his head and flashed you a smug smile, “then beg for it.”

“Please fuck me–”

“What was that?”

“F-fuck me–”

“What, like I am right now?” he rolled his hips to just shyly plug you up. 

“No, fuck me for real,” your words felt not your own as they desperately flowed out of you, “fuck me exactly like you’ve been dreaming of since we first met, since you first–, ah!” all of the air was then forced out of your lungs as he slammed the remainder of himself all the way inside, stretching you wide of him and letting the tip, the very part of him that had been driving you mad, kiss the deepest part of you and cause your eyes to flutter shut. 

Your knees bent and crumbled down to curl up beside your chest as he meticulously slid halfway out, only to jam his dick back inside. 

He was practically growling above you, sinful grunts rhythmically flowing from his lips at every one of his frantic thrusts.

“Oh my god,” you cried beneath him as your cunt swiftly began to flutter around him, “you f-feel so–, so–, g-good!”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked and then perceptively asked, “are you gonna cum?” leaning down over you as he kept up his efforts. 

You tried to offer him an answer, but in the blissful abyss he’d cast you down in, you could only nod and squeeze your eyes further shut. 

“Then look at me, baby,” you sensed his fingers curl around your cheek, his reach dipping into your hairline, “be a good girl and look at me when you cum around my cock,” and when you managed to force your hazy eyes to blink back open, he stared back down at you as your cunt clenched down around him so fiercely that you nearly forced his girth out entirely, “there you go, fuck…”

But as your high began to melt away into sensitivity, the blonde farmhand didn’t slow his efforts in the slightest, moaning above you as he also was too close to cum to simply stop.

“Tyler, it’s too–,” you whimpered, your thighs shaking on either side of his frame as the creamy aftermath of your orgasm created a ring around the base of his cock and aided his erratic efforts, lending the entirety of his length to plunge back into you with such ease, even as your walls quaked and squeezed tightly around him. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he uttered hazily, “fucking take it, fucking–, ahh!” his hips then shuttered as he tumbled over the edge and pumped you full of his hot load. 

When Tyler one day had an errand to run, some thingy he had to pick up at a neighbouring farm, you hadn’t really paid attention to that part, you had kinda just stopped listening after the discovery that you would get to tag along simply because the neighbour knew you better than him. 

So, once you were both waiting on the ground for the farmer to return with the item, just a curious look to make the time pass by morphed into the pair of you full-on wandering around and being more nosy than what was good for you. 

Though the snooping halted once you pushed open the door to the westernmost barn and discovered a DIY contraption that tickled Tyler’s nostalgia. 

It was a tin barrel, strung up with ropes and tied to a few beams, though he still had to open his mouth for you to fully understand how it was a homemade training tool for when you first began learning how to ride a bull.

By then, some of the fear you’d felt the night you had watched him ride had overflowed and spilt out, which surely also was the reason behind why he suddenly insisted on you hopping on and letting him try to teach the terror out of you. 

“So, like that?” you asked, one of your hands hovering above the one you clutched around the makeshift loop tied around the uppermost quadrant of the barrel you straddled. 

“Almost, you’re only allowed to hold on with the one hand,” he pointed out and you swiftly adjusted, raising your left hand up high just as you remembered he’d done, “yeah, there you go.”

“So, just eight seconds like this?” your thighs squeezed around the drum as Tyler gently tugged on one of the ropes, only making you sway slightly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded as you glanced over at him, “and then there are other things that can get you more points, like how well you hold your balance and if you’re able to control the bull or not, those kinds of things.” 

He then caught you off guard by pulling on the rope a little rougher and offering you a much harsher and more realistic buck of the barrel, though, to your shock, you reacted to it surprisingly well, clenching your thighs and tightening your grip. 

“Atta girl,” he grinned at the startled chuckle that bubbled out of you, “see? It’s not so scary. You’re a natural.”

“Or maybe you’re just going easy on me…” you pointed out, reflecting on how the love you’d had for riding horses since a very young age surely kicked in and aided you in this skill as well. 

“You’re doing great,” he stated, his stare staying glued to how your body and hips swayed borderline sensually to the rhythm he kept up, “relax, give in to the movements more.” 

“How?”

“Just–…” he sucked in a breath, “pretend that you’re on something else…” a sly smirk then spread across his features before he uttered, “pretend that it’s me you’re riding.”

You then promptly felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, as it became impossible to keep up your concentration on the task at hand and swiftly heard yourself shriek, “oh my god, Tyler Owens!”

Letting go of the rope, he stepped closer to you and enjoyed your flustered visage, “or better yet, maybe I should just let you hop on and teach you that way,” he let his palm slide up your leg as he came to stand beside you. 

“You’re ridiculous!” you laughed.

Snaking his hands around your waist, he then effortlessly lifted you back down onto the ground and uttered, “you love it.”

As you felt his breath fan across your features, your giggle got caught in your throat and faded away as you gazed back at him. 

“Yeah, I think I might…” you then whispered before he crashed his lips against yours. 

His boots then began to shuffle as yours did as well, letting him shift you till your spine collided with the gate to one of the empty stalls in the dusty barn. Pushing you up against it as he ravenously kissed you, one of his wide palms then swooped up from his fast hold on your waist to caress the soft peak of your boob through the thin layer of your tanktop. 

A breathy moan couldn’t help but slip up from your lungs when his kisses then faded from your lips and began to dance down the side of your neck. 

“Okay, easy there, tiger,” you caught his head in your hands as his sloppy pecks fluttered against your rapid pulse, “we can’t do anything here.”

“Oh yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow as he peeked up at you, “is that a dare?”

“No,” you chuckled, then reminded him of your neighbour, “he’ll be back any second.”

A groan then seeped through his grin before he pushed himself off of you, “fine…” yet still held his burly arms stretched out and fast on either side of you, supporting his weight against the half wall behind you and doing his very best to stop himself from diving back in.

But then you slowly let yourself float back into his space, “hey,” and tilted your chin to catch his gaze, “I said not here, not that we shouldn’t give it a try…”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[auntiejohn]

"wolfstar is canon" I say into the microphone. the crowd boos. I sigh and begin to walk off stage. "she's right" a voice says, I turn and there he is. David Thewlis.

[yeontantrash]

Ateez Reaction- Is It Casual Now?

Summary: When Friend With Benefits Becomes Something More... 

Pairing: Fem. Reader x Ateez

Genre: fluff/bit suggestive

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Nothing too risky but it is FWB

Hongjong

Hongjoong found it easy to connect with you, your friendship making the intimacy feel natural. What began as a casual arrangement to ease frustrations soon blurred the lines, as genuine feelings began to blossom between you. The more time you spent together, the deeper the emotions grew, complicating the simplicity of your initial agreement.

The realization hit you both at different times, but the effect was the same. The casual arrangement that had once seemed so clear-cut now felt like a tangled web of emotions. Hongjoong, too, began to grapple with his feelings, torn between the comfort of your friendship and the undeniable pull of something more profound.

As the emotional stakes rose, so did the tension between you. Moments that were once filled with laughter now carried an undercurrent of uncertainty. You both hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. Would acknowledging your feelings risk everything you had built together? Or could it lead to something even more beautiful?

The night had deepened, and you found yourselves entwined on the couch in his studio, your body perched on his lap, both struggling to catch your breath after the passionate whirlwind. The air was thick with the remnants of your shared heat, the soft glow of the studio lights casting a warm halo around you both. Hongjoong's fingers lingered on your warm hips, tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine, while your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, creating an intimate cocoon that felt both safe and exhilarating.

The world outside faded into a distant hum, leaving only the two of you in this moment, suspended in time. Overwhelmed by the intensity of your emotions, you slowly raised your eyes to his, searching for answers in the depths of his gaze. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and sincerity, and you could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, igniting a fire within you that was both thrilling and terrifying.

As the silence stretched, your heart raced, each beat echoing the uncertainty that had begun to creep in. You had both agreed to keep things light, to enjoy the thrill of the moment without the complications of labels or expectations. But as you sat there, wrapped in each other's warmth, the boundaries of that agreement began to blur. The connection you shared felt too profound to be dismissed as mere casual fun.

Before you could second-guess yourself, the question slipped from your lips, almost as if it had a mind of its own. "Is it still casual?" The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your vulnerability. You watched as Hongjoong's expression shifted, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a more serious contemplation.

He took a moment, his fingers pausing on your hips, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter of earlier replaced by a palpable tension. You held your breath, waiting for his response, your heart pounding in your chest. Would he laugh it off, reassure you that everything was fine as it was? Or would he acknowledge the depth of what had just transpired between you?

Finally, he leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. He was a master of words, a lyricist who could weave emotions into melodies, yet in this moment, he seemed at a loss.

"I don't know," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It feels different now, doesn't it?"

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. The admission hung between you, a fragile thread that could either bind you closer together or unravel everything you had built in the heat of the moment. "It does," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers resumed their gentle tracing on your hips, but now there was a sense of urgency in his touch, as if he were trying to anchor himself to the reality of the situation. "It was about sex at irst but now it's... It's not. It's more than that. And I think that scares me the most," he confessed, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. 

The honesty in his words sent a rush of warmth through you, but it also ignited a flicker of fear. You had both danced around the edges of something deeper, and now that it was laid bare, the prospect of losing the lightness you had cherished felt daunting. "What if we don't have to ruin it?" you suggested, your voice trembling slightly. "What if we can explore this... whatever it is, without losing ourselves?"

 Hongjoong's expression softened, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your words. "You really think we can do that?" he asked, a hint of hope threading through his tone.

"I want to try," you replied, your heart racing at the vulnerability of your admission. "I don't want to walk away from this. From you."

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. "Then let's take it slow," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. "See where this goes."

Seonghwa

What began as a simple friendship blossomed into secret rendezvous, where stolen kisses turned into passionate embraces. The initial innocence of your connection was intoxicating, filled with laughter and shared secrets that only deepened your bond. Late-night conversations transformed into lingering glances, and the playful teasing that once characterized your interactions evolved into something more electric, more urgent.

In the dim light of your favorite café, you would sit across from each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. Each brush of your hands sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire that neither of you could fully comprehend. The thrill of those moments kept drawing you closer, as if an invisible thread connected your hearts, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed.

There were no labels, no discussions to define the connection, yet the intensity of your feelings was undeniable. You found solace in the stolen moments—those late-night drives with the windows down, the way your laughter echoed in the stillness of the night, and the warmth of your bodies pressed together under the stars. Each rendezvous felt like a secret escape from reality, a sanctuary where you could be yourselves without the weight of expectations.

Unspoken desires intertwined your lives, creating a bond that felt like friends with benefits, even if neither of you dared to acknowledge it. You reveled in the freedom of your arrangement, the thrill of knowing that what you shared was both exhilarating and precarious. The lines between friendship and something deeper blurred, leaving you both in a state of delicious confusion.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the intensity of your connection only grew. You found yourselves navigating the delicate balance between friendship and desire, each encounter leaving you breathless and yearning for more. The thrill of secrecy added an intoxicating layer to your relationship, making every kiss feel like a promise and every embrace a declaration of something unspoken.

Yet, beneath the surface, a question lingered: how long could you continue this dance without confronting the reality of your feelings? The fear of losing what you had kept you both from taking that leap, but the magnetic pull between you was undeniable. Each rendezvous became a testament to the complexity of human connection, a beautiful chaos that neither of you wanted to end, even as the world outside continued to spin.

Today, Seonghwa's affection radiated more than ever, even in the presence of his bandmates. It was as if the air around you crackled with an unspoken energy, a palpable tension that made every shared glance and subtle touch feel monumental. His touch lingered, whether it was his hand gently resting on your back, guiding you through the room, or his fingers softly caressing your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. Each moment felt electric, charged with a warmth that enveloped you both, making the world around you fade into a blur.

The way his lips brushed against your forehead was a tender revelation, a stark departure from the hidden feelings you both had shared until now. It was a gesture that spoke volumes, a silent promise of something deeper, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. You could feel the weight of his gaze, filled with affection and longing, as if he were trying to convey everything he felt without uttering a single word. The laughter and chatter of his bandmates faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of intimacy.

As the night drew to a close, the atmosphere shifted, becoming more charged with anticipation. He walked you to the door, each step echoing the unspoken words that hung between you. The hallway felt impossibly long, yet every second was a treasure, a moment you wished could stretch into eternity. Just before you stepped away, he enveloped you in his embrace, pulling you close as if he never wanted to let go. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, grounding, and exhilarating all at once.

And then, he sealed the moment with a sweet kiss that ignited a spark between you. It was soft and tentative at first, a gentle exploration of newfound territory, but it quickly deepened, fueled by the emotions that had been building for so long. Your heart raced as you melted into him, feeling the world around you dissolve into nothingness. The kiss was a promise, a declaration of the feelings that had been hidden away, now laid bare for both of you to embrace. As you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, 

"Kiss me like that again, and I might just believe you're falling for me," you teased, your voice light and playful as you watched a soft smile spread across his face. The warmth of the moment wrapped around you and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

"But what if I truly am?" Seonghwa's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, sending a thrill through you that made your heart race wildly. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, a depth that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Let's not go there... please, don't say things like that," you attempted to brush it off, your voice wavering slightly as you tried to maintain a facade of nonchalance. The truth was, the idea of him being in love with you sent your mind spiraling into a whirlwind of emotions—hope, fear, and a longing that felt almost unbearable.

Yet, Seonghwa simply shook his head, a determined look in his eyes as he drew you closer into his embrace. The warmth of his body against yours was intoxicating, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. "I am in love with you," he declared, his voice low and earnest, as if he were sharing a secret meant only for you.

The world around you faded into a blur, and all that mattered was the intensity of the moment. You searched his gaze, looking for any hint of doubt, but all you found was unwavering affection. Your heart swelled, caught between the thrill of his confession and the fear of what it could mean for both of you.

"What if this is just a fleeting moment?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "What if tomorrow changes everything?"

Seonghwa's grip on you tightened, as if he were anchoring you to the present. "Then let's make the most of today," he replied softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't want to waste another second pretending that I don't feel this way about you."

His words wrapped around you like a promise, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility of something more. The walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, piece by piece, as you leaned into him, surrendering to the moment.

"Okay," you finally said, your voice steadying as you met his gaze with newfound determination. "Let's see where this goes."

Yunho

You had been Yunho's closest companion for as long as you could remember, your lives intertwined since childhood. From the very first day you met on the playground, where laughter echoed and innocence reigned, you felt an inexplicable connection. Growing up together, you shared countless firsts—your first handhold, a shy intertwining of fingers that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach; your first cuddle, a warm embrace that felt like home; your first kiss, a tentative brush of lips that ignited a spark neither of you could ignore; and even your first experience of intimacy, a moment that blurred the lines between friendship and something deeper, something more profound.

Though your friendship had flourished for years before crossing that line, the moment you did, everything shifted. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a world filled with colors and sensations you had never fully appreciated before. Each time you found yourselves in the same space, the magnetic pull between you became undeniable, a force that drew you closer even when you tried to resist. The air crackled with unspoken words and lingering glances, each moment charged with an intensity that left you both breathless.

You began to steal away into moments filled with passion, longing, and an unquenchable desire that hinted at a new chapter in your story. Late-night conversations turned into whispered confessions, and stolen glances morphed into lingering touches that sent shivers down your spine. The world outside faded away, and in those fleeting instances, it was just the two of you, lost in a whirlwind of emotions that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

Every shared secret, every laugh, every brush of skin became a thread weaving your lives together in a tapestry of intimacy. You explored the depths of each other's souls, discovering hidden fears and dreams, and in doing so, you found a sanctuary in one another. The boundaries of friendship blurred, and you both began to navigate this new terrain with a mix of excitement and trepidation, unsure of where it would lead but unable to resist the journey.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, and the months into years the bond you shared deepened, transforming into something that felt both familiar and foreign. You were no longer just childhood friends; you were partners in a dance of emotions, each step bringing you closer to a love that felt destined. The laughter you once shared now held a different weight, and the silences between you were filled with a tension that spoke volumes.

One day, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the room, Seonghwa turned to Yunho with a teasing glint in his eye. He leaned in slightly, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, and questioned, "Are you two really just friends?" The air was thick with unspoken tension, and Yunho could feel his heart race at the implication behind Seonghwa's words.

Yunho quickly dismissed the thought, shaking his head vigorously as if to physically shake off the suggestion. "No way, it's nothing like that," he replied, his voice a mix of disbelief and a hint of defensiveness. He brushed off the idea with a wave of his hand, trying to maintain his composure. "We're just best friends," he insisted, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed his mind.

He paused for a moment, searching for the right words to convey the depth of their bond without crossing into the territory that Seonghwa was hinting at. "Sure, the intimacy is incredible," he admitted, his voice softening as he thought of the countless moments they had shared—late-night talks, laughter that echoed through the halls, and the comfortable silence that spoke volumes. "But we would never cross that line with each other," he added firmly, though a part of him wondered if that line was as clear as he wanted to believe.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a knowing smile. "You say that now, but feelings can be tricky, you know?" he teased, his tone light but his gaze piercing. Yunho felt a flush creep up his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and frustration at the insinuation.

"Come on, Seonghwa," Yunho replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "We've been through so much together. I mean, we're practically family at this point." He chuckled nervously, hoping to deflect the conversation away from the uncomfortable territory it was treading.

Seonghwa's expression softened slightly, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "I get that, but sometimes the lines blur, especially when you care about someone so deeply." There was a sincerity in his voice that made Yunho pause, contemplating the truth behind those words.

As you stepped out of Yunho's room, the warmth of the night lingered, his oversized sweatshirt enveloping you in comfort. "Good morning, beautiful," Yunho greeted, a playful smile dancing on his lips, prompting Seonghwa to suppress a chuckle; he noticed the flush creeping up Yunho's cheeks as he playfully nudged the older man beneath the table.

"Morning," you replied, settling into the chair beside Yunho, your fingers brushing against your sleepy eyes while he gazed at you with undeniable affection. Seonghwa couldn't watch the two of you- how could you both be so unaware of the love between the two of you.

"Hyung mentioned something intriguing," Yunho remarked, drawing your complete focus as you anticipated his next words. "He suggested that we share a bond deeper than mere friendship," he added cautiously, as if afraid to disrupt the delicate balance of your relationship.

"I... I guess we do, don't we?" you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken desires, as if you were both tiptoeing around the truth you yearned to embrace. "We mean everything to each other." A smile spread across Yunho's face at your admission. 

"Yeah... Everything."

Yeosang

What began as a playful tease to see Yeosang blush quickly turned into a routine, with the members insisting that you two share a room no matter the time or place. Initially, it was mortifying for him; despite your friendship, his shy nature made the idea of sharing a space with the only girl in the group daunting. He attempted to sneak into the boys' room for comfort, but they promptly sent him back, their laughter echoing in the hallway as they playfully shoved him toward your door.

Resigned, he settled for sleeping on the floor, wrapping himself in a thin blanket that did little to shield him from the chill of the night. Yet, fate had other plans, and each night found him beside you, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating the room as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, his heart racing at the proximity. Seeing him curled up on the cold floor tugged at your heart, and soon you couldn't bear it any longer.

With a gentle nudge, you coaxed him to join you in the bed, transforming the initial awkwardness into warmth. The first time he hesitated, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but your reassuring smile melted away his reservations. As he climbed in beside you, the tension in the air shifted, replaced by a comforting familiarity. You both lay there, side by side, the silence filled with unspoken words and shared laughter from earlier in the day.

As the nights passed, the initial embarrassment faded, replaced by a sense of ease. You found yourselves sharing stories, dreams, and even secrets under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Yeosang's soft laughter became a soothing melody that lulled you to sleep, and his presence turned the room into a sanctuary where both of you could be yourselves without the weight of the world outside.

The playful teasing that had started it all transformed into a bond that deepened with each passing night. You learned to appreciate the little things—how he would always make sure to leave enough space for you, how he would shyly offer you his favorite snacks, and how his eyes sparkled with joy whenever you shared a laugh. In those quiet moments, you realized that what had begun as a simple arrangement had blossomed into something beautiful. The warmth of his presence beside you became a source of comfort, and the once-daunting idea of sharing a room turned into a cherished routine that neither of you wanted to end. 

Eventually, Yeosang stopped resisting the idea of sharing a room with you, accepting it as a given among his members. One fateful night, you two went from sleeping together, to sleeping together. The space that once separated you in bed vanished, along with the barriers between your bodies. Each time you found yourselves alone together, the air crackled with desire, leading to nights filled with fervor, only to awaken entwined in each other's embrace.

Nights became a canvas for your passion, painted with the colors of longing and exploration. The rhythm of your breaths synchronized, creating a melody that echoed in the stillness of the night. You lost yourselves in the warmth of each other's bodies, the world outside forgotten as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of your connection.

When dawn broke, it brought with it a gentle light that illuminated the tangled sheets and the remnants of your shared fervor. You awoke not as two separate beings, but as one, your bodies entwined in a perfect embrace. The warmth of the morning sun kissed your skin, and you smiled at the realization that the barriers that once existed had crumbled, leaving only the raw, beautiful truth of your love.

As the members of the group gathered in the living room, their laughter and playful nudges filled the air, a familiar sound that had always brought a sense of camaraderie. However, this time, their teasing took on a different tone as they noticed Yeosang's newfound confidence. It was evident that he was more comfortable, especially when it came to sharing a room with you. The playful jabs about his shyness began to fade.

Yet, amidst the lighthearted banter, a suggestion from one of the members sent a ripple of unease through Yeosang. "What if Seonghwa spends the night with you?" they proposed, their eyes glinting with mischief. The thought of another person in the room, especially someone as close to him as Seonghwa, made Yeosang's heart race—not with excitement, but with a wave of anxiety. He felt a possessive urge to keep this moment between just the two of you, a sanctuary he had longed for.

Fortunately, Seonghwa, ever perceptive to the emotions of those around him, noticed the flicker of discomfort in Yeosang's eyes. With a knowing smile, he discreetly offered to switch rooms, understanding the unspoken bond that had formed between you and Yeosang. The relief that washed over Yeosang was palpable as he realized he would have the chance to be close to you without any distractions. As the room settled into a comfortable silence, Yeosang slipped into bed behind you, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. It was a simple gesture, yet it felt monumental. He nestled his face into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent that brought him comfort and peace. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate cocoon.

"I need you," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his emotions. There was a vulnerability in his words, a plea that resonated deep within you. You turned slightly, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, and a sleepy smile graced your lips in response.

"You have me," you replied, your voice laced with affection and reassurance. In that moment, everything felt right. The worries of the day melted away, replaced by the soothing rhythm of each other's presence. Yeosang's heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that he had found a safe haven in you.

San

The first time was an accident, driven by too much alcohol and laughter, however the times after that could be blamed on nothing other than desire. That night of carefree indulgence sparked a connection that neither of you could overlook. Although it began as a casual affair, the closeness you developed over time created a fabric of trust and dependence, intertwining your hearts in ways you never expected.

As the days turned into weeks, the initial thrill of your connection deepened. The late-night conversations, once filled with lighthearted banter, began to explore the intricacies of your lives, your dreams, and your fears. You found solace in each other's company, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world. The laughter that once echoed in the background became the soundtrack of your shared moments, each chuckle and sigh weaving a thread of intimacy that bound you closer together.

With each passing encounter, the fabric of trust and dependence grew stronger. You began to rely on one another in ways that transcended the physical; it was the emotional support, the understanding glances, and the unspoken promises that solidified your bond. You shared secrets that had long been buried, fears that had kept you awake at night, and dreams that had seemed too distant to grasp. In those moments of vulnerability, your hearts intertwined in ways you never expected, creating a connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

As you navigated the complexities of your evolving relationship, you realized that this was no longer just a casual affair. It was impossible to remain detached now, not when your heart had entwined itself so completely with his. As you stepped into his apartment, his radiant smile enveloped you, and he wrapped you in a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. A pang of anxiety coursed through you, knowing that the moment ahead could change everything. Your fingers gripped him tightly, summoning the strength you needed. "San-ah... I can't do this anymore," you murmured against his shoulder, feeling him stiffen at your words.

He leaned away slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "Why not?" he inquired, a hint of worry lacing his tone. You could sense the storm of doubts swirling in his mind, questioning his every move, yet the truth was, he had done nothing amiss; he was simply flawless.

"It's just that I feel— I feel like I'm becoming too greedy. I find myself wanting so much more with you."

As your words washed over him, a sense of clarity enveloped his thoughts, and he felt an overwhelming calmness settle in. His hand, which had rested on your shoulder, gently moved to cradle the back of your head, drawing you closer until his lips brushed softly against your forehead. "Please, don't frighten me like that," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, "I thought you were actually done with me."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with a radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the dimly lit room around you. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, creating a cocoon of intimacy that made the world outside fade away. "I'm completely yours," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm that wrapped around your heart. "Be as greedy as you wish."

His words hung in the air, a promise that felt both exhilarating and comforting. A wave of relief washed over you, cascading through your body like a gentle tide, washing away the worries and doubts that had clung to you for so long. Your heart felt lighter than air, buoyed by the sincerity in his gaze and the depth of his commitment.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. You could feel the rhythm of your heartbeat synchronizing with his, a silent agreement that you were in this together. The world outside faded into a blur, and all that mattered was the connection between you two. You could see the flicker of hope in his eyes, a reflection of your own desires and dreams.

As you leaned into him, the warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, igniting a spark of joy that spread through you like wildfire. You felt safe, cherished, and utterly free to explore the depths of your emotions without fear of judgment. It was as if he had unlocked a door within you, inviting you to step into a realm where vulnerability was not only accepted but celebrated. With each passing second, the weight of the past lifted, and you found yourself surrendering to the moment, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead. The possibilities felt endless, and the future shimmered with promise, all because of the unwavering connection you shared.

Mingi

Save a horse, ride your best friend. (This fic started it all this..)

Following that initial passionate encounter with your best friend, it became clear that the two of you were destined to keep exploring this newfound connection. The air was thick with unspoken words and lingering glances, each moment charged with an electric energy that neither of you could ignore. With every shared laugh and whispered secret, the bond between you deepened, transforming from a simple friendship into something far more profound.

As you spent more time together, the chemistry was undeniable, drawing you back into his embrace time and time again. Each touch felt like a spark, igniting a fire within you that had long been dormant. Mingi's laughter became the soundtrack of your days, and his presence turned the mundane into the extraordinary. You found yourselves lost in conversations that stretched late into the night, where every word felt like a thread weaving your lives closer together.

The world around you faded into the background as you explored this new territory, filled with stolen kisses and lingering caresses. Every moment felt like a discovery, unveiling layers of intimacy that had previously been hidden beneath the surface of your friendship. You reveled in the warmth of his body next to yours, the way his fingers intertwined with yours, and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief and affection.

As the days turned into weeks, you both began to navigate the complexities of this evolving relationship. There were moments of uncertainty, where the fear of losing the friendship loomed large, but the pull between you was too strong to resist. You found solace in the fact that you were not just best friends but partners in this exhilarating journey, willing to take risks for the sake of love.

With each passing day, the connection you shared blossomed into something beautiful and transformative. You discovered new facets of each other, revealing vulnerabilities and dreams that had remained hidden for too long. The laughter you once shared as friends now carried a deeper resonance, filled with the promise of a future intertwined.

In the quiet moments, when the world was still, you would often find yourselves wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the comfort and safety that came with being together. It was in those moments that you realized this was more than just a fleeting romance; it was a profound bond that had the potential to last a lifetime. The journey ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: you were both ready to embrace whatever came next, hand in hand, heart to heart.

"I love you," Mingi breathed, his voice heavy with the thrill of their earlier escapades, catching you off guard as your eyes widened in surprise at his sudden confession. 

"Mingi..." you murmured, warmth flooding your cheeks as he flashed a playful grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. It was a look that made your heart race, a mixture of affection and teasing that was so quintessentially him. You felt a flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and disbelief at the weight of his words.

"You can't just blurt that out!" you protested, struggling to suppress a smile that threatened to break free. You lightly punched his chest in mock annoyance, but the gesture was more playful than angry. The warmth of his skin beneath your fingers sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn't help but notice how close he was.

"But it's the truth!" he insisted, his sincerity shining through the playful facade. His expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by a softness that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean it. Every time we're together, I feel like I'm on top of the world. You make everything better."

Wooyoung

It all began with a simple game of spin the bottle, a nostalgic pastime that had everyone laughing and reminiscing about childhood innocence. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, the air thick with anticipation as the bottle spun, glinting under the soft glow of fairy lights. When it finally came to a halt, pointing directly at Wooyoung, your heart raced. You had always found him charming, with his playful smile and infectious laughter, but this was different. The moment felt electric, as if the universe had conspired to bring you two together.

The unexpected kiss that followed was a whirlwind of emotions. It was soft at first, a tentative brush of lips that quickly ignited into something more fervent. The world around you faded into a blur, the laughter of friends and the music playing in the background drowned out by the pounding of your heart. Just as you were beginning to process the thrill of that kiss, fate intervened once more. A playful shove from a friend sent you both tumbling into a nearby closet, the door slamming shut behind you.

Inside, the darkness enveloped you, and for seven exhilarating minutes, time ceased to exist. The small space felt like a universe of its own, where the outside world was a distant memory. You lost yourselves in each other, a whirlwind of lips and hands exploring uncharted territory. The thrill of the moment was intoxicating; every brush of skin sent shivers down your spine, every whispered word felt like a secret shared between only the two of you. The air was thick with unspoken desires, and the thrill of being caught only heightened the intensity of your connection.

When the door finally creaked open, spilling light into your hidden sanctuary, the world outside felt different. The laughter and chatter resumed, but you were changed. The kiss, the closeness, the shared breath—it all lingered long after, igniting a fire within you that couldn't be ignored. It was as if a dam had broken, releasing a flood of emotions that had been waiting to surface.So when Wooyoung suggested a casual arrangement, the pull of desire was irresistible. What started as a fleeting encounter blossomed into a regular, intoxicating connection between you two. Each meeting was a new adventure, a dance of stolen glances and secret smiles. You found yourselves drawn to each other like moths to a flame, the chemistry undeniable. 

Your encounters with Wooyoung were usually impulsive, characterized by a thrilling spontaneity that often led you both to unexpected places. Whether it was a late-night drive to a secluded spot or a hurried meeting in a dressing room, the excitement of the unknown always added an electric charge to your time together. Rarely did these encounters unfold in the comfort of your own homes, where the mundane realities of life could intrude upon the magic of your connection.

 So when Wooyoung invited you over, your heart raced with anticipation. You envisioned a secret rendezvous, a passionate escape from the world outside, filled with fervor and urgency. You imagined the two of you wrapped up in each other, lost in the heat of the moment, followed by a swift departure that would leave you both breathless and yearning for more. It was meant to be just a physical connection, a dance of bodies and desires, with no strings attached and no expectations beyond the immediate thrill.

Yet, Wooyoung had a different vision, one that intertwined intimacy with tender moments, heartfelt conversations, and the warmth of shared breakfast. As you lay entwined in his sheets, the fabric cool against your skin yet imbued with the warmth of his presence, you felt a sense of peace that was both exhilarating and terrifying. His fingers caressed your cheek, tracing the delicate line of your jaw with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It was a gentle plea that escaped his lips, a sound so soft it felt like a secret meant only for you. "Do you have to go? Can't you just stay?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his expression a mix of longing and vulnerability that made your breath hitch in your throat.

The hold he had over you was intoxicating, almost overwhelming, like a sweet, heady wine that left you dizzy and yearning for more. You could see the way his eyes searched yours, as if trying to decipher the unspoken words that hung between you. In that moment, the world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the two of you, cocooned in this fragile bubble of intimacy.But reality loomed like a shadow at the edges of your bliss.

"If I stay any longer, I fear I might never want to leave, and I can't allow that to happen... so, no, I can't stay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a bittersweet ache. The truth of your words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the nature of your relationship.

"What's the harm in that?" he murmured, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"We're just... friends," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy on your tongue, a fragile truth that hung in the air between you. Yet, as your fingers found his, the warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a spark within you that you had tried so hard to suppress.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. "If I remain here, I can't promise it will stay that way," you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. The truth of your words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that had been building between you for so long.

He paused, his expression shifting as he considered your words. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. The warmth of his breath sent a thrill through you, and you felt your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "Then let's not be friends," he said, his voice low and inviting, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

"Stay with me," he urged, his eyes searching yours for a sign, a hint of what you truly wanted. In that moment, the air was thick with unspoken possibilities, and you could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on you. The line between friendship and something more had never felt so tantalizingly thin, and the thought of crossing it sent your heart racing even faster.

You hesitated, caught in the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Could you really take that leap? The fear of losing what you had, of stepping into the unknown, battled against the longing that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a promise—a promise of something deeper, something that could change everything.

"Okay."

Jongho

You were acquaintances, connected through a web of mutual friends, never quite close yet often finding yourselves at the same gatherings. The spark between you was undeniable from the moment your eyes met, a fleeting glance that lingered just a moment too long, igniting a flicker of curiosity and intrigue.

As the night unfolded, the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of familiar faces and the clinking of glasses. You found yourselves gravitating toward each other, drawn by an invisible thread that seemed to tighten with every shared joke and knowing smile. With a few drinks to loosen your inhibitions, the world around you faded into a blur, and the only thing that mattered was the magnetic pull between you.

 It didn't take long for your lips to collide, a soft brush that quickly ignited into something more fervent and passionate. The taste of sweet alcohol mingled with the thrill of the moment, and you both surrendered to the intoxicating chemistry that had been simmering beneath the surface. The laughter and chatter of the party faded into the background as you slipped away into the night together. And that's how your friendship with Jongho begun.

The two of you reveled in your passionate encounters, sharing intimate moments that drew you closer together, making your time spent together feel effortless and natural. Each stolen glance and lingering touch seemed to ignite a spark that neither of you could ignore. Whether it was the way his laughter echoed in your ears or the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, every interaction felt charged with an unspoken understanding that transcended mere friendship.

Even his mother, sensing the bond that had formed between you, extended an invitation for you to join him at home. She had seen the way he smiled when he spoke of you, the light in his eyes that seemed to brighten whenever your name was mentioned. Unbeknownst to her, however, was the reality of your relationship; you were merely the girl he frequently shared his nights with, a fleeting presence in his life that had somehow managed to leave a lasting impression.

It dawned on you swiftly that friendship with Jongho was no longer an option. Despite the lightheartedness that had defined your connection, your heart was undeniably drawn to him. So, when you pulled away from the kiss, your expression serious, Jongho's concern flickered in his eyes. The warmth of his lips lingered on yours, a reminder of the moment that had just shifted everything between you. "What's wrong?" he murmured, his voice low and soothing, as he gently cradled your face in his hands, drawing your gaze to his. His touch was tender, yet it sent a shiver down your spine, amplifying the turmoil within you.

"I know we agreed to keep things light," you continued, his brow furrowing slightly, "but... I think I've stumbled. I can't pinpoint how or when it happened, but I... I'm sorry." Your words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings and the weight of uncharted territory.

You could see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a reflection of your own inner conflict. The playful banter that had once felt so effortless now seemed like a fragile facade, cracking under the pressure of deeper emotions. Jungho took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but the truth was, he were just as lost as you were.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could keep it casual, that I could just enjoy the moments without letting my heart get involved. But every time I'm with you, it feels like I'm falling deeper."

Jongho's expression softened, and you could see the understanding dawning in his eyes. "You're not alone in this," he said, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "I've felt it too. I just didn't know how to say it. I didn't want to ruin what we had."

The sincerity in his voice made your heart race, a mix of fear and hope swirling within you. You had both danced around the truth for so long, pretending that the spark between you was just a flicker of friendship. But now, standing on the precipice of something more, you realized that the risk of losing him was far greater than the fear of stepping into the unknown.

[ageofbajabule]

Miracle

Alt!Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.8 K

Warnings: Drug use (marijuana, coke), Alcohol consumption, Partying, Oral Sex (F! & M! Receiving) Unprotected Sex, Depression, Abandonment, Lying, Crying, Arguing, Fluff.

Author’s Note: Please note that this is an Alternate Universe! And it is fiction, if any of the warnings are potentially triggering to you then I suggest you move along and avoid this fic. (Also, please note that I would never ever depict any of the guys to be like this. We don’t know who they truly are and again this is simply fanfiction.) This is inspired by Bad Omens song Miracle off of their The Death of Peace of Mind album. Also picture credit to the lovely @holybananafuck she did an absolutely stunning job on bringing Miracle Jake to life🤍

Going to parties wasn’t typically your vibe. However your dorm roommates bribed you into going as it was the first big party since coming back from summer break. You would much rather be at home listening to your favorite bands, or painting your next masterpiece. You had taken it upon yourself to get a degree in Art and Philosophy. In hopes to become an Art teacher or a tattoo artist.

You didn’t need a degree of course to be a tattoo artist, but learning different techniques in art helped your creative mind. You had started an apprenticeship at your favorite tattoo shop. Abby had taken you under her wing to train you, she absolutely loved your portfolio. You had already been teaching yourself since your senior year of high school.

You had purchased a tattooing machine set, an insane amount of ink, needles, and of course tattooable practice skin. Abby had said within the next year you could have all of the training necessary completed before becoming an official tattoo artist for her shop. Getting the degree was a back up plan in case your tattooing career didn’t end up working out for you.

After getting ready, you had finally opted on wearing a red lace bodysuit, paired with black ripped jeans, and your Doc Martens. You grabbed your black and gray flannel as well, putting it on as the early fall was a little chilly. Being satisfied with how you looked, you and your friends left. The party thankfully wasn’t at a frat house, instead at Xavier’s house that his parents left him for the weekend.

You typically hung out with what others would typically say is “alternative people”. And there was nothing wrong with that, you liked the people you surround yourself with. It was a comfortable friend group you had come to know. However tonight there was a new face at this party, one you hadn’t seen before. Yeah you never went to parties, but you still almost knew everyone from going out bowling.

Walking past the mysterious man, you had pulled your friend Maddy to the side.

“Who is he?” You grabbed a cup making yourself a vodka soda.

She giggled softly, “That is Jake… He’s majoring in music I believe. And he’s been trying to get his band going… But other than that, there isn’t much to tell about him. All I’ve heard is that he’s good in bed.” She smirked, making herself a drink.

You weren’t really looking to have a hook up. But he drew you in, and couldn’t put a finger as to why. You nodded, taking a sip from your drink.

“However, I don’t think he’s one to settle down… Guess he likes the party life.” She shrugged.

Maddy ventured off to find her boyfriend while you stood off the side, watching Jake from a distance. He wasn’t that tall, but he was gorgeous. His hair rested just upon his shoulders, a chestnut brown. Tattoos traveling all over his arms, his shirt was a little torn by his chest revealing a chest piece to you. His hands adorned with rings, and his ears gauged, a small hoop in his nostril and an eyebrow ring.

He was your type, but you tried to steer away because most times it didn’t end well for you. But your feet were telling you otherwise and suddenly you were in front of him.

He turned to face you, smiling softly.

One look at your eyes, and I cave in…

“Sorry, Hi. I’m Y/N…” You said shyly, sticking your hand out.

He chuckled softly, shaking your hand. You could feel the calluses on his hands. A guitar player perhaps. “I’m Jake, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ve never seen you around before? Are you friends with Xavier?”

He raised an eyebrow to you, “Yeah, good friends actually. Although it's funny, cause I’ve never seen you around before…”

You felt your cheeks warm, “I’m not typically one to party often.”

“A shame, it's nice to see such a pretty girl…” He mumbled, but you caught on.

You blushed, shaking your head lightly, “I’m not pretty. You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it…” He looked up at you with a twinkle in his eyes. He pulled a rolled joint from his flannel front pocket. “Wanna smoke?”

You nodded, as he led the way to the backyard of the noisy house. He sat down in front of the bonfire that was lit, weirdly enough no one was out back. So it was just the two of you. He placed the joint between his lips, bringing a lighter to light the end of it. Once it was lit, he took a couple puffs before handing it over to you.

You smiled softly, saying a thank you to him as you took a couple hits. Coughing slightly, you passed it back to him. “So tell me a bit about yourself.” He spoke with a bit of raspiness to his voice.

“Well, I’m attending university to get a degree in Art and Philosophy. While also doing an apprenticeship at my favorite tattoo shop. I hope to be a tattoo artist, and my sponsor thinks if I keep doing what I’m doing I’ll land a position for myself in no time.” You smiled softly, running your hand along your thighs nervously.

Jake nodded and smiled taking in what you had told him. “That’s amazing. I’ll have to check your work out sometime.” He smiled, taking a drag from the joint.

“So what about you?” You pulled the joint from his hand. He smirked softly.

“Music major, although I’m trying to get a band going with my brothers.” He grinned, shaking his head.

“A band, that’s really cool. Do you guys play often?” You took a drag, starting to feel the effects now.

“We have some gigs lined up to play at bars. Nothing crazy.” He shrugged, taking the joint back, finishing it off.

“You should see us sometime.”

“I’d like that…” You smiled softly.

The rest of the night you and Jake completely hit it off. The two of you had a lot more in common than you thought. And Maddy wasn’t lying when she said he was a party dude. The two of you played pong most of the night and kept winning every game. Eventually the two of you ventured off walking around the streets of the local frat homes as parties were starting to die out.

“Uh, did you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” He asked nervously.

“You don’t have too. I’m sure you want to get back to yours.” You felt your cheeks flush.

“No, I want to make sure you get back safely.” He smiled at you.

“Okay, it's just a couple blocks this way.” You smiled softly as you pointed in the direction.

He made sure to stay on your side, keeping you from stumbling into the street. As the two of you were still a bit drunk from your night out.

After a bit of walking you finally reach your dorm building as he walks with you up to your dorm room. Right outside your door.

“Well this is it.” You smiled at him.

He smiled softly, “Well I’ll leave you to it. It was nice meeting you Y/N.”

“You too Jake. I had fun tonight…”

“Uh, do you want to trade numbers?” His cheeks flushed.

You nodded, handing him your phone, as he switched yours out with his. After putting in your number, he finished putting his in yours.

“I’d like to get together again.” You grinned at him.

“Yeah of course. Have to get you to come see a gig.” He chuckled.

Then he leaned in closely, your breath starting to speed up as your lips touched. His lips are soft, satin and warm. It was a sweet small kiss.

One taste of the life, now I crave it

Then he pulled away, “Fuck. I’m sorry…” He chuckled nervously.

“No! It’s okay…” You blushed. “It would probably be best to leave it at that…”

He nodded, backing away slowly. “I’ll see you around love.” He said in a playful British accent.

After the small goodbye you retreated into your now empty dorm. You figured your roommates would be out for the rest of the evening and return in the late morning. So you decided to text Jake.

You: Thanks for walking me home. I appreciate it. And I’d love to see you play one night.☺️

Jake⚔️: Of course, I wouldn't have let you walk back all by yourself. And definitely! We have one coming up soon.

And that was the last you heard from Jake… You would reach out for the next few weeks hoping to hear back from him. But he completely ignored your messages. Maddy had told you that he probably wanted a hook up and since he didn’t get any he just dropped you.

You heard of him attending parties, and pretty much picking any chick he could find and leaving the party with them not too long after. Maddy had told you, she saw him snorting coke right off some chick's breasts the other night at a party. Making you see red, why were you even remotely upset?

Because you felt the two of you had a connection? But, maybe you had misjudged him.

It was Halloween weekend. All sorts of parties were going on this weekend so you were bound to run into Jake at one of them. You had different costumes to choose from. And the first night out you opted into a slutty nurse. (How original.)

Maddy helped pull your costume together by applying fake blood to it, and making sure your boobs perked out. You had gone for a dark makeup look and grabbed your wristlet. “Tonight, just forget about him! Clearly he’s missing out.” Maddy smiled at you softly.

“Don’t worry, I’m over it.” You lied through your teeth as you spoke. You weren’t over it, you still thought about how soft his lips were. How the two of you connected over music and wrecked ships. He was different to you…

Upon arriving at Xavier's house Maddy had left your side going and found Travis right away as she always did. You rolled your eyes playfully and went to the keg to get yourself a cup. You eyed around seeing if there was any sign of Jake. But alas no luck.

You ventured around, participating in drinking games as well as taking shots as you got further into the party.

Then you heard a familiar laugh, your ears perked up following the sound.

Coming to the outside balcony you see Jake dressed in a pirate costume with his arm wrapped around another girl, as he does a line off the table. You felt your blood boil…

It’s not too late to die for a reason

Jake’s eyes traveled towards you after he hit his line. His eyes widened as they locked with yours. You sucked your teeth nodding at him raising your cup then taking a long sip from it. Walking away from the scene, making way towards the bathroom down the hall.

Hearing footsteps tailing you, you felt your heartbeat grow faster.

“Y/N! Slow down.” Jake yelled for you.

You growled, “Why, Jake! Obviously you have no interest, you haven’t spoken to me in weeks! I’ve reached out and received radio silence.”

Jake groaned, “Things are just complicated.”

“Complicated my ass… You seem pretty fucking occupied with Slutty Nun back there.”

“As opposed to you being a Slutty Nurse?” He chuckled.

“How fucking high are you right now?” You grabbed his jaw looking at him closely.

“Don’t fucking start.” He pushed your hand away from his face.

“What else did you do besides coke? Are you on fucking molly, xanax?” You shook your head.

“What’s it to you?”

“Because Jake, you are trying to make something of yourself and taking this route will just make it worse.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Listen just because you have your life together doesn’t mean I do, or that I have too.” He rubbed his nose.

“Wow Jake…. I thought you were different from others. But you just proved me absolutely wrong.”

“Honey, if you thought you would get something from me… It would’ve been one night and done.” He was standing dangerously close to you now. Smelling the hint of tobacco and teakwood off of him.

“Maybe I should’ve made it worth your while and did something that night.” You bit back.

“Why can’t you do something now?”

You giggled loudly, “After you’ve clearly been with another chick this whole night?”

Fall down on the sword you were swinging

Jake, wrapped his hand around your waist pulling you close. “Come on…”

I wanted to dress a blade up in red, with both of our necks

You melted into his touch pulling him into the bathroom. The alcohol had made you desperate for him. You were so drunk your anger you felt towards him had vanished making you vulnerable to him.

“Tell me you want this…” He held your face in his hands softly.

“I want this…” You pleaded to him, pulling him in for a heated kiss.

He wrapped his hand around your neck pulling your hair with his hand as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Tasting the whiskey on his breath. You melted into him, moaning softly into him, earning a groan from him as he locked the bathroom door.

You tug him closer to you, resulting in him lifting you up to place you on the counter. He pressed you against the mirror, trailing kisses down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses.

“Jake…” You whined out, feeling the heat between your legs.

Like he knew what you needed, his hand moved to your clothed pussy. Pulling your thong off in a swift action stuffing them into his pants pocket.

“Fucking crying for me, aren’t you sweetheart…” He kissed your lips sloppily and his two fingers collected your slick, feeling how wet you were for him. “God… you’re gonna be the death of me…”

He licked his two fingers, humming contently before getting down to eye level with your cunt. He wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves making you yelp, as your hands reached down to grip onto his hair.

He starts kneading his hands around your ass, pulling you closer to his face. Shaking his head back and forth like a starved man, lapping you up.

“Oh fuck…” You whine, as your back arches as you lean your head against the mirror.

Jake then slips two fingers, pumping and curling them at a steady pace. Grazing that spot that is ever so sweet inside of you. You felt yourself getting closer.

He pulls away for a brief moment, still pumping his fingers. “Come on angel, give me it. Drown me in it.”

Something inside of you snapped, as he reattached his mouth. He went into a frenzy, continuing to eat you out bringing you down from your high. He lapped up every inch of you, pulling away from your convulsing body, his lips glistening from you.

You pulled him up by his shirt grabbing his face to kiss him roughly, tasting yourself on him. Humming against his lips. He rutted his hips against you, feeling his hard, hot thick self pressing against you.

You pushed him back slightly, hopping off the counter. Pushing him against the counter, going onto your knees you undo his pants pulling them down to his knees, springing his cock free. Throbbing, the tip red and leaking with arousal. Taking your hand you wrap it around him, pumping him slowly, taking your thumb and rolling it over the tip as he shudders beneath you.

“Don’t be a tease baby.” He looked down at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with lust.

Giving him your best doe eyes you smile softly, licking the tip slowly and languidly before taking him into your mouth. He groans as his head rolls back, as he relaxes against the counter.

Teasing him slowly, by flicking your tongue around his head, then took him far enough for the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat, beginning to bob your head. His hand reached to gather your hair from your face. Letting out a moan against him, causing him to buck his hips causing you to slightly gag but you continued on breathing through your nose.

After a little while of bobbing your head and using your hand to pump the rest of his length. He eventually took control by grabbing your hair. “Just let me know if it gets to be a bit much. Tap on my leg.”

You nodded at him, as he then began to fuck your mouth. Feeling tears spill out the side of your eyes as he kept driving into your mouth, succumbing to his destiny. He was in an absolute haze. “God your mouth is fucking perfect…”

Somehow you managed your breathing to keep yourself from gagging, you hollowed your cheeks out as he kept thrusting. Eventually you felt him twitching, hearing him groan and watching his face contorted in pleasure he finally released down your throat. As you take every last drop of him, making sure to remember his distinct taste.

Jake eventually pulls back, cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. “So fucking beautiful.” He picked you up kissing your lips softly, getting a taste of himself.

The door then rattled as someone was trying to get in.

“Bathrooms occupied!” Jake yelled as you gathered yourself.

“Come on man you’ve been in there forever! Stephanie’s getting all fucking weird dude and asking for you.” A guy yelled back to him.

You looked at Jake as you stood up, adjusting your costume. “I guess you better tend to Slutty Nun…” You scoffed.

“Y/N, don’t do this. We can-“

“No Jake, this. This was obviously a mistake…” You felt your head throbbing. You then exited the bathroom quickly vanishing from the party.

But I wasn’t able, and I wasn’t stable, I guess

Jake’s POV

You felt like you were drowning, planning all these gigs. Trying to maintain your grades, and keeping up with whatever you had going on. The only things that kept you afloat were your music and drugs…

“Jake, come on dude! Get your fucking shit together.” Your youngest brother smacked you on the side of your head.

“Yeah, cause that’s gonna solve all my fucking problems man!” You cracked your neck, standing up slowly.

“You have been late to practice every fucking time we schedule it. And the gigs you’ve been slacking off man. You fucking wanted this, and now you’re throwing it away. What is your problem?” Sam got into your face.

“My problem! You want to know what my fucking problem is!? Its fucking everything. Everything I’ve ever worked for I just fuck up Sam, I don’t have brains like you, Josh or Danny. I just make stupid fucking mistakes and deal with the consequences all on my own. And I’m just a fucking mess.” You pushed him back. Causing Josh and Danny to intervene.

“Yo man, walk it off.” Danny called out.

“No, you know what. Fuck this, and fuck you guys.” You packed your guitar up and left the studio. Driving to god knows where, whichever girl was wanting to fuck you was all you could think about. Of course you thought about Y/N but you pushed her into the back of your mind. All that would be is heartbreak and disappointment.

She didn’t deserve that from you. She needed better and you couldn’t offer that to her, not with your fucked up mentality.

But nevertheless I’m fucking depressed

Another party you were off to. Travis was throwing one this time around, you knew it probably wasn’t best to go considering Y/N would probably be there. But so fucking what. You were so far gone it wouldn’t have mattered. Just as long as you had your bump, booze and a girl by your side.

Throughout the night you kept yourself busy, drowning in your sorrows. Getting a bump whenever you could, and flirting with all the girls that came through. Like you were testing the waters of who would come home with you tonight.

You were so far gone, you could barely stand straight. You ended up sitting on the lounge chair on the deck outside. Lighting up a blunt, smoking it by yourself, while some of your buddies eventually joined you. The four of you bullshitted, then out of nowhere you could hear her. You bit your lip nervously, standing up telling the guys you were just getting another drink.

Making your way into the house, you accidentally bump into her. “Jesus christ!” She yells.

You both look at each other. “Jake…”

“Y/N…”

“I um. Wasn’t expecting you here.” She wrapped her arms close to her chest.

“Don’t worry, I won’t waste your time darling. Going to get myself a drink and maybe another bump or a fuck.” The drugs and alcohol were taking over.

“Real classy Jake. Don’t you think it's time you grew up?” She scoffed.

“I’m grown baby, what’s the harm in having fun?” You smirked.

“Getting fucking high on god knows what and drunk every night is not having fun Jake. You bailed on your last gig.”

“Keeping tabs on me now?” You looked at her with wide eyes.

“Not keeping tabs, Josh asked me to come out. We are lab partners, you know.” She rolled her eyes.

“Look I don’t give a shit. You’re not shit…”

You watched her face get red as her eyes welled up with tears. “Jake I honestly wish you the absolute fucking worst. You are so fucked up… What is wrong with you? How can you think this is okay?” She was starting to get loud with you.

“I’ve been fucked up, you didn’t notice from day one. Haven’t you heard the stories? I’m a fucking mess baby… And no one is ever going to change that. I’m not going to give you what you’re looking for… I don’t do relationships. So stop fucking trying to fix me.” You yelled into her face. Causing her to cower back and she began to sob quietly to herself excusing herself from you.

You punched the wall beside you, screaming to yourself. How much more of a fuck up can you be…

So you stormed off and found some passable looking chick that was down to just fuck. You didn’t care you needed to blow off steam. Get your mind off things, off of her. And this was the way you went about it.

I hide it with sex, and drink till it's fatal

It’s so fucking painful

It’s a mess

The next few weeks you just drown your sorrows with booze, drugs and any chick that was down for whatever with you. Eventually Josh was fed up with you fucking your life up. Waking up with the worst hangover ever. Josh came barging into your room.

“Alright man, I’ve been letting shit slide for too fucking long. You need to sober up. This isn’t fucking you man. What has got you all fucked up?”

Your head was pounding as you adjusted to the real world. “She’s got me fucked up… She’s so.”

“She’s got you fucked up? You got her fucked up!” He was angry. “She called me last night fucking crying, I could barely understand a word out of her. Do you like fucking up the good ones Jake?”

“Of course not!” You felt yourself getting angry, not at your twin. At yourself.

“Then what the fuck is your deal?”

“I need help man… I need something…”

So give me something beautiful

So give me something else

“Jake… you have to want to help yourself… I can’t just.” He sighed.

“I can’t lose her.” You choked out.

“I honestly think that was the last straw…”

“Josh. Please, I need to get better. For us, the band. For her.” You were crying now.

“Well, what did you think was going to happen acting like that?” He sighed sitting beside you.

“I think I love her. But I just, I’m scared. Is that how it’s supposed to be? Am I supposed to be scared of this feeling…”

“Brother… I think you are scared from something actually working out for once. She is… She is exactly what you want in someone. And, man- you need to get your act together.” He rubbed your shoulder.

“So help me…”

I need another miracle

I really need some help, I need a miracle

Her POV

Spring semester had started, you were focused on your apprenticeship. Excelling in it, just as you suspected. You had grown close with Josh, becoming quite close even with the hurt Jake had put you through. Josh had apologized for his brother's actions even though it had nothing to do with it. As Jake was his own person and could own up to his own actions.

“Just come to our show Saturday.” Josh smiled softly, paying for your guys’ coffee.

“Josh… I don’t know.” You sighed quietly.

“I swear on my life. It will be worth it. And Jake… He. He’s better.” He beamed.

You looked at him with a serious look, but there was hope in his eyes. Hope that you would go, in not just support of him but the rest of them.

“Fine. But if Jake does some fucked shit, I’m a goner.” You had a serious tone, grabbing your coffee as it was called.

“I promise, he’ll be on his best behavior.” He smiled softly. “And besides, I want you to meet this guy I’ve been seeing… His name is Ethan. And I want to know what you think of him.” He blushed talking about this new guy to you.

“Okay, well now you just have to fill me in on everything!” You giggled softly as the two of you went on your daily walk.

Who’s left when we’re all for the taking?

Saturday came, you had opted to wear jeans and a t-shirt for the gig they were playing at the local bar. You didn’t want to wear anything flashy as you were going in support of your friends' band.

When arriving at the bar, you decided to start a tab getting yourself a Tequila Soda. You opted to sit at the bar with the perfect view of the stage. Seeing Danny and Sam finishing up on setting the stage up. While noticing Josh out of the corner of your eye, you waved to him with him waving back.

In a couple of minutes the guys hit the stage, as you watched them step onto the stage. You felt your heart start to beat quickly when you noticed Jake had actually made it. You drank the rest of your drink asking the bartender for another, as the guys started out their show.

Throughout their set, you paid close attention to Jake and how he played. You haven’t been able to see them just yet so you were mesmerized by his skills. You knew Josh had a beautiful voice from the times you’ve hung out. But you didn’t know Jake was amazingly talented.

Although in the back of your head all you could picture was how he had treated you. And how fucked up he was the last time you saw him, it had you wondering if he had gotten his act together. Or if he was still the same old prick you were facing the last two times.

No lives left to bet on obeying

Once their hour long set was finished, Josh had rushed over to you embracing you into a hug. “I’m so glad you came! What did you think?” He pulled back, raising an eyebrow.

“You guys are amazing! You didn’t tell me the talent you all had!” You playfully punched his arm.

“Jake has. Something’s changed, and honestly I think it makes us sound better.” He smiled softly.

You gave a hurt smile, that you knew he wouldn’t pick up on. And order the two of you a drink. “So where is this lovely Ethan?”

“He should be coming back soon, he went to the bathroom before I came over here.” He smiled while taking his drink you got him.

“Over here!” Josh flagged him down to join you two.

“Sorry, it was crowded as fuck over there.” Ethan giggled softly, embracing you into a hug. “I’m Ethan, you must be Y/N! Josh always talks about you.”

“The one and only. Best lab partner ever! But also the bestest friend.” You smiled softly. You were happy to see Josh glow with him, yet you felt a pang as you were missing out on something like that.

For the next hour you learned a lot about Ethan and came to find that he was going to school for film. Which was one of the many reasons Josh was so interested in him. Ethan had even offered to be one of your clients for when you can start tattooing on actual clientele which would be relatively soon.

Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder, looking over to see it’s Jake. You took a deep breath smiling softly.

“Hey… Is it okay if we, uh. Talk?” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Sure…” You stood up from the bar stool telling Josh and Ethan you would be back.

What are we calling it?

You felt your nerves practically shaking. You were scared, excited, and had all these emotions going at the same time. The two of you decided to step by the one area that wasn’t as crowded in the building.

“So um.” He started nervously.

“Before we continue I just want to make sure… You’re sober right?” You felt bad for asking, but wanted to make sure this wasn’t going to be another bad evening.

“I’ve cut out the hard drugs… I’m just smoking and drinking now. But I’ve barely had anything tonight.” He looked at you with honesty in his eyes.

“Okay… go on.”

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best person out there… And I know I’ve completely avoided you, abandoned you and was overall and outright dick to you. And that wasn’t fair to you…” He took a deep breath.

What does it cost?

“I was just… In over my head, when you found me. I didn’t know how to handle myself, or what to feel or how to feel. I’ve been broken for a very long time. And I just…. I love you to death-” He looked at you before you cut him off.

“But I’m drowning…” You sighed softly, looking into his sad eyes.

He tilted his head with tears threatening his eyes, stepping closer to you. He grabbed your hands, lifting them into his.

What are we calling it?

What does it cost?

“Jake you… You have put me through so much… And-“

Suddenly his lips crashed into yours pulling you closely to him. As you kissed him back passionately cupping his cheeks with your hands, as his wrap around your waist.

So give me something beautiful

The two of you separated from one another slowly, taking a breath. As you steady yourselves, looking at one another.

“You have to mean it Jake… You can’t just throw love around-“

“I do mean it! I- I’ve been cleaning my act up since. Josh practically knocked sense into me… I just. I’m stubborn and a fucking handful.” He gave a sly smile as he chuckled. “I just… ever since. Fuck I don’t even want to speak of her really. I just never believed I could love again… yet here you are.”

“Like I’m some sort of miracle…” You giggled softly looking at him.

He shook his head, smiling softly. “Yeah… like a miracle. Come on… Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed your hand.

“Wait! I have to tell Josh.” You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Fine, I don’t want him thinking I scared you off again.”

The two of you walked back to the bar together standing beside Josh. “Hey, we’re gonna leave. Everything’s alright.” You whispered to him, smiling softly. “Now you have a fun evening with Ethan, and it was so lovely meeting you!” You hugged the both of them before closing your tab out and leaving the bar with Jake.

“You and Josh must’ve gotten really close, huh?” He smiled softly, walking you to his car.

“Yeah, we have. He’s honestly one of my best friends now…” You smiled softly as Jake opened the door for you to get into his car. Getting into his car you put your seatbelt as he gets around to the other side.

The drive back to the apartment he and his brother shared wasn’t too far from the bar. And surprisingly wasn’t too far from your dorm room either. The campus had everything relatively close to one another, which was a nice advantage.

After Jake parked his car, he got out helping you out of his car. The two of you walked up two flights of stairs before coming to the door of his apartment.

“I apologize if it's a mess… Partially my fault. But we’re managing.” He chuckled, taking his shoes off, as you did the same.

“It’s fine really. At least you have your own place. I stay in a shitty dorm.” You giggled softly.

“So…”

“Well, you have me here. All alone…” Speaking in a sultry tone.

“That I do…” He smiled pulling you close to him and he pecked your lips softly. Before pulling you in for a deeper, heated kiss.

You reciprocated back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he hoisted you up carrying you to his room. Giggling against his lips softly, he placed kisses against your jawline. As he got into his room he shut the door laying you on the bed softly.

He trailed kisses down your neck, as your hands played with his hair. You felt a flood of arousal to your panties, his hands went underneath your shirt, toying with your bra as he unhooked it, removing it while pulling your shirt off as you assisted him.

“You’re so beautiful…” He smiled, capturing your lips again, while using his one hand to massage your breast while the other toyed with your nipple. Eliciting a whine from you. That same nipple he latched his mouth, licking and nibbling at your hardened nipple.

“Fuck, Jake…” You left out a quiet moan.

“Don’t be shy baby, it’s just us…” He smiled softly, encouraging you.

Tugging his shirt off, you can see his bulge through his tight black jeans. Just wanting to be set free, you started to undo his buckle to help make the process quicker. After a little bit of back and forth shared kisses the two of you were finally completely bare in front of one another. You blushed as you covered yourself up slightly with his comforter.

“Baby…” He tilted his hand crawling over to you. “S’just me… You want to treat that pretty pussy nice?” He smiled softly, lowering himself as he peppered kisses along your stomach.

You nodded as a whimper escaped your lips. “Treat it real nice…”

He smiled softly, kissing the inside of your thighs leaving marks behind. Once he nestled himself, he licked a slow stripe causing you to shudder. After his first taste back he hummed, “I’ll never get over this…” Attaching his lips to your bundle of nerves, he continues to lick and flick his tongue. Earning nothing but profanities and cries of his name.

He then moved down a little to nestle his nose right against your clit as his tongue was prodding your entrance. He continued to fuck you with his tongue as he shook his head back and forth causing you to get closer to your orgasm. You felt your legs start to wrap his head, but he used his hands to hold them as he kept lapping at you.

“Oh, god. I’m…” You tilted your head back as your orgasm rippled through you. Your legs began to shake, as Jake licked every drop he could get. Before coming up and kissing your lips softly.

“I could get used to that…” You giggled softly, caressing his cheek.

“I’ll do it whenever you want, however you want, angel…” His cheeks were pink as he smiled at you. He went to the night stand to grab a condom.

“Wait.”

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow, “What’s the matter?”

“I’m on the pill, and I’d much rather… Feel all of you.” You blushed.

He smiled, retreating back, and looking at you. “You’re positive you want to do it without it?”

“Unless you’re not telling me something?”

“I’m as clean as I can be.” He chuckled softly, “I’m always prepared.” He lined himself up with you, tapping his cock against your sensitive clit before pushing into you.

You placed your hands on his arms as he slowly dragged his cock into you. Letting you adjust to him, feeling the slight burn from the stretch. After a little his thrusts became a steady pace to help ease you. You could feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, earning a moan from you.

“You feel like heaven…” He groaned as he brought his head down to kiss your lips softly. You groaned against his lips as his pace picked up. You wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him in closer as his hips snapped with purpose.

“Fuck” You moaned out again, as his mouth moved to suck on your tit licking and bitting at the nipple. His thrusts became more harsh as he fucked you harder, hearing you skin meeting one another as it bounced off the walls.

Jake eventually pulled back, to watch where you two connected, watching as he fits perfectly with you. He slowed down to do long languid thrusts watching you fall apart on him. He spits directly onto your pussy, taking his thumb rubbing circles causing you to go into your second orgasm of the night.

After letting you come down, he then pulls out earning a whine from you, as he smiles softly. “Come on baby… I want to watch you.” He sat against his headboard, while you straddled his lap taking him to line yourself up before sinking down onto him.

The two of you make an audible groan from the feeling, his hands placed firmly on your hips, kneading into your skin as you start to ride him making figure eights with your hips. Placing your hands on his tattooed covered chest. You could see the finer details of the work he’s had done.

Jake sneaked his one hand up to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Eliciting a whine from you, causing you to bounce on his cock.

“That’s it angel… Just like that.”

He lifted his legs slightly to start thrusting up into you. So as you would come back down, he would hit that right spot inside of you.

“Can you give me one more?” He kept thrusting into you, as he groaned nearing his.

“I- I don’t know…” You felt your legs growing weaker.

“Yeah you can. Come on…” He encouraged you, holding you flush against his chest as he started fucking into you. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he rocked into you. Your clit was brushing against his pubic hair just right, bringing you to the brink of your last orgasm he was able to rip through you.

“That’s my girl…”

His girl, you pulsed around his cock as you rode your orgasm out. He wasn’t too far behind as you could feel him twitching.

“Where, baby?” His breathing was labored.

“Inside…” You looked into his eyes, both of you completely fucked out.

His eyes rolled back as one final snap of his hips, he stilled inside of you filling you up making you more full then you were. He rested his head against your chest, kissing it softly.

Lifting his face with your hands you kissed his lips softly. And he responded back with an even deeper kiss.

“I love you…” You mumbled against his lips.

“I love you.” He murmured, smiling against your lips. He pulled away slowly looking into your eyes. “Thank you… for being patient with me. And giving me a proper chance.”

“Thank you, for being honest… It means more than you’ll ever know.”

“I’ll be honest for the rest of my life. I’ll never hurt you ever again.” He rested his head against yours.

“My little miracle…”

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Taglist-

@ignite-my-fire @sinsofstardust @char289 @gretasfallingsky @thecoldwind @holybananafuck @thunderstomp-and-tequila @myleftsock @hi-hi-hello11 @brujamagik @fkfearandliveyourlegend @itsafullmoon @wagnerbrainrot @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon

[munsonsmixtapes]

Save a Horse

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary: you and your best friend, Tyler decided to test the waters and take your friendship to the next level, unbeknownst to the both of you that you’re in love with each other.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

The bar was hazy when Tyler walked into it, a line dance already in formation. He didn’t even want to be there, but he was trying to make himself actually get out there again. He hadn’t been on a date in what felt like ages, so he was a little rusty, but a few beers should have fixed that. Despite his looks, he wasn’t very good with the ladies. Any time he would try to flirt, it came off offensive or borderline sexist because he got a little too cocky. But this was his night. He was desperate to get laid, his hand no longer doing the job.

He made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer, surveying the area for whoever he was going to take home for the night. There were a lot of pretty women and he was trying not to be picky. This was just to get him back out there. The sex didn’t have to be good and it certainly didn’t have to mean anything.

His eyes locked on a pretty blonde that was on the other side of the bar, barely visible through all of the dancing bodies. She was already staring him down, sipping on a drink with a straw and Tyler was wondering what else she was willing to suck on. He downed half of his beer and made a beeline for her, trying to go around the dancing crowd so as to not get caught in it.

But then he heard something, someone who stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to the left and sure enough, there you were, arguing with someone like you always seemed to be doing.

You were beautiful. So much so that he couldn’t help but stare. You were dressed in a black tank top that was tucked into a pair of very short denim shorts and a pair of black cowboy boots were on your feet. Before he could stop himself, his feet were gaining a mind of their own as they carried him over to you.

He finally stood at your side, but you were paying him no attention, your argument with the stranger still going strong. You looked seconds away from pulling out your earrings and hitting the man. And as much as Tyler knew he should have stopped you, he kind of wanted to see you do it. You had a bad temper you never took out on anyone who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give me a chance,” the man said. That seemed to unleash something in you because you stepped closer to him, nothing but fire in your eyes. Tyler wasn’t a fan of how he still found you so hot when you got angry. The way your eyes would be filled with fire and your nose would twitch and your mouth would twist as you were trying to decide what you were going to say next.

There were so many times where he wanted to kiss you when he had done something to upset you. Clearly nothing had changed since he was staring directly at your mouth, watching your lips move. They were painted with a red gloss, making them even more inviting. But nothing was coming out of them. The place was loud but not loud enough to where he couldn’t hear what you were saying when you were only like a foot away from him.

“Maybe because you slapped my ass?” You replied, surely seconds away from beating this guy up. Tyler’s eyes widened, hurrying to stand beside you before he could stop himself.

“You did what?” He asked in shock.

“You bent over to grab a pool ball that fell off the table and you’re saying I wasn’t supposed to smack it?” Tyler cracked his knuckles, wanting to hit the guy himself.

“Yes,” you and Tyler replied in unison. You turned to him and he looked good. Almost too good. The scruff on his face did him well and the cowboy hat on top of his head looked far better than it should have. His white t-shirt clung to his body and you hated how much his jeans hugged his waist.

You wanted him, and bad. So much so that the man had been the starring lead in your fantasies that you had come up with every night before you went to bed. You had been in love with him for years, wondering why you hadn’t asked him out when you had the chance. He was so sweet and caring and you wished that you had been the one he had flirted with when he had a few drinks in him.

“And who are you?” Tyler asked, draping an arm over your shoulder. You loved when he got like this, all authoritative, taking control of the situation. If it had been up to you, you would have taken him right then and there.

“Who are you?” The man replied as it he had the right to be angry with either of you. Tyler felt the need to protect you, even though he knew you didn’t need saving. He just wanted to drape his arm over your shoulder to let everyone know you were his.

Well, that was what he wanted you to be. You had never gotten to that point and it was all his fault. He had been too afraid to make your friendship something more. He was stuck in the friendzone where he had put himself for years, kicking himself for not asking you out the first night he met you.

“I’m her boyfriend so I suggest you move along before I have Enrique throw you out.” You could take care of yourself just fine, but something about Tyler always jumping in to protect you always made you feel a little wet in your panties.

The man just muttered something under his breath before turning away, not wanting to get kicked out again. With him gone, you turned on your heel, heading back to the bar to order a much needed shot with Tyler hot on your heels.

Tyler couldn’t help but let his eyes drop to your ass, and watching it move as you walked in your tight shorts was torture to the man. He always found himself wanting to get a handful for himself, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he kissed you until you were breathless, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’d let out a loud moan and he’d grab you by the backs of your legs, helping you wrap them around him-

You stopped at the bar and ordered a drink before turning to face Tyler as shots of tequila were set on the bar, as if the bartender could read your mind. You reached for both and handed one of them to your best friend.

“Drink up, Owens,” you nudged him and you both downed the shots, feeling it burn all the way down. You both slammed the empty glasses down on the bar and you eyed him, wondering what he would have said if you had invited him to the bathroom right that second.

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. A look that you didn’t recognize in any way, shape or form. They were soft and sweet, just like you remembered. In that moment, you could feel your anger towards him falling away. You could never be mad at him for too long, especially not when you looked into those beautiful green eyes and this time, you could tell that he wasn’t trying to use that to his advantage.

“Thank you for that,” you said, nodding your head towards where you both had just been. “And to thank you, I’m adding your drinks to my tab.”

“That’s real sweet, darlin’, but you don’t need to thank me.” That nickname always managed to make you absolutely melt, loving the way it fell from his lips so naturally. “Just your friendship is enough,” he winked.

“Oh, shut up,” you went to shove his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“Alright,” he took another sip of his beer. “Dance with me,” he said, tilting his head up a little.

“Dance with you?” You had no idea what he was talking about, wondering if he was expecting you to read his mind. If you had been able to do that, you definitely wouldn’t have been working at the bar part-time.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Dance with me as your thank you.” He couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah, not happening,” you shook your head. One thing you didn’t do under any circumstances was dance. A ballet recital gone wrong when you were ten made you swear off the activity entirely, never wanting to be embarrassed like that again.

“No way.”

“Fine,” he took another sip of his beer. “Then I’ll just dance by myself.” He slowly headed to the dancefloor, giving you every opportunity to back out if you didn’t want to do it. His hand moved back, his palm facing you as he continued to head to the dance floor, wiggling his digits to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes even though his back was to you and reluctantly put your hand in his. Tyler pulled you out onto the makeshift dance floor and the two of you somehow ended up directly in the center. He was able to quickly pick up the routine while you were left to flounder, moving awkwardly because of your hands that were still attached.

You watched him move so effortlessly, feeling odd being right next to him since you were always there on the sidelines when he was a part of it. He’d smile at you as you sat at the bar, waving you over, but you always shook your head. But now that you were finally dancing with him, he was hoping that it could become a regular thing.

He liked the way your shoulders would brush when you moved the wrong way and the way you’d squeeze his hand to communicate that you were nervous. You turned the way that you thought you were supposed to go but ended up bumping into Tyler, nothing but a chuckle falling from his lips as he looked down at you.

“Follow me, okay?” He asked and you nodded. “Turn around.” You did as he asked and turned around, your back facing him. His hands slowly moved up to your waist, letting them make a home there. He had touched you there multiple times when he had hugged you, but this was entirely different. So close to the way you had wanted him to touch you, but not nearly enough.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his lips right by the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Of course you trusted him. Maybe more than you should have.

“Of course,” you responded with a nod.

“Follow my lead, darlin’.” It was as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Like he knew the exact effect he had on you. But he had too, right? This was all an elaborate way to get you to admit that you had feelings for him. Well, two could play that game.

You kept in rhythm with him, slowly but surely backing up to him, your ass right up against his crotch. You gingerly began to grind on the spot, resisting the urge to turn and see his reaction. You could tell he was enjoying it just by the way his fingers were digging into your waist.

You moved the two of you out of the way of the dancers and continued to grind on Tyler, your movements still slow, but harder now. You could hear his breathing pick up, feeling his nose brush your jaw, his breath on your neck sending another chill up your spin.

He never thought the two of you would be dancing like this, the movements so sensual and sexy. You knew exactly what you were doing and it was fucking unfair. He could feel his cock hardening and pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

“This isn’t the right dance,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you nodded. “But don’t you like this more, Owens? I can feel you getting hard.” Just when you were going to really take it home, you were suddenly turned around, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sudden movement. Your hands landed on his chest and Tyler’s hands rested on your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible.

You leaned closer to him, your lips brushing his and the man was convinced he was a goner. He could feel your gloss that had transferred to his own lips and wanted it other places, anywhere you could get your lips. He loved the idea of being covered in your kisses, the prints leaving your mark behind.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sugar,” he said, his voice low, raspy. And it was doing wonders for you. He was so hot and you were having a hard time not making a move anymore.

“Oh, I fully intend on finishing,” you responded, finally pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened at your actions, but he was quick to melt into you, his lips catching yours slowly.

His arms wrapped around your waist even tighter, pulling you as close to him as possible. Yours wrapped around his neck, your hands running through his hair at the back of his head.

Your head felt like it was swimming, his lips more soft than you could have ever imagined. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite make out. It was sweet and sour.

You pulled away before it could get too heated and Tyler admired the lip gloss that had smeared across your face, very tempted to go back in for more. His thumb swiped across your cheek to help get rid of it, but that didn’t seem to help, only smearing it further.

The weight of what you had done was catching up to you. You had just kissed your best friend. You had just kissed your best friend and you liked it. You had only gotten a taste but now you wanted more. All of him. You wanted to finally make your fantasies a reality.

And you couldn’t. You couldn’t do that without completely complicating your friendship and you really liked what the two of you had. It was really nice at first, to have a friend without all of the “feelings” bullshit, but now you had actually fallen for him. And hard.

“Fuck,” the word fell from Tyler’s lips, his voice somehow getting even more raspy, making you even more wet. God, you really were fucked, and not in the way you wanted to be.

“Do you wanna take this out to my truck?” You asked, your hands lazily moving up and down his back.

“I’d love to take this out to your truck,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours before paying your bills and leading you out of the bar, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

You rifled through your purse, looking for your keys and found them before unlocking your truck. Tyler opened the driver’s seat door for you before helping you into it. He then closed the door and rounded the hood before getting into his own seat.

You peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the road, thankful for how late it was so there was little traffic. Your heart pounded as you pulled into what looked like an abandoned parking lot.

Why you were scared of what you were about to do, you didn’t know. Tyler was sweet and you knew that he would do whatever he could to make you comfortable. He was nothing but a sweetheart and would make you feel good, stopping at nothing to do so.

You put the car in park and turned it off before turning toward Tyler. You stared at each other, the only thing that could be heard was the radio playing a soft country song. You turned the volume up to attempt to drown out your thoughts. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know, but you were fully prepared to dive right in.

Tyler reached out, placing a hand on your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his lips ghosting over yours, almost as if he was afraid to go for it. That confidence from the bar completely evaporated into the air.

You took the lead, pressing your lips to his, your movements more rushed and rough as you nipped at his bottom lip. He let out a little whine and that was enough to make you absolutely soaked.

Rain pattered against the car as you slotted your lips together once more before pulling away. You climbed over the center console and placed yourself into his lap, straddling him.

Tyler looked up at you, his pupils blown and his lips smeared with your lipgloss. It was an adorable sight and you hated how good he looked in that goddamn hat. You took the hat off of his head and put it on your own, moving your head this way and that, modeling it for him.

“How do I look?” You asked, turning your head to the side and he just laughed.

“You look good,” he nodded.

“As good as you?”

“Even better,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss, removing the hat from your head and setting it on the driver’s seat.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours and a moan fell from your lips at the sensation. His hands slipped into your back pockets, giving your ass a squeeze and you gasped into his mouth which only made him do it again.

You began to grind against him as your tongues tangled together and you could hear a groan in the back of his throat. The whole thing was overstimulating for him, there was no way he was going to ask you to stop any time soon.

Your hands rested on his chest as you kissed him, this one slow and gentle, as if you two had all the time in the world, and right there, in that abandoned parking lot, you did. Your tongues tangled as you continued to grind into him, your underwear getting soaked as you felt his dick forming a tent in his pants.

Tyler’s hands moved to your shorts as you reached down on the side of the seat in search of the lever that leaned it back. You found it with ease and leaned the chair back as far as it would go as you let Tyler take what he wanted from you, you pliant to his every move.

You both struggled to pull down your shorts, laughing because of how small the space was. Maybe there was a reason why neither of you ever did this kind of thing. He got them down to your ankles and you moved so he could take off his jeans, his belt buckle making a clattering noise as it hit the tops of his boots.

You both removed your shirts and Tyler eyed the black lacy number you were wearing. His hand moved up to run over the fabric of the tops of the cups, his fingers brushing your skin every so slightly.

“Like what you see?” You asked, leaning down a little so he could get a better look at your cleavage. And you had him right where you wanted him, catching him staring right at it. You scooted up so that they were right in front of his face and he brought his lips to the skin, pressing a soft to it.

He then moved up, his lips now connected with your neck, his tongue swiping back and forth as he began to suck. You moved your head to give him more access and that caused him to nip at your skin, another gasp falling from your lips.

“So good,” you moaned, your eyes shutting. He continued to work, having every intention of creating a hickey right there underneath your ear. He licked and sucked, pulling the most delicious moans from your mouth.

To test the water, he grazed the skin with his teeth and you moaned loudly, reaching your orgasm. God, you were so fucking hot, the way you were able to make the most pretty sounds and look pretty while doing it. The sweat already forming on your skin, making you look absolutely irresistible.

You helped him get his underwear down and realized there was no going back as he cock sprang free from it. It was hard as a rock and probably the biggest you had ever seen. Who knew that your best friend was packing so much? Clearly you didn’t.

You pulled a condom from your purse and rolled it onto his cock before placing yourself on top of it, both of you moving awkwardly as you got used to each other in that way. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his head went to your waist, helping you move, riding him slowly.

You picked up the pace, and Tyler couldn’t help but watch you, feeling himself getting close just by looking at you. The cause of his wet dreams right on top of him, almost convincing him that he had been in one.

He let out a moan of his own and you looked down at him, your eyes darkening as you did so. You had barely even done anything as he already looked blissed out. This had to be a record. Knowing that you could do that to someone gave you so much power and you got more confident, moving as fast and as hard as you could.

Tyler let out another moan, his own scream climbing up his throat, his fingers digging into your waist, surely forming bruises. His head was back against the headrest, his eyes shut tight as another scream ripped through him, his breathing labored.

His hands moved up your back, his nails gliding down it, leaving scratches and your back arched at the movement, reaching your own orgasm. But you stayed there, seeing if you could get one more from him before taking a break before going for round two.

“Holy shit,” he moaned. “You really know what you’re doing,” he said through breaths.

His hands scratched up your back as you watched him, seeing that he was close again. A final loud moan fell from his lips and you slowed down your pace but kept moving, another orgasm rolling through you.

You sat there, staring at each other, your chests rising and falling as you did so. You never thought you would have ever gotten to that place with Tyler, but there you were, sitting on top of his dick, having just had the best sex of your life. And it hadn't even lasted that long.

“I have an idea. And hear me out, okay?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your arms lazily.

“Okay.”

“What if-what I want you to be the only one I sleep with?” Your eyes widened at his words, but you had to admit that you loved the idea. There was no way you could fuck anyone else after that. He had ruined you for any other man.

“Oh, so like friends with benefits?” So you didn’t understand. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted you to be his. Solely exclusive with him. His girlfriend. The one he went to bed with every night and woke up to every morning.

“I love you, y/n,” he said, sitting up, taking you into his arms, looking you in the eyes so you knew he was serious. This wasn’t exactly how he had planned on telling you, but he supposed that this was a good a time as any.

“I love you too, Tyler,” you replied, pressing your lips to his, this kiss sweeter than the others, both of you smiling into it. “Be mine?”

“Oh, darlin’,” he let out a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I always was.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Save a Horse

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary: you and your best friend, Tyler decided to test the waters and take your friendship to the next level, unbeknownst to the both of you that you’re in love with each other.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

The bar was hazy when Tyler walked into it, a line dance already in formation. He didn’t even want to be there, but he was trying to make himself actually get out there again. He hadn’t been on a date in what felt like ages, so he was a little rusty, but a few beers should have fixed that. Despite his looks, he wasn’t very good with the ladies. Any time he would try to flirt, it came off offensive or borderline sexist because he got a little too cocky. But this was his night. He was desperate to get laid, his hand no longer doing the job.

He made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer, surveying the area for whoever he was going to take home for the night. There were a lot of pretty women and he was trying not to be picky. This was just to get him back out there. The sex didn’t have to be good and it certainly didn’t have to mean anything.

His eyes locked on a pretty blonde that was on the other side of the bar, barely visible through all of the dancing bodies. She was already staring him down, sipping on a drink with a straw and Tyler was wondering what else she was willing to suck on. He downed half of his beer and made a beeline for her, trying to go around the dancing crowd so as to not get caught in it.

But then he heard something, someone who stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to the left and sure enough, there you were, arguing with someone like you always seemed to be doing.

You were beautiful. So much so that he couldn’t help but stare. You were dressed in a black tank top that was tucked into a pair of very short denim shorts and a pair of black cowboy boots were on your feet. Before he could stop himself, his feet were gaining a mind of their own as they carried him over to you.

He finally stood at your side, but you were paying him no attention, your argument with the stranger still going strong. You looked seconds away from pulling out your earrings and hitting the man. And as much as Tyler knew he should have stopped you, he kind of wanted to see you do it. You had a bad temper you never took out on anyone who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give me a chance,” the man said. That seemed to unleash something in you because you stepped closer to him, nothing but fire in your eyes. Tyler wasn’t a fan of how he still found you so hot when you got angry. The way your eyes would be filled with fire and your nose would twitch and your mouth would twist as you were trying to decide what you were going to say next.

There were so many times where he wanted to kiss you when he had done something to upset you. Clearly nothing had changed since he was staring directly at your mouth, watching your lips move. They were painted with a red gloss, making them even more inviting. But nothing was coming out of them. The place was loud but not loud enough to where he couldn’t hear what you were saying when you were only like a foot away from him.

“Maybe because you slapped my ass?” You replied, surely seconds away from beating this guy up. Tyler’s eyes widened, hurrying to stand beside you before he could stop himself.

“You did what?” He asked in shock.

“You bent over to grab a pool ball that fell off the table and you’re saying I wasn’t supposed to smack it?” Tyler cracked his knuckles, wanting to hit the guy himself.

“Yes,” you and Tyler replied in unison. You turned to him and he looked good. Almost too good. The scruff on his face did him well and the cowboy hat on top of his head looked far better than it should have. His white t-shirt clung to his body and you hated how much his jeans hugged his waist.

You wanted him, and bad. So much so that the man had been the starring lead in your fantasies that you had come up with every night before you went to bed. You had been in love with him for years, wondering why you hadn’t asked him out when you had the chance. He was so sweet and caring and you wished that you had been the one he had flirted with when he had a few drinks in him.

“And who are you?” Tyler asked, draping an arm over your shoulder. You loved when he got like this, all authoritative, taking control of the situation. If it had been up to you, you would have taken him right then and there.

“Who are you?” The man replied as it he had the right to be angry with either of you. Tyler felt the need to protect you, even though he knew you didn’t need saving. He just wanted to drape his arm over your shoulder to let everyone know you were his.

Well, that was what he wanted you to be. You had never gotten to that point and it was all his fault. He had been too afraid to make your friendship something more. He was stuck in the friendzone where he had put himself for years, kicking himself for not asking you out the first night he met you.

“I’m her boyfriend so I suggest you move along before I have Enrique throw you out.” You could take care of yourself just fine, but something about Tyler always jumping in to protect you always made you feel a little wet in your panties.

The man just muttered something under his breath before turning away, not wanting to get kicked out again. With him gone, you turned on your heel, heading back to the bar to order a much needed shot with Tyler hot on your heels.

Tyler couldn’t help but let his eyes drop to your ass, and watching it move as you walked in your tight shorts was torture to the man. He always found himself wanting to get a handful for himself, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he kissed you until you were breathless, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’d let out a loud moan and he’d grab you by the backs of your legs, helping you wrap them around him-

You stopped at the bar and ordered a drink before turning to face Tyler as shots of tequila were set on the bar, as if the bartender could read your mind. You reached for both and handed one of them to your best friend.

“Drink up, Owens,” you nudged him and you both downed the shots, feeling it burn all the way down. You both slammed the empty glasses down on the bar and you eyed him, wondering what he would have said if you had invited him to the bathroom right that second.

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. A look that you didn’t recognize in any way, shape or form. They were soft and sweet, just like you remembered. In that moment, you could feel your anger towards him falling away. You could never be mad at him for too long, especially not when you looked into those beautiful green eyes and this time, you could tell that he wasn’t trying to use that to his advantage.

“Thank you for that,” you said, nodding your head towards where you both had just been. “And to thank you, I’m adding your drinks to my tab.”

“That’s real sweet, darlin’, but you don’t need to thank me.” That nickname always managed to make you absolutely melt, loving the way it fell from his lips so naturally. “Just your friendship is enough,” he winked.

“Oh, shut up,” you went to shove his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“Alright,” he took another sip of his beer. “Dance with me,” he said, tilting his head up a little.

“Dance with you?” You had no idea what he was talking about, wondering if he was expecting you to read his mind. If you had been able to do that, you definitely wouldn’t have been working at the bar part-time.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Dance with me as your thank you.” He couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah, not happening,” you shook your head. One thing you didn’t do under any circumstances was dance. A ballet recital gone wrong when you were ten made you swear off the activity entirely, never wanting to be embarrassed like that again.

“No way.”

“Fine,” he took another sip of his beer. “Then I’ll just dance by myself.” He slowly headed to the dancefloor, giving you every opportunity to back out if you didn’t want to do it. His hand moved back, his palm facing you as he continued to head to the dance floor, wiggling his digits to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes even though his back was to you and reluctantly put your hand in his. Tyler pulled you out onto the makeshift dance floor and the two of you somehow ended up directly in the center. He was able to quickly pick up the routine while you were left to flounder, moving awkwardly because of your hands that were still attached.

You watched him move so effortlessly, feeling odd being right next to him since you were always there on the sidelines when he was a part of it. He’d smile at you as you sat at the bar, waving you over, but you always shook your head. But now that you were finally dancing with him, he was hoping that it could become a regular thing.

He liked the way your shoulders would brush when you moved the wrong way and the way you’d squeeze his hand to communicate that you were nervous. You turned the way that you thought you were supposed to go but ended up bumping into Tyler, nothing but a chuckle falling from his lips as he looked down at you.

“Follow me, okay?” He asked and you nodded. “Turn around.” You did as he asked and turned around, your back facing him. His hands slowly moved up to your waist, letting them make a home there. He had touched you there multiple times when he had hugged you, but this was entirely different. So close to the way you had wanted him to touch you, but not nearly enough.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his lips right by the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Of course you trusted him. Maybe more than you should have.

“Of course,” you responded with a nod.

“Follow my lead, darlin’.” It was as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Like he knew the exact effect he had on you. But he had too, right? This was all an elaborate way to get you to admit that you had feelings for him. Well, two could play that game.

You kept in rhythm with him, slowly but surely backing up to him, your ass right up against his crotch. You gingerly began to grind on the spot, resisting the urge to turn and see his reaction. You could tell he was enjoying it just by the way his fingers were digging into your waist.

You moved the two of you out of the way of the dancers and continued to grind on Tyler, your movements still slow, but harder now. You could hear his breathing pick up, feeling his nose brush your jaw, his breath on your neck sending another chill up your spin.

He never thought the two of you would be dancing like this, the movements so sensual and sexy. You knew exactly what you were doing and it was fucking unfair. He could feel his cock hardening and pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

“This isn’t the right dance,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you nodded. “But don’t you like this more, Owens? I can feel you getting hard.” Just when you were going to really take it home, you were suddenly turned around, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sudden movement. Your hands landed on his chest and Tyler’s hands rested on your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible.

You leaned closer to him, your lips brushing his and the man was convinced he was a goner. He could feel your gloss that had transferred to his own lips and wanted it other places, anywhere you could get your lips. He loved the idea of being covered in your kisses, the prints leaving your mark behind.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sugar,” he said, his voice low, raspy. And it was doing wonders for you. He was so hot and you were having a hard time not making a move anymore.

“Oh, I fully intend on finishing,” you responded, finally pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened at your actions, but he was quick to melt into you, his lips catching yours slowly.

His arms wrapped around your waist even tighter, pulling you as close to him as possible. Yours wrapped around his neck, your hands running through his hair at the back of his head.

Your head felt like it was swimming, his lips more soft than you could have ever imagined. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite make out. It was sweet and sour.

You pulled away before it could get too heated and Tyler admired the lip gloss that had smeared across your face, very tempted to go back in for more. His thumb swiped across your cheek to help get rid of it, but that didn’t seem to help, only smearing it further.

The weight of what you had done was catching up to you. You had just kissed your best friend. You had just kissed your best friend and you liked it. You had only gotten a taste but now you wanted more. All of him. You wanted to finally make your fantasies a reality.

And you couldn’t. You couldn’t do that without completely complicating your friendship and you really liked what the two of you had. It was really nice at first, to have a friend without all of the “feelings” bullshit, but now you had actually fallen for him. And hard.

“Fuck,” the word fell from Tyler’s lips, his voice somehow getting even more raspy, making you even more wet. God, you really were fucked, and not in the way you wanted to be.

“Do you wanna take this out to my truck?” You asked, your hands lazily moving up and down his back.

“I’d love to take this out to your truck,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours before paying your bills and leading you out of the bar, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

You rifled through your purse, looking for your keys and found them before unlocking your truck. Tyler opened the driver’s seat door for you before helping you into it. He then closed the door and rounded the hood before getting into his own seat.

You peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the road, thankful for how late it was so there was little traffic. Your heart pounded as you pulled into what looked like an abandoned parking lot.

Why you were scared of what you were about to do, you didn’t know. Tyler was sweet and you knew that he would do whatever he could to make you comfortable. He was nothing but a sweetheart and would make you feel good, stopping at nothing to do so.

You put the car in park and turned it off before turning toward Tyler. You stared at each other, the only thing that could be heard was the radio playing a soft country song. You turned the volume up to attempt to drown out your thoughts. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know, but you were fully prepared to dive right in.

Tyler reached out, placing a hand on your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his lips ghosting over yours, almost as if he was afraid to go for it. That confidence from the bar completely evaporated into the air.

You took the lead, pressing your lips to his, your movements more rushed and rough as you nipped at his bottom lip. He let out a little whine and that was enough to make you absolutely soaked.

Rain pattered against the car as you slotted your lips together once more before pulling away. You climbed over the center console and placed yourself into his lap, straddling him.

Tyler looked up at you, his pupils blown and his lips smeared with your lipgloss. It was an adorable sight and you hated how good he looked in that goddamn hat. You took the hat off of his head and put it on your own, moving your head this way and that, modeling it for him.

“How do I look?” You asked, turning your head to the side and he just laughed.

“You look good,” he nodded.

“As good as you?”

“Even better,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss, removing the hat from your head and setting it on the driver’s seat.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours and a moan fell from your lips at the sensation. His hands slipped into your back pockets, giving your ass a squeeze and you gasped into his mouth which only made him do it again.

You began to grind against him as your tongues tangled together and you could hear a groan in the back of his throat. The whole thing was overstimulating for him, there was no way he was going to ask you to stop any time soon.

Your hands rested on his chest as you kissed him, this one slow and gentle, as if you two had all the time in the world, and right there, in that abandoned parking lot, you did. Your tongues tangled as you continued to grind into him, your underwear getting soaked as you felt his dick forming a tent in his pants.

Tyler’s hands moved to your shorts as you reached down on the side of the seat in search of the lever that leaned it back. You found it with ease and leaned the chair back as far as it would go as you let Tyler take what he wanted from you, you pliant to his every move.

You both struggled to pull down your shorts, laughing because of how small the space was. Maybe there was a reason why neither of you ever did this kind of thing. He got them down to your ankles and you moved so he could take off his jeans, his belt buckle making a clattering noise as it hit the tops of his boots.

You both removed your shirts and Tyler eyed the black lacy number you were wearing. His hand moved up to run over the fabric of the tops of the cups, his fingers brushing your skin every so slightly.

“Like what you see?” You asked, leaning down a little so he could get a better look at your cleavage. And you had him right where you wanted him, catching him staring right at it. You scooted up so that they were right in front of his face and he brought his lips to the skin, pressing a soft to it.

He then moved up, his lips now connected with your neck, his tongue swiping back and forth as he began to suck. You moved your head to give him more access and that caused him to nip at your skin, another gasp falling from your lips.

“So good,” you moaned, your eyes shutting. He continued to work, having every intention of creating a hickey right there underneath your ear. He licked and sucked, pulling the most delicious moans from your mouth.

To test the water, he grazed the skin with his teeth and you moaned loudly, reaching your orgasm. God, you were so fucking hot, the way you were able to make the most pretty sounds and look pretty while doing it. The sweat already forming on your skin, making you look absolutely irresistible.

You helped him get his underwear down and realized there was no going back as he cock sprang free from it. It was hard as a rock and probably the biggest you had ever seen. Who knew that your best friend was packing so much? Clearly you didn’t.

You pulled a condom from your purse and rolled it onto his cock before placing yourself on top of it, both of you moving awkwardly as you got used to each other in that way. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his head went to your waist, helping you move, riding him slowly.

You picked up the pace, and Tyler couldn’t help but watch you, feeling himself getting close just by looking at you. The cause of his wet dreams right on top of him, almost convincing him that he had been in one.

He let out a moan of his own and you looked down at him, your eyes darkening as you did so. You had barely even done anything as he already looked blissed out. This had to be a record. Knowing that you could do that to someone gave you so much power and you got more confident, moving as fast and as hard as you could.

Tyler let out another moan, his own scream climbing up his throat, his fingers digging into your waist, surely forming bruises. His head was back against the headrest, his eyes shut tight as another scream ripped through him, his breathing labored.

His hands moved up your back, his nails gliding down it, leaving scratches and your back arched at the movement, reaching your own orgasm. But you stayed there, seeing if you could get one more from him before taking a break before going for round two.

“Holy shit,” he moaned. “You really know what you’re doing,” he said through breaths.

His hands scratched up your back as you watched him, seeing that he was close again. A final loud moan fell from his lips and you slowed down your pace but kept moving, another orgasm rolling through you.

You sat there, staring at each other, your chests rising and falling as you did so. You never thought you would have ever gotten to that place with Tyler, but there you were, sitting on top of his dick, having just had the best sex of your life. And it hadn't even lasted that long.

“I have an idea. And hear me out, okay?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your arms lazily.

“Okay.”

“What if-what I want you to be the only one I sleep with?” Your eyes widened at his words, but you had to admit that you loved the idea. There was no way you could fuck anyone else after that. He had ruined you for any other man.

“Oh, so like friends with benefits?” So you didn’t understand. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted you to be his. Solely exclusive with him. His girlfriend. The one he went to bed with every night and woke up to every morning.

“I love you, y/n,” he said, sitting up, taking you into his arms, looking you in the eyes so you knew he was serious. This wasn’t exactly how he had planned on telling you, but he supposed that this was a good a time as any.

“I love you too, Tyler,” you replied, pressing your lips to his, this kiss sweeter than the others, both of you smiling into it. “Be mine?”

“Oh, darlin’,” he let out a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I always was.”

[safety-sam]

Jake Kiszka the man that you are

[sacredsparrow]

This is sooo 2019 Jake of him

[gretavanlace]

Get him all the way away from me

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

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