wang yixiang ✶ unprotected sex creampie a hint of breeding kink cervix fucking headlock reader is in a subspace dumbification begging dirty talk minor daddy kink pronebone
› notes . no but this one... had me thinking and drooling and screaming like bro i need this ok not even funny anymore.
nicholas gripped your hips with bruising force, pinning you flat against the mattress in a deep pronebone.
your chest was smushed against the sheets, your ass hiked high in the air, offering him a perfect, unobstructed view of your soaking wet heat. he didn’t wast a second, driving his thick cock forward in one heavy, relentless thrust that buried him to the hilt.
the impact knocked the breath out of you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as he bottomed out, hitting your cervix with a blunt, satisfying thud. he didn’t pull back far, keeping the friction constant, sliding out just enough to tease the entrance before slamming back in, over and over.
“that’s it, baby,” nicholas whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble right against your ear. “just take it all. you’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you? just a mindless fucking hole.”
the intensity of the penetration was overwhelming. every deep, rhythmic plunge sent sparks through your brain, scrubbing away every coherent thought. you felt your mind slipping, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his cock stretching you open and the heat of his body pressing against your back.
you weren’t thinking about anything anymore—no worries, no words, just the raw, primal need for more.
your jaw slackened, and a thin string of drool escaped the corner of your mouth, wetting the pillowcase as your eyes glazed over in a state of pure, erotic stupor.
“look at you, angel,” he groaned, his breath hot on your neck. “totally gone. just a dumb, dripping mess for me. you don’t need to think, sweetheart. just feel how deep i am.”
desperate for more contact, you reached back, grabbing his muscular arm and pulling it forward, guiding it around your neck to lock you in a tight headlock. the pressure against your throat only heightened the arousal, making your head swim.
the moment your arm locked his in place, nicholas reacted with a surge of aggression. he gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin, and began to fuck you with a renewed intensity.
he hammered into you, each thrust faster and harder than the last, the sound of his pelvis slapping against your ass echoing through the room.
you were completely undone, your face pressed against his bulging bicep. as he drove deep, your head lolled, and you began to drool directly onto his skin, the moisture slicking his arm. you couldn’t form full sentences, your brain turned to mush by the sheer pleasure of the friction.
“nicho… oh god—weno…” you moaned, your voice broken and breathless. you leaned into the headlock, whispering frantically against his skin, “it’s so good… so deep… please, please, just keep fucking me…”
he let out a guttural growl, his pace becoming frantic. he was drilling into you now, hitting that sweet spot with every single plunge, driving you further and further into a mindless haze of pleasure.
you were nothing but a shaking, drooling mess beneath him, completely conquered by the depth of his cock and the weight of his praise.
nicholas’ breathing had turned into a ragged, animalistic snarls, his entire body trembling with the effort of the friction. he felt your walls clamping down on him, milking him with every desperate twitch of your muscles.
he let out a loud, guttural roar, his hips locking forward one last time, burying his cock as deep as it could possibly go, pinning you flat against the bed.
the sensation was explosive. you felt the hot, thick jets of his cum erupting deep inside you, pulsing against your cervix in heavy waves. the sheer volume of his load filled you up, the warmth spreading through your womb, making you cry out in a high, broken wail.
you were shaking, your brain completely fried, your eyes rolled back as the orgasm ripped through you, leaving you twitching and mindless.
but as the initial peak subsided, the hunger didn’t leave. you were still in that drooling, vacant state, your mind replaced by a primal, aching void that only he could fill. even as he started to soften slightly, you gripped his arm tighter, pulling his bicep back against your cheek, your voice a needy, incoherent whimper.
“more… please, weno… don’t stop… fuck me more,” you sobbed, your hips grinding back against him, begging for the friction to return.
nicholas groaned, the sound vibrating through your spine. he was still half-hard, his cock swimming in the slick mixture of your juices and his own seed. he didn’t pull out, gripping your hips again, his fingers bruising your skin, and began to slide back into motion.
the sound was wet and squelching, the excess cum acting as a lubricant as he started to drive into you again, slower at first, then building back up to a punishing pace.
“you’re such a greedy angel, aren’t you,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “i just filled you to the brim, and you still want more? you just want to be my little breeding sow, don’t you?”
the word breeding snapped something inside you. you let out a whimpering moan, your head lolling as you drooled onto his arm again, your voice a desperate, breathless whisper.
“yes.. please… i want your babies… fill me up, weno… please make me pregnant… wanna carry your babies…”
the request drove him wild.
the thought of claiming you permanently, of planting his seed deep inside your womb until you were swollen with his child, sent a fresh surge of hardness back into his cock. he shifted his grip, grabbing your hair to pull your head back, exposing your throat while he hammered into you with a possessive rhythm.
“you want my babies now, angel?” he growled, his thrusts becoming frantic and deep again, slapping your ass with a loud, rhythmic crack. “gonna pump so much cum into you that you’ll be leaking for days. gonna make sure you’re knocked up, angel. you’re going to carry my brat, and you’re gonna love every second of being my bred-out toy.”
you were completely gone, a shaking, sobbing mess of pleasure. every time he bottomed out, you felt remaining cum being pushed deeper into you, the thought of impregnation making your pussy clench around him in tight, rhythmic spasms.
you begged him, your words slurred and broken, “fill me… please, nicho… give me your babies…”
he didn’t stop, drilling into you with a relentless intensity, determined to leave you completely saturated and claimed, fucking you into a state of total, blissful oblivion.
“don’t worry, angel… daddy’s gonna make sure he put his babies into you…” he growled into your neck, planting a quick peck against the soft skin.
: drink up、 nicholas — 〔+18〕 ──── · x reader ॱ 💬 ִ
。꒰ 💬 ꒱ cw : drinking, plying, nursing / hand-feeding alcohol, clingy nico, marking, drunk nico, sub nico, whiny nico, no explicit sex scenes, mature elements.
music blasted through the bustling streets of Taipei. crowds cluttered the tight alleyways. every corner filled with groups of messy, drunk college students. rows of bars and clubs falling in a perfect parallel heaven, just what you needed for the night.
you tagged along with a few friends for the night —nothing outrageous, no intention of picking up on a “one-night thing”—phone wasn’t accepting any new numbers, just the same group chat that pinged 400 times a day.
you threw on a lazy, tight tank top and a loose pair of baggy jeans, the kind that barely sit around your hips, the tank top leaving a peak of visible midriff skin. your bag rested over your shoulder, pressed uncomfortably deep into the skin, keychains jingling behind you with every step, announcing your arrival.
you wandered around the streets aimlessly for what felt like eternity. your eyes blurred the directions until all that was left was your intuition. feet stumbling around until you finally led you to an oddly quiet bar, no large groups of people covering the dance floor, unlike the packed clubs where music trickled through the thin walls. the music was low, not a slow tempo, but a volume that was far more hushed compared to neighboring areas.
the lights emitted a serious red, cramming every inch of the dance floor, just hardly hitting the tables—where your sights met your friends' silhouettes.
your feet brought you first, body moving just behind the hasty pace you prance at, bag charms chiming— the melody catching up to your friends’ familiar ears, their heads turn— all but one.
nicholas’s back faces you, a broad length that engulfed most of your vision. his hands planted on opposing ends of the table, slumped over the pile of empty shot glasses, napkins, and plates.
your chest hit his back, arms wrapping around his wide abdomen, fingers fisting into the delicate black fabric of his shirt. he reeked of alcohol, a bitter mix of everything you could think of— no clear notes of what wasn’t drunken, it clung to him like an intoxicating fragrance. he flinch forward, legs unsteady, his lips froze, parted, mid-sentence. letting your arms slowly untangle free around him. you peaked over his slouched shoulders. his hiccups hit against you, a thick waft of bitter-sweet soju followed his breath. his hair was messy, sunglasses covered his weary eyes, t-shirt was slightly stained and wrinkled. he turned to you, hindered and sluggish, lazy moves with his unsteady state. the table turned to you, pausing their conversations. their eyes all gave a knowing look, telling a collective story… or warning. the group seemed mostly sober— an occasional shot or two shared between, but nobody was as clearly wasted as nicholas. he was a light weight— surely he wasn't too deep into the night, but the effect were catching up faster than he could run.
you tried to comfort him, take him out of the bar— but he refused. he clung to you like a signature scent. resting his throbbing, dizzy head against your shoulder. his words slurred, mumbling against your ear. you nod along, trying to juggle every ongoing conversation, along with the whiny, clingy kitten hanging onto your side. “why aren’t you listening to me~?” he paw at your tank top— tugging the fabric, fingers holding the small drift of bare skin. his pout carries the tone, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. with every word, he stutters deeper into your plush skin. hands ghost your waist, moving to pull the sunglasses off— as if they worked overtime to block out the absent sun of midnight, tightening them back into his hair, pinning his short black hair.
he leaned down on his chair, face lit by the dim lights, legs spread ever so slightly, boxers peaking from his shirt that raised with every lengthy stretch. soft whimpers escaped his dried lips involuntarily. he nudged you again, burying his cheek against your shoulder. “come on, don’t ignore me~….” he whined, big glossy eyes staring up at you, sharp, yet carryinga weak, admiring gaze. his lips pout narrowly, cheeks rinsed a deep pink, circulating across his face— seeping like ink into his neck. a silver chrome hearts necklace drooping on top of his shirt, catching the deep red lighting. the top of his hair tickling your neck— your heart pounds through your chest, deafening you just enough where every conversation mixed into a single head throb. loud enough to where you swore someone could hear it, swore somebody could see the way your hands shook, the way your body stuttered with every move. hesitant, nervous, reaching for items to busy your brain from his intensely close presence. feeling the heat of him radiate onto you, warming your cold arms. “yixiang— stoppp your practically drooling all over me.” you nudge his shoulder, scarcely jerking him back until the ghost of him still hugs you. feeling the heavy heart pounding, weight lifted off of you, letting your dizzied head spin one last time. he looked back at you, a small bit of damage covered his face— his sensitive form melting your love-drunk heart. his once devilish, flirty smile now replaced by a small, gentle pout.
the night carried on, laughing, shouting, and small friendly bickering between the group. all but for nicholas, he sat in his chair, arms crossed, falling into the deep cushion and hardwood with every passing second. his cheeks slowly lowered the intensity of their color, now only coated by a small, gentle pinkish-red that scatter from his cheeks over his nose. he huffed every occasional comment, scoffing at the stupid jokes being exchanged. all until he tugged onto your side one last time.
you stood above him, head already thrown back, about to down the putrid, small glass of liquor. your hair tickling your neck, tank top sticking to your skin— the sudden gesture broke your behavior, freezing, feeling his hands wrap against your waist in a familiar way— too handsy for your friendship. he stared up at you, hands shifting down to your hips— eyes pleading, twinkling beneath you. your eyes meet— no, they lock. fixed on his sharp eyes, the way they ease when looking at you.
the countless times he stared at you with nothing but pure affection, all while you were too blind to notice. lost in the gut wrenching feeling that hit with every thought of him. too scared to face your own burning bad desires.
his eyes darkening, carrying a subtle hint of light that you couldn’t distinguish. his eyes dart between you and the small glass, shirt barely hitting his lower stomach, legs bouncing anxiously. his hair was slightly messy, only pinned by sunglasses to hide just how much of a drunk mess he was. he hiccuped words, barely letting comments go without slurring them together.
he gulped, watching his adam’s apple bob before his lips parted, a thick, smushed sentence of mandarin and english, he fell forward onto you, head sink against your abdomen. you felt the cold frames press to your bare skin, his fingers toy with your tank top, then he lifted his head, slow and steady, thoughts reconnected to make one simple sentence. “can you pour that for me…” his eyes shot to your glass, hands tightening around you, fingers dinging into your skin.
and so you did.
you bent to him, his eyes stared up at you, never once cowering from your sight. he unhurriedly inched off the chair, falling barely to his knees before you. you stare down at him, the weak yet pathetic way he seated before you. his earring snags the dim lights, glowing just barely. sunglasses pushed back his silky black hair, his cheeks' shade grew more harsh, a deep, almost reddened hue. he tilted his head back, eyes wet, a strong, sparked gaze. the over head light reflected in his black orbs, and a thin layer of sweat blanketed his neck. his lips parted, and in an instant, it all happened.
your hand guiding his chin up ever so lightly, a gentle hold on his soft skin. you shove the cruel glass to his dusky rose lips, waiting for his small nod of approval before tilting it back, his head falling back with the glass. the thin liquid pouring down his lips to his chin, layering to his throat. leaving a slick trail over his pale skin. he watches you, a deep thirst lingering before the bitter alcohol. the way he became so small under you, following your every move like an unbreakable order. his lips pressed tightly, the liquid dribbling down as he hesitantly swallowed, his brows furrowing, glossy eyes breaking connection with you. your soft hand gently smacking his cheek. he squeezes his eyes gently, lips slick, a whimper ripping from his throat. his head hurried down to his chest, until it met with you again— a shaky and weak “mm… thank you~” followed his deep, raspy voice.
it continued for the night, he begged you to keep feeding him the shots, kneeling before you like a statue. even if he was about to black out, he swore it was his last.
sticking onto you, whining in your ear, to even gently pressing his lips to your neck— anything to get your attention. his behaved lips faltered, just for a second, sucking on your skin. other hand pressing you deeper into him. all while the thick, heavy scent of alcohol sat with you.
in which you take a nap and give nico permission to try a kink you've always fantasized about. or - the one where you wake up with nico inside you.
wc: 2k | notes: smut (don't like it? don't read it), consensual somnophilia, raw sex, creampie, cockwarming, breeding kink, nico gets rough, minors do not interact!
It was a hot summer day, too hot to be outside under the sweltering sun. Instead, you opted to read on the couch with a fan oscillating back and forth. It became so rhythmic and quiet, you fell asleep with the book in your lap.
Meanwhile, Nico was seething, much like the broiling air outside. He was annoyed and stressed, and nothing was going to soften his mood.
The moment he laid eyes on you, he stood corrected.
You looked so peaceful on the couch, sleeping soundly. Nico quietly stepped out of his shoes and put his things away, careful not to wake you. All the while, your boyfriend was eyeing you.
Dressed in a sheer tee and panties in an attempt to stay cool, you looked mouth-watering. Nico crept closer, remembering the conversation you and he had where you gave him permission to touch you in your sleep.
Nico watched your face when he lowered to the couch, fully expecting you to wake up when he carefully slipped your panties off.
"I don't know. It turns me on, you fucking me awake," you'd told him before, and Nico had gotten so hard he couldn't see straight.
It just meant you trusted him deeply with your body. And Nico got off to that. The connection he had with you was indescribable. Your total surrender, only getting pleasure from him.
Nico's hands gently traced up your body, under your tee, which was sticking to you slightly because of the light sheen of sweat on your skin. He gingerly pulled it over your head and dropped it to the floor, situating himself between your legs.
To Nico's surprise, you still didn't wake when he palmed your sex. He started to debate if fingers in your cunt might pull you out of sleep and selfishly, Nico wanted only to wake you with his cock.
Slicking his length with his saliva, which was already painfully hard in his hand from seeing you pliant beneath him, Nico fitted his cock into your entrance and pushed in, inch-by-inch, feeling your velvet walls give way.
You still didn't move, which both annoyed and relieved Nico. On the one hand, he thought penetrating you would wake you right up, having to stretch to accomodate him. On the other, you staying asleep meant he got to use you exactly as you had asked him to.
Nico propped up on his hands and knees, and eased his cock back and forth in your perfect pussy. Your bodies touched only where he gloved his dick in you. A groan escaped him, then another; Nico knew he wasn't going to last long.
And given you were asleep, he didn't have to worry about how fast he was finishing.
There was a little wet slap every time he thrust, making Nico shake his head that you could still get so wet for him even while you slept. He watched your breasts bounce with his movements and he hissed, "You don't even know how perfect you are."
Nico sped up, grasping your hips and emptying himself inside you, his sounds of pleasure filling the room. Nico's eyes lolled and he blinked to clear his vision, shaking his head. His hair was damp with sweat and the fan made the drops cool on his skin.
Looking down at you, sleeping soundly with a belly full of cum, made Nico decide he was staying right there, his cock still between your folds. He lowered down, pressing a soft kiss on your chest before laying his head in the crook of your neck.
You don't remember what you were dreaming about, only that you felt warm and safe. And full. A little tension stitched your brows.
Nico kept kissing at your neck, the wet pop reaching your ears. Your legs shifted, rubbing against his hips. Nico felt his cock getting hard inside you again (not that he'd gone totally soft while your pussy warmed him), and he thrust forward gently, reflexive to your walls clenching on him.
"Nico," you sighed, slowly waking. Your hands instinctively went to his waist and your eyes opened, a kiss landing on your lips the moment your gazes met.
Nico kissed you with hot intent, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stroked his cock back and forth in your cunt, biting his lip when you moaned.
"Hear that?" Nico asked, referring to the very wet pop when he bottomed out.
You met his eyes and nodded.
"You're already full of cum, baby."
Arousal flushed through your body and you tightened your thighs on his waist, drawing him into you. Your voice was weak when you asked, "You fucked me and came in me already?"
Nico smirked darkly. "Mmhm."
"How was it?"
"I didn't last long," Nico said with a little chuckle, still arching his hips into you.
You smiled bashfully, earning yourself another kiss. Settling deeper into the couch, you draped your legs on Nico's hips, held onto his arms, and lost yourself in his eyes as he fucked you.
Nico couldn't pull his gaze from you. He eased himself back and forth in your wet, warm pussy, eagerly sucking him back in. Your body was so in love with him and Nico was obsessed with you.
Little nothings spilled from your lips and you bit down to fight them. Nico was so hard and deep, you could feel him in the pit of your stomach. Already being slick with his load turned you on, along with the image of him using you like a vessel for his pleasure.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Nico groaned, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip, freeing it from your teeth. "Just wanna fuck you for hours. Feel that pussy come on me."
"Do it," you sighed, winding your fingers into his sweaty hair and tugging. "Make me feel you for days."
"Fuck," Nico swore, crashing his lips on yours and kissing you hungrily. The lewd wet squelch when he bottomed out made his cock twitch and he shoved in harder, making you arch up into him.
Curious, you peered up into his dark eyes and asked, "Did you stay in me after you came?"
Nico smirked a little. "Yeah. Filled you up, stayed in, and kept pumping balls deep in you."
"Oh god..."
"Tight fucking pussy didn't let me get soft," Nico whispered hotly, his thrusts coming faster, his hand brushing up your body to palm your breast. "Just wanted to milk more cum outta me, huh?"
You nodded, his words and his voice making your cunt clench on him. Your toes were already curling. Orgasm was on the tip of your tongue.
In the next second, Nico's hand left your breast to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He smacked his hips into yours, driving into you with the intent of finishing you off, and his lips ghosted over yours when he said, "Come for me. Now. Don't make me say it again."
You were sore from his big cock stretching you out, stuffing you full over and over, that you felt like a nerve laid bare, all the stimulation hitting you at once. You felt the pleasure of him deep in your belly hitting the spot just right and at his command you came, your cries cut off by the hand around your throat.
"Good girl," Nico sighed, working you through the orgasm at his steady pace, grunting at the pulsing of your sex on his dick.
If two people were meant to be tangled together, Nico knew in his soul it was you and him.
After hitting the peak, your body shook from the euphoria, your eyes lolling into your head. You realized too late that you'd found purchase in Nico's back, your nails digging into his skin. Nico, of course, was delighted. He lived for the marks you left behind in his flesh; a reminder that he'd buried his cock inside you.
Nico groaned and licked his lips to wet them, kissing you as he kept colliding his hips into yours, your little noises filling his mouth. "I know, baby," he said, loving your whimpers. "Just a little more."
You were right at your limit. Your cunt was sore in the best way, but Nico's stiff cock kept sheathing inside you. If he had his way, he'd keep easing his dick in and out of your pussy until one of you tapped out.
"Please, come," you begged him in a faint whisper.
Nico assessed you a moment, watching your pretty face tense when he thrust in, then your breasts bouncing with his movements. He didn't want it to end, but your body was screaming for a reprieve. Nico grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, and started to fuck you at a relentless pace.
"Take it, baby." His voice was a growl, almost drowned out by your moans and whines. "Almost there. Fucking shit. You're gonna take all of it."
You cried out when his cock kissed your cervix and with another stroke Nico came with a loud groan, painting your walls with another load. You watched his eyes go hazy, his lips parted, his arms shaking as he gripped your hands tighter, the pleasure tearing through his body.
"Fuck," Nico chanted, trying to catch his breath and failing. He was panting. He stayed painfully still, his cock taking its sweet time going soft in you, but once it did, he pulled out and fell back onto the other side of the sofa.
It caught you off-guard; how empty you felt with him no longer filling you, but then you were distracted by his cum slipping out and you quickly rolled to your side and closed your legs.
Nico was there in a flash, steering you onto your back again and, holding your legs together, bent toward your body. "Keep it all in," he whispered darkly.
You let him do as he pleased, because the man had tapped into everyone of your kinks, and all he did was turn you on so bad you couldn't think straight.
Nico couldn't help himself; he cupped your sex, teasing his fingers through your folds and moved your ankles to be on his shoulders just as he locked eyes with you.
You made a little noise and Nico couldn't decipher it so he asked, "Sore?"
You nodded.
"How sore?"
"If you put your dick in me again right now I'd probably die," you quipped.
Nico chuckled. "Lucky for you, my balls are empty at the moment. Thanks to you."
You bit your lip, staring at his handsome face damp with sweat and flushed with heat, and thinking, This sexy motherfucker...
Nico cocked his head and asked, "If you're so sore, why are you looking at me like that?"
"I can't help it."
Two fingers slowly pressed into your swollen cunt and you gripped the sofa in your fists, crying out his name in a mix of surprise and fuck, how could it hurt so good?
Nico shook his head. "I swear to god, baby. I just wanna fuck my cum into you all day."
synopsis . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. when you go on a solo vacation to taiwan and unexpectedly meet nicholas.. but— there's something he's not telling you.
pairing idol!nicholas x non-idol!female!reader - content fluff // one shot // rom com - wc 2.2k
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 not proof read!!!!
~~~~
the vibe of taipei, taiwan was very beautiful and scenic. on the first day of your solo trip in taiwan, you stopped by to explore the zhongshan district.
the area consisted of local shops, cafes, thrift stores, and restaurants— the perfect getaway place for you especially. you headed into a thrift shop, your head practically in the racks of clothes. as soon as you were done, you walked out of the store with one full bag.
it was awfully hot— so you decided to keep walking along the sidewalk to see if there were any pleasing cafes.
one had caught your eye, the greenery inside and the slight popularity from inside made you curious.
you stepped inside, taking in the atmosphere of the place as you walked towards the counter. a few people sat inside at the tables, some stood around, while you were the only one really in line ordering something.
not being from taiwan, you barely knew any mandarin. thankfully, the menu was written in some english as well. you pointed at the picture on the menu. “hi. can i get this one?”
the girl behind the counter smiled. “yes. which.. size?”
“medium.”
the girl blinked. you pursed your lips, anxiety already building inside of you.
“the.. middle one?” you held your hands apart as if you were physically attempting to show the concept of a medium size.
“ah. medium.” the girl nodded, then glanced toward the cups behind her. “do you want.. big?”
“no— not big.” you shook her head quickly. “medium.. like—”
you held up three fingers.
“small, medium, large..?”
the barista stared at your fingers.
you winced, taking damage from your horrible communication.
neither of them seemed to be getting anywhere in the conversation.
you were about to open your mouth to attempt again at the request.
from somewhere behind you came a quiet laugh.
you turned.
a guy was standing a few feet away from you in line, one hand around his phone, the other tucked casually into the pocket of his jeans. he looked like he had been trying very hard not to listen.
he met your eyes.
“sorry,” he said. “do you want the medium?”
“yes..”
he glanced at the menu. the next thing you knew, he walked up right next to you in front of the counter. he was unexpectedly close. the guy suddenly spoke in mandarin, talking to the barista. you assumed he was telling her you wanted the medium.
you smiled at the girl, which she smiled back. “it’ll be.. 7 dollars and 12 cents.” you took out your wallet— but before you could, the guy handed the barista his card.
he spoke in mandarin again and the girl took the card to pay for the order.
you looked up, confused mostly.
“you didn’t have to— i can pay for your drink.”
“no need to. i added my drink to your order.”
you let out a small chuckle, putting your wallet away while looking at him. “thanks. that was sweet.”
“anytime.” he flashed a smile, which it almost blinded you. he was really.. really attractive. he stood in a confident but relaxed posture, plus— his style was really neat. the way his hair frayed in his face also looked effortlessly good.
you two shifted towards the side of the counter, ultimately waiting for your drinks.. but the conversation continued between you two.
“you demonstrated medium with three fingers.”
“.. yeah. i know.”
“you not from here?” he looked down at you, letting a small smirk slip.
“what kind of question is that?” you let a little laugh. “no. if you couldn’t tell.”
“how long are you here for?”
you then stopped yourself from continuing, remembering you are alone— on a solo trip.
“a while.” you lied.
he took a glance at your body language, immediately reading the room. “sorry— i hope you don’t think i’m a creep, i’m completely normal by the way.”
you raised an eyebrow, “can you prove that?”
“well, my name is nicholas and i was born here.” he folded his arms. “i moved to korea for a bit, but now i live in japan. i also sing and dance. i have one older sister and 8 close friends.”
“you must trust a lot of strangers.”
“only the pretty ones.”
you nodded and side eyed him. “you use that one a lot, huh?”
he chuckled. “not really. i haven’t made a move on someone in a while.”
“so, i’m special now?”
“i’d say so, especially if this is happening in the middle of a cafe.”
his charm and the way the conversation flowed made it a little easier to give in. “i’m y/n.”
he pulled his hand out. you put yours in his and shook it softly. “nice to meet you, y/n. pretty name too.”
you tried to shake off the jittery feeling, but it failed miserably. “thanks, nicholas.”
the barista called out the order of yours and his drink, making you collect it. you picked up the drink, about to make your way out.
“wait—“ he spoke. your turned your head. “hm?”
“can i get your number by chance?”
you hesitated for a moment, lips pressed together.
“sure.” you smiled softly.
~~~~
back at your hotel, you where putting your newly bought clothes away in your luggage— when suddenly your phone chimed.
+81 3 xxxx xxxx
hey, it’s nicholas 🙂
he actually texted you back to your surprise. you thought back at the cafe he was just saying stuff to talk to you in the moment. maybe he meant all of it for real?
nicholas: hey, it’s nicholas 🙂
yn: hi stranger
nicholas: ouch 🤕 thought we got to know each other a bit at the cafe
yn: well we had just met
nicholas: fairs fairs, tbh i was going to take u out after the cafe but i had a dinner with my family
yn: yeah sureee u thought that during our interaction
nicholas: what???? i’m serious😔 u have no faith in me huh
yn: ehh not reallyy
nicholas: how abt we go out tmr? if ur not busy
yn: ur really motivated
nicholas: does that prove anything to u?
yn: a little
nicholas: good 👍 i’ll keep working harder
you felt yourself smiling while texting him. maybe your solo trip to taiwan wouldn’t be so bad after all.
~~~~
the next day, you met up with nicholas in front of the same cafe in zhongshan district.
he suggested a good hidden gem of a resturant that was his favorite. as you two walked there, he rambled on about how good the resturant was— explaining when he was younger he’d always go there with his friends and parents. you listened to him silently, taking in his bubbly self that slowly revealed minute by minute.
nicholas noticed himself rambling, soon stopping. “sorry, i got carried away.” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
you shook your head. “i don’t mind.”
he smiled. “enough about me.. what’s your reason for being here?”
“solo trip.”
he widened his eyes slightly, “hope im not ruining plans you had. i’m dragging you everywhere.”
you giggled, “no, not at all. i actually enjoy.. your company. i was a little nervous about being here alone, really.”
“hm, why’d you go by yourself then?”
“i wanted to be a bit more independent, also visit, of course. taiwan’s a beautiful place.”
he smiled at you. “it is.”
you flashed a smile, lightly tapping his arm. “why’re you here?.. you know, since you live in japan.”
nicholas grinned, “i got a full week off of work— which is pretty nice since i'm always working.” his phone pinged as he checked it— but he still spoke to you. “wanted to spend some time in my home country.” he looked somewhat busy on the phone.
“am i ruining your vacation?”
he put his phone away in his back pocket swiftly, returning his full attention to you now.
“nope. i actually think it’s better like this as well.”
you couldn’t help but smile, letting the blush spread across your cheeks. “i’m glad we feel the same.”
as soon as you know it, you both arrived at the restaurant. it was warm and cozy inside, wooden textures and very homey. you and nicholas were sat near the back corner of the restaurant to his request.
the owners came out and greeted both of you guys, but especially shook nicholas’ hand a bit longer. they both talked in their native languages, smiling and laughing. you smiled watching the interaction.
you both then received your food and ate.
the first bite of food was delicious.
“wow..” your eyes widened.
he let out a small laugh. “.. i know, right?”
as the two of you continued to eat and converse, you let your intrusive thought slip out at one point.
“is this a fling?”
“i wasn’t really thinking of it like that.”
your eyes lit up slightly.
“good..”
after the food, you both walked it off by exploring more of the area, nicholas showing you his favorite thrift shops along the strips.
while walking along the streets, you noticed a billboard advertisement stand. to your surprise, it wasn’t just any person on the board.
it was nicholas.
“you model?” you said aloud.
he put a finger over his lips, smiling at you still though.
“why didn’t you tell me?” you lightly nudged him teasingly.
“i thought it wasn’t important.”
“it is..!”
all he did was laugh again, still walking with his hands in his pockets. “surprise.”
the next few days.. you hung out during specific times while he wasn’t available some days because he was busy with his family.. it didn’t bother you though because you knew it was his vacation technically as well. throughout the week, you continued to see more signs and advertisements of nicholas across the streets— was he more popular than he ought himself to be? was he just being humble? whatever it was— you tried to not let it get to you because you did just meet him this week. he was just a stranger.. kind of.
coincidentally, you two had to leave taiwan on the same day. on the last day while you two were walking the streets on taipei city, he let out a small sigh.
“can i tell you something?”
“.. yeah, of course you can.”
he gritted his teeth, “i really am interested in you, y/n. a lot. and i know if i wanna continue this— i have to be honest about another thing.”
you furrowed your brows.
oh gosh, what was he going to say? that he has a wife and kids?
“my job.. i actually— i’m an idol.”
you raised your brows. “an idol?”
“yeah.. like.. remember how i told you i sing and dance? that’s kinda the reason..”
you didn’t say anything. you were still trying to process the words that came out his mouth.
“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you any sooner. i know i should have— i hope this doesn’t change anything.”
you shook your head quickly, “n-no. of course not. it doesn’t change anything, nicholas.” you smiled, letting out a nervous giggle. “i’m just a little surprised.”
he let out a relieved sigh. “okay.. good.” he smiled. “i can’t lie, i was a little scared how you would see me after.”
“why would you be scared..?”
nicholas shrugged, looking down at the sidewalk as the two of you continued walking.
“because usually when people find out, everything changes.” he laughed quietly. “they start acting different around me. sometimes they don’t even talk to me like i’m a normal person anymore.”
you stared at him for a second.
“well..”
he looked over at you.
“you’re still the guy who couldn't help but laugh at me ordering..”
his mouth fell open. a little chuckle left him.
“i was helping you.”
“you were making fun of me.” you grinned teasingly.
“i was doing both.”
you laughed, shaking your head. “see? nothing changed.”
a smile slowly formed on his face. “so you’re not gonna ask me for a picture?”
you glanced at him.
“no.”
“an autograph?”
“no.”
“free concert tickets?”
you paused.
“.. maybe.”
nicholas immediately laughed, his shoulders shaking as he looked away. “i knew it.”
“what? i’m still a fan of free things.”
he smiled. “you’re unbelievable.”
“and you still like me.”
he looked back at you, his smile softening.
“yeah.” there was a small pause. “i do.”
your cheeks warmed, suddenly finding the floor much more interesting than his face. “good.. i guess i have a reason to visit japan..”
nicholas smiled to himself before nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “you mean a reason to visit me?”
you grinned. “that too.”
and somehow, out of all the things you expected to happen on your solo trip to taiwan— accidentally falling for an idol you didn't even know existed was definitely not on the itinerary.
you came to taiwan alone, but you wouldn't be leaving quite as alone as you came.
Absolutely livid, will stop everything to fight for you even if you don't need it. He will get in anyone's face and set them straight if needed. I can definitely see him causing a scene in public.
K:
Still furious but maybe a bit more mature about it, will quickly correct people that may look down on you noting to himself that he will never speak to this person again, has definitely gone off on some people for the way they spoke to you
Nicholas:
Definitely pissed off, will bite his tongue most of the time. Has 100% cut off a few people if they are rude about you. If it gets to a certain point he will press them in front of anyone, telling them to watch their tone.
Taki:
Has someone upset his beautiful partner? hes right there upset too. A bit on the more emotional side will raise his voice at anyone just for him to go home and cuddle you sniffling and complain about the audacity of some people.
Yuma:
Severely annoyed. Rolls his eyes at the way other people are acting, instantly catching an attitude with them. Will drag you away from any bad situation without a second thought. opting to shit talk all night about them.
Fuma:
Definitely annoyed but probably wont show it. Will try his best to pull you both away from the situation, comforting you more than anything. will pull you into a tight hug once you are home asking if you are okay.
Harua:
Bothered but it's not the end of the world. Will quickly pull out a “okay lets not do that” or “that's not right.” and move on. Will definitely call out if they continue being disrespectful but wont make a scene.
Euijoo:
Gets sad when he hears anyone say anything bad about you. Even if it doesn't bother you he will start pouting wanting to leave with you instantly, but he won't do anything without your permission.
Jo:
Doesn't like seeing people disrespect you but doesn’t do much about it at first. If it gets to a certain point he will shake his head “Thats enough” he will say. He will block the person when he gets home and never talk to them again though.
synop: harua taking you out for a romantic walk in his home country
now playing: for you - bts
pairing: shigeta harua x reader
andteam masterlist
a/n: requested by my weflip anonnie <3 i hope you like it
"y/nnie, wake up!!" harua shook your shoulders softly.
your eyes snapped open, sitting up, expecting an emergency. "what? what happened?"
he frowned. "nothing happened."
"then why'd you wake me up?" you groaned, flopping back down.
"because," he grinned, propping his head up on his hand. "it's sunrise."
you glanced at the hotel alarm clock next to you. it was indeed sunrise. "you woke me up to tell me that?"
"no," he sighed exasperatedly. "let's go for a walk!"
"a walk?"
"yes!! c'mon, y/nnie."
"we went on vacation to wake up and take a walk at 4 in the morning?"
"4:30." he corrected. "we can go see the sakura before it gets crowded by tourists!!"
"the what?"
"the cherry blossoms." he rolled his eyes.
"fine." you grumbled. you had been wanting to see the cherry blossom trees, plus, you hated crowds.
after getting dressed and walking out of your hotel, harua laced your gloved fingers in his, walking you down the path.
the cloudy sky frayed golden where the sun clawed through, the land swept in bruised purples and blues. the forecast promised humidity later on the day, but it was early enough that a cold breeze still lingered.
thank god harua made you bring your jacket.
he guided you to a nearby park. petals fell like pink snow, catching the wind in slow pirouettes before settling on the cobbled path where you stepped. the old trees arched overhead, forming a tunnel of blossoms above the two of you.
the road ahead blurred pink where fallen petals gathered, stirring softly. your boyfriend's shoulders lost the usual tension built up from his busy schedule, the invisible weight he usually carried finally slipped away here as he walked with you.
you glanced sideways to catch his profile softened by the dawn light, eyes closed as he inhaled the scent of wet earth and flowers.
a petal landed in your hair just in time as he opened his eyes, smiling softly and brushing it out.
you, still feeling drowsy with sleep, led him to a nearby wooden bench. it creaked under your weight, the weathered wood warmed by the first rays of sunlight. he stretched his legs out with a contented sigh.
you leaned your head on his shoulder, heartbeat matching his.
"are you regretting waking up early to come?" he asked.
"could've still been asleep." you complained, yet it was devoid of any actual regret. going out on this walk and seeing harua so at peace was worth missing rest.
he smiled. "i'll order you room service to make up for it." he promised.
but that was later. right now, it was just you and him, under the cherry blossoms.
warnings: mommy issues, lots of overthinking, miscommunication
a/n: i couldn't not include snowman juju lol, also sorry it's a lot shorter and also not very good idk i'm my own biggest hater
masterlist
DECEMBER
It’s the time of year when everything starts to feel too quiet.
The air is cold and dry, and snow has started to fall. The museum has no new exhibits coming up for you to work on.
Your mom has already texted to let you know that she’s going to be on a cruise in the Caribbean for the holidays. Nicholas is flying home soon to Taiwan.
A few days before winter break, Euijoo asks you to meet him in his classroom after the school day ends.
When you get there, he’s dressed in all white, with a red scarf and a giant white ball enclosing his torso.
He’s a snowman.
“Surprise!” He strikes a silly pose. “They usually draw straws for who has to wear it every year. I just volunteered.”
“Juju the Snowman,” you grin. “You should keep it. I think this might be your look.”
“Do you want to see the dance I did?” Euijoo asks, although he’s going to show you whether you say yes or no.
You nod, and he hums the tune to Frosty the Snowman and does a bunch of silly dance moves.
When you can’t stop laughing, he feels butterflies in his stomach.
“Please tell me you’re going to wear it for the rest of the week,” you say once you’ve finally caught your breath.
“I can’t let the kids get used to it,” he shakes his head. “Then they’ll never want to see plain old Mr. Byun ever again.”
“I like Mr. Byun just fine,” you argue. “Both are good. Both are you.”
Euijoo knows you don’t realize the effect of your words on him. You always sing him praises just because, and that’s part of why he likes you so much.
“Are you going home to see your family?” you ask him, breaking his train of thought.
“No,” he answers, although he doesn’t seem very sad. “They’re coming to visit me.”
It’s not like you expected to spend the holidays with Euijoo. You know how important his family is and how little opportunities he gets to see them in person.
You just thought that if you were going to be alone on Christmas, then it would at least be because Euijoo had left the country.
“That’s nice,” you smile, realizing that you hadn’t actually said anything back to him. “I hope you have a good time together. I know it’s been a while.”
He doesn’t ask about your plans. You don’t tell him that you don’t have any.
He doesn’t invite you to meet his family either, and you have to ask yourself whether or not you thought that he would. You’re just his friend. You’ve known each other for a few months.
You’ve always been so good at managing your expectations. You never ask for too much. Never try to make yourself take up more space than you need to.
But Euijoo has always given you his time without you ever asking for it. Even on days when you’ve convinced yourself he’s too busy with work, or he’d rather hang out with his other friends, or have a quiet day to himself, he shows up for you anyway.
The idea that you’ve gotten used to having him around starts to terrify you.
The two of you spend the days leading up to his family’s visit like you always do—walking around town, doing little activities, sharing meals. You even help him shop for gifts, trying your hardest to never let him notice how much is on your mind.
When they finally arrive, Euijoo spends the first few days texting you pictures of their meals or something he’s walked past that reminded him of you.
You heart each message, although you don’t reply much on your end. There isn’t really anything to say that’s important enough to interrupt his time with his family.
Eventually, on Christmas Eve, you decide that it’s time for you and Cutie to get out of bed and venture outside.
You bundle her up in a little coat and scarf, making sure that her feet are covered by tiny knitted socks.
She’s more prepared for the cold weather than you are.
You walk around the city in the snow, looking at Christmas lights and perusing holiday markets for hours, watching as people scramble around for last minute presents.
When you finally get back to your apartment after dark, your nose is runny and your throat is dry. You run a hot bath in the hopes of counteracting any incoming sicknesses.
On Christmas morning, though, you wake up with a fever. You change into a pair of festive flannel pajamas and text your entire contact list a message, before burying yourself in a pile of blankets on the couch.
You and Cutie are in the middle of your third holiday movie when there’s a knock on your door.
When you open it, Euijoo is standing in front of you, his cheeks red from the cold.
“Merry Christmas,” he smiles, pulling his hat off and shaking out his hair. “I have a delivery for you.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be with your family right now?” you ask.
“Dinner’s not until later. My sister is out sightseeing and my parents are resting up at the hotel. Plus, I wanted to bring you your present.”
Euijoo finally finishes taking off his winter gear, looking at you, all disheveled in your comfy clothes. You do your best to hold in a cough, but it manages to come out anyway.
“You’re sick,” he says, placing his hand against your forehead. “And burning up.”
“It’s just a cold,” you deflect, wrapping your blanket tighter around you. “I’m fine.”
“How long have you been like this?”
“Just today,” you shrug, crossing your arms.
“And you didn’t tell me?” He looks disappointed.
“You’ve been with your family.”
“I can still receive texts.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” you shrug. “It’s my fault, anyway.”
“What?”
“I took a walk in the snow and I didn’t dress warm enough.”
“Y/N…”
“I think someone stole my gloves at work,” you sniffle. He laughs.
“I would’ve come sooner if I had known.”
You have to stop yourself from explaining that that’s exactly why you didn’t tell him.
He knows, regardless of whether you say it out loud, though.
“I don’t need to be back until seven,” Euijoo says.
“Hmm?” you tilt your head.
“I thought we could spend the day together.”
“Do you want to?”
“I do,” he nods.
“Okay,” you smile. “I got you something. One second.”
You disappear for a moment into your bedroom, before coming back holding the scrapbook you’ve been working on for the past month.
“It’s not wrapped. I didn’t think I’d see you until after your family left.”
He runs his hands over the cover. You’ve carefully cut out each letter from fabric and stitched it down: MR. BYUN’S FIRST YEAR.
When he opens it, it’s full of pictures he never realized you were taking. Some of him in his classroom, others of him on his days off with you.
The second half of the book is blank, and inside, you’ve tucked a note: For more memories.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he smiles softly, before pulling you into a hug. “I love it. Thank you.”
“I wish I had gotten more pictures of you actually teaching,” you sighed.
“It’s perfect,” he says, stopping you from being disappointed in yourself. He takes his backpack off and unzips it. “I brought you something too.”
He pulls out a small wrapped package with a big bow on top, and immediately you can guess by the shape and size what kind of gift it is.
You carefully lift up the taped corners of the wrapping paper to reveal an old, worn paperback book.
A copy of Blizzard of the Blue Moon from the Magic Tree House series.
“This was my favorite book when I was little,” you say, staring at the cover and tracing the flurries that surround Jack and Annie. “I wanted to save a unicorn in a snow storm so bad.”
“I know,” Euijoo nods.
You can tell by the way it’s wrapped in mylar and the label on the spine that it’s from a library.
The realization hits when you look inside the back cover for all of the children who’ve read this book before it became yours. It’s from the elementary school that you attended as a child.
Your name is written at the top of the library card.
“How did you get this?” Your voice cracks, and you can already feel warm tears starting to well up.
“I sent an e-mail,” he says, softly. “They said it hadn’t been checked out in a long time.”
“Thank you,” you tell him, although it doesn’t feel like enough. Your gift to him feels so impersonal now.
You know the last thing Euijoo wants right now is for you to be hard on yourself, though.
You sit down on the sofa and gesture for him to join you, a big dopey smile on your face.
“I almost forgot. My mom made this for you.” He reaches back into his backpack and pulls out a knitted scarf, its stripes made out of all of your favorite colors. “She wanted you to have something new, since my present was so ‘old and used.’ I told her you get cold a lot.”
“She knows who I am?” you ask, staring at all of the different stitches used. This wasn’t a quick project.
“She likes to ask about my life here,” Euijoo says plainly. “It’s hard for you to not come up.”
“I didn’t get her anything,” you frown.
“You didn’t have to,” he assures you. His phone rings and he looks at the screen. “It’s my sister.”
“Answer it,” you encourage him. He sits down next to you on the couch.
You can hear a muffled voice on the other line. Throughout the conversation, Euijoo laughs and teases and sometimes even whines before rolling his eyes and fighting back.
You don’t know any of what he’s actually saying, but you can just tell by the expressions he’s making and the tone of his voice. It’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.
Then, you realize, there’s an entire version of him that exists in a language that you don’t understand.
You start to wonder how often he has to translate things in his head before talking to you, or how he probably dreams in Korean. The thoughts eat away at you.
“I can hear you thinking,” he says, right when the little elf admits he wants to be a dentist in Rudolph. He’s not used to you not talking through a movie.
“It’s stupid.” You tuck yourself further into your blanket, as if it might hide you.
“No,” he pulls the blanket away from in front of your face. “Tell me.”
“During the phone call earlier…” you start, doing your best to collect all of the thoughts you’ve had throughout the afternoon. “I just started thinking about how much of yourself exists in another language. Like, there’s a part of you that gets left behind when you have to translate everything just to talk to me.”
“Are you saying I’m bad at English?” he pokes fun at you, making a silly face in the hopes of cheering you up.
“I’m saying I’m bad for not thinking about it. For not considering once before today that I might never be able to understand you.”
“You understand me perfectly. Not much gets lost in translation, you know.”
“Not the way that I want to,” you say quietly. “I want to know all of you.”
He doesn’t know how to convince you that you already do, better than anybody else ever has.
You realize how much of the day has slipped away when you check your phone in the middle of The Santa Clause 2.
“You should go,” you tell Euijoo. “For dinner.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” You start to get anxious at the thought of his family disliking you for keeping their son away from them.
“They’re at the restaurant.”
“Then I’ve already made you late.”
“They uninvited me,” he laughs.
“What?”
“They didn’t want you to spend Christmas sick and by yourself.”
He must’ve told them during the phone call earlier, you realize.
It doesn’t make sense to you. How people who never met you before could care that much about how you spend the holiday.
You have no idea how much they appreciate you for taking care of Euijoo while they’re half a world away. How much he gushes about how happy he is to them after every day that you spend together.
It’s never occurred to you that you might have accidentally become important to an entire family just by being yourself.
Euijoo can tell by the way you’ve gone quiet again that you’re overthinking.
“I want to be here,” he tells you. “Just in case you were thinking of sending me away.”
“I wasn’t,” you shake your head. “I just feel funny.”
“My mom said I should make you soup,” he says. “She sent me a recipe.”
You don’t have the heart to tell him that you weren’t talking about your cold before he’s all dressed in his coat and promising to be back from the grocery store soon.
He comes back less than half an hour later shivering, his face flushed from the cold.
“Oh my god,” you laugh, holding open your blanket cape for him to join. “Come here.”
He drops the bag of vegetables and chicken stock onto the floor before wrapping his arms around you and burying his head into your shoulder.
“You’re so warm,” he sighs.
“And you’re a human popsicle,” you peer up at him, smiling.
Euijoo gets nervous once he realizes he’s never been this close to you, pulling away to pick the ingredients back up and head to the kitchen.
“I–uh, I feel better now. Thanks.”
You sit on the counter, kicking your legs and watching him chop up carrots and onions before dropping them into the broth.
“You’re making me nervous,” he laughs, seeing you stare out of the corner of his eye. “It’s like I’m on a cooking show and you’re about to tell me I’m eliminated.”
“Fear will make the soup taste good and give it the magic to heal me instantly,” you explain, and Euijoo can tell the cough syrup has kicked into full gear.
After the two of you finish eating, you put on yet another movie, except this time you’re knocked out after ten minutes with your head resting against Euijoo’s shoulder.
By the time you wake back up, the credits are rolling.
Euijoo hasn’t moved an inch since you fell asleep.
“You’ve been sitting here this entire time?” you ask, your voice rough and groggy.
“You seemed peaceful,” he says. “And it was a good movie.”
“The trains stopped running because of the storm,” you gasp, scrolling through the weather warning notifications on your phone. “You’re staying here tonight.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Nope. You’re keeping me company while I’m sick.”
“Okay,” he nods, knowing that you won’t let him go out into the snow no matter what reason he comes up with. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Euijoo, you’re six feet tall,” you cross your arms. “I’m not having you sleep on our little couch.”
“Then I can sleep on the floor.”
“Absolutely not. You can sleep in my bed.”
“What?!” His eyes shoot wide open, and he almost looks scared of the idea.
“Don’t worry,” you reassure him. “We can build a pillow wall.”
The two of you stack all of your extra pillows and blankets into the middle of the bed, setting Cutie on top as a security guard.
“She’s fierce,” Euijoo nods. “I know not to cross her.”
“She’s a three-year old bunny,” you laugh. “I think you can take her."
“Three?” he asks. Cutie has always looked new, but Euijoo figured it was just because you took really good care of her. It had never occurred to him that she came into your life so recently.
“Yeah,” you start, picking her up to stroke her ears. “I bought her at a grocery store when I finished college as a present to myself. She was sitting next to the checkout and I liked her spots.”
He finally puts the pieces together. Cutie isn’t some relic from your childhood, but something that you bought on a whim and made part of your life. It’s almost hard to believe from the way you love her that there isn’t a bigger story behind how you got her.
But he knows how much you’re able to find the magic in ordinary things. That’s what drew him to you in the first place.
You steal a pair of Nicholas’s fancy pajamas from his room for Euijoo to wear to bed, and he looks so out of place in the silky patterned fabric.
“I would say we probably have to dry clean them after this, but Nico is a freak and might like that you’ve worn them,” you laugh.
“What?” Euijoo asks, his face full of concern.
“Nothing,” you brush him off with a smile.
You and Euijoo awkwardly climb into bed once the lights are out.
It takes all of twenty minutes of pretending to sleep before your eyes are wide open again, staring at the ceiling.
“Euijoo?” you say softly. “Are you still awake?”
“Mhmm,” he hums sleepily. “What’s up?”
“How did your parents meet?” you ask, almost embarrassed that this is what you’ve been dwelling on.
Euijoo wills himself awake to tell you the story.
“In school. My dad followed my mom around for two weeks asking her out and one day she finally said yes. They’ve been together ever since.”
“Maybe I should stalk someone too,” you laugh.
“I don’t think you’d need to do that. Besides, my mom said that she liked my dad before he ever asked her out. She just wanted to play hard to get.”
“That’s cute.”
“Yeah, it is,” he yawns happily.
“It’s really nice that your parents love each other.”
You say it so plainly, as if it’s not the norm. Euijoo has never really considered what it would be like for them not to.
“When I was little, I would pray every night that one day my parents would wake up and take me to the park and push me on the swings together, and they’d hold hands and smile. We’d look like the families that everybody drew in class. It was silly.”
Suddenly, Euijoo is wide awake too.
He wants to tell you so badly how it’s normal to want things for yourself. How he wants you to want something, anything. To want him.
But he knows that if you’re going to believe he’s never going to leave, then he can’t admit his feelings. He can’t make you think that he’s only around because he wants something back, and that one day, he might change his mind.
Euijoo decides that night that he’ll only be your friend. A good friend, a great one, who’s always there and never makes you doubt whether they’ll show up when you need them to.
If he really loves you, he’ll stay even if he never gets what he truly wants.
“I’m sorry, if that was too sad,” you apologize, breaking him from his thoughts. “I hope you had a good day today, Euijoo. Thank you for spending it with me.”
“No, it wasn’t. And it wasn’t silly either,” he tells you, as gently as he can to make you feel okay. “I had a really good day, too. Thank you for letting me stay.”
“Goodnight, Euijoo.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
JANUARY
Nicholas leaves you unsupervised at his New Year’s Eve party for thirty two minutes.
He’s rented out some rooftop bar next to his office and hired a jazz trio to help set the mood, complete with tons of champagne.
By the time Euijoo arrives around 11, you’re already two glasses deep.
“Hi Juju!” you grin, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” he laughs, immediately picking up on your slurred speech. “Nicholas gave me this shirt. He said it was a late Christmas present, but I think he just didn’t want me to wear my own clothes tonight.”
“You look nice,” you repeat, staring up at him with a dopey look on your face. He’s never seen you drink before, and your skin is flushed and hot against his.
“You look nice, too,” he says, taking in your sparkly headband and sequined dress. “Very shiny.”
“Just shiny?” you pout at him, doing a twirl. “Not pretty?”
He looks at you for a second before leaning down to whisper something in your ear.
“You’re pretty,” he smiles, barely loud enough to be heard over the band. He places his hand on your arm to steady you.
When his gaze meets yours, you’re grinning. “Let’s dance!”
You drag him into the center of the dance floor and the two of you do your best impressions of dance moves, although it’s mostly just jumping and spinning.
The music shifts from upbeat to something slower. Couples immediately begin to pair off around the two of you.
Euijoo stares at you, awkwardly offering his hand. “Do you—”
“Yes,” you smile, placing your hand into his. His other one hovers over your waist until you reach down and press it against you.
You step forward a bit and lean your head against him, and the two of you gently sway to the beat.
You’ve never been this close for so long before, and you can feel your heart beating out of your chest.
“Last year, I was home by myself eating twelve grapes at midnight,” he laughs softly.
“I was hiding from one of Nicholas’s friends who really wanted to kiss me,” you groan.
“I’ve never had a New Year’s Kiss,” Euijoo admits.
You lift your head to look at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
“How come?” Euijoo is handsome. Smart. Kind. You can’t imagine that it’s because nobody wanted to.
“Just hasn’t happened,” he shrugs, although he doesn’t seem too bothered by it.
The song ends and the band switches back to something more lively. After a few more songs of jumping around like idiots, the crowd finally starts to count down until midnight.
Seconds later, everybody around you erupts in cheers and fireworks shoot through the sky, illuminating Euijoo’s face. He’s looking right at you, as if you’re the only thing in the world.
“Happy New Year!” you squeal. Before you can think about it, you’re throwing your arms around Euijoo’s neck and standing on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “There.”
When you pull away, your faces are so close that you can feel the warmth from his breath.
He’s smiling, and his cheeks are flushed. You can’t imagine how silly you must look.
Euijoo’s eyes glance down to your lips. All of the noise of fireworks and music and people fade away.
His hands are on your waist again, this time without the excuse of slow dancing.
For a moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, he feels the way you feel.
When you tip your face upward and lean in closer, Euijoo realizes quickly that it’s not to hug him, or even to give him another kiss on the cheek.
“Y/N,” he says, stopping you just before your lips touch his. You pull back a bit, still smiling at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Not like this.”
Euijoo watches as your smile falters, and he knows that you’re probably unable to rationalize it with all of the drinks you’ve had tonight.
His heart sinks to his stomach with guilt.
Not because he didn’t let himself kiss you, but because he almost did. And even now, staring at how disappointed you look, he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you are.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I just—I thought—”
He doesn’t know what to say without revealing how much he’s in love with you.
Instead, Euijoo sets his desires aside.
“I’m going to take you home,” he says softly.
“Okay,” you nod.
In the cab back to your apartment, you fall asleep on his shoulder, soft and warm and smelling like vanilla.
When you reach your building, you cling onto him as you stumble up the stairs together.
“My head hurts,” you complain while he unlocks your front door.
“I know,” he says, guiding you to your bedroom. He sits you down on the mattress and runs back to the kitchen to grab some water.
When he comes back moments later, you’re plopped down against your pillow and already asleep.
He finds Cutie and tucks her into your arms, before sitting on the edge of the bed to watch as your breathing slows down.
Your hair is messy and falling over your face, and Euijoo reaches over and gently brushes it aside.
You look peaceful. Happy, even. He pulls your comforter over you, and you snuggle deeper.
For some reason, he can’t fathom that taking care of you and wanting you aren’t mutually exclusive.
He hopes for both of your sakes that you don’t remember what happened tomorrow.
He can already imagine how embarrassed and apologetic you’d be, and he’d hate to let his self-restraint be the reason why you shrink away.
Those couple of seconds at midnight keep replaying in his head. The way you looked at him moments before he stopped you.
He shuts your bedroom door quietly on his way out, and spends his entire walk home telling himself that he did the right thing.
FEBRUARY
For Valentine’s Day, the museum prepares an exhibition on historical love letters.
Meanwhile, Euijoo prepares a cute craft for his students involving paint, pipe cleaners, and construction paper.
You tell yourself that if he wanted to hang out with you, then he would have asked.
Euijoo tells himself the exact same thing.
So, the two of you go to work and then straight home on February 14th. Alone. Thinking of each other.
You even wonder for a second if maybe Euijoo is on a date with someone that you don’t know about, and then you talk yourself down from the ledge by remembering that he spends all of his free time with you. You think.
Nicholas is sitting in the living room when you get there. It’s the one night a year he refuses to go out with anybody because he doesn’t want to imply that he’s looking for something serious, not that he’s ever given off that impression.
“Why are you here?” he asks as soon as you come through the front door.
“I live here,” you tell him, setting your bag down and plopping onto the couch next to him.
“No, I meant why aren’t you with Euijoo?”
“We don’t hang out every day,” you shrug, reaching for the popcorn bowl.
Nicholas blinks back at you before pulling out his phone, frantically typing.
An hour later, the doorbell rings.
Your eyes go from the TV screen to Nicholas.
“I invited a friend over,” he says casually, getting up to answer the front door. “We’re going to play board games.”
You get up to head to your room and give Nicholas and his friend some privacy.
Except when he opens the front door, you realize that his “friend” is Euijoo.
Your Euijoo, wearing an obnoxiously cute sweater with a couple of dogs kissing inside a big heart that says “Puppy Love.”
You glare at Nicholas, who shrugs.
“Hi,” Euijoo says sheepishly as he steps inside. “These are for you. And these are for you.”
He hands each of you a bouquet and then takes off his shoes.
You’re standing with your hands on your hips, wondering how this situation came to be.
Euijoo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny bouquet made out of felt. “And this one’s for Cutie.”
You take it out of the palm of his hand and stare at it. “Did you make this?”
Euijoo nods.
Nicholas can’t believe the two of you hadn’t planned anything.
Ten minutes into his game night, after setting up Monopoly, Nicholas yawns.
“I’m tired,” he says, pretending to stretch his arms and standing up from the living room floor. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
“It’s 7:13,” you mutter in disbelief.
“Should I leave too?” Euijoo looks between the two of you.
“You stay,” Nicholas commands, pointing at him. “I worked very hard dealing out that fake money.”
Euijoo sits back down. Nicholas retreats to his bedroom, clearly satisfied with his performance as your own personal Cupid. You brainstorm ways to kill him in his sleep.
“We can’t play Monopoly with just two people,” you frown, sorting the bills back into their spaces in the box.
“Wanna order takeout?” Euijoo asks, staring at the Chinese food menu sitting on the kitchen counter.
Thirty minutes later, you’re sharing char siu fried rice and putting on When Harry Met Sally.
“I’ve seen this movie so many times,” you tell him in between bites of crab rangoon. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Euijoo admits. “But I trust your taste.”
By the time the movie ends, both of you are wondering the same thing.
Is Nora Ephron right? Can men and women never be just friends?
But you’re just friends with Nicholas, you reason with yourself.
“I don’t think men and women can’t be friends,” you say during the credits.
“I don’t either,” Euijoo agrees quickly.
“We’re friends,” you add.
“Yep,” he nods.
Neither of you say anything else.
“Maybe we should’ve just watched 13 Going on 30,” you sigh.
“What’s that one about?”
“A thirteen year old travels to the future when she’s thirty,” you start explaining, before your voice falters. “...And then realizes that she’s been in love with her friend the entire time.”
Euijoo looks at you for a second, thinking extra hard on what to say.
“They’re just movies,” he finally decides. He shakes Cutie’s head yes in agreement.
“Yeah,” you say, gathering up the takeout containers. “Just movies.”
synopsis | it takes a hookup with the girl you met on a dating app to discover she's not at all what you expected.
details | fem!nicholas x female!reader, switch!nico x soft dom!reader, mentions of dating apps, sexting, implied masturbation, implied sex toys, making out, dry humping, 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, nipple play, marking, pussy eating, fingering, cursing, lowercase intended, no use of y/n
wc | 3.1k
from the author | we will resume our regularly scheduled uploading after this brief gay intermission
you'd seen her in the midst of a left-swiping trance on a dating app.
you were just looking for some fun, something casual, and instead found carbon-copies of the same three people you'd felt like you'd already met: a dog lover with a hiking addiction, an underground indie artist who could show you all the cool unsung bars, a former book nerd turned tattoo artist looking for some blank skin to practice on. you had been down each road once before, pet too many dogs and gulped down your fair share of bitter cocktails.
but nico was different.
as shallow as it sounded, her photos made your finger feel heavy. nothing flashy could have distracted you from her gaze piercing yours through the screen. she seemed authentic, with the only photos being of her insanely stylish outfits and one group picture where she stood off-center, tucked away on the side but not blending in at all with her friends. she beamed like a jewel in sunlight, like crystallized honey. and, to top it all off, you noticed she had similar interests— fashion, music, photography.
she was much too cool for you, and you acknowledged that as you swiped right. you even held your breath, like the outcome might kill you; you matched instantly.
and she messaged you even quicker.
nico (24): you're hot :/
you had laughed, then, because you couldn't exactly tell if she had been complimenting you. most of your matches messaged first with the dreaded "wyd," which you didn't even entertain anymore. you weren't interested in hooking up with anyone else who couldn't at least put forth a little effort. part of you had wanted to categorize nico's maybe-compliment as lazy, just like the others, but the other part of you had already typed out a response and sent it, unashamed by the mere minutes between her message and yours.
you: is that a problem?
it was safe. a little flirty, but a genuine question nonetheless.
nico (24): it's gonna be
that's how it went with her for the next few weeks. nico was stubborn, teasing. you had thought that she'd meant it would be a problem for you, whatever visual trait you possessed that she found so compelling. that maybe her late-night texts, accompanied by a barely-lit photo of her tits wrapped in lace or a 13-second voice memo, were somehow your fault. you were responsible for the faint mechanical buzzing, heavy breathing and sharp gasps, and along with it: "imagining your mouth instead x"
or maybe her attraction to you, however she chose to express it, would be your responsibility to keep under control. nico made it extremely clear all the ways she wanted you, every angle and position, scenario, and all the ways she would make it difficult for you. all the ways she would be difficult for you— a self-proclaimed brat with more spite than she knew what to do with. spank me, choke me, bite me, she had texted you preceding a photo of her straddling her pillow, her thighs even softer than the fluffed, cotton stuffed cushion.
it all excited you, too. nico excited you. you loved flirting with her almost as much as you loved texting her about the mundanity of her day-to-day. you had more in common than you had originally thought, and your mutual obsession was an added bonus. you didn't mind having a problem, as long as it was her.
but, as it turned out, the problem was not yours after all.
you were both awake too late one night, the moon stretching up over the trees and settling above you. nico had sent you two longer videos, but you had only watched one before she texted you a third time. she had been in the shower, foamy mountains of bubbles sliding in tantalizing lines down her chest. steam had fogged up the camera and made every pink edge of her body, her nipples and her lips and her shoulders, look like they had been dusted with a hazy, dreamlike powder. you felt your core grow hot, your thighs squeezing together at the sheer artistry of the scene.
nico: come see me
she had sent her address before you could even agree, like she knew you wouldn't deny her.
you: i'm in my pjs
nico: i'll take them off
luckily, your face had stopped burning by the time you got to her place, but every other part of you was on fire with want. it had been nearly two weeks of constant flirting, endless teasing, photos and audios and videos and promises that you hoped she would keep. nearly two weeks of nico dragging you on, to the point where you'd just about given up. she probably had several pretty girls lined up, just like you, to get her fix from. when you slept, when you were busy, were they awake, available? you weren't sleeping, now, but you were busy as soon as you stepped inside nico's apartment.
"these are cute," she cooed, almost reassuringly, splaying her delicate fingers over the pattern of your sleep shorts. she wasn't anything like you expected; her dark, sharp features sloped round and full in the dim light of her apartment, and she had a gentle nature, hanging up your bag and taking your hand in hers.
the couch cushions almost swallowed you as you sat down, almost as soft as nico's freshly lotioned skin as she followed you. she caged you in with her knees, straddling your lap with her arms draped on either side of your neck. nico's nimble fingers found your hair, twisting it idly while your heart did the same in your chest.
"why are you up so late," she asked, finally eye-level with you. her eyes were much darker up close, swirling black and brown like worn leather, and her lashes swept the tops of her cheeks, almost innocently.
you answered honestly, "i have a terrible sleep schedule."
"i noticed that about you," nico teased, laughing away any awkward tension, her smile warm. her skin was warm, too, legs pressed bare against yours. "ask me," she urged.
"why are you up so late, nico?"
something unspoken pulled tight between the two of you, like string so taut you could have plucked it and produced one sweet, twinkling note. nico smirked, a soft curve of her lips, and reached for your hands. she placed them, loosely, on her waist, but her eyes begged you to squeeze, to press your thumbs into her hips. she whispered, "i was thinkin' about you."
nico hadn't made things difficult like she swore she would; she had made them so, so easy.
it was so, so easy to pull her impossibly close, dragging her hips to press flat against yours. it was easy to cup her surprisingly supple cheek and connect your lips in a tentative kiss, and it was even easier to lose yourself in her. you didn't realize that nico was losing herself, too. you wondered where her bite went, how only five hours ago she was asking you all the ways you'd put her in her place if she got too carried away and, now, nico was a puddle in your lap, seeping through your fingers like she were melting right in front of your eyes. you would have believed it, too, with how the heat radiated from her with every whimper that spilled into your mouth.
the nico in front of you— or on top of you, rather— was not the same nico you'd aniticpated. instead of stubborn, she was sensitive; every touch made her gasp against you. even a delicate brush of the back of your fingers along her arm left goosebumps in their wake. around your neck, her arms were trembling like she were holding herself back, but she had nothing to give, surrendering completely into your hold as her lips moved, slowly, against yours.
you were confused, but not disappointed, especially since something about the contrast was so intoxicating. all of her edge had been eroded into smooth stone, the cracks revealing that gleaming crystal that drew you to her in the first place. you had prepared to put in more work, to do as you said you would and spank her, choke her, bite her, but nico was already so pliant under your fingers, chasing your mouth with hers as you tried to pull away, tangling her hands in your hair and clamping her knees around your hips, anything to keep her upright.
"hold on," you mumbled against her lips, taking the separation as an opportunity to catch your breath. nico loosened her fingers from your hair, raking them instead down your shoulders, down your arms, until they rested on top of your hands on her waist. you gave the flesh there a squeeze, "is everything alright? you just seem… different."
"different, like, bad?" she shifted uneasily in your lap, sucking her swollen, glossy bottom lip between her teeth.
"no, no," you slid your hands higher, settling them right beneath her ribs and letting your thumb rub circles over the thin fabric of her top, "not bad. just unexpected. you made it seem like you were… i don't know— fiesty? bratty?"
"i can be, if you want," nico blinked a few times, focusing her attention on the sliver of space between your bodies, "i usually am, but something about you… i just-"
"hey," your hand came up to fit against her cheek again, tilting her gaze back to yours in a way that felt almost too intimate for the circumstances. but you didn't care— it felt right. you gave her a warm smile and tucked a strand of her still-damp hair behind her ear, "you can just be you. let me make you feel good, yeah?"
nico nodded and, just as you were about to reconnect your lips, she paused, smirking less than an inch from your face. there she was. she put her hands back on yours and moved them under the hem of her top, placing them back on her ribs just close enough for your fingers to skim the underside of her breasts. she shivered at the contact, the lightest brush against her sensitive skin. you let your fingers roam higher, searching the tender flesh until you grazed your thumbs over her nipples.
when you pressed your lips back to hers, the kiss was hungry, like she wanted to swallow you whole. the press of her body against yours was addictive, every contact point carving deeper so that she might slot there forever; her palms against your neck, her hips rolling over yours, your fingertips pinching, softly, at the delicate buds on her chest until the sensation forced her mouth open in a desperate moan. greedily, you drank it in, using the opportunity to slide your tongue against hers, wanting to taste every possible inch of her. every sweet inch.
you mouthed kisses along her jaw, balancing the desire to savor the feeling of her ever-quickening pulse and the urge to trace every curve of her with your tongue in some kind of hasty, ravenous fever. nico left sugary notes on your lips, sharp like strawberry and coiling around every sense with faint jasmine, especially in the cavern of her tits where your tongue sucked pretty pink splotches, shoving her shirt up and out of the way. between the combined friction of your teeth, softly dragging over her skin, the laving of your tongue over blooming pink and purple, and the gentle pull of her nipples between your fingers, nico was already wrecked. she squirmed in your hold, using her arms on your shoulders to keep herself upright as she ground her hips down onto yours.
"need something, pretty?" you teased, sliding your hands back down to still her hips.
nico whimpered, "no." she tried to grind against you again, but to no avail.
"are you sure?" you asked, dipping your hands beneath the waist of her shorts, worn just long enough between her shower and now to be completely ruined, soaked through at the core. nico's eyes fluttered closed, her forehead resting against your shoulder as your cold fingers wandered to the flushed skin of her ass, squeezing lightly, "not my fingers, or one of those fancy little toys," you dipped your head to whisper in her ear, blazing bright red, "or my mouth."
"fuck," nico sighed, arching into your grip on her. when she lifted her head from your shoulder, her eyes were half-lidded, narrow in the same way she posed for all of her photos, only this was natural; she was lost in everything you were giving her and desperate to stray further. nico mewled as you dug your fingers into the flesh of her ass, and, then, she smirked, leaning in until her lips were ghosting, faintly, over yours. she whispered, "surprise me?"
it seemed all nico had done since you came over was surprise you; surprising her was the least you could do. if you had it your way, you'd have given her an orgasm with all three, starting with your fingers and then making her ride your tongue while wearing that sparkly plug she'd sent you photos of last week. instead, you hovered over her on the couch, having pulled her shirt completely off and tucked it under her hips, just as a precaution. your fingers hooked under the waistband of her shorts and slipped them down her legs, goosebumps trailing the soaked fabric.
"so wet for me, baby," you hum, prying her thighs apart, gently, and settling between them, "i've barely touched you and you're dripping onto your shirt." just an observation, punctuated by two of your fingers collecting her slick and smearing it up the length of her slit, puffy from grinding desperately against the seam of her shorts as you kissed her. nico gasped, whining at how quick the contact ended, your fingers prodding her and retreating just as quick. her hips bucked, chasing anything. "so eager, too," you aimed a stream of cool air straight for her dripping folds, keeping your hands splayed on her thighs as they tried to clamp closed, "you weren't this shy on the phone, angel. do you want me to stop?"
"no," nico replied, quickly, breathlessly, "no, i want you to start— stop teasing and fuck me already."
you'd never been so obedient, never been so happy to do as you were told. you couldn't fight the smile that took over your lips, even as you plunged your tongue into her, dragging a slow, hot stripe up the length of her pussy. she was sweet everywhere, just as you suspected. and messy, her core soaking your face after only a few licks, ending with quick flicks to her sensitive, throbbing clit. nico mewled, hands finding your hair again, urging you closer as though it had worked at any other point that night. instead, you reveled in the pressure, in the sting of her nails in your scalp.
one thing about nico that you knew from the start would kill you was how vocal she was, how unrestrained, unsuppressed, and unashamed she was. if it felt good, she was going to let you know. and she let you know. as you gave in, letting her guide your face where she craved you the most, you suckled her clit into your mouth, tongue swirling and flicking and coaxing every sound possible from her.
"fuck," she groaned, rolling her hips despite your hold on them, "can't believe i waited— fuck— so long to invite you over."
you hummed against her, as if to say that makes two of us. you gave her everything you had, flattening your tongue and l loosening your grip on her to let her take control of the direction while you controlled the pressure. it was harmonious in an unexpected way, the two of you entwined, authentic. the two of you, now unashamed, your own thighs squeezing together as you plunged your tongue deep into her, slurping and lapping at her arousal as her core fluttered around you, beckoning you deeper.
"i was thinking about you, too," you confessed as you turned your attention back to her swollen clit, finger prodding her entrance to replace your tongue, "that's why i'm up so late." and you watched her face contort as you dragged your digit through the sensitive lining of her walls, curling it just right until she squeezed her eyes closed, bliss overtaking her features. you licked at her clit, twisting your finger, "thinking about this, about tasting you, about hearing you."
"shit— i'm fucking close," nico gasped, holding your head close to her greedy, needy cunt. and when you added another finger, curling both digits and coaxing her closer to her release, she groaned, a broken cry from her raw throat, "i'm so fucking close, baby. please don't stop. please, please, please."
"give it to me, sweetheart," you urged, drinking in the squelching, lewd sounds from your fingers driving into her pussy mixed with the way she was chanting your name, mindlessly and breathlessly and full of need. and when nico came, she was as beautiful as could be, tinged pink everywhere, dusted in that same hazy, rosy hue that brought you here in the first place. she arched her back off the couch, angling your fingers deeper than before as you helped her ride through her high with slow, gentle thrusts. her thighs spasmed around your head, your tongue still latched onto her throbbing clit in your own greedy quest to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible. "that's it, pretty girl. you're perfect like this, you know? giving me everything, making such a mess on my fingers."
when she had finally came down, chest heaving and eyes heavy, you slipped your fingers out of her and splayed them over your tongue, tasting every drop of her you could manage. you could feel the cool air on the lower half of your face, coated in her essence and undoubtedly your own drool, and nico watched you suck your fingers with something clouding her eyes, something like neglect. she sat up just enough to cradle your face in her hands, pulling you up to hover over her again, your own soaked shorts grazing her sensitive cunt and sending shivers over nico's body.
she angled your face, dragging her own hot, pink tongue over the skin on your chin, tasting the remnants of her arousal and orgasm. nico moaned at the contact, licking a path all the way to your mouth, where she sucked your tongue until you both tasted equally like her and nothing like you did before.
"you're so hot," you said, breathless, surprised by how smoothly she was able to take control over you, to have you trembling under her wandering hands.
nico smirked, and you felt it before you saw it, before she pulled back from her migrating kisses to meet your heavy gaze. a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes as she asked,
𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑: Nobody knows you’ve been living with a ghost in your apartment for over a year. And surprisingly, it’s nothing like the horror movie others would imagine it would be; he’s actually like your best friend. So when Halloween comes around and your “friends” ditch you to go to a party, you decide to find a way to bring your ghost bestie back to life; and it works.
OR in which your ghost bestie rails you halloween night :D.
𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: Halloween romance, smut with a plot, friends to lovers, “Forbidden love”, slightly angsty towards the end. Ghost!maki x reader, softdom!maki.
𝑨 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: I was trying my absolute HARDEST to save this till Halloween…oh well :p I hope you love itttt, I luv youuu ~ - vivi🍰
Playlist: (goated playlist must listen!!)
The room smells like wax and smoke. Half-melted candles are scattered across the floor, their flames swaying with the hum of a cheap Bluetooth speaker, rattling the picture frames on the wall.
You were kneeled in the center of the chaos, a paintbrush clenched between your fingers and a streak of black paint on on your cheek. The pentagram you’ve been sketching gleams wetly on the hardwood.
You hum along to the music as you work, lips curling in a grin. “All Hallows’ Eve,” you read from the old book propped open beside you, “veil thin, hearts open.” Your voice trembles a little, half-mocking, half-nervous.
A flicker of static dances through the room. The lights buzz, the air thickens.
Behind you, a familiar voice rings out. “You’re either redecorating again, or about to summon Satan.”
“Neither,” you reply, smile widening. “It’s a surprise.”
Maki’s ghostly outline drifts closer, his form catching the candlelight like glass. “That involves a pentagram?” He chuckles loudly, brows furrowed with a puzzled expression.
“Don’t worry about it,” you murmur, dabbing a final point of paint. “Just stand in the middle please.”
He hesitates, teasing. “You know I can’t stand, right?” You roll your eyes.
But he steps in anyway…or floats, until the circle hums under him.
You inhale sharply, nearly holding your breath as you steady yourself. Your fingers tremble as you begin the chant.
The whole design comes alive; fire racing along the black lines, curling up maki’s translucent legs.
“Wait, y/n-” he starts, but his voice breaks off as the color rushes into his cheeks. He clutches his chest, wide-eyed with a loud gasp. A heartbeat.
Your jaw falls open, irises swallowed by your widening pupils. The spellbook drops to the floor beside you.
It worked.
And for the first time in years, maki isn’t just light and air. He’s here. He’s alive.
He stares at his hands like they belong to someone else; trembling, solid. The skin isn’t cold mist anymore, it’s real.
You finally exhale, a shaky laugh breaking through the stunned silence. “m-maki…?”
He looks up. His eyes aren’t the foggy grey you’ve known for months; they’re dark, focused. He blinks hard, as if testing the weight of his eyelids, and laughs. “I…I can feel it.
“Feel what?..” your tone wobbles in shock and awe. You stand still, clutching the brush like it might anchor you.
He presses a palm flat against his sternum. “I can feel my heart beating.”
You nod, wide-eyed. “Welcome back, you’re officially among the living.” Your lips curve into a warm, knowing grin, despite the uncanny scenario.
He looks down at you, uncertain at first. His fingertips graze yours. It’s clumsy, yet electrifying.
He turns his hand over, threading his fingers through yours. Your pulse jumps, he laughs softly under his breath, that same half-disbelieving sound.
“You’re..warm..” a smile weaves into his tone, tainted by something raw; like the weight of everything he’s missed lingered in his every word.
You squeeze his hand once, still dazed. “You are too..”
Neither of you moves, suspended between miracle and disbelief. The circle around your feet burns low, curling into wisps of smoke that climb the walls. Maki’s thumb brushes the back of your hand, just enough to make your breath hitch.
Then he blinks, breaking the spell first.
“Well it worked, guess.” he says, tone light and shaky. “I was lowkey expecting a random demon tail or some shit.”
You laugh almost too loudly, grateful for the out. “Nah you’re good, no horns, no contract with the underworld.” You nudge him gently out of the circle, trying to mask the tremor in your hands.
Maki moves toward the mirror by your dresser, fingers trailing the edge of your desk as if testing every new sensation. His reflection looks back at him; imperfect, undeniably human.
“Holyyy shit.” he murmurs. “I actually have a shadow.”
You lean against the wall, watching him. The way the candlelight catches his hair, a soft charcoal brown where it used to be grey static. It was mesmerizing.
“You’re staring,” he teases, meeting your eyes in the mirror.
You shrug, forcing a grin. “Just making sure you didn’t lose the ghostly charm. Would hate for you to get too normal.”
He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “Hell no, fuck normal. That shits overrated anyway.”
The wary tension fades into something lighter, familiar, but the knowledge of what just changed hums beneath it.
The faint smell of smoke and cinnamon scented candle wax cling to the air heavily, calm yet disquieting.
You watch him from the bed, your smile softening. The adrenaline that kept you buzzing since the ritual was starting to wear off, leaving behind a tired, fleeting warmth.
Outside, fireworks pop somewhere in the distance..probably near the party you were supposed to go to. The taunting noise drifts through the open window, tinny and far away.
He notices the way your expression shifts. “weren’t you supposed to be out with your friends tonight?”
You shrug solemnly. “Yeah, well. Plans changed.”
His head tilts, catching the somber note in your voice. “Changed, or got cancelled?”
You exhale a small, brittle laugh. “They kind of just…forgot about me, I guess. Didn’t text. Didn’t call.”
You gesture vaguely toward the city lights outside. “I thought maybe they just decided not to go, until I saw their instagram stories. Looks like they’re having fun.”
Maki frowns, sitting beside you on the bed, comfortably near. “Then they’re fake as fuck, y/n, those aren’t your friends.” He nearly laughs, eyes locked on you in concern.
You stare over at him for a moment, then your head drops, mulling it over.
He smoothes a hand across your back, steady and sincere. “No for real, like, you spend a year stuck with me, literally a ghost, and I’ve been a better friend to you than they ever have. You deserve better, y/n.”
You laugh quietly, looking down at your hands. “You..always know what to say, don’t you...”
“What can I sayy…it’s my special skill.” He replies cockily, tongue pressed against his cheek with a grin. “That and haunting baddies.”
It earns a soft set of giggles from you, quiet but real. “Maki be so for real, im far from a “baddie”.” You make finger quotes in the air, sarcasm knitting your brows together as you roll your eyes.
“Yea you areeee, weren’t you gonna dress up as Cinderella?” He nudges your shoulder as his brow raises. “Is that not giving baddie?”
“Maki, like please-” You curl over, pushing him aside lightly. The soft, wavering heat of his skin pauses in your mind before fleeing.
Then he glances toward the window again, where flashes of colored light spill from somewhere down the street.
“You know,” he says slowly, “it’s kinda fucked up that you went through all that effort to summon me on Halloween, and we still end up sitting here like an old married couple.”
“You say that like it wasn’t your idea to spend last year watching ghost movies in this exact spot.” You squint your eyes at him.
“Yeah, but last year I couldn’t feel anything,” he says, leaning back on his elbows. “Now I can. I’m alive. You brought me back to life. That deserves way more than microwaved popcorn and a B-list horror marathon.”
You give him a side-eye. “What are you proposing, exactly?”
He grins, now dangerously charming in full color. “What if..and hear me out..we crash the party.”
His eyes widen suggestively, You laugh outright, folding your arms over yourself.
“You’re insane.”
“Probably. But tell me it doesn’t sound satisfying as fuck.” He sits forward, eyes glinting. “You show up, looking like you, but the version they never bothered to see. We walk in together, hot as fuck, you dance your ass off, and we take back the night.”
You stare at him, torn between mortification and intrigue. “You think pulling up to a party full of people who forgot about me is going to fix anything?”
“I think,” he turns to you, softer now, “it’ll remind you that you’re far from forgettable, y/n.”
That lands, hard. You look away, swallowing the forming lump in your throat.
He nudges your knee lightly. “C’mon. You’ve been planning that costume for what, a month? Don’t just waste it on me. Let’s give them something to remember.”
Your lips twitch upward despite your inner thoughts. “You’re really not gonna drop this, are you?”
“Nope, not a chance,” he smirks, standing and offering his hand. “Besides, I need a proper debut. Might as well make it a scandal.”
You beam, taking his hand. “Fine. But if we get kicked out, I’m blaming the undead.”
“Deal,” he tugs you to your feet. “Now go get dressed, princess. Let’s make a horror flic of our own.” He grins, crescent moons forming in his soft, rosy cheeks.
Gleaming.
Real.
——
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night hums with bass. Even from the end of the driveway, the house glows like it’s alive. Costumed silhouettes drift past the open doorway, the air thick with perfume, and the faint sweetness of cheap alcohol.
You hesitated, standing at the edge of the lawn, clutching the hem of your dress. The skirt shimmers with every nervous shift, the silver embroidery catching stray bits of streetlight. Your hovering breath fogs in the October chill.
“I don’t know, maki…” you muttered. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I mean look at me. I don’t even fit the theme. Everyone else is dressed like…” you gesture helplessly toward the door, where someone in a slutty, blood-splattered angel costume stumbles out laughing. “Like that.”
He stands calm beside you, hands in his pockets, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. “Y/n, look at me.”
You glanced up at him.
He takes a step closer, lowering his voice until it’s almost drowned out by the bass.“This isn’t about them, it’s about you. This is your night now, own it. And you look hot, so...” His gums flash at you, a light of adoration catching in his eyes like a shooting star.
Your throat tightens, but you say nothing. Just a small grin, threatening to etch your lips.
“Fuck fitting their theme,” he adds softly. “You are the theme.”
You let out a small laugh. “You’re too much maki...”
“Mayyybe, but I’m right.” He reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your arm. “can’t wait to see their faces. Bet they won’t even recognize you.”
You exhale, shaky but smiling now. “Okay. Let’s do it before I chicken out.”
“That’s my girl.” He smirks and pulls the door open. Your face heats up in anticipation.
The party hits you instantly. Colored lights strobe streaming across the crowded living room, the bass rattling in your chest. Heads turn. Conversations dip into silence.
For a whole beat, the whole room just stares.
Your sparkly heels click against the hard floor, standing in the doorway in a dress that glitters like starlight. Your hair gleams under the lights, eyes wide but unafraid.
Even your so-called friends pause mid-laugh, blinking in disbelief.
Maki leans down, close to a whisper above your ear. “Told you.”
You let out a shaky breath and laugh, slow and steady. “Okay,” you say, straightening your shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
The living room glows in shades of purple and red, cobwebs strung across walls, fake blood dripping down mirrors. Somehow, all you hear is the rustle of your skirt brushing the floor.
Every step feels like wading through fog. Eyes follow you. Whispers ripple behind your back. You’re way too aware of it all.
You fight the urge to shrink under the attention, but maki’s hand rests at the small of your back, a steadying, silent reassurance. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes flick between the gawking faces with quiet contempt.
You cut through the crowd of drunken college students, and that’s when you see him.
Yuma, the guy you’ve been crushing on all year.
Leaning against the drink table, devil horns tilted on his head, red lighting painting his face gold. He looks up mid-conversation and freezes, not recognizing you at first. Then realization hits, and his jaw slackens, lids stretched open.
“Y/n!?” he questions, brows furrows as he pushes off the table.
Your pulse spikes. “oh- h-hey!”
He blinks, staring like he’s trying to fit you into an old memory. “Wow. I didn’t even… you look—” He laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck. “You look incredible. Seriously.”
“Thanks.” Your smile wavers. For a moment, you forget the noise, the lights, the betrayal waiting in the wings. You’re just a girl in a dress, being seen.
Behind you, maki’s scoff is almost lost under the music.
Yuma’s gaze flicks to him, uncertain. “You uhm…came with someone?”
Maki raises a brow, voice light but edged. “Just making sure Cinderella doesn’t trip over her glass slippers.”
Yuma chuckles politely. You roll your eyes, elbowing maki gently. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s funny.”
“I am funny,” he mutters, but his gaze doesn’t leave Yuma’s face.
As the conversation drifts on; shallow, harmless small talk about costumes and classes, maki stands slightly behind you, his expression growing tighter by the second. The laughter, the fake compliments, the way people only seem to notice you now that you’re glowing, it grates at him.
To him, you’ve always been this.
You just didn’t know it yet.
The longer you stay, the easier it becomes to breathe.
Maki trails close behind, silent but watchful, trying not to glare at every passing look.
His jaw tightens each time someone leans in too close or stares too long.
You laugh in a crowd of classmates you barely know, someone compliments the stitching on your dress, someone else pulls you into a dance as the lights flash purple, green and gold. You twirl and dance under the shower of neon, the skirt of your gown blooming like smoke around you.
Maki grins to himself. Just a little. You were absolutely glowing.
But then, a ripple moves through the crowd, something sharp at the edge of all that brightness.
“Y/n?”
You turn.
Noa.
Your former friend, stands there in a cheap cheetah printed mini-dress , drink in hand, her fake smile tighter than usual. Her other friends hover behind her, curious.
“Oh Wowww. ” her voice is gritty, vengeful, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “I didn’t think you’d still show up. You look… different.”
“Different good or different bad?” You question, though your grip on your cup tightens subconsciously.
Her smile twitches. “Good, obviously. I just didn’t think you were, you know, into this kind of thing. How’d you even get the address?”
You shrug. “Guess I just knew where to show up.”
One of the girls behind Noa snorts, her grin falters.
“Who’s that guy you showed up with, is that like your cousin or something?” She smirks, eyeing him from across the room. You turn to notice maki by the punch bowl, a small group of girls chatting him up flirtatiously. Yet he doesn’t seem to be flirting back; just grinning cockily, making conversation.
“No, he’s a childhood friend. He’s just staying with me while he visits family. We only showed up cause we were bored.” You smile back at her, noticing her sly expression quiver once again. She looks off as she sips her drink, searching for a reply.
“He’s cute..but you might wanna go get him before you lose him to one of the campus sluts.” she laughs sarcastically, eyeing you up and down for a reaction. You smirk again, glancing back at him again before speaking.
“Didn’t you have a date for tonight too? Where’d he go?” You reply, a taunting smile forming on your lips. “Or did he..not show? That’s so sucky, im sorryyy.” You smile, a spiteful condescension coating your voice. The fabricated concern on your face has her seething.
“Tch, he was an asshole anyway. I’ll find a new one though, trust.” She says confidently, her hair flips behind her as she walks off.
You scoff under your breath.
But then you spot your ghost boy, walking over, two red cups in hand as he smiles at you.
Before the moment could settle, movement in the corner catches your eye; yuma, from across the room.
Your breath stills.
He’s standing close Noa.
It happens fast: she turns slightly, he’s caught off guard, a laugh, a spark of red light over their faces, and then..her lips are on his.
He doesn’t pull away.
The world narrows, everything dulls to a hum. Your stomach twists, fingers numbing around your cup.
Someone’s still talking beside you, but you hear nothing but your quickening heartbeat. You just watch, waiting for him to flinch, to stop it, but he doesn’t.
Then a voice behind you, quiet but cutting through everything.
“Y/n.”
You turn. Maki’s there, jaw tight, eyes dark with anger. He doesn’t need to ask, he’s already seen.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “You don’t owe anyone a show.”
Your throat burns. “I just- can we just go, please?” Your voice tremors, a sting at the corners of your eyes.
He nods once. “Yeah. Come on.”
He slips an arm around your shoulders, solid, grounding, and steers you through the crowd. Suddenly the sparkles and pearls on your dress feel dull.
You weave through the crowd in silence. The music pounds around them, voices rising in drunken laughter. Maki hears none of it.
But when he glances at you, eyes glassy, lips trembling, his anger twists into something else. It’s protective.
The noise lowers to a muffled heartbeat as you reach a hallway. He pushes open the bathroom door, checks that it’s empty, and lets you in first.
You lean against the sink. You stare at your reflection, searching for the girl from ten minutes ago.
He closes the door quietly behind him.
“Hey,” he says softly.
You laugh weakly, wiping at your eyes. “I look fucking stupid.”
He shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “You look like a girl who got her heart broken. It happens.”
You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady it. “I don’t know why it hurts so much. I didn’t even have anything with him. I just thought…”
Your voice cracks. “I thought maybe tonight would be different.”
Maki steps closer, leaning against the counter beside you. “You wanted to believe in someone who didn’t deserve it. That doesn’t make you stupid, y/n. That makes you kind. Makes you human.”
You laugh under your breath. “Kind’s overrated.”
“Noooo it’s not.” he grins. “Kind is you. And you’re far from overrated.”
You meets his eyes through the mirror.
“I hate that they made you feel small,” he continues quietly. “Because you’re not. You never were. You just don’t see it yet. Look at you..you walk into a room and the whole thing changes.” His tone is decadent, sweet and warm.
Your chest tightens. “You don’t have to say that maki..”
“I’m not saying it to make you feel better,” he murmurs, turning to face you fully. “I’m saying it because it’s true.” His hand lifts instinctively, thumb brushing a streak of mascara from your cheek. You don’t flinch.
The air between you hums, alive again with the same quiet electricity that filled the ritual circle. His eyes crinkles at the ends. “There. Fixed it. ”
“You’re too good to me.” You whisper, smiling up at him as you grab on to his hand, caressing it softly.
He huffs out a laugh. “You spent a year putting up with a ghost who wouldn’t shut up about movie endings. I think I owe you.”
You laugh softly. “You owe me nothing, maki.”
“Then let me do it anyway.”
He’s close enough now that his voice is barely a breath. You look up at him, eyes still glistening.
The faint music outside swells, and the moment breaks, delicate as glass.
Maki steps back first, clearing his throat. “Come on,” he says, with a crooked grin. “Fix your makeup, I got a plan.”
Your lips curve slowly. “You and your plans…”
“You know you love them.” He wiggles his brows playfully, making you giggle.
“Maybe~.” You trail off. The look you share in the mirror says everything else you’re not ready to.
Behind you, maki leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you reapply your makeup with a small smirk that borders on reverent.
“You look so fucking good y/n..that guy is crazy..” he tugs his lip between his teeth as his gaze shifts.
“Tch, you’re just saying that.” You laugh quietly as the look becomes whole again. She’s back.
“I never just say anything to you.” His eyes track your body, almost too quick to notice.
You smooth out the skirt of your dress,
Maki pushes off the wall, moving to stand behind you.
“Ready?”
Your beam at him. “More than ready.”
⸻
When you step back onto the dance floor, maki doesn’t let go of your hand. He threads your fingers together like it’s instinct. He grabs two more drinks, hands one to you, “Drink up princess, You’re about to make a scene.”
You take a big gulp, nerves fizzing in your chest. “Wait why.. what’s your plan?”
He doesn’t answer, just pulls you gently toward the center of the floor.
The lights dim, the melody slows, and suddenly the rest of the room ceases to exist.
Maki’s hands find your waist, slow and deliberate. Every movement is intoxicating, his breath ghosting your ear as he murmurs, “Forget them baby. Look at me. I’m right here.”
You do, and the world blurs around you like a hazy fever dream.
From the corner of your eye, you see Noa and yuma watching. His expression twists, something you can’t name, while Noa’s lips press into a thin line.
Maki catches their eyes, and smirks.
Then, still holding their gaze, he kisses you. Slow, needy, like he recited his every thought about you across your soft lips.
The kind of kiss that burns away every ounce of doubt you ever carried. Your hand fists into his shirt instinctively, you swear you can still taste the faint electricity of his ghostly self, humming through his skin.
When you break apart, the party is silent for a heartbeat.
Then the whispers start; shocked, envious.
Maki brushes his thumb along your jaw, grin lazy and proud. “Now that’s how you crash a party.”
You laugh breathlessly, cheeks flushed, heat crawling up your face as you look down shyly. “You’re impossible.”
He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tilting it back up to look at him. “And you’re unforgettable.”
He leans closer, voice roughened by the noise and the moment. “Let’s get out of here.”
And you don’t even look back as you leave.
The night air hits cool against your flushed faces as you stumble out of the house, laughter spilling into the quiet street. The party’s noise fades behind you, distant bass and muffled cheers.
You kick off your heels halfway down the sidewalk, dangling them by the straps in one hand. “I can’t believe we actually did that,” you say, half laughing, half groaning.
Maki shoves his hands in his pockets, grinning. “You mean the part where everyone at that party realized they’ve been blind for the last year? Or the part where I proved I’m a way better kisser than your crush? Which one.”
You bump his shoulder playfully. “You’re so fucking full of yourself.”
“but tell me I’m wrong.”
You opens your mouth, ready to argue, but the words falter. Because he’s not.
You fall into an easy silence, shoes tapping softly against the pavement. The moonlight paints the street silver, glinting off the sequins of your dress.
“It’s weird.” You say quietly after a moment.
“What?”
You hesitate. “Knowing…this won’t last.”
He glances at you.
“…the book..” your tone shakes drearily. “The book said the spell only lasts until sunrise.”
He pauses, then scoffs loudly. “Yeah, right…of course it does.”
You keep walking. The sound of distant wind chimes fills the silence.
“I almost forgot I was supposed to go back,” he admits. “Guess I just got distracted.”
You laugh under your breath. “By what?”
He stops walking. When you turn to face him, he’s already looking at you like the answer’s obvious.
“You, dummy.” Those soft, puppy like eyes crinkle as he smiles. Your breath catches.
He takes a step closer, voice unsteady but sure. “Im not gonna lie y/n…i didn’t even realize I was falling for you until tonight. Until I felt alive again, and the first thing I wanted to do was hold you.”His laugh fades, shaking his head.
You blink, eyes glassy in the pale light. “Maki…”
“I know it’s fucked up,” he says quickly, “and I know it doesn’t make sense. You’re alive. I’m, well, was dead. It just..I don’t know, it never felt that way with you. It felt like..” He exhales shakily. “It felt like home.”
Your gaze lingers for a long moment, chest tight, the night spinning quietly around you.
“Well..you’re not the only one?”
His brow furrows. “What?”
You smile faintly, stepping closer. “You were the best part of my day, maki. Every day. I used to talk to you about all the people I thought might understand me, but you were the only one who actually did.”
His face drops. He goes still, his gaze is heavy, lingering as he darts between your eyes like he’s memorizing every detail.
And then he kisses you.
This one isn’t for show. It’s deep, trembling at the edges. Your hands curls against his chest instinctively, the steady beat of a heart that shouldn’t exist thrums against your knuckles; slow, content.
When you finally part, you keep your forehead pressed against his.
“What happens when the sun comes up?”
He smiles, that same crooked, teasing grin, but softer now. “Guess I’ll have to haunt you again.”
“Promise?”
“Always.”
The two of you stand there at your doorway, the night humming around you, the first faint streak of dawn threatening the edge of the sky.
He grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers as he smiles softly, walking towards your door step. “C’mon, let’s get inside.”
“Yeah, we can cuddle and watch a few Halloween movies before it’s over.” you murmur, voice unsteady as you open your apartment door with shaky hands.
You fell for the one and only man you knew you couldn’t have.
You felt yourself shattering at the thought, but his warmth seems to keep you held together.
He gently lets go of your hand, flicking the light to your small apartment on and walking towards the kitchen like it’s his. You laugh as you throw your heels somewhere by the door, following him.
His tall, sculpted silhouette illuminated by the hazy kitchen light catches your eye. He seems so, big and lifelike now, it hadn’t occurred to you just how tall he was. Your eyes trickle down his form; his broad shoulders and chest, the chiseled ridges trailing down his torso..
You trace circles on the countertop, lost in thought as you glimmer curiously.
“What, are you hungry already?” You say sarcastically, amused at him searching through the kitchen so quickly.
“Well, yeah, I haven’t eaten in like..eight years.” He laughs loudly, taking out frozen chicken nuggets from the freezer.
You laugh with him “yeah damn, I guess that’s true. You can just raid the fridge if you want, you’re probably starving.” You hop up on the countertop beside him.
He smirks to himself for a moment as he begins to cook his food.
He walks over to your air fryer, placing the bite sized pieces in and setting a timer. He returns, staring you down with the same smirk. Heat crawls to your face, a tingly sensation fluttering over your skin.
He wedges his torso between your legs. Your breath hitches at the closeness. You go to avert your gaze but his hand grazes your jaw, bringing your focus back to him.
“I’m kinda craving something else though..” he murmurs as his hands wander, gliding down your thighs. You wrap your legs around him subconsciously, gazing back up at him in an aching, lust driven daze.
That sinking feeling that this could be the only time you can feel him hits again, but this time you feel a heat crawl all over your body. A familiar, restless ache forms below your waist as you pull him closer to you.
“Me too, maki…I..” you lose track of thought, distracted by his hungry eyes, pulling you in.
His eyes drop to your lips momentarily before he rushes them against yours clumsily. His tongue dives between your parted lips hastily; depraved and possessive.
You drown in his presence, his slick, slobbery tongue exploring your mouth vulgarly, his warm, toned body pressed firmly against yours. It was almost dizzying.
You wrap your arms around his neck as you deepen the kiss, his hands gently gripping your hips. He groans lowly into your mouth, making you melt.
He places a hand on your lower back, pulling himself even closer to you. The heat between your thighs radiates against his lower stomach, you feel his hips ever so slightly buck upward, making you let out a quiet, involuntary whimper.
“M-maki..y-your..” you let out a shaky breath as you part from the kiss. He breaths heavily as his hair hangs in front of his eyes, face lightly flushed. He was so, so hot..it’s insane you never really noticed it.
“What?…” he questions, massaging your thighs. He flinches at the loud, sudden beeping of the timer, head whipping around instantly, making you burst into giggles.
“Your food, dumbass.” You breathe out, pushing him off playfully.
“Damn, I totally forgot..see what you do to me? you’re dangerous like this” he laughs, walking off to retrieve his food.
“If you say so.” You hop off of the counter top, following him.
“So what are we watching this Halloween, huh? No repeats this time” He mumbles as he walks into your living room. His limbs spread out against the sofa as he lets out a small sigh of relief.
You sit beside him, scrolling through random movies on the tv.
“I don’t knowww, I’m sure we’ll find some cheesy Halloween flick to fall asleep to.” you smile at the screen, and then at him. He nods, popping a nugget into his mouth.
You scoot closer to him on the couch, draping your legs over his as you rest your head against his chest.
His other hand curls around you, pulling you in close.
“I hope you plan on sharing those” you peer up at him. He rolls his eyes, feeding you a nugget as you click through movies on Netflix.
His hand slowly moves to your thighs again, thumbing it lightly. His eyes are fixed in the tv, breathing slowly. Then he looks at you.
The moonlight spills through broken blinds of the window casting silvery streaks across the cozy, dimly lit room. Your shadows dance on the walls, flickering with the faint hum of supernatural energy.
The feeling pulses within both of you, as his expression clouds over faintly.
“Y/n…can I be honest with you about something..?” His voice trails off, but his attention fixed on you, hands planted firmly over your thighs.
“Yeah, of course..what is it?”
You meet his gaze, a streak of worry flashing past your eyes.
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes darting down your body before he speaks.
“Over the last year…late nights talking you to sleep, watching you walk around in your little pajamas or getting ready for work..the way your scent lingers in the room even when you’re gone.. y/n…you drive me fucking crazy..” he laughs beneath his breath, steadying himself as he kneads your plushy thighs nervously. “for like, months..all I could think about is how if I met a girl like you when I was alive…” he looks down at his hands, pausing for a moment. You can feel your heart pound against your chest as you stare up at him.
“….i would’ve been in love, y/n. I wouldn’t be able to let you go. You’re..everything I wanted. And now that I’m here…those pretty eyes right in front of me..I need you. I need every part of you y/n..I’ve needed you for so long..I don’t wanna hold back..” He finally breathes out with a quiet, shaky laugh. His eyes loom with desire as he leans in close, brushing your jaw with the back of his knuckles. He presses his lips to yours in a soft, roused kiss
You gasp into his lips, hands running down his chest. His skin is so warm, burning against yours as your forms intertwine on the sofa.
Your breath quickens as his lips find your collarbone. Your head falls back as he sucks harshly on thin, fevered skin, the desperation seeping through his every movement.
He hums against your skin, groaning softly in response to your whimpers. His hands find your waist, pulling you on top of him in a smooth, fast motion. His hands grip your hips, a small smirk forming on his lips as he cups your ass, staring up you. You let out an uneven laugh, snaking your arms around his neck.
“I..I need you too maki..I need you so bad..” you stutter out as your body buzzes with desire and anticipation. He gives you a lopsided grin.
“Mmm, yeah?..how bad baby..” his gaze is dark, heavy with an amatory inclination. He holds your hips down as his lips attack yours neck again, teeth grazing your hot skin in nimble bites.
His hips roll into yours tantalizingly. Rough, pining groans spill into the wispy night glow, humming against your neck fiendishly.
You shudder at the sensation, bracing onto his shoulders as your hips match his rhythm, trembling needily.
“Makiii~..a-quit teasing we..we don’t-“
He catches your open mouth, shoving his tongue past your lips. You let out a shaky moan as he feeds you his tongue, slow, slobbery noises mixing with your whimpers.
“Come on..I’m not waiting another second.” He grins, pecking your lips again quickly as he parts from the kiss.
He slowly lifts off the sofa, lifting you up with him as his hands curl under your thighs. You let out a quiet squeal at his suddenness, wrapping your legs around him tightly.
He walks you back to your bedroom; where it all began. His laugh echos the empty room he steps over the fading black paint on the floor, the faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon candles still haunts the air.
He lays you down on your bed, gently, gazing into your eyes tenderly. You can see the flickering flame growing behind his irises, threatening to consume him. That signature smirk of his crawls back up his lips as you tremble beneath him, your body fevered and desperate.
“I’ll be gentle with you, promise..” He breathes out as he climbs on top of you.
“You don’t have to be…” you coo, fingers snaking up his shirt as you trace his abs promiscuously. He shivers, chewing his bottom lip as he stares.
“‘kay..” he murmurs, slipping his shirt up and over his head.
He leans down, planting sloppy, wet kisses down your neck again. His hand slowly inches down your body before reaching between your thighs, caressing teasingly, your breathing shallows as you squirm beneath him, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips.
“How am I supposed to get this dress off of you, Cinderella.” He sits back, staring down your body curiously.
You shake your head sarcastically,
sitting up to unzip it from the back and shimmy out of it. You toss it onto the floor next to you as your clothes gradually form a pile of memories across the floor.
“..come here.” He says with a soft tone, standing towards the edge of the bed.
You crawl towards him slowly, now being left in little to nothing.
His dark eyes strip you down crudely, surveying your every move.
“Here..” his voice is quiet as he grabs your hand, placing it on his lower stomach. You tug your lip between your teeth, keeping his gaze as he lowers your hand to his rock solid cock, throbbing through his jeans. You let out a soft gasp, unintentionally.
You unzip his jeans, slipping them down his legs without a second thought.
A wave of heat flashes over your body, heating your cheeks as you slip him out of his jeans. You can feel his energy shift instantly; his hips buckle lightly, mouth falling open softly as he peers down at you with low eyes.
“God, maki…” you let out a soft moan, his lengthy cock pulses in your closed fist. You stare up at him, doe eyes brimming with lust.
“Y/n, fuck..you’re so fucking pretty like that..” he lets out a deep, low groan.
“I can’t..fuck..I can’t wait anymore, I need you.” He pants out, his breath heavy. He pushes you down on the bed gently, you giggle softly as you fall into the pillows on your back. He crawls on top of you, hips grinding into yours as his cock teases your folds deliberately.
His lips travel down your body, hands cupping your breasts needily. Your body is on fire, burning with desperation as his lips inch closer to your core. He looks up at you from between your legs, his face inches away from your sopping cunt.
“Can I taste you first baby?..I just, fuck..been thinking about how you might taste forever..” he grips your hips tentatively, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Yes..please, maki..” you moan out desperately, the fervent ache between your legs gnawing at your senses.
“Mmm..you sound so pretty when you beg, baby girl..” he slips your panties down your legs, giving you one last carnal glance before he dives between your legs, licking soft, fast stripes onto your pussy. His tongue works quick, unraveling you slowly yet so successfully. Your head falls back as you let out a series of loud, breathy moans, your hands getting lost in his hair.
He groans softly as he laps at you, as if he was getting lost in the taste of you. Your legs tremble, but he steadies your hips, refusing to let go.
“Oh my god, maki~~~..” you cry out in pleasure “your mouth..oh my- ugh~.” you whine, hips bucking into his mouth artlessly.
“Yeah baby?..fuck..” he trails off, humming into you as he continues. You feel an all too familiar knot forming in your stomach, but then he stops.
“w-why’d you..ugh, no fair.” You laugh through labored breaths, adjusting yourself on the bed.
“Relax, I got you.” He licks his lips as he sits up. “But I need you cum on this cock, so…gonna have to be patient with me baby.” He grins, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. You gasp loudly, both at his words and his sudden action. He leans down to kiss you passionately, cupping your face in his hand like fine china.
“You sure you want this?..” his expression softens as his puppy eyes return. Your lips curve subconsciously.
“Yesss maki, I promise I do..”
“Okay. Hey, look at me.”
Your eyes meet his. It feels like time stops for a half second.
“I love you, y/n…I just need you to know that..” he breathes out nervously, caressing your hair gently as he slowly slips inside you.
“I..ugh~..I love you too maki~..” your breathing hitches between whimpers as he stretches you out.
He places his hand on either side of you, muscles flexing as he thrusts into you at soft pace. His eyebrows knit together, lips forming an o as an expression of pure bliss washes over his face. He lets out a low, gutteral moan as his cock fully enters you, breathing heavily as his eyes meet yours.
“Oh..fuck, y/n…” he sucks the air through his teeth, head falling back. He looks back at you; a heavy gaze, face flushed with cloudy eyes.
He collapses on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. Your arms drape over his bare back, clinging to him for dear life. You bite your lower lip at the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.
“You can go faster maki.” You whine out, scratching the nape of his neck gently as you stare into his eyes. “You can let go..give it to me~ I can take it..”
He pauses, staring at you, in part awe and part disbelief at your words. He swallows, grinning to himself.
“I know you can baby..I just needed you to say it..” his voice is a low growl, his hair hangs in front of face again as he kisses you softly before thrusting deep.
A loud, high pitched whimper escapes you as the pleasure surges every part of your body like lightning. Your nails dig into his back, legs wrapped around him tightly as he continues his deep, hard thrusts into you, hips snapping against yours mercilessly.
His moans are just as loud as yours, sweat lightly glistening off his forehead as he picks up his pace.
You’re in a complete daze, your head bobs lazily as he fucks into you, a lopsided grin perched on your lips. His gaze in combination with his thick, lengthy cock tugged at the tightly coiled knot in your stomach.
Then he stops, again.
“Makiiii..whyyyy.” You sulk, lips pursed irritatedly.
He chuckles softly. “just a second baby, jeez.” He gently lifts your legs over his shoulders, gripping onto your thighs as he repositions himself. “Just wanted a better angle. So bossy..” he bites his lip with a smirk as he continues without warning, pounding into you without remorse.
You scream out again, your collective moans mixing with the vulgar skin slapping, echoing off the walls. Sweat coats your bodies as your hips roll against his, both of you urging to reach nirvana.
“I..fuck, y/n, baby…I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He lets out a low, raspy moan as he holds your thighs in place.
You’re nearly breathless, voice hoarse and body buzzing with pleasure. Your scratch down his back, little raised scrapes scar the skin in its place.
“You too huh?.. you getting close for me?..” he heaves. His body is heavy against yours as he lays on top of you, hips slamming into yours ravenously. “Come on..cum for me baby..let go for me.” He whispers, kissing your collarbone lazily.
“Ugh.. maki..oh my god..” you struggle to speak as you feel yet another knot form in your stomach, threatening to burst at the seams. A series of loud, whimpery moans escape your lips as he fucks you ferally. His loud, low pitched growls and groans echo the room, mixing with yours.
“Maki..I’m..ugh please..” you cling to him tightly as your body begins to tremble again.
“Me too babyyy..fuuuck, cum with me y/n.”
The fiery pleasure explodes inside of you like fireworks. Your back arches violently, body convulsing as you wail into his chest. He cages you in his arms, hips jerking uncontrollably as he chases his high.
A hot, milky gush of sticky desire spills inside you shortly after, coating your walls in his essence. You shudder at the sensation, a meek whimper leaving your lips.
He rests his head on your chest, plopping down on top of you with full weight. His breathing hovers, gradually regaining normality as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.
The room spins faintly, senses overtaken by a sleepy, sex drunk daze. Your arms wrap around him lazily.
“That was..the best sex I’ll ever have in my life..thank you, y/n.” He mumbles sheepishly, a small grin forming on his face.
“Me too, probably..” You giggle softly, threading your fingers into his hair. “Thank you maki. You made tonight amazing. You’re everything I could possibly ask for.” Your lips curve, but he notices the bitter note in your tongue
You stare at the window as the dark of the night begins to fade, a gentle streak of light paints the sky. You sigh, fighting back your heavy emotions as you hug him tighter.
He looks up at you, worry coats his face.
“Hey, y/n..it’s okay, alright? Tonight was perfect. I couldn’t ask for more. Besides, I’m not really going anywhere.” He stitches your fingers together as he glimmers. “I promised I’ll haunt you forever and always didn’t I?” He laughs, but his eyes gently gloss over.
A long, knowing silence falls over you. He rubs your arm softly as you both stare out the window, begging for the light to never show.
“You know..it’s not like the spell only works once. I’m sure there’s something to it, but I know there isn’t necessarily a limit to how many times you can perform a spell.” He mutters after a while.
He looks back up at you, dimples carved into his cheeks. You return his gaze, smiling too.
“So it’s not goodbye, then..” you laugh softly “not that it ever really was.”
“No, baby…” he chuckles, sitting up next to you and pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head sweetly.
“It’s just till next time..”
His words echo through your head as you begin to doz
synopsis. When Chaewon makes you chaperone her on her date with Euijoo, you never expect to get a friend in the form of Nicholas Wang out of it. After more barbecue dinners than you can count and days spent coding video games together, you think that if there's one unwavering presence in your life, it's him. And yet, as you start working together and professional differences go from amusing to irritating, everything changes—and not in the way you'd hoped.
genre. college au then workplace au, friends to enemies to ????? with benefits to lovers, ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, a side of fluff, eventual smut but not in this part, but when the smut starts there will be A Lot of it, did i mention angst, slow burn so slow u wonder if there's a burn at all (there is don't worry)
warnings. they are very bad at communicating and Emotions in general, i'm not kidding when i say slow burn pls bear with me and trust the process, implicit bad parenting uh oh they both have issues, they work at a video game company but i only play The Sims 4 so please excuse any gaming language/technicalities i get wrong lol (and feel free to correct me!!)
word count. 27.8k
author's note. guys i locked in so hard for this one so i really hope you lock in with me and enjoy the ride... this part sort of serves as a really long prologue/backstory for the next parts, but i promise the build up is what makes it worth it!!!!!! ALL OF YOU GET NICHOPILLED RIGHT NOW!!!!! as always thank you @zreamy for betareading i enjoyed all the insults and death threats thrown my way!!!! can't wait to see u on monday as long as u promise not to murder me Xx
playlist
“I couldn’t tell what disgusted me more: him feigning tenderness, or the possibility that it might be real.” Milkfed, Melissa Broder
“Despite everything, it’s still you.” The mirror, said to the main character at the end of Undertale
D-0
It wasn’t always like this.
As you scream your head off at the man in front of you, an accusing finger pointed at him, berating him for something he did at work earlier — or something he said just now, you can’t seem to remember — this is what you think: it wasn’t always like this.
There used to be a time you could look at Nicholas Wang without wanting to smash his head against a wall. There used to be a time you could look at him and feel something akin to happiness.
But now, there’s a vein on his reddened forehead that looks like it might explode any minute. He spits venom at you, neither of you listening to what the other is saying. This isn’t even an argument anymore, it’s a shouting match, and whoever is louder and lasts longer wins.
Chaewon stands next to you, a hand on your shoulder as she begs you to relax and sit back down. Nicholas swats Euijoo’s hand away every time his friend tugs his wrist, ordering with varying amounts of authority in his voice to just quit it.
A voice at the back of your head reminds you how unfair this is to Chaewon and Euijoo. These days, with everyone’s busy schedules, it’s a near impossible task to get all four of you sitting at one table like before. And yet, they still attempt it once in a while, fully aware it’ll be an evening full of ill-intentioned quips and barely concealed hostility. But in your defense, every time you think of trying to deescalate things, or straight-up leaving, Nicholas says something to get you going again, as though he can tell you’re tapping out and knows exactly how to reel you back in.
There’s a singular second of peace, after he insults you in such an outrageous manner that you’re stunned into silence. As you take a breath, getting ready to shout even louder, one corner of his lips lifts into a smirk. It’s quick, barely noticeable, but hating Nicholas has turned you into an expert on every microexpression of his. It’s easier to play with his emotions when you can read his face like they’re the morning paper.
This is how you know: the fucker is enjoying this.
Whatever your next words were going to be, no one will ever know, not even you—when you get like this, you have no idea what you’re saying. Nasty sentences pour out of your mouth before they’ve even fully formed in your brain. Knowing this is amusing to Nicholas while you feel like you’re two minutes away from an aneurysm has made you so angry, if you have to spend one more second in the same room as him, one of you will actually end up in the hospital.
“I’m leaving,” you suddenly announce.
Nicholas scoffs, and you ignore him. You are the better person. You are peace and mindfulness. You are Buddha reincarnate.
Chaewon pleads with you to stay while you grab your coat and bag from her and Euijoo’s couch. “I’m sorry, Chae, I really am,” you tell her. “But I can’t. I just can’t.”
You dare a glance at Nicholas while you’re zipping up your boots. He’s sitting down again, sipping his wine as Euijoo admonishes him. His expression is infuriatingly blank. The only sign that he’s just been verbally abused and abusive is the slight blush on his otherwise perfect porcelain skin.
You’ve never hated someone this fucking much.
“I’m sorry it always ends like this,” you tell Chaewon as you hug her goodbye.
“It’s okay,” she says, clearly lying for your sake. The woman is an angel. Nicholas doesn’t even deserve to know her, let alone be in her vicinity at any time, or eat her food, in her apartment, with her cutlery.
Nicholas Wang doesn’t deserve anything good.
.
.
D-2945. 8 years, 23 days earlier
So it isn’t a coincidence—the Euijoo from the Video Game Society is the same Euijoo from Chaewon’s Korean Lit class that she’s been raving about for the better part of the semester. It isn’t like there are hundreds of Euijoos running around, but you assumed everyone in the Society was a STEM major. Most of the boys certainly look — and smell — like it. But out of all of them, Euijoo is easily the best one Chaewon could have picked to have a crush on.
In your first semester as roommates, Chaewon had never once mentioned a boy—so when she came home one afternoon at the start of the spring semester, a blush on her cheeks and stars in her eyes as she told you about the cute guy she sat next to in class, you knew it had to be serious. Although you’re surprised at seeing Euijoo and his friend here, it’s no wonder that Chaewon has a crush on him. With his big, kind eyes and shy but approachable demeanor, he’s practically the male version of her.
You wouldn’t call Euijoo a friend, but you’re on friendly terms. He’s one of the only guys in the club who doesn’t try to mansplain games you’ve been playing since you were 10, or who make fun of you and your friends when you just want to sit in a corner and play Animal Crossing.
Someone is sitting next to him, arms crossed over his chest and a blasé expression on his face, and although you’ve never spoken to him, you recognize him from the Society, too. With a face like his, it’d be hard not to. Not that you’ve been looking, you just happen to have eyes, and in a room full of boys whose primary pleasure in life is gaming — no offence to them — you’d be hard pressed not to notice him, with his sharp gaze and chiseled jaw. You’ve only ever heard the low grumble of his voice when he played in a team with other members or when he and a few other guys sat huddled around their laptops, apparently coding their own game, in which you or any of the other girls have never been invited to participate, of course. It wasn’t like you, and some of the other girls, hadn’t started creating your own games in middle school, just like these guys and their superiority complexes. The few times you tried asking what they were up to, they exchanged amused or perplexed looks, then quickly dismissed you. “We’re coding a mobile version of Pong. Don’t worry about it,” they’d say, acting like it required a level of genius you simply didn’t have access to. Like Pong wasn’t one of the first games you copied when you first started coding. This guy, sitting next to Euijoo now, never said anything—neither against you or in your defence. He’d just look at you with the same closed-off expression he wears now. Suffice to say you didn’t have the best opinion of him.
As you and Chaewon enter the café, Euijoo’s eyes are only on her, so it’s a few seconds before his sheepish grin shifts into surprise at seeing you—good surprise, if the way he stands and waves the two of you over awkwardly means anything. But his friend, whose gaze stays trained on you the whole time you’re walking over to their table, wears an expression that betrays no emotion. For a second, you wonder if he even recognizes you. Sure, you’ve never actually talked to each other, but you’ve been attending the club every week for over a semester now—he has to at least be able to place you. But maybe you’re deluding yourself into thinking your face is as exceptional as his. When Euijoo introduces him as Nicholas, you suddenly remember hearing that name being called out during games, but having never played with him, you hadn’t had the opportunity to put name to face.
You’re not even really supposed to be here, but Chaewon’s puppy eyes can melt even the coldest of hearts. She said it’d be “weird” for her and Euijoo to hang out one-on-one, like she’d never heard of the concept of a date. She swears she only wants to get to know him better as a friend, and apparently the best way to do that is to drag you along.
You had the sinking feeling that this would look awfully like a double date, and as you sit opposite Nicholas, Chaewon and Euijoo looking at everything but each other, your suspicions turn out to be true. Conversation quickly runs out—there’s only so much to be said about the café’s menu and whether you got here okay. Which you obviously did, considering you’re sitting here in one piece—but you don’t say that.
Afterwards, as you wait for your drinks, it apparently falls on you to make conversation: Chaewon giggles nervously every time she says something, Euijoo can’t seem to string more than five words together, and Nicholas looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. You ask Euijoo questions, thinking about what Chaewon would like to know but is too shy to ask, but you quickly realize it only stresses him out further, his face reddening every time he meets Chaewon’s wide, curious gaze. So you turn to Nicholas instead. Asking him about his studies — Computer Science — his hobbies — video games — his hometown — Taipei. You’re not deterred by his one-word replies. If anything, they only work you up. Does he not realize you, too, would rather be spending your Saturday afternoon doing anything other than chaperoning your best friend on her date?
Euijoo all but jumps as the restaurant pager goes off, signaling that your drinks are ready to be picked up. You turn to your friend, saying, “Chaewon, you should help him,” hoping your eyes are conveying your thoughts, namely, You’re nineteen, not thirteen, get a grip. Euijoo is already shaking his hands, saying he can handle it on his own as though carrying two drinks might kill Chaewon, but you’re more convincing. When they’re gone, you slump in your seat and release a deep breath.
Nicholas seems unbothered. Too unbothered. Sitting up straight and fixing him a pointed look, you decide to change that.
“Thanks for the help,” you say.
He shrugs, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips, so small and quick you almost miss it. “You seemed to be doing well enough alone.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “I’d be doing a lot better if you, you know, spoke in full sentences.”
He actually smiles then, and you’d almost get distracted by it if you weren’t so annoyed at him. “I don’t know, it’s pretty entertaining watching you struggle like that.”
You narrow your eyes at him, leaning over the table. “Are you a psychopath?”
He tilts his head, raises his eyes as if in thought. “Hm. I did spend a lot of time taking bugs apart in my childhood,” he muses pensively. Then, at your horrified expression, he chuckles. “I’m messing with you.”
“Right,” you say, unsure whether you believe him. “You know, I’m as happy as you about being here.”
“So, extremely?”
You ignore him. “This is going to be awkward as hell no matter what, so let’s at least try to make it a little easier for both of us. Maybe then they’ll actually talk to each other.”
He nods his head towards your friends, who are back at the table a few seconds after you finish speaking. Chaewon dives into her strawberry smoothie like she hasn’t had anything to drink in weeks, and after some moments of more silence, you think Nicholas has decided he truly couldn’t care less about what you told him. But just as you’re about to come up with a question for Euijoo, he speaks up, asking Chaewon about her studies. It’s not a very inspired topic, but it at least breaks the ice and finds common ground for Chaewon and Euijoo to stand on. They get to talking about the awful professor for one of their classes, and you get to relax in your chair once more and enjoy your chai latte. When you catch Nicholas staring at you, you raise your eyebrows at him as if asking, What do you want? But instead of looking away, he says, more like announces, “You’re the one who beat Heeseung-hyung’s ass at Super Smash Bros the other day.”
It interrupts Chaewon’s and Euijoo’s conversation, whose eyes ping-pong between you and Nicholas. Although you’re vaguely annoyed at him for stopping them in their tracks, you’re mostly taken aback. So he does recognize you. He just decided to make that clear now, and not when you first got here like a normal person would’ve.
“Yeah, I am,” you reply cautiously, almost defensively. What’s it to him?
“That was cool.” They’re three simple words, not even that much of a compliment, but still, combined with his steady gaze on yours, it makes an odd, surprising swirl of warmth heat your stomach.
“Thanks,” you say, unable to fight the smirk growing on your lips. “It was pretty cool to take his ego down a notch.”
“It was really satisfying seeing you do it,” he says, his smile mirroring yours. For a few, brief seconds, as you look into each others’ eyes, you wonder whether you got the wrong impression from him—but Euijoo joins in, saying he’d never seen Heeseung look so humbled, Chaewon adds something cute about you being the best video game player she knows (maybe because you’re the only one), and the moment fades away.
.
.
D-2505. 6 years, 10 months, 7 days earlier
Peeking over your living room windowsill at the street outside your front door, you sigh contentedly as you watch Euijoo finally lean down towards Chaewon and press his lips to hers. Only took him a year and a half.
Over are the months of swearing up-and-down that they’re just friends, that she doesn’t like him like that, and that even if she did, he probably doesn’t feel the same. Chaewon is one of the smartest people you know, and yet, when it comes to Euijoo, she’s also the biggest fool—same goes for him. You’ve never seen any two people so clearly besotted with each other, yet so oblivious to it.
At least, you weren’t alone in your frustration. Euijoo and Chaewon were such good “friends” that they barely hung out alone—even after that first time at the café, which didn’t turn out as disastrous as it started, they almost always made you and Nicholas tag along, as if they needed chaperones. It was easier dragging the cart along when there were two third wheels, you guess.
You shift from your spying position to a sitting one, back against the wall and a grin on your lips as you fish your phone from your back pocket. HE DID IT!!!!! you text Nicholas.
He replies instantly, as if he’s been waiting for this exact message. Fucking finally! Any longer and I was going to force their faces against each other, the message reads.
You smile. Not sure how they would’ve felt about that.
You watch the three dots on his side of your conversation appear and disappear. Then, after a torturously long minute, his reply comes through. I guess this means they won’t need us on their dates anymore.
Unexpectedly, you feel a pang of something like disappointment in your heart. You hadn’t thought about that. Since the start of second year, your little quartet has become a constant in your life. Chaewon growing closer to Euijoo meant he was around more; and if Euijoo was around, Nicholas was around. Movie nights, study sessions, hours spent eating and drinking at your favorite barbecue spot near campus—you’ve spent almost every weekend with them.
You live with Chaewon, so you have no qualms about growing apart from her just because she has a boyfriend. Certainly Euijoo will spend half his time at your apartment now, so no worries on that side either.
But Nicholas…
Don’t overestimate them, you reply, ignoring the heaviness in your heart. I think they’ll need another couple of months before they can hold eye contact for more than five seconds.
But as it turns out, Nicholas is right. After years of pining relentlessly for one another, it seems all Chaewon and Euijoo want to do is be together. Alone. In the two months that separate their getting-together and summer, you barely see Nicholas. And only once it’s gone do you realize how much you’d come to cherish his friendship.
As your friends kept dragging you to their dates, Nicholas became less and less of a mystery to you. The cold exterior that had intimidated you at first — which you managed to hide, telling yourself he couldn’t be that bad if he was friends with someone as kind as Euijoo — slowly thawed, until a more playful, more mischievous side of him appeared at the surface. Whenever he teased you or threw his head back to laugh loudly, you flattered yourself thinking it was a side of him not many people got to see.
But now, even you barely get to see it.
It isn’t that you miss him. You wouldn’t go that far. It’s the four of you that you miss, the way one evening spent in your friends’ company had the power to recharge you for the week to come. And it isn’t that you’re scared of losing him specifically, you just think it’s a shame that the potential of a close friendship would be squashed this way. And he was a good game partner. Came up with smart strategies, didn’t try to go off and do his own thing and ruin the mission for everyone else.
But you’ve never made plans with him before, and you can’t imagine starting now. Wouldn’t it be awkward, hanging out just the two of you—too much like a date? Spending a couple of hours gaming together every once in a while is one thing, but seeing him outside of that, reaching out and betraying your desire to see him specifically, that’s another thing entirely.
Clearly, he must not be warm to the idea either, seeing as he hasn’t reached out since your friends got together, except to send you Reels and the occasional complaint about “Chaewon and Euijoo being cute in MY kitchen before I’ve even had my coffee.” When you log in at the same time and get on a call together, neither of you makes any mention of hanging out at some point. Life continues as if you didn’t use to spend half of your free time together.
But as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. And you hate it.
You don’t like the way your heart skips a beat when his name appears on your phone now, or how clammy your hands get, chopsticks threatening to slide from your fingers, when you meet his indecipherable gaze across the table at barbecue. Why is it that in just a few weeks, someone you’d grown so comfortable with has become someone whose eyes you can’t look into without feeling like you can’t breathe?
Soon, you won’t have to worry about this. You’re leaving for Tokyo in September, to study for a semester, then to intern at a game company.
Surely, this is the kind of distance that makes the heart forget all about someone.
.
.
D-2118. 5 years, 9 months, 16 days earlier
When Ms. Komada told you that as a result of their soon launching a new game, your internship at Lucky Dragon Interactive might be more stressful than most, you hadn’t thought twice about it. You only saw the positive sides—you’d get to see the final steps of creating a game, then of getting it ready for launch, of handling all the post-release problems. Like medical students desperate to witness complicated surgeries, you knew that most of your peers would kill to experience that sort of excitement.
But maybe you should’ve braced yourself, too. You’ve been working overtime for two weeks straight, with half the salary of the full-time employees and none of the recognition or respect. You’re so tired that you order takeout or buy your meals from the convenience store every night, and spend your weekends in bed resting, trying your best to look at anything but a screen, maybe venturing outside if the weather allows it. It seems like every day, every hour, a new problem comes up, a narrative bug that needs to be fixed, an unhappy player that demands attention right away. At least you know you’ve found your calling—no matter how hard it gets, you’re still happy to clock in every day, still looking forward to one day launching your own game.
Finally, after too many harrowing weeks to count, you start going home at normal, legal hours. As you switch on your computer and launch Steam, you wonder how many weeks it’s been since you’ve logged on, how long it’s been since you’ve thought about another game than your company’s. Your heart does a weird little skip when you see the green dot next to Nicholas’ username. It drums sharply in your chest when a call notification appears on your screen, seconds after you’ve logged in, almost as if he was keeping an eye on your status. You let two rings go by, hoping to steady your breathing, then accept the call.
“Hey,” Nicholas says, the smile audible in his voice. “So you’re alive.”
It’s only because it’s been so long since you last heard it that his voice has such a relaxing effect on you. Just a few words, spoken in that low, almost lazy drawl of his, and a weight feels like it’s been lifted off your shoulders. Your insides feel warm, your heart light, flapping like butterfly wings.
You chuckle. “Barely.”
“Chaewon says they’ve been working you to the bone in Tokyo.” The concern you detect in his tone must be the work of your imagination.
“They have,” you say, sighing. “But it’s fun, really fun. I think you’d love it, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! I remember you said you worked well in high-pressure environments. Well, it can hardly get any more high-pressure than this. The stakes feel so high, you’d think I’m working at NASA.”
He laughs, the melodic sound pouring right from your headphones into your ears. “Of course. Don’t you know that if something goes wrong with this game, the whole world will implode?”
“Right, right, how could I forget?” you say, laughing when he tuts at you. “What about you? How’s everything back in Seoul?”
“Same old, really. Heeseung-hyung is getting on half of the club’s nerves. Euijoo and Chaewon are head over heels in love with each other. I’m still the hottest guy in all of CompSci.”
Laughing, you say, “Glad to see nothing’s changed.”
“So you agree?” he asks after a small pause. You don’t need to see it to know he’s wearing that annoyingly handsome smirk of his. “You think I’m the hottest guy in CompSci?”
You roll your eyes, bite back a smile even if he can’t see you. “Alright, Weno. Ready to kill some monsters?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
.
.
D-1888. 5 years, 2 months earlier
The sun is just starting to bless the depressing Science campus with its warmth when you step into the library. Armed with a restful eight hours of sleep and the sugared promise of the bag of donuts in your hand, you’re ready to tackle the day ahead. Your exams are long behind you now, so the library is practically deserted—there aren’t many people as deranged as you to be here in the middle of winter break just a few days before Christmas. But you’re going home for the holidays, and you have to anticipate the chaos that will be your final semester at university. If you and Nicholas want to finish this game, you’ll need to power through.
You walk the familiar route to the space on the third floor dedicated to group work and open the door to the cubicle that unofficially belongs to you and Nicholas now—and freeze on the threshold.
Nicholas is still here, sitting in the same spot you left him last night as though he hasn’t budged an inch. And indeed, he doesn’t move as you step inside and quietly set your bag down on the desk, taking a seat on the chair next to his. His head rests on his crossed arms over the table, turned away from you. Clouds part, and a ray of sunlight suddenly shines right onto his face. With a groan, he turns his head to the other side, facing you now, but he doesn’t seem to rouse any more than that.
You know he has a habit of staying up late, but he also usually gets up late, joining you at the library by midday. You wonder what it was that made him pull an all-nighter here, hoping it wasn’t another one of your frivolous ideas that sounds fun in theory but is nearly impossible to implement in practice.
In the past months since you’ve started working on this, you’ve rarely seen Nicholas look so peaceful. You’d needed some time to get used to his focused expression—with his furrowed eyebrows and intense gaze, you thought he was permanently mad at something. Turns out he was just highly concentrated. You’ve also seen him grumpy a few times, when his alarm had rung a little too early for his liking or when he just couldn’t figure out the source of a bug. Even then, you could only find him endearing, heart melting at his pout when he probably had no idea how cute he looked, laughing at his quiet muttering to his computer, as though talking to the machine would make it more cooperative.
It’s nice to see him so serene-looking in sleep, to know that at least then, nothing is bothering him. You find that it calms you down, too. As the deadline for the competition approaches, nerves have started appearing in your stomach more and leaving less, but the sight of him like this is enough to put you at ease. Guided by an unnamable urge to bask in that feeling, you slide one of your arms out on the table, resting your head on it and simply watching Nicholas’ sleeping face. Your eyes slowly trace every centimeter of his face, detailing it like you want to commit it to memory. His features are delicate without being fragile: the straight nose, gently defined cheekbones, plump and impossibly soft-looking lips. His dark hair falls loosely around his forehead, a few strands over his eyes that make your fingertips tingle with the urge to brush them away.
You’ve always thought there’s something magnetic about him, something that keeps you craving another look, a little more time. In the back of your head, a small voice tells you that staring at someone while they sleep is considered, by many standards, creepy—but looking away would feel like having your blankets ripped from you on a cold winter morning.
He stirs in his seat then, stretching his arms in front of him before blinking his eyes open. You’ve never sat up quicker, heart beating out of your chest as you hope he didn’t catch any of that. Thankfully, your laptop is already open, so you can pretend like something fascinating is happening on the screen while you start it up, so fascinating indeed that you wouldn’t even have noticed him waking.
“Hey,” he simply says, voice still groggy with sleep. It makes your stomach flip, and you can only manage a quick glance at him over your computer screen. For some reason, you instinctively know that Nicholas’ face when he first wakes is not an image that you need to have in your head.
“Hi. Were you here all night?” you ask, hoping the tremble in your voice isn’t that obvious.
Nicholas sits up, slides a hand over his face with a sigh. “Yeah. I’m not sure when I passed out, though.”
“You should head home. Or at least sleep here a little more.”
In your peripheral, you see him shake his head. “It’s alright. I’ll go grab a Monster then I can start on this again.”
“That’s not healthy, Weno—”
He shrugs before you can finish your sentence. “I’ll rest when we’re done with this game. Ooh, did you get us donuts?” he says, eyes widening at the sight of the paper bag next to you and its familiar logo.
He reaches over you for the bag, and the sudden proximity makes your hands freeze on your keyboard. His face is so close to yours, close enough for you to see the last traces of sleep around his slightly puffy eyes and lips. His knee gently bumps into yours and warmth spreads through your entire body. He seems completely oblivious to your inner turmoil as he bites into the sugar and cinnamon donut, closing his eyes and humming a low sound of satisfaction which does nothing to help your racing imagination.
You’ve always known Nicholas was an attractive man—anyone with eyes could say this much. But there’s a world of difference between objectively recognizing someone is attractive and being attracted to them. In your years of knowing him, you’ve become familiar with the warmth that blooms in your stomach when you hear his laughter, or when his gaze lingers on you for a little too long. You’ve become used to it, more like an old habit you can’t shake than something you feel compelled to act upon. But this feeling, this is something else entirely. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, and you’re afraid that if you stay in this room for a minute longer, you’ll do or say something to betray your thoughts.
You push your chair away from the table in an awkward, loud screech against the floor tiles, and stand up abruptly. Nicholas’ head snaps towards you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.
“I’ll go get us drinks,” you announce robotically to the room.
“But you already got donuts—”
“It’s alright,” you interrupt, already grabbing your bag and practically running out of the room. Nicholas calls your name, but you ignore it.
The late December air feels cool on your burning skin as you step outside. Your brisk walk to the nearby convenience store somewhat helps to calm you down, although you belatedly realize that your odd behavior might have alerted your friend to the exact thing you wanted to hide. You head over to the refrigerated drinks section, grabbing a blueberry-flavored Monster for him and a storebrand smoothie for yourself.
You’re never really been interested in boys—not like that, at least. It’s not that you’ve kept yourself at a distance from them. Unfortunately, video games are still a predominantly male hobby, and so most of the people you’ve shared that passion with have been boys. Some of them make for decent gaming partners, and some, even for decent friends. But finding a boyfriend was never a priority or worry of yours, not even back in high school when it seemed to be all some of your friends could talk about. Not until you met Choi Soobin at a Game Developing camp — of course — during the summer between junior and senior year. He was everything you thought boys should be—quiet, kind, and a good gamer. Euijoo reminded you of him, and that’s why you so easily approved of him for Chaewon, who you believe deserves nothing but the best.
And although Nicholas is also quiet, kind, and a good gamer, you would never think to compare him to Soobin. He may come off reserved at first, but it’s not out of shyness—rather, he observes people first and determines whether they’re worth his time and energy. It seems that not many fit his indecipherable criteria; you, Chaewon and Euijoo must be part of the lucky ones.
There’s something cold, almost arrogant about him, something that ticked you off before you got to know him — and that still does now, truth be told — in his smirk whenever he beats someone at a game, in the tightness of his jaw when one of his teammates messes up. Something obsessive in the way he locks himself in his room to finish an assignment, or pulls an all-nighter at the library to debug something like he did today. Something that remains unattainable, mysterious, even to you, who’s known him for three years now, in the way he won’t explain why the smile drops from his face when he gets a call notification from one of his parents, in the way he won’t talk about how his breaks in Taiwan go. Maybe that’s why you find yourself so drawn to him, all his sharp edges reflecting yours, making you wonder what’s hiding beneath his surface in a way you’ve never been curious about anyone else before.
But it’s that something that makes you feel like you can’t like him. Like you’re not allowed to. When you ask Chaewon whether she feels it too, that bay that he keeps people at, she shrugs and says he’s just a little more reserved than most. Then she side-eyes you and says something like, “As if you’re Little Miss Open Book yourself.” You drop the subject, but when you wonder if you’ll never get to cross that little remaining distance to Nicholas, an unexplainable sadness washes over you.
Anyway, it seems like the last thing on his mind is dating. He’s said very little about his family, but you know that both of his parents are doctors, and that they weren’t overjoyed at his love for video games, nor at the prospect of their eldest son going into Computer Science rather than Medicine, and in a foreign country at that. He’s one of the most studious people you know, and you wonder whether he works so hard to prove to them he can make it, that he didn’t choose the wrong path. He’s busy enough with his studies, and you’ve never once seen him express interest towards a girl. He still regularly complains about Euijoo and Chaewon making out in the shared parts of their apartment.
Spending so much time with him, working on your game, makes it easy to forget there are parts of him you don’t have access to. When he asked you whether you wanted to participate in your university’s game programming competition together, you weren’t in the least bit reluctant to accept his offer. You knew he wouldn’t be condescending or mansplain to you how code worked like many of your male Game Design peers, as though you weren’t studying the same thing. In fact, he’s been the opposite of that, treating your ideas with respect, working tirelessly to implement them into the structure of the game even when they force him to write a hundred additional lines of code, coming up with a satisfying alternative when something is just too complicated.
So, despite yourself, you’ve come to cherish Nicholas as a friend, then as a gaming partner, and now even as someone who was easy and fun to work with. It doesn’t help that he remembers your coffee order by heart, that he puts your favorite side dishes in front of you whenever you eat out with Chaewon and Euijoo, and that he looks the way he does. You still get annoyed at yourself when your heart beats up a storm in your chest like it did earlier, just from his proximity.
In the end, it doesn’t matter whatever sort of feelings you might have for Nicholas—you know yourself, and you know you won’t ever make the first move. You tell yourself it’s better off this way. In less than six months, you’ll be done with university, and with his grades, Nicholas is already getting calls from the headhunters of some of the country’s leading companies. You may know close to nothing about Computer Science, but you know that he’s always in the top three students of his class and that he won your university’s Hackathon last year, so it’s no wonder that recruiters are reaching out to him before he’s even graduated. When you ask him about whether he’s accepted any of their offers, or about the kind of company he’d like to work for, he only shrugs, saying he hasn’t given it much thought. He doesn’t expand, and you don’t press.
Meanwhile, you’ve started applying for post-graduate internships and programs at practically every video game company in South Korea, no matter how big or small, and a few international ones you’re drawn to, although you’d rather stay in the country for now. It’d be a dream to land the Narrative Design Internship at Jellyfish Studios, but after putting your absolute all into the application, you try to think about it as little as you can and expect even less. It’s hard to do, especially when you check your emails every night hoping for an interview offer, but you do your best. It isn’t the biggest game company in Korea by any means, but they’ve always produced your favorite games, with amazing, emotional storylines and beautiful graphics. Every time you play one of their games, you wish you’d written it yourself. The next best thing would be to help design them.
For now, you’ll get through the last month of your last year of university, power through your final exams, and ignore the way your stomach flips every time you meet a certain pair of sharp eyes.
You’re glad he doesn’t question you outright when you’re back in your shared cubicle. “Thank you, Y/N,” he simply says as you hand him his drink. You think his gaze on yours is a little more insistent than usual, a little more searching, but you ignore it, and he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns his laptop towards you, lines of complicated code that your eyes need a few seconds to adjust to filling up his screen. “This is why I stayed up last night.”
When you recognize the actions and dialogue, you gasp. “No way, Weno… You were able to do it?”
You’d wanted to add a last minute plot-line to the game, something that would only become available to the player if they’d managed to complete their dialogue with a few particular NPCs. It would force Nicholas to add a bunch of variables and to go back and change some of his previous code, but you thought it would make for a much more emotionally satisfying ending for players who had gone through the pains of exhausting every dialogue option. Although he said he’d try his best, he also told you he couldn’t make any promises. You never expected him to spend so much time on this.
His lips spread into a smile, an adorable mix of pride and shyness. “Yeah. It was really tricky, and took a hell of a long time, but I found some useful tips on a forum online. I just… I know how much this idea meant to you. And I truly think that it’ll give us an edge in the competition.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” you say, too absorbed by his code to really pay attention to what comes of your mouth.
He shrugs. “It’s your idea that’s brilliant,” he says quietly. “I just executed it.”
You turn to him with a wide grin on your face. “We’re so gonna win this thing, Weno.”
He mirrors your smile, eyes plunged deep into yours. This time, when your heart hammers wildly in your chest, you’re not so worried about it.
.
.
D-1686. 4 years, 7 months, 10 days earlier
You graduate on a beautiful July morning. Nicholas looks smart in his navy three-piece suit and white button-up that fit him like they’ve been perfectly tailored to his body—you’ve had to look at him in increments, too afraid you won’t be afraid to detach your eyes from him if you let them linger too long.
It’s just that you can’t quite wrap your head around the fact that this is the end for both of you. You have no doubt that you’ll stay friends, but it won’t be the same. You’re both going home for the summer, and then who knows. Neither of you has something lined up for the fall: you’re waiting on a decision from Jellyfish Studios, whom you should hear from any day now, before you accept any other offers you’ve been made. Meanwhile, Nicholas still shrugs whenever you ask him about his plans. You’ve never seen anyone so relaxed about the uncertainty of their future.
You sit at opposite ends of the graduation hall, packed with students from two other STEM degrees. With his freshly dyed blond hair, which you saw his parents scold him for earlier, he stands out among everyone. You look at the balcony above you, searching for Chaewon and Euijoo who graduated last week, and your family who travelled to the city for your graduation. When Computer Science gets called forward and each student makes their way across the stage one by one to receive their degree from the respective department heads, you only have eyes for him. Your heart pounds like you’re the one waiting to walk up the stairs, and you’re screaming his name and clapping louder than anyone else as he crosses the stage, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he avoids eye contact with the camera recording the ceremony.
No matter how many times you rehearsed your walk in your head, finding your family and friends beforehand expressly so you could wave at them on stage, once you’re there, the only person you remember to smile at is Nicholas. In the few seconds that your gazes interlock, you think of how far the two of you have come along since the day you properly met at that café until now, of all the sleepless nights spent blinking at your computer screens, of the feeling of creating something with him.
You’re not sure you’re ready to leave all that behind already.
Afterwards, Chaewon finds a sunny spot in front of the graduation hall to take pictures: of the four of you, of you and your family, of Nicholas and his. Euijoo uses his broken English to communicate with Nicholas’ family while Chaewon catches up excitedly with yours, undeterred by your parents’ reserve, badgering your little brother with questions. Nicholas grumbles the entire time, adorable as he rolls his eyes when he’s asked to take another picture, then proceeds to pose as nonchalantly as he can, hands in his trouser pockets, chin held high to accentuate his jaw, eyes squinting at some faraway point. So you’re surprised when it’s him who comes to you for a photo, and not the other way around—he got to it before you could gather the courage. You just stand next to each other at first, leaving a little space between your bodies, but Chaewon is not easily satisfied. She peers from behind her Nikon with an expression that says, Really?, then gestures for the two of you to get closer. Clearing his throat, Nicholas takes a step to the side, looking straight in front of him as he wraps an arm around your waist. The touch is gentle, almost timid, but it’s enough for your breath to catch in your throat. As you stare up at him in wide-eyed surprise, a small smirk blooms on his lips. “Look at the camera,” he says, voice low, only for you to hear. You turn your head towards Chaewon, but you’re not sure your smile looks very natural anymore.
As you’re about to go your separate ways for lunch, Nicholas says a few words to his parents in Mandarin, then turns to you, asking if he can talk to you quickly. He leads you to a quieter spot nearby. You’ve never seen him so nervous as he stands in front of you, rocking on his feet, eyes trained on the ground between you. Despite your burning curiosity, you let him take his time, enjoying this rare opportunity to stare shamelessly at him, the way the sun softens even his sharp features, the way this uncharacteristic uneasiness tugs his eyebrows together and his lip corners downward. You’d want to smooth it all out with your fingertips if you didn’t find it so endearing—it almost distracts you from the red-hot question on your tongue, namely, what the hell does Nicholas need to tell you that he couldn’t wait until later?
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I should’ve told you earlier, but if I don’t tell you now, I’m not sure I ever will,” he says, voice breathy, unsure. His voice is almost drowned out by the intensity of your heartbeat, pounding in your ears. Finally, he meets your eyes, and whatever he finds there must reassure him, because his expression melts into a small smile. “Y/N, I—”
He’s interrupted by the simultaneous pings of your phones. Your eyes go wide—this is a sound you’ve trained yourself to look out for for the past weeks. “Sorry, Weno, I really have to check this,” you say as you fish your phone out of your purse, the blood drained from your body from the notification alone, an email from Jellyfish Studios. You type in your password with trembling hands, and almost drop your phone when you read the first sentence.
Dear Y/N L/N,
Congratulations!
We are pleased to inform you your application for an internship in Narrative Design has been accepted. If you would like to join us, please contact us in the following days to go through with the hiring procedures.
Dumbfounded, you stare at the words on your screen as if they might rearrange themselves out of nowhere. Nicholas’ voice is soft as he breaks the silence. “Did you get in?” You look up at him, mouth agape as you nod wildly. His smile widens. “Guess you won’t be getting rid of me so soon, then.”
When you tilt your head, he chuckles and holds his phone out for you to read. The same words of acceptance but tailored to him — Dear Wang Yixiang; an internship in Game Engineering — blink up at you. Your eyes ping-pong between his screen and his face. There are so many thoughts racing through your head that you can’t even get a single one out through your mouth.
“I didn’t want to tell you I applied,” he explains. “Didn’t want to get either of our hopes up.”
“Oh my God, Weno,” you whisper.
“I know,” he says, matching your tone. Somehow, it’s his excited grin that gets you out of your trance, that makes you realize how real all this is — you’re accepted, so is Nicholas, you’re getting an extra year with him — and you all but jump into his arms, his own wrapping around your middle immediately, like he was always ready to catch you.
But the feeling of his body pressed against yours, close enough for his perfume with its fresh and woody notes to fill your nostrils, snaps you back down to Earth. You step out of his embrace as quickly as you jumped into it, scared to have overstepped a boundary even though Nicholas looks not the least bit offended as he keeps his steady, gentle gaze on you.
Before an awkward silence has time to settle, you remember something: “What were you about to tell me? Was it this?”
You watch as Nicholas’ expression fluctuates from fondness to surprise to neutrality, an unusual show of emotions coming from him. “Yeah, yeah. That was it.”
Behind him, his mother calls out his name, seemingly growing impatient. He glances at his family, then back at you. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” he asks.
You nod your head in small, quick movements. “Yeah.”
Nicholas takes a few steps then stops, turning back towards you with a weary expression on his face. “You are happy about this, right?”
Although you wonder where he got the idea that you might not be overjoyed by this from, his concern endears you. Lets you see through a crack of his mask that he cares about this friendship as much as you do. You tilt your head, smiling at him. “Of course I am, Weno.”
A grin grows on his lips, the kind you wish you got to see more often. “Okay.”
You watch him walking away, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the thought that this won’t have to be the last image you have of him.
.
.
D-1604. 4 years, 4 months, 20 days earlier
Drumming your fingers on the wooden table, you look outside the café’s foggy window to the Jellyfish Studios offices across the street. In thirty or so minutes, you’ll be crossing those glass doors yourself and stepping inside the lobby with a half-dozen other bright-eyed and bushy-tailed new interns. You don’t know yet on which of the nine floors your desk will be, or what your colleagues will look like, or the kind of games you’ll be working on, but that unknown excites you. You’ve never been so hopeful about anything, never seen your future so open and inviting in front of you as you do now, staring at your new company’s logo on the top left corner of the building.
“Here,” Nicholas says, low voice snapping you out of your reverie as he sets a steaming cup of coffee in front of you.
“Thanks, Weno.” You turn your attention back to the building across the street, a small smile on your lips as you rest your head on your palm. “Aren’t you excited?” you say dreamily. “I feel like we’re gonna do great things in there.”
He chuckles. “I’m sure you will,” he replies, a little teasingly, a little earnestly.
You look at him. “So will you! You only wrote the code for the game that won our university’s competition, after all.”
“Maybe, but the ideas all came from here,” he says, reaching his finger to tap your forehead gently. It’s a small, fleeting touch, but it makes warmth spread through your entire body. You feel your face heat, and you take a sip of your scalding caramel latte just to hide your flusteredness. Nicholas sits back, watching you with a smile—but if he guesses the thoughts in your head, he says nothing.
It’s only that you haven’t seen him in a while. You stayed with your parents all summer, wanting to spend as much time with your brother before he left the country for university, only leaving to go on a trip to Japan with Chaewon. You last saw Nicholas a few days after graduation, when the flowers were in full bloom and the sun beat down on you relentlessly; now, leaves are already starting to turn all shades of orange and yellow, and you’ve fished out your jackets from the back of your closet. Of course you’re going to need some time to get used to being around Nicholas again. It doesn’t matter that a big part, bigger than you’d like to admit, of your summer evenings were spent on a call with him, playing video games and complaining about living with your parents again after four years away. Hearing his voice through your headphones and seeing him in the flesh are two entirely different things.
Thankfully, he doesn’t try to touch you again—the brushes of your knees or your feet together beneath the table are only accidental. You don’t have much to catch up on, so once you’ve forced him to list everything he was excited about for this internship then made him listen to your own list, you sit in comfortable silence, sipping on your coffee that’s finally the right temperature and eavesdropping on the people around you.
It’s soon time to go. On the way there, Nicholas tells you, voice so quiet you barely hear it over the rumble of cars and passers-by, “I’m glad we’re doing this together. It… It makes it easier, knowing that you’re here.”
Compared to Euijoo and Chaewon, neither of you are very well-versed in the art of saying nice things to each other. You’re more comfortable teasing each other, showing your affection either through sarcastic quips or silent gestures. So coming from Nicholas, this is practically a confession of his ultimate devotion. You stare up at him, a grin spreading on your face the more he tries to avert his gaze from yours, clearing his throat and muttering for you to stop it. But you can’t help it—it’s not often that you feel you have the upper hand on him, so you want to enjoy it while you can.
“I agree,” you say. “You’re lucky I’m here. I’ll make sure you won’t get fired within a week.”
He rolls his eyes but his smile tells a different story.
In front of the wide glass doors, you freeze. The tall building suddenly feels vertiginous as it spreads into the sky, and a gnawing sensation of nervousness starts to take over your excitement.
And although you didn’t say it back, you really are glad to be doing this with Nicholas. He stands next to you, arm slightly brushing yours, his presence immediately soothing. Nudging his shoulder with yours, he says, “We got this.”
You nod your head once, determination settling on your features. “We got this.”
You walk in together, and at the welcome desk, the receptionist redirects you to a group of people who look about your age, standing a few meters away from you in the lobby, and says someone will be there to get you soon. The group is exactly what you’d picture when you think of interns for a video game company: bespectacled nerds (meant positively, of course), unsure what to do with their arms, looking at everything but each other, their soon-to-be coworkers. The awkward atmosphere permeates even yours and Nicholas’ conversation, so you stand there side-by-side, Nicholas scanning the room, his head held high like he already owns the place, while you smile at everyone you make eye contact with, no matter how briefly.
To your relief, a woman who looks to be in her thirties approaches your group before long. She introduces herself as Ms. Seo, Assistant Manager in Human Resources, and welcomes you all. She congratulates you then tells you how happy she and everyone at Jellyfish are to meet their new interns, how you’ll become an invaluable member of your respective teams, and how she’s sure your time here will be greatly beneficial to your future career—it’s clearly a rehearsed pitch, but it works. Her words make you feel giddy, and you hold onto her promise of becoming part of something greater than yourself like a newborn onto its mother.
Afterwards, she takes you on a tour of the building and the different departments, from Marketing to Sound to Test & Quality, pointing out who is in charge of the interns in each team. Design and Engineering share a floor, so Nicholas will be close by at all times—when you grin up at him upon finding this out, he smiles back fondly. Each floor has its own break room and meeting rooms, but there’s a cafeteria on the sixth floor and a café on the ground floor. In the basement are the Archives, both of paperwork and records that the company has kept throughout the years, and of the games they’ve produced. They even have the old consoles needed to play games released in the 90s and early 2000s, and employees are allowed to go down and play for a little during their breaks. In a conspiratorial tone, Ms. Seo shares that you just need to be careful of the archivist on-duty, some of them being less lax about the amount of time you spend down here than others.
When the tour is over, she lets you head back to your respective departments and introduce yourselves to the person who’ll be in charge of you. This person, for you and the other intern who introduces himself as Taki, is Mrs. Kang, a Senior Writer who’s been working at Jellyfish for over fifteen years. She mentions a few games she’s helped create and chuckles as your jaw falls more and more open—some of those games shaped your teenage years, especially Still Life, an RPG following a girl in high school in which just one choice can drastically change the storyline.
“I don’t know how many hours I played, trying to get every dialogue and ending.”
She smiles. “That’s good to know. You’re dedicated.”
You nod vigorously. You’ve known this woman for all of two minutes, but you’re already desperate for her validation. She asks you and Taki a few questions about your background, the kind of games you like to play, the ones you’d like to create. The two of you have similar answers: choice-driven games where the player and character go on an emotional journey together. “With pretty artwork,” you say.
“And a cool soundtrack,” Taki adds.
Mrs. Kang nods, seeming satisfied. “You chose the perfect place for that.”
She briefly introduces the rest of the team to you. You can’t remember eight new names right away, but at least everyone seems friendly, and you’re glad there are about as many women as there are men. When you look behind you, you can see Nicholas going through the same presentations as you, but in an all-male team, save for the other intern with him. You already feel bad for her.
The Head of your department has his own office. Mrs. Kang knocks at the glass door and lets herself in, and her boss only has a second to click a bunch of times on his computer mouse and assume a more professional pose than the one he was previously in, leaning back on his desk chair, one hand behind his head.
“Mr. Lee, these are our new interns, L/N Y/N and Takayama Riki.”
You both bow as Mr. Lee clears his throat, straightening his tie. “Right, right. Welcome, both of you. I’m sure Mrs. Kang has told you everything you need to know, so I won’t bore you. I hope you’ll like it here, and if you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to let us know. Anyone on the team will be happy to help.”
You and Taki thank him, and as you’re filing out of the room, Mrs. Kang turns back around to the older man, her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Lee, were you playing the Sims again?”
He starts clearing his throat again, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at anything but her. She tilts her head. “Mr. Lee…”
“It’s called benchmarking! I’m staying one step ahead of the competition,” he mumbles, clearly not believing his own words.
She sighs. “We have a whole department for that, Sir.”
“Right, right.”
Back with the rest of the team, she shows you to the desks you and Taki will be occupying, just across from hers, and tells you to get settled in. Your eyes widen at the computers waiting for you there, high-performing server desktops that you can’t believe you’ll get work on. If this is what Narrative Designers get, you can’t even imagine what sort of jewels the programmers will be working with.
Mrs. Kang asks if you’ve got any questions, and Taki raises an eager hand. “Will we be meeting Murata Fuma?” he asks. The name is unfamiliar to you, but Taki’s eyes are wide and starry as he awaits an answer. Mrs. Kang smiles like she’s seen this expression a thousand times before.
“Right, I forgot to mention that. As you’ve noticed, Mr. Murata isn’t here right now. He’s working at our American branch at the moment, but you’ll get to meet him soon, once he returns. We usually handle one intern each, so that you have a personal point of contact.”
Taki sighs dreamily. “Wow. I can’t believe I’ll finally get to meet him.” When he meets your curious eyes, he leans forward on his desk. “Don’t you know him?” he asks, gasping when you shake your head. “You don’t know Murata Fuma? The brain behind The Curious Village?”
“Oh, I’ve heard of it, but I never got around to playing it.”
“You’d love it,” he says, eyes wide and excited, puppyish grin like he’s about to let you in on the most fascinating story. “It starts off with you, the main character, moving into a new town. Everything’s so cute that you let yourself be fooled it’ll just be a sweet story about making friends and finding a new home. But it quickly turns super mysterious and super dark… I did my first play-through in three days. I didn’t even shower.”
“That’s… wow. Sounds fun.”
“Fun doesn’t even start to describe it,” he says. “Murata is a genius. Village was his first game as Lead Designer, and it was both a critical and player success. I can only hope to be like him someday.”
Ms. Kang watches this exchange with an amused glint in her eyes. “Looks like we have a new addition to the Fuma fanclub. You’ll fit right in, Taki. Everyone loves him around here—although I must say, most of his fans tend to be women.”
You can’t help but chuckle. This Murata guy sounds like the quarterback of a 2010s American teen movie—all the girls want him, all the boys want to be him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to meet him and see what all the fuss is about. And to play that game of his.
.
.
D-1603. 4 years, 4 months, 19 days earlier
Life has never been more beautiful, and you’re sure it has nothing to do with the half-pint of beer you’ve had. No, it has everything to do with Mrs. Kang, who’s had about three times as much to drink as you have but seems three times less inebriated, and who’s turning out to be the most amusing storyteller you’ve ever met. Ms. Cho and Ms. Song, your new coworkers from the Game Design team, have become Miyeon and Yuqi to you since the first round of meat was served. Yuqi in particular seems bent on grilling the meat and making wraps for you, opening her mouth wide so you’ll mirror it, like you’re her baby and not the new hire. She’s had about two sips of her beer.
“This is the thing about gamers,” Taki tells you, voice low as he leans in conspiratorially closer. “They all have horrible alcohol tolerances because they never go out. But me?” He smirks. “I was a menace in high school. Some might say I’m a reformed bad boy. We used to spend weekends in Hongdae, the bouncers knew we were seventeen and didn’t give a shit. Anyway, I think I fucked up my liver sometime in senior year and now I can drink like crazy, it doesn’t even affect me. Look at this—”
“—I don’t think that’s healthy, Taki,” you try to say, but he’s quicker, grabbing his pint and downing it in five impressive gulps. Under your horrified eyes, everyone at the table applauds and cheers him on.
“Another beer here, please!” Mr. Lee shouts. He beckons Taki towards him with a gesture of his hand, then wraps an arm around the younger man’s shoulder, pulling him down slightly like he’s about to let him onto something big.
Jellyfish sure knows how to welcome its new interns and employees. They throw something like this twice a year, three or four departments renting out a room at a restaurant together to celebrate the most recent round of hires. From your seat, you can see Nicholas sitting at another table with his colleagues, laughing, tapping his glass with theirs, and of course, wolfing down the free food. You catch his eye once in a while, the spark that zips down your spine growing bigger with every sip of your beer.
Laughter erupts from his side of the room, complete with snorts and hand slams on the table, making a few heads swivel in their direction. Miyeon and Yuqi roll their eyes. “Someone must’ve made some obscure C++ joke. Hilarious, I’m sure,” Yuqi comments sarcastically.
Noticing your confused expression, Miyeon glances back at the engineers then leans in towards you. “Our team and theirs aren’t exactly on the best terms,” she explains.
“But don’t you work together all the time?” you ask.
“Of course, that’s why it’s so complicated. We have to work together, but the way we see games are completely different. They take something whimsical and fun and beautiful and turn it into a series of lines—”
Yuqi, who’s been nodding along vigorously, cuts her off. “They suck the soul of them. They’re always saying, No, I can’t code that, you need to take that out, I’ll have to rebuild the structure from scratch if you add that, blah, blah, blah,” she says, imitating an oafish male voice that you can’t help but chuckle at.
“But isn’t it literally their job to put our storylines into code? I mean, I didn’t take CompSci, God forbid, but how hard can it really be?” Miyeon says.
“They act like they get the short end of the stick, but we’re the ones who come up with the whole story, characters and dialogue from A to Z. Their job is completely dependent on us,” Yuqi asserts.
You think back on your time working on your game with Nicholas, the way you handled every clash easily, how you both worked and conceded certain things to make the other’s life easier. Naively, perhaps, you thought that this type of collaboration would extend to your professional life. You thought a good, mutual understanding between game engineers and designers was the basis of making any game.
You want to argue that surely all engineers can’t be like that, but Yuqi is quicker. “Plus, on a more personal note,” she starts, dropping her voice to a whisper, “in terms of relationships? Do not go there.” Miyeon nods along, her eyes wide and staring into your soul. “I used to date someone from that team, thank fuck he doesn’t work here anymore, but oh my God, he was the worst boyfriend. Always so rational, saying he couldn’t talk to me when I was being “emotional” during arguments, trying to come up with solutions when I kept telling him all I wanted was for him to comfort me. And he couldn’t go five minutes waiting in a line without playing World of Warcraft. And, not to overshare, but he was by far the worst lay of my life. Couldn’t make me come for the life of him. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I even stayed a year with him,” she finishes, looking thoughtful as she takes a sip of her beer.
“Maybe his disgusting salary helped,” Miyeon says, smirking.
Yuqi snaps her fingers in a sort of Eureka! moment. “Yeah, that was it! He did buy me a shitton of stuff. Think he felt bad about the orgasm thing, actually.”
They tell you that for every department, there’s probably one woman who has a similar story to tell. Your eyes flicker over to Nicholas, his eyes bright and a small smile playing on his lips as he listens to one of his coworkers talk, and you think that he can’t possibly be like that. Either for the work stuff or the… other stuff. You can’t help the disappointment or the feeling of injustice simmering in your chest, like this condemnation of some of the men in Nicho’s line of work is a condemnation of your friend himself.
But you can’t linger on that thought too long, because Mr. Lee, whom you hadn’t noticed had left the room, comes back in, waving his cellphone and wearing a radiant smile. “Mr. Murata will be back next week,” he announces to your table. “He’s wrapping up a few things in LA, and he’s decided to take a few days off before flying back to Korea.”
Excited chatter erupts around the table, as it has always done whenever Murata’s name has been mentioned in the past week since your internship started. You’ve overheard coworkers, from both your team and others, gossiping about him in the break room, wondering in hushed, giggly whispers whether he’s got a girlfriend or what it’d be like to date him.
Finally, you’re able to ask the question that’s been weighing on your tongue. “So, what’s the big deal with Mr. Murata? Why does everyone seem to love him?”
Miyeon and Yuqi exchange an amused look as if to say, Oh, this girl. “You haven’t met him, Y/N. You’ll understand as soon as you see him. And you’ll become one of us after you’ve talked to him,” Miyeon explains.
“It’d be fine if he was just hot,” Yuqi continues. “And that, he is. But he also happens to be extremely kind, funny, easy to work with, and good at what he does.”
“Obviously, any man that showers every night and isn’t insufferable to talk to for more than two minutes is going to be popular in our office, seeing the material we’re working with,” Miyeon says as she scans the room, lasers of sheer disgust pointing out of her narrowed eyes.
She isn’t wrong in that you’ve never seen this many people at once wearing graphic t-shirts with mathematical puns or anime characters. And it’s a work setting. Nicholas and a few other of your male coworkers stand out in their button-ups or knitted sweaters and hair that somewhat looks styled—no wonder hordes of people drool over Mr. Murata if he’s as good-looking as Yuqi says.
“But even without comparing him to other men at Jellyfish? He’s a catch and a half. I know he’d make my head turn in the street,” Miyeon concludes, shrugging and taking a sip of her beer like she’s resolved herself to the fact of having a crush on her colleague.
“So is it like a Mr. Murata belongs to everyone sort of situation?” you joke, thinking of all the high school shojos you’ve seen where popular male students were out of everyone’s reach, as a matter of general peace-keeping. “No one girl can have him because the others would riot?”
The girls laugh. “A little,” Miyeon concedes. “Let’s just say that if he dated someone out of the office, it might make a few people jealous, but she wouldn’t get like… doxxed or anything.”
“And anyway, HR is pretty strict about workplace relationships, so most people run around trying not to get caught. Not that they never do,” Yuqi adds with a smile.
You’re about to ask more questions, eager to know about what you’re sure are the many rumors circulating around the office, but cheers from the other side of the room grab your table’s attention. It seems like someone has managed to get employees from different departments to all play a drinking game together. Around the room, others get up to join—when you check on Nicholas, he’s sitting alone at his table, smiling hazily at the commotion his coworkers are making, the flush on his cheeks visible from here. He never could handle his alcohol very well.
With everyone mostly distracted, you take the opportunity to slip away from your table and head towards Nicholas. After what Yuqi and Miyeon said about the relationship between your department and Nicholas’, there’s a vague feeling of entering enemy territory, like you’re Juliet sneaking out to meet Romeo. But who knows? Maybe the two of you will mark the end of the rivalry between Designers and Engineers.
He smiles at you as you approach, keeping his eyes on you the whole time until you sit by his side. Even his ears and throat are flushed red. “Hi,” you say, giggling at the stupidly content look on his face. You’ve rarely seen him so tipsy—conscious of being a lightweight, he never drank much when you, Chaewon and Euijoo went out. You wonder if he felt uncomfortable, sitting at a table of near strangers.
“Hi,” he replies, then mirrors your laugh. “Having fun?”
“Yeah, my coworkers are great. Didn’t feel like joining yours?” you ask, nodding your head towards the group of them downing shot after shot.
Nicholas shakes his head. “Needed a little break from socializing.”
“Oh. Should I leave you alone?” you say, trying not to side as disappointed as you feel. Nicholas has always been on the more introverted side, you should know better than to take it personally.
He hums a ‘no’ sound, shaking his head again, harder this time. “Stay. It feels different with you. Less like work.”
You smile. Look at him, being an honest type of drunk. Maybe one more pint and he’ll be telling you how much he cherishes your friendship, like Chaewon at 2 a.m. whenever you go out clubbing.
You’re a little more extraverted than Nicholas, being in the presence of others requires more effort for him than for you, but you still immediately know what he means. Less judgment, less expectations, less of a role to play. You can just be… yourself.
He’s really cute like this, all tipsy and messy hair and more open than usual. It almost makes you want to tease him, to see how many nice words you might exert out of him now that his filter is dampened. But you don’t. Instead, you smile at him, and tell him how glad you are to have been hired together. To have a familiar face around.
When you say this, he closes his eyes like a woman in a yogurt ad, all blissed-out and perfectly content, like a better dairy product has never existed. “Me too,” he simply replies. His eyes open slowly, gazing into yours with a fondness that makes your heart skip.
Nicholas has a lingering problem. Back at university, whenever your eyes met across a table or a room, while you were quick to look away, he always stayed there for a few seconds before focusing on something else. While you tapped his shoulder to get his attention or flicked his forehead to tell him off, his hand remained on your lower back to guide you through a crowd or took its slow time pinching tree fallings from your hair, dust from your jacket.
Tonight is no different, except that you decide you’ll linger, too, just to see what it’s all about. Of course, you instantly realize it’s a disastrous idea. With every second you stare into Nicholas’ eyes, whole universes seem to expand inside them, flecks of gold glittering in seas of dark, intense brown. You make the fatal mistake of letting your eyes trail down his face, taking in his pristine skin, honey hidden behind the blush of his cheeks, until they reach his lips, slightly apart and so pink and plump and kissable and—
You look away. You’re short of breath, heart beating so hard you feel it in your throat. You take Nicholas’ pint and down the rest of it, needing something to cool you down, but it’s gone stale and lukewarm and the sound of his laughter when you grimace in disgust only makes your face feel hotter. You eventually find an excuse to make your way back to your table, trying not to look suspicious under Yuqi’s and Miyeon’s curious gazes even as the moment replays on a loop in your mind.
.
.
D-1593. 4 years, 4 months, 9 days earlier
The office is far too agitated for nine on a Monday morning. There’s chatter all around you, your coworkers craning their heads in the direction of your department lead’s office, like they’re all trying to get a peek. All you see is the back of a dark-haired head and a pair of broad shoulders. As you take a seat at your desk, you don’t even need to ask to find out what’s going on. With his huge, characteristic grin, Taki skips the greetings and immediately tells you that Murata Fuma is back.
“He’s in the office with Mr. Lee right now. I talked to him, Y/N. Like actually exchanged words with this guy.”
“That’s… great?”
“It is! He’s the whole reason I joined this company in the first place.”
You try to immerse yourself in your work, but with all that background noise of whispers and giggles, the words on the script you’re supposed to be revising don’t quite reach your brain. When you look around the office, you see it’s not just your department jabbering away, but practically the whole floor—and mostly women, just as Mrs. Kang had said on your first day here. This Murata guy seems more like the lead singer of a pop-rock band, his adoring fans waiting for him outside a venue after a concert, than the Narrative Designer at a medium-sized video game company that he is.
Finally, the door to Mr. Lee’s office opens, and even you can’t help but raise your head at the sound. You now have visual access to Mr. Murata’s side profile, which is worlds more interesting than the back of his head. The two men shake hands vigorously, Mr. Lee’s hand on Murata’s shoulder as he tells him it’s nice to have him back.
They walk towards your department together, and everyone’s either stood up or swivelled in their chair to face them before Mr. Lee’s even had to ask for a brief moment of their attention. “We will be celebrating Mr. Murata’s return with a team dinner in due time. How does Hanwoo beef sound?” he starts, which gets whoops and cheers from your team. This is probably one of the only times you’ll get to stare unabashedly at Mr. Murata, so you do—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get what all the hype was about. With a smile on his lips and his hands behind his back, he looks friendly and confident at once, like he knows he belongs at his Lead Designer desk without being a prick about it. It helps that he looks like he could be the male love interest in a 90s rom-com, his face the perfect balance of soft and masculine features, and like he takes his gym sessions seriously, his biceps visible through the fabric of his white button-up. You’d expected someone much older, a man of the salt-and-pepper variety that explained at once how he could be so respected for his work yet so beloved for his personality and looks. But to your surprise, he doesn’t even look like he’s in his thirties yet. Despite his higher position, he seems to be around Yuqi’s and Miyeon’s age, just a few years older than you.
Mr. Lee’s voice interrupts your analysis and you turn your attention to the older man, a pale sight in comparison, you must admit. “Let me just introduce him quickly for those of you who joined us in the months he was away. Murata Fuma is one of our Lead Designers here at Jellyfish, and a brilliant one at that. You’ll have heard of The Curious Village and many other successful projects he’s been a part of. This past year he was sent to our Los Angeles branch to work on a game whose creator had specifically asked for him as Narrative Designer. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to tell you about this experience, should any of you be curious. Please welcome him back warmly.”
Your department and a few other neighbouring colleagues join Mr. Lee in a round of applause, to which Mr. Murata responds with a masterful half-bashful, half-proud expression, bowing his head slightly and thanking those around him, laughing when a few of your coworkers whoop for him. “Thank you. I’m sure you’re all very busy, so I won’t take up too much of your time,” he says once the applause dies down. “As much as I enjoyed my time in LA, I must admit that it’s very nice to be back among you all, and to meet some new faces,” he says, smiling at Taki, who seems on the brink of fainting. “Mr. Lee told me we’ve got some very exciting projects coming up, so I’m looking forward to getting back to work here.”
It’s another half hour before Mr. Murata’s able to sit at his desk: everyone wants a moment of his time, a morsel of his attention. It’s like a demi-god has entered the premises of Jellyfish. You’d perhaps understand this sort of treatment from interns like Taki and other regular employees, but even his peers and superiors seem enthused by his presence, almost deferential towards him. You’re curious, although a little confused—what on Earth has this man done to deserve such respect and adoration?
Maybe if you talked to him, you’d find out. But he’s busy catching up with everyone else, letting Miyeon and Yuqi smother him in office gossip he probably does not need to know so urgently, listening to other Designers get him up to speed with the department’s most recent and ongoing projects, everyone hoping to sway him in their project’s favor. No one thinks to introduce him to the interns, and while Taki looks like a kicked puppy for not getting to exchange more words with him (he’s already recounted their thirty-second exchange three times to you), you don’t take it too personally. You’ll get to interact with him eventually.
You keep your eyes on the script and try to work, but it isn’t your fault your ear picks up some snippets of his conversations. They are speaking in the middle of the office. You notice that he does have this friendly quality about him. His smile rarely leaves his face, and he manages to make it look genuine even while one of your coworkers talks to him about her newborn baby for five minutes straight. He’s polite, but not cold; listens to others intently but can delight them with anecdotes of his own. He manages to make a typical kerfuffle with a Game Engineer over technical constraints sound like the most entertaining story that’s ever been told.
The general excitement that buzzed throughout the office seems to have mostly faded by lunchtime. For everyone, except for Taki, apparently. Eating with Nicholas and Yizhuo, the other Game Engineer intern, in the company cafeteria, he can’t stop talking about Murata, and Murata’s arrival, and Murata’s games, and when you tease him about having a crush on the man, he blushes so furiously you think you might’ve actually guessed right.
Next to him, Yizhuo listens intently, interrupting here and there to recount Murata-related gossip in the Engineering department. He’s apparently one of the slightly less hated of Designers among Engineers, because while he gets just as many crazy ideas as the rest of them, she says with air-quotes, he is also the most willing to find more efficient alternatives and doesn’t bitch up a storm whenever one of his ideas can’t be implemented. “I tried telling them about the misogynistic undertones of that statement but they ignored me. Who would’ve guessed? Anyway, now that I’ve seen him, I definitely get why half of the office is in love with him. That man is hot,” she concludes, stuffing a meatball in her mouth.
As is his usual, Nicholas stays relatively quiet throughout lunch, only laughing or asking a question here and there. You think he’s just fundamentally disinterested in office gossip and romance, so it takes you aback when on your walk to the café across the street, he asks you what you think of “this Murata guy.”
“What I think of him?” you repeat, surprised to hear this topic brought up again by Nicholas of all people.
He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “Yeah. You didn’t say much during lunch, so I was curious.”
“I don’t know, Weno. I haven’t spoken to him yet, but he seems nice enough. And he sounds like he’s great at his job.”
“And do you find him… hot?” You pause, then burst into laughter. Nicholas frowns, and is that a little red you see dusting his cheeks? “I’m just repeating what Yizhuo said,” he says, sulky.
You sigh, amused. “I mean… He’s objectively quite handsome, yes. But I like to think that a person is only truly hot if their personality goes with it.”
“Oh?” When you turn your face towards your friend, he still seems a little bit embarrassed, but a small smirk tugs at one corner of his lips, warning you of the turn this conversation might take. “And what kind of personality would that be?”
“I don’t know. It’s not just about being attractive, it’s about…” Being kind. Being attentive. Being thoughtful. “Just being a decent person, I guess. Even with a pretty face, an asshole is an asshole. And assholes aren’t deserving of the hot title.”
He chuckles. “That’s vague. Who do you know fits that description, then?”
Thankfully, your brain is faster than your lips, and you’re able to stop yourself from replying “You.” Nicholas’ good looks and kindness aren’t news. Even your attraction towards him isn’t much of a surprise; by now, you’ve come to accept it for the fact it is, like the blueness of the sky or the sunrise every morning. But admitting it to yourself and admitting to him are two wildly different things. This friendship is too precious to you to ever risk it, and so you don’t even like daydreaming about what might happen if you told your friend you sometimes thought of him as more than that, whether that outcome is positive or negative.
You reach the crosswalk, but too lost in your thoughts, you don’t realize it’s still red. With a quick stretch of his arm, Nicholas stops you just as a car whizzes past. “Careful,” he says, voice low, meeting your gaze.
Your heart skips a beat, from the near-death experience, or from Nicholas’ sudden proximity, you aren’t sure. They feel similar.
“Thanks,” you say, your head swiveling towards the crosswalk light. It’s still damnedly red, and while Nicholas barely looked at you the whole walk, his eyes now burn holes in the side of your face. Surely, he couldn’t have guessed at your thoughts? “Anyway,” you continue, eager to get away from this topic, “we’ve never talked about… guys, or crushes, or anything remotely even of that sort even in college, so let’s not start now.”
It’s only thanks to Chaewon, who gets her intel from Euijoo, who gets his intel from badgering Nicho, and thanks to hints that he’s dropped in conversations here and there, that you know anything about his love life. That he had a girlfriend in high school that he broke up with before moving to Seoul for university. That he sometimes saw her during summer break, although you have no idea whether he ever wanted for them to get back together. That out of nine girls in his CompSci class, four of them asked him out at some point. That he said yes to one only, at first only because she was among the top students, but that they really did go out for a bit in third year. Which you never saw firsthand, since it was during your year abroad.
“Why not?” he asks.
“Because… It’s awkward. You don’t need to know about the kind of man I like. And it’s not like there’d be much to tell, anyway.” You aren’t completely made of stone. That summer at camp with Soobin was fun, and there are guys you’ve found cute, crushes you’ve made up to have a reason to go to classes you didn’t like. And while you find yourself having a grand old time talking to Chaewon about them while sharing a bottle of rosé, you don’t see yourself telling Nicholas about them. You never even thought he’d be interested to hear about them. This conversation was just confusing you further with every passing second.
Perhaps sensing he’s hitting a wall, Nicholas retreats. “Okay, sure. Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m here.”
Finally, the light turns green. “Just buy me my caramel frappuccino, Wang.”
You smile at each other. “You know I will,” he says.
.
.
D-1455. 3 years, 11 months, 25 days earlier
The first few months of your internship, you feel like you’re constantly running around the company, making yourself useful where you can, assisting your superiors where they require your help. They give you small, slightly repetitive tasks, but you know every last detail matters in creating video games, so you take pride in the work you do. Even when that work entails coming up with dozens and dozens of lines for NPC barks and background chatter. There’s only so many creative ways to make a mysterious entity tell the player they shouldn’t tread further.
It’s fun, and you learn more in a month there than in your lifetime of amateur game writing but you do miss the satisfaction of working on one specific game and watching it inch closer to fruition every day. After hinting at this once or twice during check-ins with your supervisor, you finally get assigned to a big project that requires many hands. No Way Back II is the sequel to one of Jellyfish’s games that got popular three years ago, receiving praise from critics and players alike—there’s a lot hanging on this new release, and it’s at once terrifying and exciting to be a part of it, even if your creative input is minimal. Your tasks are mostly the same as before, but at least they’re all focused on this one game. Mrs. Kang even said that if you do well, you might be able to start drafting your own side quests or alternative scenarios eventually.
What’s more, Nicholas is also working on this project. You don’t interact much, since everything both of you do has to go through your superiors first, but it’s still amusing, sitting quietly across from him during a meeting, looking all serious and focused, or trying not to burst into laughter when you meet each other’s gazes as your teams go through the same arguments they repeat every week. The Designers have great ideas, but don’t realize how much work goes into even the simplest of requests; the Engineers don’t seem to understand how crucial certain additional plot points are to the player’s experience. If you took a shot every time your side mentioned emotional beats and player immersion, or Nicholas’ team emphasized clean architecture and technical constraints, you’d end up black-out wasted at one of these meetings. Sometimes, you wish you would.
Everyone stays very civil to each other, starting their sentences with, “I understand, but…” or “That sounds perfect in theory, but…” but by the end of the hour, it’s clear that frustrations are running high. Although everyone in the room wants to achieve the same goal, namely to create a good game, each side’s view of what that means are so different that agreements are hell to reach.
The first few meetings were interesting, to see first-hand how these negotiations went, how either side convinced the Game Creator, who had the final say in what would be cut or not, who decided which of the Designers’ ideas would be worth the additional work for Engineers. But when twice a week, you have to listen to the same people make the same arguments, it gets a little tiring. If it wasn’t for Nicholas discreetly rolling his eyes when only you were looking at him, you’re not sure how you’d get through them with all of your sanity still about you.
During your hang-outs with Euijoo and Chaewon, whenever the topic of work comes up, you and Nicho rat out your respective teams, recounting both sides of a conflict at the details omitted by his coworkers and the ones exaggerated by yours, the way they never fail to make the other side sound irrational or overly stubborn or bad-faithed. Of course, you’ve never told him that nine times out of ten you fully understand your coworkers and realize that you’d probably react the same way—frustrated and wishing the Engineers could show a little more… whimsy. You also never mention how uncomfortable these arguments make you, in case it would worry Chaewon and bring Nicholas’ attention to you the next time one occurs during a meeting. Plus, you objectively know that on the scale of conflicts, these are very tame, mere professional disagreements. You’d probably look a little ridiculous, admitting how much they stress you out, how much you apprehend them.
Today’s meeting starts out fine, as it always does. Your team kicks things off, Mr. Murata going over the last revisions they’ve made to their script, Mrs. Kang asking, “Think you can make it work this time?” in a tone she probably intends more playful than what actually comes out. Mr. Song, Nicholas’ supervisor and the lead Engineer on this project, cocks an eyebrow at her remark but acquiesces. It’s when they start discussing the new quest that things get tense. You can tell Mrs. Kang tries to keep herself in check, but the longer she details her vision for this part of the game, the more her excitement takes over: with a glint in her eyes and the help of a flowchart she designed herself, she goes over all the dialogue options a player might go for, and their subsequent consequences. She talks in the Game Creator’s direction more than in the Engineers’, knowing it’s him she truly needs to convince. It also allows her to ignore whenever Song cocks his head to the side in a show of doubt or frowns at some of her more complex ideas. “Some of these might seem insignificant at first, but they turn out to have an impact later down the line. It makes players realize that even the smallest of choices matter, that nothing in this game is left up to chance.”
The Game Creator nods along to her words, letting a few beats of silence pass before asking what Engineering thinks. Song unhesitatingly launches into his reply. “These are all good ideas in theory—” (take a shot) “—but implementing all of it isn’t feasible.” Even at the front of the room, standing before her Powerpoint presentation, you can see Mrs. Kang tense. You brace yourself for the oncoming conflict. Even if you’re not in the middle of it, the raised voices and impassioned tones trigger something inside of you, make you feel uneasy. Song continues. “Some of these options ultimately result in routes that are very similar to each other, so it’d be a waste of time mapping all of them out. We should focus on two, three at the very most.”
She inhales deeply, in a practiced manner that shows how many times she’s had this exact conversation. “They may seem similar now, but they have long-term consequences. They change things about the protagonist’s personality—”
“These changes are so small, it’ll all look the same to the player, and it’ll just make them confused—”
“It’s because the changes are gradual that the emotional build-up is satisfactory—”
And it just goes on and on, both of them airing out the same grievances they do every week, never listening to the other, not even bothering to wait for the other to be done speaking to interrupt them, only managing to reach an agreement because at the end of the day, it’s the Creator who gets the final say.
So, you and Nicholas sit there silently, exchanging half-amused, half-exasperated glances. You already know you’ll have a field day rehashing this exact moment next time you hang out.
And indeed, that weekend, when you join Chaewon and Euijoo for a drink at a bar near their apartment and the couple asks you about work, all it takes is a shared look with Nicholas for you to launch into a rant about the tensions between your teams and the immature attitudes of your coworkers, who spend fifteen minutes after these meetings complaining about each other. Nicholas mostly listens with a smile on his face, adding precisions here and there or sharing what his own team grumbled about. As always, you both agree that while it’s normal for each side to feel frustrated with the other, there’s no reason for anyone to be acting so childishly. You think it’ll end there, as it always does, reaching the conclusion that you won’t behave like them later on in your careers. But then, Nicho says something that gives you pause.
“To be fair, your supervisor’s ideas were starting to be a little far-fetched. Just listening to her, I knew most of it would take way too much time to code.”
Your head whips towards him, but you say nothing for a couple of seconds, taken aback to hear Nicholas say anything even remotely in his team’s favor for the first time. Up until now, you’ve both been very neutral about this issue, willing to understand the other’s side and admit your own’s faults. But suddenly, you feel the need to rush to Mrs. Kang’s defence, like a comment on her work is a comment on your own, on the very essence of what your department does.
“Far-fetched?” you repeat, too stunned to say anything else, wary but still interested to know more of what he thinks.
He takes a sip of his beer, shrugs. He seems relaxed, but your heart starts to beat a little harder, the way it always does when arguments start to brew in the meeting room. “Yeah. I mean, I get what she’s going for, but she’s doing a little too much. It’s unrealistic to ask us to code all of it, and anyway, it would only make the gameplay heavy.”
Your hand suddenly feels clammy around your glass of beer. These are not new grievances—they’re practically identical to what his supervisor accused yours of in the last meeting. You remember Mrs. Kang, hunched over her keyboard, all of the dialogue and options she poured her heart into to make sure the player felt truly immersed in the universe of the game, and to ensure an entirely new experience every time someone decided to start a new game.
“It’s exactly the charm of the game that there are so many options. If a thousand people play it, a thousand different stories will happen.”
Nicholas starts to say, “I just think that might get overwhelming for the player,” but when you scoff, he interrupts himself. “What?”
Staring at him, you search his face for a reminder that this is your friend you’re talking to, not a colleague you need to convince of the value of your work. His brows are furrowed, his cheeks a little red from the alcohol, or from this conversation, maybe, and you immediately regret scoffing. It feels rude, and unlike anything that has its place between you and Nicholas.
“I just… Mrs. Kang just wants to make the gameplay as full as possible, player immersion is all she thinks about when she’s writing—”
“Is it really?”
You frown. “What do you mean?”
Nicholas turns away with a sigh, like even he doesn’t want to say what he does next. “I don’t know. It just seems to me like she makes it about herself when she wants to write the coolest story ever, with way too many details and possible outcomes, and forgets about the actual player along the way—”
“Are you really that worried about player experience? Or does your team just want to have to code as little as possible?”
This time, it’s Nicholas’ head that whips towards you. “Where’s that coming from?” he asks, defensive now, but before you can reply, Chaewon reaches a hand towards you, making both of you turn to her.
“Okay, let’s maybe not talk about work anymore.”
You blink a few times, as if remembering yourself and your surroundings. In all your years of friendship, this is the first semblance of an argument you and Nicholas have ever had. Even while you gamed or worked together, situations that can get tense and feel disproportionately high-stakes, you’ve never come close to this. Nicholas is easily the calmest, most patient person you’ve ever met, and you’ve never liked to be in any sort of conflict. The few times you’ve felt pangs of annoyance towards him, they were short-lived and easily forgotten.
Your stomach hurts, and your skin prickles with residual anger, but what you feel most is confusion. You’ve always cared about making games, even more so since starting this internship—even with such a minor role as yours, you feel a deep connection to this current project. You’ve found every idea that Mrs. Kang and Mr. Murata have come up with terrific, and while you understand concessions are necessary, every time something was scrapped, you couldn’t help but feel as though the quality of the game would dip just that much. That Nicholas, of all people, Nicholas who tried his damnedest to implement all of your ideas when you worked together for that competition back in college, Nicholas who always saw your vision and managed to transform its vagueness into solid code, couldn’t see what you saw now, irritated you. Perhaps irrationally so.
“Right, sorry,” you manage to say with an awkward chuckle. “I got a little carried away.” Nicholas says it’s okay and quickly returns the apology, and that’s that. Euijoo switches the topic to an old professor of his that he ran into at the supermarket, and no one mentions work again.
But you’re unable to shake off that lingering tension in your body for the rest of the night. Throughout the evening, you’re hyperaware of Nicholas’ presence next to you, every brush of his arm or knee against yours feeling like a slap in the face. Some deep, hidden part of you, which you don’t exactly understand and can’t say you’re proud of, wants to goad him into another argument, to get him riled up again, to get yourself riled up. Just to see what happens. How far it could go. But obviously, you don’t. Just because a stupid voice in the back of your head is curious to find out whether there are things left unsaid, doesn’t mean you’re going to listen to it. Maybe you’ve just spent too much time with your team, and their rhetoric has infiltrated your head. You know that Engineers have a lot on their plate on top of Designers’ demands; of course, you do.
In the end, to your surprise, it’s Nicholas who brings it up again. Chaewon and Euijoo have already gone home, and he waits for your train with you before going his own way. “Is that what your team says about us? That the reason we reject some of your ideas is so we have less work?” he asks, but his tone isn’t defensive or accusing; it’s genuine, and even a little sad, that you could think of him like this, perhaps.
You suddenly feel very guilty for even briefly wanting to push this further. Nicholas’ small, probably unconscious pout, the way he kicks at invisible rocks while listening to your answer, makes you feel like a monster. “I mean… some of my coworkers have hinted at it, yes. But I don’t think that way. I get that you can’t make everything we want come true. We like to aim for the stars, I’ll give you that. But, Nicho… You haven’t seen them work on a quest for weeks, only to find out they need to cut it by half. It feels like so much time and effort gone to waste, all because your superiors won’t add a few more lines of code.”
He stuffs his hands in his back pockets. “But it’s never just a few lines of code. It’s whole new branches that need to be tied up cleanly by the end. Just one additional option means hours, maybe even days of work on our side. Some of your demands seem easy to you, but they require us to change the entire structure of our program.”
You’re silent for a little while. You know this. You’ve seen Nicholas at work. But he made it look so easy back then, never made you feel like what you asked for was unrealistic, and even when it was, he found ways around it. Finally, you say, “Could you… show me, one day? What it looks like? My head hurts just thinking about the little coding I did back at university, and they were for the most basic things ever. Maybe if I really saw the work that went into it, I’d understand.”
When you meet Nicholas’ gaze, he’s smiling, looking genuinely pleased that you’ve asked. “Of course. We’ll find some time over lunch this week. And you can tell me all about your ideas for this game. I’m sure you’ve got plenty, but can’t share them with your supervisors just yet.”
You grin back. He hit it right on the nose; of course, he did. “Sounds good.”
“And in the meantime, let’s keep work at work. Even if we disagree on something, let’s not bring it up after we clock out. Let’s not make it the others’ problem.”
You nod. “Yeah, you’re right. Chaewon looked like she was on the verge of passing out,” you half-joke. You’d hardly ever seen your friend so worried.
“She really did,” Nicholas says, chuckling. “And Joo clearly had no idea what to do with himself. I wonder if they ever argue.”
“They definitely don’t. They both look like lost kittens, they’re probably unable to even get mad at each other.”
Nicholas laughs, then you’re both silent for a little while. Your train is set to arrive in a minute, but before you can tell him he should head out now, he starts speaking. His voice is slow, and his eyes stay trained on the empty tracks in front of you. “I…” he hesitates, cocking his head to the side. “I didn’t like arguing with you. If you can even call that an argument. It didn’t feel nice.”
And just like that, what felt like a peaceful moment with your friend turns into something more, something you can’t bring yourself to name—especially when you doubt he feels the same. Your heart beats a little faster as you reply, “No, it didn’t.” And maybe it’s the alcohol lowering your inhibitions, or it’s Nicholas opening up to you in his own way, that makes you say what you say next. “But it was kind of interesting.”
“Interesting?”
One corner of your lips tugs upwards. “Yeah, it was like seeing another side of you. You know, you’re kind of cute when you get mad.”
Okay, it’s definitely the alcohol talking. But when Nicholas’ cheeks redden ever-so-slightly, and he purses his lips in a clear attempt to bite back a smile, you think that might not be such a terrible thing. “Your train’s here,” he says.
You roll your eyes playfully, taking a step towards the opening doors. “Anything to get out of complimenting me back, I see.”
You step onto the train, and when you turn back to face him, he’s smiling fully. “You’re cute, too.”
And you probably look like a crazy woman on the train, smiling to yourself the whole way back home.
.
.
D-1390. 3 years, 9 months, 18 days earlier
You haven’t interacted with Mr. Murata much while working on No Way Back II. It’s mostly Mrs. Kang who gives you tasks and feedback; while this is her main project at the moment, Mr. Murata’s attention is divided between multiple games, so he only solicits you or Taki once in a while to assist him on easy but time-consuming tasks.
With the first semester coming to a close, everyone has deadlines they’re rushing to meet. From your first internship in Japan, you knew that working overtime was considered part of the job, so you haven’t complained too much when you had tasks that took thirty minutes, an hour past the end of your day. But this stretch has been insane—last week alone, you had dinner at the office three nights out of five. You’re never alone, clocking out with two or three coworkers that also stayed back, while the others either decide to come in earlier or to take their work home. But no way in hell are you waking up at five in the morning, and you know you won’t be able to focus once in your apartment with the siren call of your bed just a door away.
There’s only one night where you find yourself truly alone in the office—even Nicholas clocked out after asking you five times if you were sure you didn’t want to leave with him. But, satisfied with your work, Mrs. Kang has tasked you with writing the dialogue for a small side quest she designed. She even said you could tweak a few things here and there. In the grand scheme of things, it isn’t the side quest that’ll change the entire course of the game, but you feel a world of pressure on your shoulders, and you won’t quit until it’s perfect.
It’s nearing ten p.m. now, at least two hours since you’ve been alone here. But you’re almost done, only have one more conversation with one of the companion characters to write, one last thorough check-up of your draft, and you’ll be free to go home. You want to be able to show this to Mrs. Kang tomorrow morning so that it’ll be one less thing for her to worry about.
You’re so immersed in your work that when a male voice appears from behind you, saying, “Still in here?” you yelp, nearing jumping out of your own skin. You swivel around in your chair, armed with a sharp pencil and a “I’m terrified but don’t fuck with me” look. Thankfully, it’s only Mr. Murata, who doesn’t even bother to hide his amusement. “Nice reflexes you got there, Ms. Y/L/N.”
Through your nerves, you’re briefly charmed by the way he calls you by your last name, a show of respect amidst people who always called you by your first name without asking or by just calling out, “Intern!” unbothered whether you or Taki come rushing over.
“Oh,” you simply say, lowering your pencil back to your desk. “Sorry, Mr. Murata. I got startled.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” He lights his desk lamp, his soft features now bathing in golden light, a playful smile on his lips. Almost like he’s refraining from teasing you further. “I just came back to drop off my laptop. I made the dumb mistake of taking it home with me, but I know I’ll work through the night if I keep it.”
“That’s probably a good call. You’ve been working hard lately, you deserve a break,” you say, then immediately regret your words, questioning whether what you meant as friendly, professional concern might sound like showing too much interest. “I mean, the whole team has,” you add quickly. With the way his smile widens, you think you might’ve just made it worse. It makes you wince internally.
“So have you,” he replies. “We can head out together. It’s getting late.” There’s a hint of worry in the furrow of his brows. It should feel out of place between two coworkers that have rarely ever interacted, albeit being on the same team, but it doesn’t. It feels genuine.
You glance at the unfinished script on your laptop, wavering momentarily. “I just have a few things to wrap up. I’m almost done.”
Mr. Murata stares at you for a few beats, seeming to be deep in thought. It only lasts a few seconds, but you find yourself unable to look away, like you have to stay there and find out what he’s thinking about. Eventually, he says, “Okay. Can I just run something by you, then? Keep you hostage for a little longer.”
You grin back. “Sure.”
He rolls a chair towards your desk and sits, opening up his laptop to a Powerpoint presentation. “I have an important meeting tomorrow. I couldn’t stop tweaking this presentation all evening, even when there was nothing left to change anymore,” he says, and you nod, relating silently. “I have this idea, but I really need to get Producer Kim on board if we want to convince the Programming team…”
You listen intently as he tells you about his plan to make NPCs remember every interaction with the protagonist and have their reactions and dialogue based on the level of trust and amiability they feel towards them. It’s a brilliant idea, in line with the overall theme of the game of every little choice mattering, but you understand why he’s apprehensive about this meeting. The Programmers would have to search through their code for every NPC interaction and create new variables. And if you took anything away from that conversation you had with Nicholas a few months back, it’s that this sort of task is no easy feat. It’d take weeks to complete. Might even delay the schedule slightly. Mr. Murata himself acknowledges it’d be more work for everyone involved.
But… “It’s worth it,” you say. “If you explain it the way you just did to me at that meeting tomorrow, I don’t know how anyone could be unconvinced. Producer Kim mentioned wanting NPCs to be important in the game. This would be the perfect way to make that happen.”
Mr. Murata looks visibly relieved. While he talked, there was a nervous edge to his voice, in the way he kept glancing back-and-forth between you and his screen. It endeared you to him, this man who always seems so sure of himself when he gives a presentation or even just walks around the office. It makes him more… human. Like he isn’t just some sort of genius, swoonworthy game-writing machine, the way everyone has made him out to be.
“Thank you, Ms Y/L/N. If I get this to go through, will you work on it with me?” he asks, grin wide, hopeful, almost childish in a way. Your eyes widen. This is a momentous task, and not just in its timeframe, but in its importance to the game. By far the biggest thing you’ve been asked to do so far. Perhaps sensing your hesitation, he says, “If you’re not interested, that’s totally fine. But don’t decline because you think you aren’t capable.” He sighs, leans in slightly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been very present as a mentor. I’m supposed to assist Mrs. Kang in supervising you and Mr. Takayama, but as you can see, this project has been taking a lot of my time. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye out, and you always hand in stellar work, Ms. Y/L/N. Your writing flows nicely, you understand the characters deeply. I could definitely use a mind like yours for this.”
Oh, wow, you think. The delicious rush of professional validation washes over you, makes you giddy at the same time as it ties your tongue. You open your mouth to start speaking twice, only getting it right on the third time: “It’d be an honor, Mr. Murata. Thank you so much.”
He leans back, satisfied. “And thank you for listening to me. Now, finish up what you’re doing quickly, and get home safe, yeah?” he says, standing up. “I don’t like knowing you’re out so late.”
Your eyes widen again, but this time, it’s for a very different reason. If what you said earlier was concern between coworkers, the way he worded this sounds a lot more… intimate. He must hear this too, because he looks just as surprised as you feel, and starts shaking his hand as if to stop you from getting the wrong idea. “Sorry! I just mean, you know, it’s never safe for any woman. At your age especially.”
His bashfulness undoes yours, and you grin, amused. He looks visibly relieved that he hasn’t offended you. You remember just how young he actually is. He may be your superior, but he can’t be more than what, five, six years older than you? Coming from Mr. Lee, you wouldn’t even have questioned what he said. The man probably bakes cookies for his grandchildren on weekends. But from someone like Mr. Murata… well, it could easily be misconstrued, especially if he’s aware of his reputation at work. He doesn’t seem like the sort to wilfully lead someone on.
“Thank you, Mr. Murata. You get home safe, too.”
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat, looking a little sheepish. He turns away, then turns back. “Call me Fuma, please. We’ll be working together, so… I find it more comfortable.”
“Okay, Fuma,” you say, trying on the new title like a pair of shoes at the store. It fits well. “Call me Y/N.”
He smiles. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Good night.”
“Good night.”
With one last glance in your direction, he picks up his coat and heads out. In the silence of the office, your heartbeat’s a little louder than usual.
Okay. You think you get it now.
.
.
D-1368. 3 years, 8 months, 27 days
Fuma had been right to expect some pushback from Engineering. His idea easily charms Producer Kim, but Mr. Song all but assails him once the presentation is over, badgering him question after question. Once or twice, he glances over at you; all you can do is smile reassuringly, but it seems to give him the boost he needs, and he holds his ground against Song and other Engineers.
In the end, the idea does go through, albeit in a reduced form. There won’t be the nuance Fuma was hoping for, but it’s better than nothing and he seems satisfied.
He finds you after the meeting, thanking you again for your help, waving you off when you say you barely did anything. “I’ve got a couple things to finish up, then we’ll get started on this, yeah?” he asks, and you nod. He grins. “Perfect. What’s your schedule for tomorrow like?”
And that’s how, for the following month, you find yourself working with Fuma a few times a week in one of the smaller meeting rooms. You’re surprised at how… easy it is. Enjoyable, even. Ideas keep flowing out of you, egged on by his own imagination and creativity, and the both of you keep getting carried away, floating way past the frame he and Mr Song have agreed upon. It’s always disappointing when one of you notices this, and brings you both back down to Earth. When you’re not exchanging ideas, you’re working on your respective parts quietly, sometimes breaking the comfortable silence to get a second opinion.
Once, when a discussion over one of the companion characters slides into a more personal one, and you tell each other about what drew you not just to games but to creating them, you realize that it isn’t only working with him that’s easy. It’s being with him, just talking to him like he’s your lifelong friend and not a coworker — a superior, even — you met three months ago. For someone who usually takes a while to open up, you find yourself wanting to tell him everything—and you probably would, if he only asked. There’s something about his easy-goingness, the warmth of his smile, his own willingness to share personal stories and anecdotes, even the embarrassing ones, that makes you think it’s okay to tell him things. That he won’t make fun of you. Maybe that he’ll even care.
It’s destabilising. It took a whole semester of living with Chaewon for you to start telling her about your family. Even longer to tell her about your deepest fears and insecurities, and only when it felt right—in the darkness of one of your rooms, when she wanted to have a sleepover despite sharing an apartment, or on the bus, going home from a party where you’d had one drink over your usual limit.
Even with Euijoo and Nicholas, your closest friends after Chaewon, you don’t feel compelled to share anything too personal, anything that could change the way they see you. But unlike Chaewon, who’s always scratching at your surface, this wall you’ve put up doesn’t seem to bother them. Why would it? It’s not like there’s anything particularly interesting to see behind it. Just your common load of the consequences of bad parenting and trust issues, like every other person on this planet. You neither understand why anyone would want to know about it, nor how they could stick around once they did. Chaewon truly is an abnormal person. You remember meeting her and being flabbergasted that anyone would willingly share so much of themselves: their fears, their aspirations, their crushes. You remember her being flabbergasted that you wouldn’t do the same so easily.
Maybe Fuma’s weird, too. Because when you tell him you got into fiction and gaming for escapism, he asks why. Wants to know what kind of world ten-year-old you lived in that she already wanted to run from it. And the weirdest part, is you tell him. Not in excruciating, tear-jerking detail, but the basic facts of it. The emotionally distant parents. How their only reaction to you or your brother throwing tantrums or expressing any sort of intense emotion was to ignore you. The way it became easier to feel things when it was a protagonist feeling them. You feel silly the moment the words leave your lips, like you’ve overshared in this deeply embarrassing, unprofessional way, and the way silence stretches as he stares at you only worsens that feeling. But then, he speaks again, tells you that games were the only thing he had in common with his dad, a widower who spent more time at work than at home, giving his son money to stay at the PC café after school. “Sometimes, instead of walking me home directly, he’d stay for an hour, and we’d play together. It was the only way we bonded, and even that was done virtually.”
Minutes after your confessions, you get back to work. Fuma isn’t reporting you to HR or spreading rumors through the office. The only thing that’s changed is the way he smiles at you, like you share a secret.
You’d be fine if it stayed at that, but Fuma has a way of showing up in unexpected places. Behind you in line at the office café, striking conversation and paying for your latte, only slightly teasing you for your four pumps of vanilla syrup. Beside you in front of the office as you wait for the rain to settle down, handing you his umbrella then making a run for it all the way to the subway station, his briefcase over his head, turning around briefly to grin at you.
When your curiosity finally gets the best of you, and you download The Curious Village on a Friday night, then spend the weekend in front of your computer, your eyes are red and sensitive by the time you get to work the following Monday. He asks if something’s wrong, and you don’t know whether to be annoyed or delighted by the worry furrowing his brows. In any case, it makes you feel something, and you’re not sure what to do about that. When you tell him that Taki was right, his game is pretty good, he beams at you. Your confusion only grows.
Your general disinterest in men has made you think you wouldn’t be swayed by him the way your coworkers are. Could you have been wrong?
Overall, you do a pretty good job ignoring whatever it is you’re feeling, that is, until Nicholas confronts you with it. He’s noticed you seem to get along with Fuma, or so he says, at a bar after work on a Thursday, just the two of you while you wait for Chaewon and Euijoo to arrive. You simply cock an eyebrow at him. “I mean, you guys are always cooped up in that meeting room. I’ve heard you guys laughing. I can’t help that it’s right next to our department.”
It’s always hard to decipher Nicholas’ intentions. His expression is more often than not painfully neutral, and right now is no exception—although there’s something… put-on about his neutrality. Like he’s hiding something.
“Yeah, we get along,” you offer. “He’s easy to work with.”
He nods slowly, taking a sip of his beer, and you think he’ll leave it there. But then, he adds, “That’s all?”
You cock your head at him. “What do you mean?”
“He’s only easy to work with? You don’t, I don’t know…”
You think you know what he’s trying to get at, but it wouldn’t hurt to tease your friend a little. After all, you’ve both been so busy at work lately, that you haven’t properly talked or joked around with him. It’s fun, seeing him like this again, struggling to find words, rolling his eyes at your smirk. Despite seeing him every day in the office, you realize you’ve missed this.
You dismiss the feeling the moment you notice it. It’s normal to miss your friends.
“I don’t what, Nicho?”
He hesitates. “Like him, maybe?” he says, voice low, eyes furtive. The word ‘adorable’ comes to mind. You’ve seen him curse out people in three different languages while gaming, but he can barely talk about crushes without blushing.
You lean back, thinking for a bit. It’s true that you aren’t as indifferent to Fuma now as you were originally. “I definitely don’t dislike him,” you eventually reply. Nicholas’ brows furrow, making you laugh. “Sorry, that’s a bit vague. He’s a colleague I enjoy working with, and a senior I respect. I haven’t figured out yet whether there’s more to it or not,” you say, although knowing it’s half of a lie. You do know there’s more to it—the skips of your heart when he smiles at you and the pang in your stomach when you see him laugh with other female coworkers, the way it makes you doubt whether he’s just nice to you the way he is to everyone else, are sure signs of that. But what good would come out of telling Nicholas about these things? You’ll tell Chaewon if she asks. But you work with Nicholas now, and it’d be embarrassing to reveal your office crush to him. It’s already embarrassing knowing he’s seen you with Fuma and assumed there was something there. For some reason, the thought of Nicholas seeing you laugh coquettishly or brush a strand of hair behind your ear, even though you’ve never done either of those things, terrifies you. Makes you somehow vulnerable to him in a way you can’t bear.
It’d help if his face was less closed than a hardback without its dust jacket. That way, you’d maybe be able to tell whether he’s asking out of simple friendly curiosity, or out of… what exactly? Jealousy? His eyes are a little more narrowed than usual. And it is the second time he’s asked about Fuma specifically. But you almost laugh out loud at the mere thought of Nicholas caring that you’d like another man.
Thankfully, with a final thoughtful nod, he drops the subject there, switching the topic to some indie game he found while scrolling through a list of new releases last week, then it isn’t long before your friends arrive.
Afterwards, you don’t think much of this conversation, and Nicholas doesn’t mention it again. You’ve practically forgotten about it until, a few weeks later, everyone who’s working on No Way Back II has gathered to celebrate the end of a successful first semester at a bar near your workplace. Neither you nor Nicholas like drinking much, and you eventually find yourselves sitting together in a quieter corner of the room that was reserved for your company, watching your older colleagues laugh loudly and argue light-heartedly. You can’t help but glance in Fuma’s direction from time to time, making eye contact with him once or twice, but if Nicholas notices your furtive eyes, he says nothing, just sips his beer quietly as he always does.
From across the room, Yuqi catches your gaze and wiggles her eyebrows at you. You liked it better when she and Miyeon were suspicious of your friendship with Nicholas, accusing you of fraternising with the enemy. Now that they’ve seen he’s relatively harmless and that “his heart hasn’t yet been tainted by the rest of his team,” as they’d put it, they’ve instead started to tease you about him, asking when you met, if you’re sure he doesn’t have feelings for you. No matter how many times you tell them, they always find something to pick up on, your defensiveness whenever the topic comes up, the way you laughed with him that one time in the break room, the look they saw you exchange during a meeting. You know sitting here with him only makes things worse in Yuqi’s eyes: why are you spending time with the one person here you could see anytime outside of work, and not your coworkers you’ve specifically come here to celebrate with?
Without thinking, you roll your eyes at her—you hadn’t meant to alert Nicholas to her behavior, had made a point of not telling him what they thought of the two of you, but you’d betrayed yourself just now. Rim of his glass against his lips, he freezes, slightly turning in his seat and glancing behind him, before turning back to you with a quizzical look on his face. Your cheeks heat up before he’s even asked the question. “What was that about?”
The pint you’ve had slows your brain, stops you from coming up with a believable lie, so you give in and tell him the truth. “Some of my coworkers have noticed that we… spend a lot of time together,” you say, suddenly very interested by the french fries in front of you. You pick one up and it’s as cold as it looks.
“And?” Nicholas asks.
Could the man show a little more emotion? You can’t tell if he’s amused, offended, confused, or none of the above.
“And…” you trail. There’s not many roundabout ways to say this. “They think we’re dating. Or that we inevitably will be.”
He cocks one eyebrow. Stares at you without saying anything for so long you wonder whether he’s even heard you. Then, slowly, one corner of his lips rises. “Oh,” is all he says.
He’s not giving you much to work with, and you aren’t sure how to react. Should you laugh it off, be outraged on your and his behalf, decry the ideology that men and women can’t be friends? In the end, all you come up with is, “Yeah. Awkward, right?”
His expression freezes. “Sure. I wonder where they got that from,” he says, looking away from you to take a swig of his beer.
Thankfully, before you can make this situation even worse than it already is, his phone lights up with a phone call. His face falls further and he excuses himself.
Now alone, you could join your coworkers, or the table next to you, but you don’t feel like it. You like getting a few moments to yourself, and anyway, you’d feel bad if Nicholas came back and found you’d replaced him. It’s getting late, so you can get him to slip away with you pretty soon.
Checking your phone, you only have time to watch one of the many Reels that Chaewon sends you on a daily basis; you look up to find Fuma standing in front of you, beer in hand, clearing his throat before asking if he can take a seat.
You smile. “Of course.”
He sits where Nicholas was just moments ago, and, with no preamble, asks, “So, you and Nicholas, huh?”, taking you aback. It’d almost feel like an accusation if there wasn’t a playful smile on his lips. “I’ve heard what people say.”
“By people, do you mean Yuqi and Miyeon?” you ask, and he laughs.
“I won’t reveal my sources.”
“I didn’t take you for an office gossip, Fuma,” you reply, a slight edge of challenge to your tone. This feels different from your usual exchanges. Maybe it’s the relaxed atmosphere, the fact that everyone’s state ranges from tipsy to wasted, that gives you the confidence to talk to him like this. Or maybe it’s all Fuma’s smile, making you want to take yet another brick from your wall, scrub away at the mortar that has solidified over the years.
“And you’re not answering my question.”
You chuckle. “Fine. Nicho and I have been friends since college. End of the story.”
As if unconvinced, Fuma cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t push. “Okay,” he says. “Are you seeing anyone else, otherwise?”
Your brows shoot up. Did he just ask you if you were single? And in such a straightforward manner? The confidence vanishes from your body, leaving you flustered and stuttering. “I’m—I’m not, no.”
There’s a hint of smugness in the smile that blooms on his lip, and it’s debilitatingly attractive. “Good,” he says, lifting his glass to his mouth. Your heart races. There’s no misinterpreting that kind of message. The unwavering gaze over the rim of his glass as he takes a swig, the slight lopsided smirk as he sets his beer down.
Before you can react, either passing out or somehow finding a way to flirt back, he gestures towards the table he was sitting at just before, asking whether you wanna join the others, his smile friendly again, his eyes round and inviting and impossible to say no to. You feel a little dazed as you accept, grabbing your empty drink just to have something to hold onto as you follow him to your team’s table.
A few curious pairs of eyes greet you as you sit, but thank heavens, Yuqi is too engrossed in conversation with her neighbor to embarrass you.
It’s only when Nicholas walks back in that you remember you’d meant to stay where you both sat, exactly so this wouldn’t happen—him scanning the room for you, brows slightly furrowed before his eyes land on you. He glances at Fuma, then back at you. There’s a tightness in his jaw, a closedness in his expression that’s subtle to the naked eye, but obvious to someone like you, who’s gotten used to observing every single one of his microexpressions, just to get an inkling of what was going on in that mysterious head of his. He must’ve been on the phone to his parents.
You wave him over, but he’s already turning away and walking towards his team’s table. Fuma notices the exchange, perhaps senses your disappointment. “It’d probably be awkward for him, sitting with a bunch of Designers,” he offers.
You watch Nicholas, the smile on his lips as his teammates greet him. You recognize it as the smile he gives people when he doesn’t know them very well but doesn’t want to come off cold. “Yeah, probably,” you mutter back. For the rest of the evening, you’re unable to catch his gaze.
Fuma walks you to the train that night.
.
.
D-1270. 3 years, 5 months, 21 days earlier
You have no idea how any of you thought this would be amusing in the slightest. Hindsight is 20/20, and now that you think about it, shaving your friends’ heads before they’re sent off to the military doesn’t sound like the most pleasant of group activities, but when Chaewon first pitched it to you, you saw nothing wrong with it.
Now, Chaewon has run off to her room in a fit of tears halfway through shaving her boyfriend’s head. She must be really upset not to laugh at the sight of him, comforting her with half a head of hair.
Truth be told, you’re not faring much better yourself. The evening had started off fairly light-hearted, but as you stand behind Nicholas, the only sound in your friends’ bathroom is that of the electric razor and of tufts of his hair falling slowly to the floor. You’re very focused on the task at hand, but you still steal glances at him once in a while. The whole time, he stares at himself in the mirror. Avoiding your gaze or simply deep in his own thoughts, you aren’t sure.
In the last months of your internship up until now, things haven’t been the same between you and Nicholas. Just enough that you feel like something’s wrong, but not so much that you can bring it up with him without sounding paranoid. It’s not even something you can clearly point to—you still have lunch together a few times a week, still text each other for emergency coffee breaks. But silences last longer. Laughter doesn’t feel as genuine. His gaze doesn’t linger the way it used to.
You ignore it. You don't mention it to him or anyone else, letting the both of you pretend nothing’s changed. And maybe, to him, that truly is the case, and you’re the only one feeling that way.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” you ask. In the mirror, he meets your gaze, brows furrowed in confusion. “With the razor. I have no idea what I’m doing,” you admit, smiling.
He smiles back, and even though it’s small, a barely-there upward tug of the corners of his lips, it eases your nerves instantly. Like things aren’t so bad, after all. Like they can be fixed.
He checks his hair in the reflection as if he’s noticing for the first time that the hair around his left ear has been sheared off. “You’re not hurting me,” he says. “But you are kind of doing a terrible job at this. Don’t give me a bald patch, please.”
You grin. “I don’t need to, nature is already doing that on its own.”
The blood drains from Nicholas’ face. “Where?” he asks, lifting his head to search through his hair.
His sudden mortification makes you burst into laughter. “I’m messing with you, Weno.”
As the old nickname slips out, you realize it’s been months since you’ve called him that way. It feels like it’s been months since you’ve called him anything at all. He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s playful, and he finally really looks at you, gaze boring into yours in the mirror. Now it’s your turn to avoid him, suddenly feeling shy.
His hair, especially the ends, is a little dry between your fingers, fried from the numerous times he’s dyed it in the past years. Still. It’s the first time you touch it, the first time you’ve made so much constant contact with him. It’s always a source of teasing on Euijoo’s end to ruffle his friend’s hair, knowing he hates it. But with you, he hasn’t recoiled even once. He sits there, docile, almost peaceful-looking.
Maybe it’s because you know he’ll be leaving for four months, maybe even longer if he decides to stay in Taipei for a bit before coming back to Seoul, but you can’t help but let yourself linger. You card your hand through his hair, fingertips brushing along his scalp as if to create a path for the razor.
Once closely shaved, you shamelessly pet his head like a dog’s, not even bothering to hide how amusing — and nice — you find the feel of his soft yet spiky hair against your palm. He closes his eyes, grinning.
When you reach the halfway point, you feel time truly start to slip between your fingers along with his hair. You might not want to address directly the distance you’ve felt growing between you, but you know you’ll feel terrible, letting him go like this. You realize that speaking to him, God forbid, might be the only way to make things right. To assure these four coming months won’t make you drift further apart.
“How do you feel?” you ask, voice low, feeling a little shy. Feelings are uncharted territory for you and Nicholas. “About leaving. Going back to Taiwan.”
His eyes flutter open, and he takes a little time to think. “It just feels like… Something I have to do before I can get back to my life. Like doing the dishes at the end of a long day. I don’t really want to but it’s not the worst thing ever. Plus, it’s only four months. I might feel different if I had to leave for eighteen months like Euijoo.”
As though she heard you through the walls, Chaewon’s sobs amplify right then, and you feel your heart break for your friend. It really is like a wife sending her husband to war in the 19th century. Even if she knows she’ll have him back eventually. And that she’ll be able to text and call and even see him once in a while. So not really like a wife in the 19th century, but close enough, at least in her point of view.
“Have you decided what you’ll do afterwards? Stay home for a bit, or come back here?”
He finds your gaze in the mirror, a smirk already tugging at his lips. “Why, miss me already?”
You roll your eyes. “No, so I know when to move out of the country.” He brings a hand to his heart, pretends to have been shot. You lift his head gently. “Stay still, Weno. I’m already giving you a bad enough haircut as is.”
He shrugs. “It’ll grow back. Anyway, I haven’t really decided yet. My parents want me to stay with them while I find a job. But you know…” he trails, hesitating, or maybe searching for the right words. “Taiwan hasn’t felt like home in a while. It’s the place I grew up, and I love it, I love going back and speaking Mandarin and eating guabao and seeing my high school friends, but it’s not the same. Not as comfortable as being here.”
You hum, slowly nodding. To a certain extent, you feel the same way about going home. It’s nice to go back, but only once in a while, and only for a short period of time. Every time you went back, you felt that itch to return to Seoul, to your studies or job and your friends and your life in the city. To Chaewon and Euijoo.
To Nicholas.
“We’ll be here when you come back,” you say softly, voice low to keep it from echoing off the bathroom walls. Like you want it to reach Nicholas’ ears only. “Well, not Euijoo, but… Chaewon and I. And Jellyfish will take you back. I don’t know why you rejected their offer instead of just asking to defer it a few months. They would’ve said yes.” Something in Nicholas’ expression seems to close off then, and it makes you panic—for once, he was so open, so accessible, and all of a sudden he’s drifting out of reach again. You scramble for something, anything that will bring him back to you. “I mean, it just, it would be nice to keep working together. We barely got to during our internship, but, who knows… We could get assigned the same project and actually work with each other. Like we did in college.”
His expression softens again. You almost sigh of relief. “That would be nice,” he concedes. “I just wanted to keep my options open. But I’ll think about it.”
You smile. That’ll have to do for now. Even if things have been weird lately, you’re still able to talk to him like this. You don’t want to part on a bad note, for the awkwardness permeating your relationship to be the last memory he has of you before he leaves.
You’re silent for the remainder of the haircut, a sniffling Chaewon and a red-eyed Euijoo coming out of their bedroom eventually to see how the two of you are getting on. They’re only able to laugh weakly at Nicholas’ appearance, a third of his long hair left, the rest patchy and shaved at irregular lengths. They leave to make tea in the kitchen, and a few minutes later, you’re shearing the last strip of his dyed locks. You rest your hand on his shoulder. Instead of inspecting his own reflection, it’s you he looks at.
“There you go. Bald and ready to serve your country,” you say, trying to smile, but your heart feels heavy. Your eyes sting, and it’s been so long that you don’t recognize the feeling immediately—you’re about to cry.
Maybe Nicholas senses this, understands what your frown means, because he doesn’t laugh either. Just looks at you in the mirror, his furrowed brows matching yours. “Thank you, Y/N,” he says, with a gravity that makes it sound like it’s not just the haircut he’s thankful for.
You attempt a smile. “Of course, Weno.”
Your tears threaten to spill with every passing second, so you eventually turn away, reaching for the broom resting on the wall. But Nicholas catches your hand as it slips off his shoulder, fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist. His eyes are wide, more worried than you’ve ever seen before. There’s something almost frantic, almost desperate about the way he’s looking at you. “You’ll be here when I get back,” he says, echoing your words from earlier. “You’ll wait for me?”
Your frown deepens. “Where else would I be, Weno?” you ask, voice soft, as if speaking to a frightened child.
“No, I mean—Wait for me, Y/N. Please, wait for me.”
You stare back at him, searching for an explanation in his face, but it provides none. Maybe even he isn’t sure what he means. Maybe this is just what future soldiers go through before leaving for the unknown, and he wants to make sure something familiar will greet him once he comes home.
So you don’t ask for clarity. You squeeze his shoulder and say, “Of course, Nicho. I’m not going anywhere.”
This seems to appease him, albeit only slightly. The tension doesn’t entirely leave his shoulder, or the worry, his face. “Right. Okay, then,” he says.
In the kitchen, there’s little of the usual cheer and banter the four of you share. With Chaewon practically unable to look at him, Euijoo goes to the bathroom to take care of the rest of his hair himself. You understand her: the sadness is so clear in his round eyes and pouty lips that it’s hard to look at him for too long, impossible to tease him on the shape of his head or anything else. You and Nicholas were meant to stay over for dinner, but once you’ve finished your tea, you share a look and silently agree to leave the couple alone for the evening. They leave tomorrow to spend the weekend at Euijoo’s family home before he enlists on Monday. Nicholas flies to Taiwan tomorrow and starts his service next week.
You’ve always hated good-byes, the inherent sadness and uncertainty of them. The reminder that these people make up your life, manage to make every day something exciting to look forward to, that without them, you don’t have all that much left. You hug Euijoo tightly but quickly, wishing him luck. You tell Chaewon to call you once she’s back. The whole thing is over in a few minutes, and once you and Nicholas are outside, walking towards the subway station, your arms are tightly crossed over your chest, your eyes pointedly on the ground ahead of you as you repeatedly tell yourself don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. Beside you, Nicholas is silent.
It’s a fifteen-minute subway ride to the central station, where you and Nicholas will part ways. What is there even to say? You want to tell him to stay safe, to eat well and sleep early every night, to stand up for himself if a superior abuses his power, but also not to get into unnecessary trouble. But these words feel trite, superficial. You met when you were nineteen, but Nicholas is a grown man now. He can take care of himself.
Instead, as you sit next to each other, you drop your head on his shoulder. It expresses what you’re too afraid to put into words: I’ll miss you. Come back to me quick.
Nicholas doesn’t flinch, doesn’t budge an inch. Only whispers, “Come on,” once you reach the station. Without a word, he walks to your train with you, waits for it even though it’ll make him have to take a later one. The silence cuts painfully through your heart as you wait side-by-side on the platform, not looking at each other. Only once your train rolls in does he turn to you, sadness in his eyes that can’t be hidden behind his wan smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” he asks, something akin to hopefulness in his tone.
“Okay.”
You find a seat on the train. You know he must still be on the platform, waiting for your train to leave, but you can’t make yourself turn to look at him. Can’t bear the sight of him waving you off, his face so forlorn it becomes unfamiliar even to you.
Your tears are too impatient. They can’t wait to be home before they start falling from your eyes, scalding your cheeks, wetting your lips and chin.
.
.
D-1270. 3 years, 5 months, 21 days earlier
You have no idea how any of you thought this would be amusing in the slightest. Hindsight is 20/20, and now that you think about it, shaving your friends’ heads before they’re sent off to the military doesn’t sound like the most pleasant of group activities, but when Chaewon first pitched it to you, you saw nothing wrong with it.
Now, Chaewon has run off to her room in a fit of tears halfway through shaving her boyfriend’s head. She must be really upset not to laugh at the sight of him, comforting her with half a head of hair.
Truth be told, you’re not faring much better yourself. The evening had started off fairly light-hearted, but as you stand behind Nicholas, the only sound in your friends’ bathroom is that of the electric razor and of tufts of his hair falling slowly to the floor. You’re very focused on the task at hand, but you still steal glances at him once in a while. The whole time, he stares at himself in the mirror. Avoiding your gaze or simply deep in his own thoughts, you aren’t sure.
In the last months of your internship up until now, things haven’t been the same between you and Nicholas. Just enough that you feel like something’s wrong, but not so much that you can bring it up to him without sounding paranoid. It’s not even something you can clearly point to—you still have lunch together a few times a week, still text each other for emergency coffee breaks. But silences last longer. Laughter doesn’t feel as genuine. His gaze doesn’t linger the way it used to.
You ignore it. You don't mention it to him or anyone else, letting the both of you pretend nothing’s changed. And maybe, to him, that truly is the case, and you’re the only one feeling that way.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” you ask. In the mirror, he meets your gaze, brows furrowed in confusion. “With the razor. I have no idea what I’m doing,” you admit, smiling.
He smiles back, and even though it’s small, a barely-there upward tug of the corners of his lips, it eases your nerves instantly. Like things aren’t so bad, after all. Like they can be fixed.
He checks his hair in the reflection as if he’s noticing for the first time that the hair around his left ear has been sheared off. “You’re not hurting me,” he says. “But you are kind of doing a terrible job at this. Don’t give me a bald patch, please.”
You grin. “I don’t need to, nature is already doing that on its own.”
The blood drains from Nicholas’ face. “Where?” he asks, lifting his head to search through his hair.
His sudden mortification makes you burst into laughter. “I’m messing with you, Weno.”
As the old nickname slips out, you realize it’s been months since you’ve called him that. It feels like it’s been months since you’ve called him anything at all. He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s playful, and he finally really looks at you, gaze boring into yours in the mirror. Now it’s your turn to avoid him, suddenly feeling shy.
His hair, especially the ends, is a little dry between your fingers, fried from the numerous times he’s dyed it in the past years. Still. It’s the first time you’ve touched it, the first time you’ve made so much constant contact with him. It’s always a source of teasing on Euijoo’s end to ruffle his friend’s hair, knowing he hates it. But with you, he hasn’t recoiled even once. He sits there, docile, almost peaceful-looking.
Maybe it’s because you know he’ll be leaving for four months, maybe even longer if he decides to stay in Taipei for a bit before coming back to Seoul, but you can’t help but let yourself linger. You card your hand through his hair, fingertips brushing along his scalp as if to create a path for the razor.
Once closely shaved, you shamelessly pet his head like a dog’s, not even bothering to hide how amusing — and nice — you find the feel of his soft yet spiky hair against your palm. He closes his eyes, grinning.
When you reach the halfway point, you feel time truly start to slip between your fingers along with his hair. You might not want to address directly the distance you’ve felt growing between you, but you know you’ll feel terrible, letting him go like this. You realize that speaking to him, God forbid, might be the only way to make things right. To assure these four coming months won’t make you drift further apart.
“How do you feel?” you ask, voice low, feeling a little shy. Feelings are uncharted territory for you and Nicholas. “About leaving. Going back to Taiwan.”
His eyes flutter open, and he takes a little time to think. “It just feels like… Something I have to do before I can get back to my life. Like doing the dishes at the end of a long day. I don’t really want to but it’s not the worst thing ever. Plus, it’s only four months. I might feel different if I had to leave for eighteen months like Euijoo.”
As though she heard you through the walls, Chaewon’s sobs amplify right then, and you feel your heart break for your friend. It really is like a wife sending her husband to war in the 19th century. Even if she knows she’ll have him back eventually. And that she’ll be able to text and call and even see him once in a while. So not really like a wife in the 19th century, but close enough, at least in her point of view.
“Have you decided what you’ll do afterwards? Stay home for a bit, or come back here?”
He finds your gaze in the mirror, a smirk already tugging at his lips. “Why, miss me already?”
You roll your eyes. “No, so I know when to move out of the country.” He brings a hand to his heart, pretends to have been shot. You lift his head gently. “Stay still, Weno. I’m already giving you a bad enough haircut as is.”
He shrugs. “It’ll grow back. Anyway, I haven’t really decided yet. My parents want me to stay with them while I find a job. But you know…” he trails, hesitating, or maybe searching for the right words. “Taiwan hasn’t felt like home in a while. It’s the place I grew up, and I love it, I love going back and speaking Mandarin and eating guabao and seeing my high school friends, but it’s not the same. Not as comfortable as being here.”
You hum, slowly nodding. To a certain extent, you feel the same way about going home. It’s nice to go back, but only once in a while, and only for a short period of time. Every time you’ve gone back, you’ve felt that itch to return to Seoul, to your studies or job and your friends and your life in the city. To Chaewon and Euijoo.
To Nicholas.
“We’ll be here when you come back,” you say softly, voice low to keep it from echoing off the bathroom walls. Like you want it to reach Nicholas’ ears only. “Well, not Euijoo, but… Chaewon and I. And Jellyfish will take you back. I don’t know why you rejected their offer instead of just asking to defer it a few months. They would’ve said yes.” Something in Nicholas’ expression seems to close off then, and it makes you panic—for once, he was so open, so accessible, and all of a sudden he’s drifting out of reach again. You scramble for something, anything that will bring him back to you. “I mean, it just, it would be nice to keep working together. We barely got to during our internship, but, who knows… We could get assigned the same project and actually work with each other. Like we did in college.”
His expression softens again. You almost sigh of relief. “That would be nice,” he concedes. “I just wanted to keep my options open. But I’ll think about it.”
You smile. That’ll have to do for now. Even if things have been weird lately, you’re still able to talk to him like this. You don’t want to part on a bad note, for the awkwardness permeating your relationship to be the last memory he has of you before he leaves.
You’re silent for the remainder of the haircut, a sniffling Chaewon and a red-eyed Euijoo coming out of their bedroom eventually to see how the two of you are getting on. They’re only able to laugh weakly at Nicholas’ appearance, a third of his long hair left, the rest patchy and shaved at irregular lengths. They leave to make tea in the kitchen, and a few minutes later, you’re shearing the last strip of his dyed locks. You rest your hand on his shoulder. Instead of inspecting his own reflection, it’s you he looks at.
“There you go. Bald and ready to serve your country,” you say, trying to smile, but your heart feels heavy. Your eyes sting, and it’s been so long that you don’t recognize the feeling immediately—you’re about to cry.
Maybe Nicholas senses this, understands what your frown means, because he doesn’t laugh either. Just looks at you in the mirror, his furrowed brows matching yours. “Thank you, Y/N,” he says, with a gravity that makes it sound like it’s not just the haircut he’s thankful for.
You attempt a smile. “Of course, Weno.”
Your tears threaten to spill with every passing second, so you eventually turn away, reaching for the broom resting on the wall. But Nicholas catches your hand as it slips off his shoulder, fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist. His eyes are wide, more worried than you’ve ever seen before. There’s something almost frantic, almost desperate about the way he’s looking at you. “You’ll be here when I get back,” he says, echoing your words from earlier. “You’ll wait for me?”
Your frown deepens. “Where else would I be, Weno?” you ask, voice soft, as if speaking to a frightened child.
“No, I mean—Wait for me, Y/N. Please, wait for me.”
You stare back at him, searching for an explanation in his face, but it provides none. Maybe even he isn’t sure what he means. Maybe this is just what future soldiers go through before leaving for the unknown, and he wants to make sure something familiar will greet him once he comes home.
So you don’t ask for clarity. You squeeze his shoulder and say, “Of course, Nicho. I’m not going anywhere.”
This seems to appease him, albeit only slightly. The tension doesn’t entirely leave his shoulder, or the worry, his face. “Right. Okay, then,” he says.
In the kitchen, there’s little of the usual cheer and banter the four of you share. With Chaewon practically unable to look at him, Euijoo goes to the bathroom to take care of the rest of his hair himself. You understand her: the sadness is so clear in his round eyes and pouty lips that it’s hard to look at him for too long, impossible to tease him on the shape of his head or anything else. You and Nicholas were meant to stay over for dinner, but once you’ve finished your tea, you share a look and silently agree to leave the couple alone for the evening. They leave tomorrow to spend the weekend at Euijoo’s family home before he enlists on Monday. Nicholas flies to Taiwan tomorrow and starts his service next week.
You’ve always hated goodbyes, the inherent sadness and uncertainty of them. The reminder that these people make up your life, manage to make every day something exciting to look forward to, that without them, you don’t have all that much left. You hug Euijoo tightly but quickly, wishing him luck. You tell Chaewon to call you once she’s back. The whole thing is over in a few minutes, and once you and Nicholas are outside, walking towards the subway station, your arms are tightly crossed over your chest, your eyes pointedly on the ground ahead of you as you repeatedly tell yourself don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. Beside you, Nicholas is silent.
It’s a fifteen-minute subway ride to the central station, where you and Nicholas will part ways. What is there even to say? You want to tell him to stay safe, to eat well and sleep early every night, to stand up for himself if a superior abuses his power, but also not to get into unnecessary trouble. But these words feel trite, superficial. You met when you were nineteen, but Nicholas is a grown man now. He can take care of himself.
Instead, as you sit next to each other, you drop your head on his shoulder. It expresses what you’re too afraid to put into words: I’ll miss you. Come back to me quick.
Nicholas doesn’t flinch, doesn’t budge an inch. Only whispers, “Come on,” once you reach the station. Without a word, he walks to your train with you, waits for it even though it’ll make him have to take a later one. The silence cuts painfully through your heart as you wait side-by-side on the platform, not looking at each other. Only once your train rolls in does he turn to you, sadness in his eyes that can’t be hidden behind his wan smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” he asks, something akin to hopefulness in his tone.
“Okay.”
You find a seat on the train. You know he must still be on the platform, waiting for your train to leave, but you can’t make yourself turn to look at him. Can’t bear the sight of him waving you off, his face so forlorn it becomes unfamiliar even to you.
Your tears are too impatient. They can’t wait to be home before they start falling from your eyes, scalding your cheeks, wetting your lips and chin.
.
.
D-1167. 3 years, 2 months, 9 days earlier
19:34 you nichooo
19:34 you come help me with this boat order
19:34 you i need the xp to get to the next level and unlock the soup maker
21:50 weno hey just got my phone
21:50 weno you and your mobile games i swear… you shame me
21:50 weno anyway i can’t tonight
21:51 weno some guy was caught watching porn so now we have no internet access for a week
21:51 weno sorry :( you’ll have to find someone else to support your hay day addiction
21:52 you it’s not an addiction.
21:52 you anyways sad to hear you won’t be able to do your 30 min pinterest scroll today
21:52 you how’s that for an addiction
21:52 weno i need the inspo if i’m going to stay best dressed at our company
21:52 you so you’re coming back???? confirmed????
21:54 weno not sure yet
21:54 you wenooo
21:55 weno ik ik i just have some stuff to figure out okay
21:55 weno can we call? even if i can’t help with your boat order
21:56 you i mean if you insist
21:56 you :)
.
.
D-1101. 3 years, 5 days earlier
This number is currently available. Please leave your message after the tone.
“Hi Weno! Seems like we keep missing each other. Things have been crazy at Jellyfish lately. We’re rushing to get No Way Back out on time, but the original schedule turned out to be too tight, so it’s pure chaos… Anyway, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. Euijoo told me about that job you got, which, congrats, obviously, super proud of you and always knew you could do it or whatever, but it would’ve been nice to hear directly from you, you jerk! What, are you too cool for me now that you’re in Shanghai? You can make it up to me by letting me beat your ass at Valo this weekend. Call me back, okay? Reason I called you in the first place is I’ve got some news of my own to share, and I wanted to be the one to tell you, and not a certain Byun Euijoo, whoever that is. Bye! Talk to you soon!”
.
.
D-1009. 2 years, 9 months, 2 days earlier
22:18 weno hey sorry can’t log on tonight
22:18 weno work was crazy i’m exhausted
22:18 weno raincheck?
22:23 you oh :( that’s ok rest up weno
22:23 you lmk when you’re free
22:24 weno i will
22:24 weno good night y/n
22:25 you good night weno. i miss you
22:31 you night weno
summary: lately, your boy best friend has been dropping hints that he wants something more, as if it weren't obvious enough already
tropes: friends to lovers, princess treatment, romcom, fluff
word count: 1.1k
warnings: not proofread sorry if it's not good lol
a/n: i genuinely do think it would be this easy w him ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
masterlist
fuma is a patient man. that's why he's the only one in the friend group that's willing to put up with you and your shenanigans.
"i really want to throw tomatoes at people like in shakespearean times," you say one saturday morning, your head in his lap on the couch.
by the afternoon, he's already taken you to the grocery store.
the entire group chat shows up to watch you throw tomatoes at him in his bathing suit and swim goggles.
"he wouldn't let me do this," k mutters to you as you take aim.
the tomatoes aren't even ripe yet, so they're mostly just bouncing off of fuma's abs and rolling into the grass.
"you'd take throwing them too seriously," you tell k, finally releasing the last tomato from your hand. it doesn't even reach fuma, who's been standing as still as a statue with his hands on his hips.
when he realizes you're done, he takes off his goggles and runs to join the rest of you.
"you can put a shirt on now," yuma complains. "the rest of us would like to go get ice cream."
"i like the view," you laugh, and fuma smiles brightly. "but yeah, you should probably go put on a shirt."
he runs back inside and comes back with his abs covered, much to your dismay.
when you finally get to the ice cream parlor, you swear everyone can see your heart break as soon as your eyes spot the "no samples allowed" sign.
"that's my favorite part!" you whine. "i never know what i'm actually in the mood for until i try it."
fuma rubs your arm and tells you he'll pay for yours just in case you don't like it.
you order two scoops of mint chocolate chip. as soon as your tongue touches the ice cream, you know that it was a mistake.
"fuma," you pout, eyeing his cup of matcha soft serve. without a word, he nods and lets you have a taste, bringing his spoon to your mouth.
"taste good?" he asks. you nod, and he takes your cone and hands you his cup.
harua and maki exchange looks to see if anybody else noticed how intimate the exchange was.
"guys," maki starts, staring the two of you down.
"hmm?" you hum, tilting your head at him.
"you know dating is legal, right?" he asks. "like, if you want to be together, none of us will stop you."
"i don't know what you're talking about," you laugh. you turn to fuma, who has melted ice cream on his chin, which you quickly reach over to wipe away with your thumb.
"that! that right there," harua joins in, pointing in accusation.
"we're friends," fuma smiles, wrapping his arm around your waist. "good friends. right?"
"right," you agree, leaning into his touch. maki and harua both groan.
it's a pattern that's been noticeable ever since you joined the friend group. you ask for something, and fuma answers. by now, he's learned how to take your requests telepathically.
the first time you watched him open a pack of pokemon cards, you instantly fell in love with a rare full art of tandemaus.
"it's so cute," you say, your eyes sparkling almost as much as the holographic details. "they're like us!"
it's only worth probably $15, and your happiness is worth much more to fuma than that. so, he lets you keep it, smiling at the thought of being two little mice that go everywhere together.
over time, you've grown an entire collection of all of the cards he's gifted to you just because you liked them for one reason or another.
"you do realize some of these are worth a lot of money," taki says one day, flipping through your binder. "the average pokemon card is worth three cents. this one is worth at least a hundred dollars."
he points at one of your espeon cards, where she looks like she's made out of crystals.
"very funny," you reply in disbelief. there's no way fuma would let you keep that one if it were that valuable.
taki looks the exact card up to prove it to you, leaving you speechless.
it's not that you're unaware that fuma treats you differently. it's just that he does it so often that it seems normal. really, you're not sure how else the two of you could operate.
when you're tired of walking, fuma carries you. if you complain about being too lazy to cook dinner, he's knocking on your door with takeout.
last halloween, he was the howl to your sophie, even going so far as to bleach his hair to make the costume perfect.
one day, after you've been teased by the group about your dynamic a little too much, you decide to just ask him.
"fuma," you stop him at the front door when everybody else is filing out. "can i ask you something?"
"anything," he nods, his arms crossed as he waits for your question.
you fiddle with the charms on your bracelet. the tiny metal cake slice—a gift from fuma on your last birthday—feels cool beneath your fingertips.
"are you in love with me?"
the question doesn't seem to shock him.
"i am," he says without thinking, as calm as if he's talking about the weather.
you know how to tell when he's doing one of his silly lies, and this isn't one of those times.
"how come you've never said anything?"
"you never asked," he shrugs, his nonchalance pissing you off.
"and you're not going to ask if i love you back?"
"do you love me back?"
"yes," you grumble, hesitant to show any emotion.
"and?" fuma steps closer.
"i'm mad at you."
he smirks, used to your attitude. "any particular reason?"
"many." you do your best to look angry, although your heart is about to jump out of your chest from the way he's looking at you. “but mostly because you should’ve confessed sooner instead of making me ask.”
he smiles, before leaning in and kissing you on the top of your head.
your eyes go wide. "what was that?"
"i thought it would make you feel better."
you hate how well he knows you. almost all of your annoyance has melted away.
"do it again," you say softly.
he does. you tilt your head up to look at him and tap your index finger against your lips, signaling where you want him to kiss you next.
and if fuma is going to do anything, it's give you what you want.
contents: &Team x Reader (separate), Free Use kink, dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, exhibitionism, public sex, car sex, oral sex, breeding mentions, dry humping, choking, headlock,
masterlist
K
When you proposed the idea of free use his dick just about jumped in his pants, something about you letting him ruin you whenever HE wanted. K was definitely a little nervous about acting on it, but he couldn’t hold back for very long. Coming home to you one day to you lounging on the couch, lying on your belly, in your tiny shorts and a T-shirt. He practically groans at the sight of you making his way towards you, you can barely turn before he is straddling you, jeans pressing against your ass, leaning down leaving kisses in the crook of your neck, you whine under his touch as his hands grab at your waist under your shirt.
Before you know it your stripped-bare hands are pinned behind your back while Kei drives himself into you, “god, you feel so good like this,” he pants, “Thank you….Thank you for letting me use you like this baby,” his eyes squeezing shut as he is hanging on for dear life. K knows one thing for sure, and that he will definitely be doing this more often.
Fuma
The moment you mention Free Use to him Fuma's hands are already on you, pulling you onto his lap. “Yeah, bunny? Want me to play with you whenever I want?” he teases as you shrink into yourself, his eyes hungry and predatory. He stands you up pulling down the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you with a smile. His fingers start dragging over your clothed slit and you close your eyes, hiding yourself, leading him to pull you onto his lap. “C'mon sweet girl this is what you wanted right?” he drags you against his clothed cock hardening beneath the fabric. Your hips buck at the friction, Fuma bites back a groan before tucking his face into your neck, licking and biting at your skin desperately.
Fuma loves having you on his lap like this, it's the easiest way to make sure you end up bouncing on him like it's the only thing you know how to do. Hissing as he leans back in his chair hands gripping at your hips possessively, “Fuck, yes, that's a good girl,” he slaps at your thighs while you ride him, mouth sucking at your chest leaving pretty marks wherever he can reach. Now that you have mentioned Free Use to him you were gonna be his completely from the moment he wakes til he is ready to go to bed, he was gonna use you to the fullest.
Nicholas
He was embarrassed, telling you his dirty secret about how he wishes you would take more control, asking you to use him whenever you wanted. You found it cute on the other hand, his eyebrows knitted together while he puffed out his cheeks when you made him explain it fully to you. He didn't know you could be so mean. You made him wait after you agreed, of course, only teasing him when you came home making him think he would finally get what he so desperately needed, but you both know it was on your terms. It was starting to feel unfair, you getting him painfully hard just to leave him to his own devices. He didn't want to beg but he was getting too desperate.
Like a dream come true Nicholas is awoken to the sound of you entering your shared bedroom. Clearly, you had a stressful day not being too careful when putting your things away from the day. “Baby?” he mumbles while still waking up. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You turn to him and your eyes soften, his soft form is sprawled on the bed, he is so sweet like this, so malleable. You sigh making your way to him. “Hey my love,” you whisper, scooting closer to his lying form. You reach for him, making him sit up next to you. “Wanna help make me feel better?” you question, Nicholas nods quickly, but then you do it you claim his lips pulling him closer, your hands making it into the waistband of his boxers. You begin stroking him softly as he gasps into your mouth. The perfect timing you thought, so good at following orders, so easy to tease.
Euijoo
Euijoo basically worships the land you walk on so when you offered yourself to him whenever he wanted his heart melted. It was something he didn't even realize how badly he wanted, going home that night unable to think of anything else. He needed to settle with his hand that night touching himself but it was not quite enough. Wanting you more than anything at that moment. He texts you to check if you were up, no reply, rolling over in frustration he decides he needs to have you the next time he sees you.
That time came quickly a few agonizing days later he picked you up at your apartment opening the car door for you. The whole ride to your destination his hand was planted on you softly grazing the skin on your thigh, in such a pretty skirt he wondered how high his hands could go before you started whining his name. He could feel his heart in his throat, never having done anything like this before. He finds himself testing his fingers basically under your skirt while you try your hardest to be as still as possible. “Euijoo,” you mumble, squirming slightly as your voice shakes. There it is, his sweet girl. Your lip is sucking between your teeth as you try to hold back a moan as he finally gets to your needy heat. He clicks his tongue pulling into a nearby parking garage, giving up on the original plans. He takes a small look around after stopping the vehicle, turning back to you with darkened eyes. He pulls back his seat, patting his own lap luring you to straddle him, “Come here, Love,” he says sweetly pulling you into a kiss when you oblige.
Yuma
Yuma wasn't meant to hear this conversation, you chatting to your friend on the phone about how you wished your boyfriend would just “take you whenever he wanted” Excitement pools in his stomach, the two of you were a little adventurous but at this point in the relationship you both haven't tried a lot yet sexually, and this made him hungry. That night he finds you getting ready for bed, he was staying the night after having dinner at your apartment, a more common event between the two of you. When he enters your bedroom he b-lines for you standing in front of your vanity mirror hands wrapping around your waist, face to your neck breathing in your scent.
Things heat up pretty quickly as he starts kissing along your neck, hands reaching to your hips to drag you across his bulging cock, “I know your secret baby,” he whispers while nipping at your earlobe, mischief in his voice. “What? What secret?” you rack your brain for something you have been keeping from him as his hands explore your body. He reaches for the hem of your shirt pulling it off of you making you shiver in the cold air. He laughs softly to himself looking at you watching yourself in the mirror, legs pressed tightly together. “You should really watch who is around when you're on the phone, love.” he reaches into your panties teasing your slit with his fingers. You arch into his touch not even bothered by being caught, this was what you wanted, he is only providing for you.
Jo
A silent agreement between the two of you, not quite sure when it started, but it was definitely mutual. No matter what time or place if either of you got needy the other was ready. Jo was definitely the type to just walk up behind you, grab your wrist, and pull you to the nearest private area, at least as private as it can be. He would begin groping at your tits and ass through your clothes, mumbling about needing to get off.
You often found yourself in these situations during outings with your friend group, this time in a club bathroom, neither of your scenes so Jo found a better way to take your time. Bending you over the sink fistful of your hair while he snaps his hips into you. Your moans echoing on the walls so he has to resort to taking your panties and stuffing them in your mouth, he doesn't want the moment ruined because you were too loud. Whispering to you how good you are taking him as he fills you to the brim with his cum, but don't let that fool you there are also many times he's on his knees in your apartment as you rub your cunt on his face, Jo whining beneath you. As much as he enjoyed ruining you, he also loved when you ruined him.
Harua
You were so mean, teasing Harua with the idea of Free Use, he feels himself throb in his jeans. The idea of you pushing him against the wall and taking him in your hands, stroking him slowly, but you had other things in mind. Sitting on the bed waiting for him to come home from practice, when he entered the room his eyes dropped to you in a robe smiling up at him hungrily. “Hi pretty, how was practice?” you say uncrossing your legs, hands planting on each side of you. Like a moth to flame, he makes his way to you dropping to his knees, hands finding their way to your plush thighs. He nervously avoids your eyes, “Good…” his hands make their way down to your knees as he presses his face in your lap breathing in your scent. Your hands find his hair, tugging harshly to make him look at you, a sharp whine escapes his lips as his pupils blow wide below you.
He just looked so hungry. What kind of partner would you be if you didn't shove his face between your legs? Harua feels dizzy holding onto your hips for dear life while you grind onto his tongue resulting in him bucking his hips into nothing, chasing a pleasure he can't quite reach. “So good for me bunny, don't slow down on me.” You praise petting his pretty head while you clutch your thighs around his head. Harua was convinced he had died and gone to heaven. It became a routine, coming home and pleasuring you, no matter how tired he was. He was yours to play with. It was his job to make sure you were content, even if it left him gasping for air while you sat on his face and grind roughly on his tongue. It was where he belonged.
Taki
Speaking of routines Taki had a favorite, It was you waiting for him at the door on your knees. Every time he came home to you in that position a groan would escape his body. Shutting the door behind him instantly reaching for the belt of his jeans opening himself up for you. His groans quickly became broken whines as you took him in your mouth tongue teasing his tip before pushing him all the way in. He wanted to pretend he could handle it, like he was still in control but you both knew the truth. Taki loves being used by you. It's his fault really, leaving you alone all day, using his body as a way to ask for forgiveness.
His favorite is when you wake him in the middle of the night, it didn't matter to him if he had to be awake in a few hours. Finding you on top of him grinding on him over his boxers, broken moans escaping his lips as he starts waking up. “Shhh pup,” you soothe him brushing the hair out of his face, “You're making me feel so good honey,” you moan out taking the chance to reach to the hem of his shirt pushing it up his chest. Taki arches as the cool air hits his skin, “Please… Don't stop..” he forces out his throat in a choked sob. You slow your rhythm, smiling down at him. “Oh, pup don't worry we are just getting started.”
Maki
Maki always thought about you, you were like a virus in his brain hooking him into making the worst decisions possible. He craved every part of you like a starving man and he took every chance he got to take his fill, even if that meant pulling you into the dirty club bathroom. The music is blaring through the door as he bends you over the sink chest pressed against your back, “You look too good out there, pretty.” he groans hands pushing up the back of your skirt so he can grind his growing bulge against you harder. “Nobody out there is gonna be able to tell that you're mine with you looking like this. He clicks his tongue. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth while his hands make their way to your ass squeezing the flesh beneath him.
You weren't sure if people outside could hear you but you couldn't find the room to care, not with Maki's arm around your neck, his bicep cutting into the side of your neck, forcing you to stare into the mirror. Wet sounds echo off the walls as he pounds into you relentlessly grunting into your ear as he chases his own high. “Maki! Please… don't stop!” you beg clenching against him almost fucking your hips back onto him despite the limited mobility. His other hand reaches down rubbing your clit while he drives his dick into you faster. “You're close aren't you baby? Me too….gonna breed this cute fucking cunt… fuck! Cum with me please baby… need you to milk this cock.” he rambles on no longer able to control his volume, at this point you were sure the people outside could hear you getting ruined, the thought of that alone pushed you closer to the edge. Your boyfriend's hips stutter as he releases in you. His arm tightening ever so slightly as you clench around him tightly, legs shaking from reaching your own high. Maki knew when to make his claim on you, leaving you dripping with his seed so you know where you belong.
a/n: idk what happened….. I blacked out….. I will prob write full fics for these in the future so lmk what members you wanna see in the comments or send me an anon
Tags: suggestive, stripping, pole dancing, groping, lap dances, teasing, mentions of blowjobs and allusions to smut
Wc: 1969
My first foray into headcannons! I originally had the idea to make this a series, but I figured headcannons would be good to try out first. Let me know if you would want a series of this!
K, the shining jewel. If elegance and grace were a person. The most intricate routines on the pole you can possibly imagine. He’ll fly high on the spinning pole and lean down, holding it only by his ankles. Even without the pole, he doesn’t need it to do the most elaborate tricks in mid-air that’ll have you on the edge of your seat. A lover of wearing the tightest hotpants possible, showing off the bulge of his dick and humping the pole, making his face scrunch up in perfect pleasure for the crowd to see. Will kneel on the stage and hold his hand out to almost touch the lucky women in the front row, teasing them with the idea of his touch before pulling away. But then if he’s in the mood he’ll grab someone’s wrist and place their hand on his dick with a wink. Struts on the stage to show off his ass and grins wickedly at the crowd when they cheer. Blows kisses to his regulars and the prettiest ladies he sees each night. Poses against the pole with his dick in the crowd’s face like they’re about to suck him off, and smirks underneath the hat he’s wearing. Tall and slender with just the right amount of muscle in all the right places, he’s the more traditional type of dancer, but his charisma and charm provide promises he teases but keeps tightly under wraps. Catch him privately, and his experience in the business will rock your world. For that reason, he’s the most sought after and the highest paid.
Fuma, pole dances less but strips more. Where some others come out in the skimpy outfits, Fuma walks out fully dressed. A police uniform, a fireman’s get up with no shirt and letting the suspenders graze his nipples, a hardened military veteran with dog tags he slips into the front row’s mouths and lets them suck on. Even wolf ears and a fur pelt if you’re in the mood for something a little more… wild. Either way, it’s all coming off. One garment by one. Experienced in the tease, he knows exactly when to get rid of the clothes until he’s wearing nothing but a skin-tight jockstrap and leather gloves. His time on the pole after is the real show. Muscular in every way, you can see the way his muscles shift in the lights as he spins and gyrates his hips. He flexes his biceps, humps the floor, kneels with his legs spread so the front row can see the perfect view of the bulge of his dick almost breaking through the jockstrap and the clefts of his abs all dripping in sweat. His lap dances are peppered with pretty words that you can almost believe aren't lies. He'll talk sweetly vulgar and rub your thigh with an experienced force indicative of how he could put you through the couch, but that's not how we run things here.
Nicholas, the alluring fashionista. You’ll be in awe of his fashion before he even takes to his routine. A lover of suspender belts and stockings, dress shoes and stilettos. Get close enough and you’ll spy a glint on his chest shining off the multicoloured lights. Nipple piercings. And yes, they are included in his outfits. His most famous one? The time he walked out in nothing but a g-string for men and a chain connecting the two piercings on his chest to a diamond encrusted choker. Nicholas shines, matching the beats of his shoes to the beats of the song playing and does more tricks than twirls. He’s flexible, can do the splits up the side of the pole and bend himself almost into a circle, showing off all the lean muscle he’s built up. Perpetual siren eyes, no one ever knows what exactly he’s thinking while up there, but if his eyes are on you, he’ll swivel his hips in such a way you’ll feel nothing but the fantasy of having him on top of you, his weight pinning you to your seat. Or beneath you, grinding into the space between your outstretched legs, a glimpse into what he can do when all his clothes are on the floor. Buy a private room, yeah? What happens there, stays in there.
Euijoo, the calm before the storm. A quiet one with doe eyes that have you wondering if he’s in the right profession. But the way he walks through the crowd in his pleasers, booty shorts and cropped leather vest are anything but a struggling baby deer. Sometimes wears the booty shorts with mesh shirts that don’t even cover his pecs. He’s very proud of them, so let him bounce them for you. He mostly leaves the stage to his fellow coworkers, not out of insecurity, but because he’s more comfortable not having all eyes on him. Just one pair at a time does him well, and lap dances are what he’s good at. He’ll hold out his hand to you, take it and he’ll feel himself up using you. Look up at him and you’ll realise this man is tall, and he has a lot of delectable surface area for any type of wandering hands to cover. Be a good customer for him and let him take your lead, and he’ll let you hold him by his tiny, slutty waist. Offer up enough money and you’ll be whisked away to a private room, where you’ll be one of the lucky few to see him perform on a stage.
Yuma, the tease. Cat-like and fierce, he’ll leave everyone in the room not quite satisfied after raking in their money on the stage just so they can clamour for a private booking. Will enter the stage wearing only pants, showing off the tattoo on his hip, will exit the stage in nothing but a g-string barely covering his dick. He purposefully wears the type of g-string that knots at the sides, hanging onto what’s left of his modesty by a prayer, and will let the ladies slip their bills into the tied straps. Does the kind of tricks on the pole that has you a little scared in the back of your mind, for not even he knows if he’ll slip up one of these days and accidentally show dick to everyone in the front row. That kind of play is what gets the customers hooked, a perpetual dance of luck and skill. On the floor, he struts. Saunters. Wears glow in the dark sets and mesh so you always know where he is. Grazes the back of your seat like how you wish he would with your skin, but he is a firm look don’t touch. On him, of course. He’ll touch wherever you want him to, just shy of where you actually need him to.
Jo, the duality of man. If Euijoo is someone that you wonder why he’s here, you’ll feel that tenfold with this sweet eyed ball of shyness who looks too tall for his silence. His lap dances are popular with the dommes, for the one-on-one action is not where he is assertive. He knows what he’s doing, with the way he gyrates his hips and sticks his fingers at the corner of your mouth, but there’s an air of pleasing submission. The submission and shyness disappears once he hits the stage. The distance, the inherent gap in power between the customers confined to the floor and him flying high in the sky, that brings his other side out to play. Watch as his hair falls into his eyes and he stares that make the most stone faced women blush, get him on the stage and he feels that power the rest of the night. Groping his dick through his pants and thrusting into the air less than a metre away from the front row’s faces, he relies on his flexibility and sheer length of his limbs more than the pole. But trust me, dear customer, he doesn’t need it anyway.
Harua, the all rounder. Has an elegance and sophistication to him that tells you he means business. Don’t mistake the shiny eyeshadow and blush for him being innocent, or maybe do, he prefers it when the ladies’ mouths drop when he shakes his ass or does the splits on the pole. He’s another frequenter of the tiny g-strings, so much so that you can see his bulge from behind the pole when he’s got it between his legs. Won’t show his nipples though. He wears cropped hoodies with bunny ears or sheer black crop tops with rhinestones and pasties to show off his slender waist, but his nipples are off limits. For now, at least. His cute face and bunny accessories might resemble submission, but he’ll rut and grind like a bunny and a wolf. He’s a true switch, dances can go from him kneeling between your legs with his dick rubbing the floor, just begging to be stepped on, to him sticking the tips of his fingers into your mouth and trailing your saliva down your neck. All while perching himself in your lap with a dominant glint in his eye and matching smirk, and his ass sticking out, practically asking to be slapped.
Taki, another man that promises duality, but not in the way many expect. He’s the team’s wild card. Never the same routine twice, thinks up tricks on the fly. A favourite amongst the ladies who are perhaps new to the strip clubs or are shyer, because oddly enough, he can make them laugh. From silly dance moves, fake out meme songs, wearing spiderman underwear on stage just to watch them chuckle, the newbies can relax in his hands. However, the silliness can’t last forever. He's here to be alluring, to tease the ladies with his charms, so the sexiness comes out eventually. Leather hotpants and fishnet shirts, harnesses and handcuffs. The tiniest leather jockstrap you ever saw underneath the silly boxers. Flexes like he could choke you in a headlock, caresses the pole like it's a promise to your body, crawls and looms over you to brush the hair out of your face like you’re the woman of his dreams he wants to get right. His tricks will ease your jitters, his dance will have you second guessing, his performance snaps to sexy a heartbeat later, leaving you with a teasing wink and questions on your tongue that can only be answered in the private rooms.
Maki, the one who shook the place up. Comes out onstage in a jacket and undresses while looking one lucky lady dead in the eye. Abdominal muscles that have everyone in awe, biceps and thighs that could crush you between them. A mix between a pole dance and Magic Mike, he changed the game when he pulled up a chair and gave a lap dance to one exceptionally lucky customer right there on stage. He finished the show with a wink, a kiss to the back of the hand, and a ‘thank you’ that no one else heard. They gave him 5 stars, then left to wash away the flush on their face. He’s half-German, and although he’s rarely gone to the other half of his homelands, he brings the Berlin club scene seemingly by osmosis. Harnesses as outfits are par for the course, but Maki wears collars, ball gags, handcuffs. Twerks in assless chaps (although all chaps are assless), squeezes his dick until he moans, plays with his nipples until they’re puffy and red. He acts like he’s on a camming website rather than a strip club, but you’re not gonna be complaining at any point, especially when the boss of the club lets his lap dance performances become commonplace. Come by on a night he’s performing and try your luck.
summary: good news! Maki is going to be the Romeo in the Romeo and Juliet play. but why does... everything goes downhill from there?
pairing: maus riki x reader
featuring: wonhee from illit, woonhak from boynextdoor, eunchae from lesserafim, harua and taki from &team. brief appearance of asa from babymonster and kyujin from nmixx
genres & tropes: best friend to lovers, slow burn... fluff with a sprinkle of angst! reader and maki are high school students!
word count: 9,720
author's thoughts: it's finally here! three weeks of writing because I was having author's block, then I was sick, TWICE! fml really. I'm really excited and enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading this too!
Scene 1: The Troublesome Beginning
“Congrats on kissing the prettiest girl in the school,”
You said as soon as Maki walked out of the theater’s production room – you had overheard that he was picked to be the Romeo for the Romeo and Juliet play. Yesterday, the audition for Juliet was held and Eunchae was chosen to fill the role of Juliet.
“I need to kill Harua for voting for me,”
“Whoa whoa. You don’t seem happy… what’s wrong?”
Maki has a soft spot for Harua, so when he announced that he’s having a murder intent towards Harua, there must be something wrong, somewhere.
Maki sighs, and shakes his head. He then marched down the hallway, making you tilt your head, wondering what makes your best friend act like that. You can ask Harua, but that boy is definitely busy – yesterday, he texted you that he just got home at 9 p.m. You guess you just have to wait until Maki sorts out his thoughts first, to know what happened.
“Wait. Wait, Maki! Wait for me!”
You just realized that you’re going home together with Maki today, causing you to dash down the hallway to catch up with him. After grabbing your bag, both of you walk together to his car in silence – you didn’t dare to say anything as his face looked extremely tense.
“Sorry, Y/N. I… I’m overwhelmed right now. I can’t say anything. Don’t misunderstand my silence, yeah?”
Maki said after you make yourself comfortable on the passenger’s seat. You nod, before patting Maki’s back.
“Take your time, Maki,”
“Thanks,”
Only songs fill the car throughout the drive to your house – not even a hum escapes from Maki’s lips. You bite your lips as you spare a glance at your best friend – he’s too tense, gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckle turns white, and not even a single muscle moved on his face.
“Thanks for sending me home, Maki. I hope you’ll get to sort out your thoughts soon. Bye,”
You said as you got out of his car, and Maki gave you a small smile as a response. You awkwardly wave your hand at him, before jogs to your front door. You turned to wave at him again once you got inside, only to find that he already drove away.
“Wow… he’s that… stressed huh?”
You muttered as Maki never leaves until he’s sure that you’re inside. His actions only makes you wonder more about what had happened.
Scene 2: The Weird Lunch.
“Maki has to kiss Eunchae twice,”
Harua said before thanking the canteen lady for handing him the soup of the day.
“Is that why he’s stressed out?”
You asked before you too, thanked the canteen lady for giving you the soup. You finally had the chance to talk to Harua – he queued up right in front of you, and you wasted no time and began asking him about what happened. Both of you used to share the same class, but since someone decided to be studious and excelled in the second-year final exam (Harua), you now only see each other during breaks.
“Might be?”
Harua’s face shows hints that suggest that’s not entirely the story. There’s something he’s trying to hide – there’s no way Maki would threaten to kill him for… making him kiss Eunchae twice.
“Rua, tell me the truth. There’s no way Maki would say that he wants to murder you for voting for him, if that’s the full story,”
“Wow. Dare to threaten me, huh.”
Harua doesn’t look surprised, which makes it even weirder. You tilt your head as you stare at Harua, who busies himself with the food.
“Rua,”
You call firmly, wanting him to be transparent with you.
“Girl, that’s the truth. Maybe he’s making a big deal out of it because he doesn’t want to be in the spotlight or something. You know, kissing Eunchae comes with pros and cons. Pros, he gets to kiss the school’s heartthrob. Cons, her fanboys will definitely make his life harder, in some ways.”
You press your lips while wrinkles become apparent on your forehead as you weigh on Harua’s words. You then look at Harua who’s devouring the food like there’s no tomorrow, before heaving a small sigh. You still have your doubts, but for now, you’ll believe in his reasons. Until Maki confirms that’s the case.
“Are you not going to eat? Can I take this salad?”
Harua asks.
“Yeah… you can have that.”
You let him take it, before you begin eating. You hope by filling up your stomach, your uneasiness will go away for a bit, and you’ll believe Harua’s words even more after this.
Scene 3: The Odd Act
“I didn’t have my first kiss yet.”
“And that’s… why you crash out?”
You stare at Maki after he confesses what’s on his mind – both of you are currently in the fast food restaurant, having burgers and fries as Maki told you that he’s hungry as hell. He had to skip his lunch break for costume fitting, and on top of that, he failed to sneak a bite of his snack bar to satiate his hunger in the class – Mr. Kim was mad as hell over something that their class didn’t even do, so Maki can’t risk making him goes berserk.
“Yeah,”
“I’m… pretty sure they’ll teach you how to kiss, right? I heard Joshua went through the same thing too,”
You try to comfort your best friend – maybe you choose your words wrongly, because Maki looks deflated. His face, too, shows a hint of disappointment.
“Um, I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings! I think that’s a valid crashout. You were shocked, scared– obviously overwhelmed, and knowing that you’re going to kiss someone twice when you don’t have your first kiss yet is definitely… the straw that broke the camel's back…”
You add, to make sure that Maki understands what you’re trying to say. You get him, you really do – this is Maki’s first big role, so he’s definitely shocked, and maybe Harua teased him about this so he… felt extremely overwhelmed by everything.
“Yeah. I get what you’re trying to say, Y/N. Thanks,”
His words should’ve made you feel relieved, yet uneasiness settled in your chest instead. Maki doesn’t look comforted by your words, and paired with Harua’s facial expressions during lunch earlier, you really think that there’s something going on.
That only Maki and Harua knows.
But what is it?
You chew your fries slowly as you rack your brain, trying to find any idea to figure out this whole situation. You then plant your eyes on your best friend, who’s finishing up his second burger, before heaving a sigh as you don’t have any idea of what might be going on.
“Maki,”
You gently call, making Maki’s attention shift from his burger to you.
“You know you can let me know everything, right?”
“Yeah. I know, Y/N,”
Despite his answer, you’re unsatisfied. Let’s practice patience, you tell yourself, let nature take its course and let Maki and Harua tell you the truth instead of forcing them to.
“Okay. I’ll be here, to help you. Always,”
You said and gave Maki an assuring smile, to make him let his guard down and confide in you. Maybe you won’t get an answer now, but you will get an answer soon.
Scene 4: The Seed of Doubts.
“Hey Y/N. Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that Maki and Eunchae are sticking to each other like gum these days?”
You turn to Woonhak who’s walking next to you – for the past few days, you’ve been going home with Woonhak, taking the bus and walking together since both of you live in the same neighbourhood.
Maki couldn’t give you a ride home like he always does, as his theater practice often runs late – till night, sometimes, and your mom is out of town due to her work, so you have no other choice than taking a bus home.
“They are Romeo and Juliet…?”
“Yes, I know that. But it’s just, suspicious…like… ugh Y/N, do you really not understand what I’m trying to say?”
“No.”
“Like, okay. Why would they spend their break time together? They’re literally going to meet each other right after school,”
Ever since Maki has been entrusted with the role of Romeo, he barely ate with you – he often skips his lunch for theater, or eats with the theater kids.
It never crosses your mind that it’s weird – the theater kids are mainly in different classes, so if they have something to discuss before the theater practice, lunch break is the only time.
“Woonhak, do you like Eunchae? Are you jealous?”
Your question makes Woonhak almost throw a tantrum – he manages to catch himself having a meltdown, but dissatisfied whines still escape from his lips.
“THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M GOING FOR,”
“Then… what? Woonhak, having a crush on Eunchae isn’t embarrassing. Like, she’s the most popular girl in our school, of course–”
“I’M JUST TELLING YOU THAT IT’S VERY SUSPICIOUS,”
“I don’t find it suspicious,”
“Fine. Good for you.”
Woonhak then changes the topic of the conversation – it’s never quiet when going home with Woonhak. You can’t complain – worried to upset the guy – and you’re not in a state where you’re complaining either, because you’ve spent too much time with Woonhak to learn how to tune his voice out in your mind while partially paying attention to him.
“Bye Y/N, see you at school tomorrow!”
Woonhak bids goodbye while waving his hands at you as both of you arrive at your apartment building.
“Bye Woonhak!”
You wave your hand back at Woonhak before jogging to the lobby, eager to arrive home as soon as possible. You already have a plan in your mind – shower, eat while watching movies, then take a nap. A buzz from your phone takes your attention off the movie selections that you have in mind, and a smile instantly forms on your lips as you read the notification.
| Maki browski: hope you arrive home safely
| you: I’m home now!
| you: hope your practice goes well!
| Maki browski: thanks, Y/N
You didn’t reply to Maki after – you didn’t want to bother him as you know that the theater practice can be hectic sometimes. Plus, you can always talk to him in the class, so…
After taking a shower and having meals while watching a movie like you planned earlier, you lie down on the bed. You yawn quite a few times, but instead of closing your eyes, you find yourself scrolling through social media.
mausriki_ don’t you worry my Juliet, your Romeo will save the day.
You blink rapidly at Maki’s Instagram’s story caption – it’s a photo of Eunchae, looking very much frustrated while pointing to the scoreboard. They’re at a bowling alley, you think to yourself – it’s obvious from the scoreboard itself.
You tap on your screen to move to the next story – it’s a video of Maki knocking all the pins down, getting a strike.
mausriki_ what did I sayyyyyy
You smiled – Maki is really good at sports, he just has a knack in it. So it’s not surprising for him to score a strike, despite rarely bowling. You tap on your screen again, and a photo of him, Eunchae and Taki shows up – they’re smiling widely while pointing to the scoreboard,
mausriki_ we’ll eat well, harua! hehehehe
You chuckled – they must have placed bets. You’re glad that the theatre kids are having fun by themselves, because you’ve seen first hand how stressful everything can be – building bonds and chemistry is definitely needed for a successful play to be presented.
“I’m just telling you that it’s very suspicious,”
Woonhak’s voice rings in your mind, making you shrug. There’s really nothing to be suspicious of, you think to yourself – you placed your phone away, and immediately drifted to the dreamland, taking the much needed nap that you had planned for.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I can’t go, I have theater things,”
Maki said, declining your invitation to go to the recently opened funfair together.
“Oh, I… didn’t know that you would be busy on Saturday too.”
He didn’t tell you that he has theater practice on Saturday – you genuinely thought that they only had practices during the school days. No wonder Maki looks like he’s lacking sleep nowadays.
“Yeah… There's like… 3 months left before the play and Harua is freaking out because we’re not getting to the middle of the play yet. I told him that we can just speedrun through everything and save perfecting the details for later, but that boy won’t listen,”
“Well, Harua is a perfectionist. Isn’t that why he’s the director?”
“Yeah, I guess,”
You press your lips into a thin line, feeling slightly upset that you won’t be able to go to the funfair with Maki. You don’t feel like suggesting to go on Sunday, because you feel like Maki definitely will be spending his Sunday catching up on his sleep, and you don’t want to look like you’re being inconsiderate to your best friend.
“I’ll go with Woonhak and Wonhee then,”
“Okay. Be careful, then. Let me know if anything, yeah?”
“Okie,”
You reply before giving him a small smile – you then walk over to Woonhak and Wonhee, inviting them to go with you. Both of them instantly agree without any hesitation, making you feel a bit better – if both of them are unable to go, you’re going to cry in the corner of your bed (dramatic, you know. But you really want to go and don't feel like going alone).
Saturday comes faster than you thought – you were doing your final outfit check when you heard the sound of the doorbell, meaning that Woonhak and Wonhee are here. You quickly finish whatever you’re doing, and head to the door while bidding goodbye to your parents.
“Be careful, don’t come home too late! And don’t go anywhere alone!”
Your mom reminds you as you put on your shoes.
“Okay! Bye mom!”
You open the door and are greeted by Woonhak and Wonhee – three of you then head to the nearby bus stop to go to the funfair.
“What should we ride first? Should we eat first?”
Woonhak asks as the three of you wait for the bus to arrive.
“Woonhak… if we eat first then go on rides, won’t we be throwing up everything…”
Wonhee glares at Woonhak, and Woonhak rolls his eyes – you chuckles as both of them often get into banters, and it amuses you since they almost never run out of things to be fought (playfully) about.
“It’s a question. I’m asking, Wonhee,”
“Why don’t we go on rides, then have dinner during the sunset? Won’t it be great to watch the sunset while eating?”
You chirp in, and both of them look at you like you’re a genius – they instantly agree with you, and you find it funny how quickly both of them can be on the same page.
You arrive at the funfair about 20 minutes later. It’s starting to get packed, so the three of you decided on going to the popular rides first, like roller coasters, flying chairs and disco pang pang.
“Oh, the viking is starting to have a queue too. We should go there!”
“Okay! Let’s go!”
You, Woonhak and Wonhee dashed to queue for the Viking ride. Luckily, you don’t have to wait too long to be on the ride. Unluckily, you have to sit at the most end.
“It’s okay, everyone. It’s okay, this is not that scary,”
Woonhak said as the safety bar lowered, tucking the three of you securely into the seat, and Wonhee chuckled.
“Are you trying to convince us, or trying to convince yourself?”
“I’m trying to reassure both of you. I’m not scared,”
“Says the one who screamed throughout the flying chairs,”
“That’s because I feel like I’m about to fly anytime soon!”
You just shake your head while chuckling. You’re really looking forward to Woonhak’s reaction, because you’ve been laughing at him ever since the first ride the three of you had taken – trying to appear confident, before screaming with eyes as wide as saucers and looking panicked like he’s going to die soon.
“Oh what the hell! Why is this so high! Why does it look normal from below! Oh my god!”
Woonhak yells as the Viking ride starts to go higher and higher – as it reaches the highest point, Woonhak squeals the loudest while you and Wonhee are laughing to tears because of him.
“MY BUTT IS LEAVING THE SEAT! LET’S NOT GO HIGHER THAN THIS, PLEASE!”
Woonhak pleads make you clutch your stomach that begins to hurt from laughing too much, while Wonhee’s face turns red as she cannot stop laughing. When the ride comes to an end, Woonhak pretends like everything is fine – causing you and Wonhee to laugh hysterically.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh at me all you want. Let’s have something to eat, the sun is about to set soon,”
Woonhak said, bitterly – lower lip sticking out as he sulks at you both.
“Let’s go eat, Woonhak. I’ll pay!”
“Really? Really, Y/N? Okay!”
Woonhak instantly gets excited, causing you to laugh again as he stops sulking immediately.
“Yes! Let’s go!”
“Let’s gooo!”
The three of you walk to the food section – Woonhak chooses to have tteokbokki and corndog, while you buy a personal size pizza (you find it interesting as they will make your order on the spot, and it smells so nice so you decide to buy it). Wonhee settles on a cup of ramyeon and chicken skewers, and after buying drinks, three of you head to an empty picnic table nearby.
“Where should we go after this?”
Wonhee asks before she takes a bite of the chicken skewers, and gasps as she finds it delicious.
“Bumper cars?”
“Oh! I forgot about bumper cars. Okay, you’re my target Woonhak. I’m going to crash into your car until you fly out of it,”
Wonhee declared. Woonhak immediately frowned, and hastily swallowed his food before protesting.
“Ah seriously, can’t I live in peace?!”
“No man shall live in peace,”
“Ughhh,”
Woonhak rolled his eyes while groaning, making you giggle while shaking your head. Never a dull moment with these two, you think to yourself.
Silence finds the three of you as you watch the sunset, admiring the purplish‑orange sky that stretches across the horizon, never failing to look as pretty as a painting. Once the sun is fully set, Woonhak cleans up the table, cueing that it’s time for the three of you to go – you and Wonhee too, immediately do the same thing.
“Isn’t that Maki?”
Woonhak’s words make your eyes instantly wander around, trying to find the said person.
“Where?”
Wonhee asks as she can’t spot him – you, on the other hand, manage to spot him within seconds after Woonhak pointed it out.
“There. Him and Eunchae, oh…”
Woonhak's voice fades, while Wonhee’s eyes widen – Eunchae is hugging Maki’s arm as two of them walk around. Your tongue presses against your cheek as a storm of anger, disappointment, and betrayal takes hold of you.
Declined to go with you, but he’s here with Eunchae? And reasoned out that he’s having a theater thing? He could’ve been honest. You won’t be this angry if he tells you the truth.
You begin to march to Maki and Eunchae, causing Woonhak and Wonhee to panic.
“Wait– Y/N!”
You ignore them, and stomps toward the pair who are laughing, unaware of your presence.
“Fancy seeing you here,”
You said before smiling, sarcasm dripping from your words, tone and smile.
“Oh. Y/N,”
Maki looks genuinely shocked and quickly removes Eunchae’s hands from his arms, while giving an awkward smile at you.
“Hi, Woonhak, Wonhee,”
He continued to greet, and Eunchae too greeted the three of you cheerily. Eunchae then asks questions, making small talks – Woonhak and Wonhee take turns to respond, while you stare at Maki with a glare that could kill.
Despite Woonhak not saying anything to you, you can vividly hear his voice, repeating the same dialogue.
“I’m just telling you that it’s very suspicious,”
“We’re– Harua and the rest are here too, he said we need to take a breather and– I promise I’m not lying, Y/N.”
Maki instantly clears himself up as he notices that you’re staring at him.
Right. The theater kids.
Why did you feel kind of irritated at the mentions of them now?
“I didn’t say anything, Maki. I’m just, surprised. Enjoy your time with theater kids,”
“No. Wait, don’t go anywhere yet. Don’t be upset, please. I know you invited me to come here, and– this whole thing just, impromptu.”
“I’m not, Maki. Really. Just, enjoy. You’ve worked hard, so you definitely need a breather,”
“Let’s get on the rides together then?”
“I’m, I wanna go home actually. I already ride everything with them, right?”
You turn your head to look at Woonhak and Wonhee, and both of them instantly nod, agreeing with you despite you’re telling a lie.
“I’ll send you home then. It’s been a while, isn’t it?”
“No! Um, there’s no need. Really. You should enjoy this funfair. I’m off,”
You give him the widest and fakest smile while gritting your teeth, your blood is still boiling. You then walk away fast – almost jogging to be exact – causing Wonhee and Woonhak to be hot on your heels, chasing after you. It takes a while for them to catch up with you, and when they do, you’re already out of the funfair area.
“I’m sorry. I… I’m gonna go home. You guys can continue to enjoy,”
You apologize, feeling guilty as the three of you are supposed to go to the bumper cars, but you just stormed off.
“Oh, Y/N. How can we enjoy it when you’re not feeling good…”
Wonhee said while tugging on your hand, pulling you closer to her. She then gently brushes her thumb against your knuckle, trying to calm you down.
“Yeah, Wonhee’s right. And it’s night. You shouldn’t go home alone,”
Woonhak adds – the three of you come together, and should go home together, he thinks. Plus, it’s dangerous for you to walk alone at night.
“I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay, Y/N. Why don’t we buy ice cream and have a movie night at my house? To make you feel a bit better, before we send you home?”
Wonhee suggests, before throwing a glance at Woonhak to support her ideas.
“Yeah. We can’t send you home like this… we care about you a lot more than you think, you know,”
“Okay,”
“Okay. Let’s catch a bus and drop by the convenience store near Wonhee’s house,”
You nod to acknowledge Woonhak’s words, and three of you head to the nearby bus stop. The whole ride back was silent – Woonhak didn’t say anything, afraid to trigger your tears. Wonhee too is the same, but she keeps making contact with you – she would gently squeeze your hand, pat your back, or rub your arm – and you’re grateful for it as it helps you ground yourself. You definitely would’ve burst to tears in the bus if she didn’t do that.
“I’ll pay for the ice cream. Pick anything and as much as you want, Y/N,”
“Thanks, Woonhak,”
You weakly replied. You truly don't know what flavours to buy, so you just follow Wonhee’s recommendation – Woonhak too, chirps in here and there before he leaves to find chips and drinks.
10 minutes later, the three of you arrive at Wonhee’s house. Her parents are out to celebrate their anniversary, so the whole house is hers for now.
Three of you occupy the living room’s couch and watch a movie that Wonhee chooses – Extreme Job. You can’t help but laugh over how absurdly funny certain scenes are, but the funniest thing wasn’t the movie – it was Woonhak who choked on ice cream while laughing.
“Woonhak, how many times do I need to tell you to not inhale your food! Eat slowly and at a small amount, goblin!”
Wonhee scolds him while patting his back – more to slapping, actually.
“I was caught off guard! I wasn’t expecting that scene to be that funny,”
“You dumbass! There’s oreo ice cream coming out of your nose! DISGUSTING!”
Woonhak quickly wipes his nose clean, and looks at the tissue before groaning.
“OH MY GOD, TODAY IS THE MOST HUMILIATING DAY EVER FOR ME!”
You laughed to tears while watching the two, finding the whole situation extremely funny. Wonhee slowly begins to laugh too – Woonhak, on the other hand, stares at you and Wonhee before sighing.
“Right, right. Of course you guys would’ve found it funny. If you’re happy then I would be too,”
Woonhak said before he smiled. He then excuses himself to go to the bathroom, leaving the two of you to resume watching the movie.
You feel slightly upset when the movie comes to an end, as you had fun watching it and it takes your mind off things that just happened. Wonhee places her hand on top of yours to gain your attention, and when your eyes are planted on hers, she smiles softly.
“Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel even better,”
Wonhee gently said, and you pressed your lips into a thin line, contemplating whether to pour your feelings out or not.
“It’s okay if you don’t. We understand that you might need time,”
Woonhak adds – his voice too, is tender. It makes you feel grateful that you’re being surrounded with friends that care deeply about you, to the point you’re almost brought to tears.
“I… He could’ve told me that he’s going to go there with his theater friends. A simple text would’ve suffice…”
You begin talking – Maki used to update you everywhere he goes. But ever since he started practicing for the theatre, he no longer tells you. You try your best to not mind, because you’re just his best friend, not his parents to always be informed about his whereabouts. But it stings you, to find his update on social media instead of through text messages like he always did.
And to find him with Eunchae hugging his arm…
“I… I feel like we’re growing apart from each other. We’ve been best friends since middle school, and…”
You realized that Maki has somewhat become unreadable ever since the day he was chosen to be Romeo. You take pride in knowing Maki the best – well, Maki isn’t exactly nonchalant either. His emotions are often apparent on his face, and to you, his reaction is pretty much predictable. But nowadays, he reacts to your words differently than what you have in mind – sure, you shouldn’t expect much as people change. But…
“I try to shrug it off as him being tired. He’s too caught up with the theatre practice. He’s… busy. I used to not mind this, you know. Like, I was just happy for him. But then, somehow… it creeps in. The feeling of him pulling away from me. Not wanting to befriend me anymore,”
Maki is spending less and less time with you. He used to send you home, have lunch with you, or show up on weekends to do homework together. Now, he did none of that, and he doesn’t really speak to you in the class – always reading and memorizing the script. If he’s not doing that, he would be making trips to other classes, even during short breaks between the lessons. And texts from him are getting lesser too – no more wishing you to arrive home safely. No more reminding you of homework. No more talking shit about teachers for handing out too much homework.
“If he doesn't want to be my friend anymore, he can just let me know… I mean… he’s getting popular now and… I’m just…”
Ever since the news of Maki taking the role of Romeo, love letters pile up in his locker. At one point, it spilled out – that’s how much he received.
“Oh, Y/N,”
Wonhee softly cooed. You instantly burst into tears, and Wonhee pulls you into her arms, patting your back as you cry your heart out. Woonhak presses his lips into a thin line before he gets up from the couch to find more tissues as the box near you is almost empty.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just cry, Y/N,”
Wonhee whispers as she continues to pat your back. It takes you a while to stop crying, and when you lift your head up, a box of tissue comes into your view.
“Thanks, Woonhak,”
“You’re welcome,”
Silence fills up the living room as the two of them are waiting for you to properly calm down, and once Wonhee sees that you’re a bit better, she breaks the silence.
“Did you talk to Maki about this? About what you feel?”
You shake your head. You don’t want to burden him with your emotions – he’s already tired from juggling between school and theatre, so the least thing you can do is not involve him in a discussion about your feelings.
“Y/N, you should let him know. Maybe Maki himself doesn’t realize that he’s pulling away from you. Try telling him and see how he reacts to it, yeah?”
“But it’s–”
The sound of the doorbell makes the three of you turn your head to the door. Wonhee looks extremely puzzled as her parents had texted her earlier that they’re going to be back extremely late, and had asked her to be extra careful and double check everything before sleeping. It’s just 10, so it can’t be them.
Another ring makes Woonhak get up from the couch, and press the intercom to see who’s waiting outside. You and Wonhee watch him intently – Woonhak’s lips then curl into a smile, making you glance at Wonhee with a dumbfounded look, and Wonhee, too, looks at you with the same expression.
“Maki’s here.”
Woonhak’s words make both you and Wonhee gasp in surprise.
“Should I let him in?”
“Yes!”
“No!”
You and Wonhee shouted different answers – you don’t want to see him yet as you’re not ready, and he’s probably going to ask questions to why your eyes are red and stuff. Wonhee, on the other hand, is excited to see what kind of situation that will unfold.
“What, which one?”
“Yes!”
But in the end, Wonhee is the owner of the house, so you let her have the say in it. Woonhak opens the door and meets Maki, who looks nervous.
“Hey, is Y/N here? I went to her house and her mom said she’s not home yet. I went to your house and your sister said that you’re not there too, so,”
“Yeah, she’s here. Come in,”
As soon as you hear Woonhak inviting him into Wonhee’s house, you fix your eyes on the TV despite it not showing anything. You too, begin to stay extremely still – almost like a statue.
Wonhee chuckled when she noticed your reaction. She then pats your back, before rubbing your shoulder.
“Talk to him, yeah?”
Wonhee said before getting up from the couch, causing you to look at her with eyes as big as saucers – you definitely didn’t think that you’re going to be left alone with Maki.
“Hi, Y/N.”
Maki calls, and you instantly freeze.
“I’m. I’m sorry. I saw that you looked so hurt, and I, I want to apologize properly. I bought you a small bouquet of flowers, for an apology. I– The florist shop was about to close so I didn’t get to pick your favourite flowers, so, I’m– I’m sorry for that too,”
You didn’t respond. Did Maki think you can easily be bought by flowers? (You are).
“Hey Wonhee, you don’t mind I… push this table slightly, right?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
The sound of the table's leg scraping against the floor makes you squint. When you properly open your eyes again, you can hear a thud, followed by Woonhak and Wonhee’s gasps. You finally turn to look at Maki, and find him kneeling on the floor while holding the said bouquet.
“Maki, what the hell are you doing?”
You said – surprised to find him doing this.
“Apologizing. Properly,”
“What?”
“I… I admit that I’ve been distant from you. It just clicked in my head why you felt that way when your mom said that it’s been a while since she saw me. I truly didn’t mean to do so, and I wasn’t trying to hurt you by any means. I just… I just got carried away with theatre things. It’s not their fault! Um, it’s my fault, because I can’t, you know… multitask. I focused so much on theatre to the point that I abandoned you, my biggest supporter. I promise I will change. I will not sideline you anymore, and try my best to make time for you. Wait, no. I promise I will make time for you. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Y/N,”
It would be a lie to say that your heart didn’t flutter. In fact, your heart was doing somersaults while he was speaking. All the tensed muscles that you have instantly loosen, and every negative emotion in you flies away immediately.
How could you not forgive him? He’s on his knees, and sincerely speaking his mind out, asking for an apology. WIth a bouquet of flowers too.
“...okay. I’m… I’m sorry too Maki. I should’ve talked…”
Instead of overthinking, you should’ve been frank about your feelings. But you didn’t, and just realized it after Wonhee suggested it. Suppressing emotions always leads to ugly things, and you fail to remember it sometimes.
“I should’ve asked too. I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“You’re…forgiven.”
Your words make Maki’s eyes widen, and smile finds its way to his lips.
“We’re cool?”
“We’re cool.”
“Great. Uh, um, do you not want your flowers? Take it. Wait, is it too ugly? I’ll buy even better bouquet once the florist shop open tomorrow,”
“I like it,”
You gently take the bouquet from him, and Maki nods to himself, happy that you’re liking it.
“Let’s go home?”
You never thought that a simple question from Maki can make you feel this happy – like a kid getting picked up from kindergarten by their favourite aunt and taken straight to Disneyland.
“Let’s go home, Maki.”
Scene 5: The Epiphany.
Ever since that day, Maki has put more effort into spending his time with you. He would send you home whenever he’s able to, and will eat with you during lunch break if there’s nothing important going on that requires him to sit with theatre kids. His texts too, become frequent – it feels like you’re getting the old Maki back.
Currently, you’re in the school auditorium – waiting for Maki to finish up (since he will finish early today, so he had asked if you’re willing to wait for him. You said yes).
“I heard that Eunchae is going to confess to Maki,”
Those words make you turn your head around to find the owner of the voice, and spot Asa and Kyujin walking by the window.
“Well, isn’t that kind of expected? Like, Maki is handsome, and they’ve worked with each other for almost 6 months now,”
“Right? I wonder when will she confess,”
“Probably after the play ends,”
Their voice slowly faded as they walked away from the auditorium – but somehow, you can catch all the details as if they’re talking next to you. Your eyes fell onto Maki and Eunchae who are laughing on the stage over God knows what.
“Isn’t that kind of expected?”
Kyujin’s words replayed in your mind. Right, isn’t that kind of a norm? For the male lead and female lead to fall in love with each other in real life. Like Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone who fell in love with each other while filming the Spiderman movie.
But why do you feel… weird?
You should be happy for Maki. Like, it’s every guy's dream to date Eunchae. She’s pretty, sophisticated, elegant, and full of confidence – she’s soft spoken, and eloquent too.
But why do you wish that Maki doesn’t like her back?
“Hey, earth to Y/N,”
Maki’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts – the boy who’s been on stage earlier is now standing in front of you, with his bag slung over his shoulder.
“Oh. You’re done?”
“Yeah. Let’s go home,”
You followed Maki to his car – he was talking about something while you were heading there, but you unintentionally tuned his voice out. You’re engrossed in trying to know why you’re feeling like this – should you talk to Wonhee and Woonhak about this?
“Hey, Y/N. Are you okay? You’re being quiet,”
Maki’s question pulls you back to reality – he looks extremely concerned as you’re not responding well to him like you always do.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I’m sorry. I– I was thinking about something,”
You feel slightly surprised as you find that you’re already in his car, and are halfway home already. You’re deeply bothered, you think, and you really need to talk to Wonhee and Woonhak.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
“It’s just silly things. I’ll let you know after I sort it out,”
“Okay. Let me know if it’s too much for you to handle alone, yeah?”
“Will do, Maki,”
“Oh and, there’s a full rehearsal tomorrow. Do you want to come? It’s like an actual play, with costumes and stuff as we have to make sure everything runs smoothly before Saturday comes.”
So will Maki kiss Eunchae for real? You notice that he has been avoiding it, and they’ve been rehearsing everything but the kiss according to what you overheard from Harua.
Wait, why does– why is that the first thing in your mind?
“Of course I’ll come, Maki. I’m your biggest supporter,”
You put on a smile – wide, and fake one, because out of nowhere, you don’t want to be there. You don’t want to see the kiss scene. Imagining it already makes your heart hurt. But why?
“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Maki said as he pulled up in your driveway, and you gave him another smile before unbuckling your seatbelt.
“Thank you too, Maki. See you tomorrow. Break a leg! Not, literally.”
You throw in a joke, hoping that Maki won’t notice you being odd.
“Okay, Y/N. Get inside first,”
“Okay. Have a safe drive home,”
“Will do. Bye Y/N,”
“Bye Maki,”
You wave your hands at him before going into your house – you were still at the door when you pulled out your phone and texts both Wonhee and Woonhak, asking them to come over to your house as soon as possible. It’s important, you said, I need to sort things out.
Wonhee and Woonhak show up 30 minutes later, with tons of ice cream and chips – you were surprised to find them with a few big plastic bags in their hand.
“Did you just… clear the shelves?”
“Well, you said it’s important. We thought something big had happened so we went for a haul. Like, we literally grabbed everything we saw. And also because we’re hungry. Are you okay?”
Wonhee explained themselves – they were about to grab something to eat together when they saw your texts. They immediately ditch their plans and run to a nearby convenience store, and instantly head to your house.
“I’m… I don’t know. I feel weird.”
You respond while guiding two of them to your room – there’s no one in your house, but you prefer to talk about this in your room. Just in case the discussion gets too long.
“You feel weird? What happened? Did Maki do something?”
Woonhak asks, he can’t help but worry if Maki hurts you again. He wasn’t expecting him to do that again, especially after kneeling for your forgiveness. But hey, you can’t really trust a man (him included. But around food. Because he will inhale your portion if you’re not fast enough).
“No… I…”
You begin telling the story once the three of you have sat down on your fluffy rug. Both Woonhak and Wonhee patiently listened to you while munching on chips and eating the ice cream – eyes planted on you the whole time you talk about what’s bothering you.
“And I… I don’t feel like going tomorrow. I shouldn’t feel like this…”
You fell quiet after saying those as you had finished pouring your heart out. Wonhee and Woonhak exchange glances with each other, before Wonhee presses her lips into a thin line. Woonhak, on the other hand, exhaled a small sigh.
“Y/N… have you ever considered that you are… in love with Maki?”
Your eyes instantly widen at Wonhee’s words.
“What? Why would– we’re best friends!”
You begin to get defensive – there’s no way you’re in love with Maki. There must be other explanations on why you’re having this weird feeling.
“Okay, okay. Let’s… take a deep breath. Y/N, that was a question. You don’t… necessarily need to react that way,”
Woonhak’s words make you instantly apologize for overreacting. Wonhee shrugs it off, saying that it’s fine and she didn’t take it to heart.
“Y/N, Wonhee asked that because… both of us can see that you like Maki more than best friends,”
“Huh?”
You’re dumbfounded – no, dumbfounded is an understatement, you’re flabbergasted. What does Woonhak mean by that?
“Y/N, at first we thought it was best friends things too. But when we observed you and Maki, love was evident in your face. You literally light up when Maki calls for you. And nobody else was able to prompt you to give the same reaction. And the way you look at him… you know that our pupils would dilate when we see the people we like? Yeah, you looked like that,”
Wonhee nudged Woonhak to continue her words, and Woonhak quickly swallowed the chips that he was eating.
“We had some sort of discussion. We weren’t sure in the beginning, but hearing you today makes it clear that you’re in love with Maki. Because Wonhee said I could kiss the prettiest girl in the whole world and it won’t bother her in the slightest. In fact, she will be disgusted. And you’re wishing that Maki doesn’t like her, maybe because deep inside your heart, you’re hoping that Maki likes you, Y/N.”
“But he’s… we’re best friends…”
“I’m not sure if best friends include you feeling like you should run away from watching your best friend kissing someone and be reluctant to go to the play because of it. Because if it’s me and Woonhak, I’m excited to go so I can make fun of his bad angle of kisses or something. And mock him for it. Maybe will make a meme out of it,”
Wonhee’s words made Woonhak’s eyes grow wide in disbelief.
“Hey!”
“Maybe you need some time to process your feelings, Y/N. Because if you really feel that he’s just a best friend of yours, you should have the same amount of hatred for him as you do for your sibling. Because men are annoying. Girls, however, are a pleasure to have as your best friend.”
“Why am I being attacked out of nowhere? I hate you too,”
“I hate you more Woonhak,”
You fall into a deep silence as you watch Wonhee and Woonhak bicker again. There must be people out there that don't bicker with their best friend as much as Wonhee and Woonhak do, right?
But…
You sigh.
“I think I need more time,”
Your words instantly make the two stop bickering, and Wonhee pats your back to comfort you.
“We’ll excuse ourselves, then. It’s… fine if you fall in love with Maki, Y/N. It’s fine if you really don’t and we’re wrong too. Just, don’t deny what you’re feeling, okay?”
“Yeah. And if you need anything, we would be here. Always,”
Woonhak adds, and both of them pack up their things – they leave some of the chips and ice cream behind for you to have. You see them off at the front door, then return to your room and lie down on your bed.
Do you really like Maki?
You reach out for your phone and begin scouring through the internet, and every search leads you to the same answer – you’re in love with your best friend. You sigh then toss your phone away and close your eyes, to calm yourself down.
After a few moments, the inner battle in you begins again. Do you really see Maki in that way? Of course you’re happy when Maki is around, he’s your best friend. Isn’t that normal? But, okay. Why do you feel happier going home with Maki, but don’t feel the same when you’re going home with Woonhak? But isn’t that obvious? You’re closer to Maki than Woonhak. Woonhak isn’t your best friend, Maki is. But why do you feel your heart breaking when you see Eunchae hug Maki’s arm? It’s even worse than finding out your longtime bias is dating someone. You’re not supposed to be jealous. Why do you feel happy when Maki searched for you everywhere because he thought you looked so hurt? Is it because you feel like you’re being chosen? Is it because you feel like Maki is finally prioritizing you? Why did your heart beat like it was going to jump out of your ribcage when Maki kneeled in front of you, to ask for your forgiveness?
Isn’t it because you’re in love with Maki?
You frowned.
“Fuck… I am in love with Maki…”
You groan as it finally sinks into you. Wonhee and Woonhak are right. You’re in love with Maki. Being extremely jealous over Eunchae and feeling upset when you heard that Eunchae likes Maki isn’t a best friend's behaviour.
And now…what?
Do you really have to act cool when the person you’re in love is kissing someone else? You truly don’t understand how celebrities’ partners aren’t jealous when their partners kiss other people. Ah… right. Professionalism. You should learn about that. But how can you be professional when you know that Eunchae likes Maki and there's a probability that Maki likes her too?
You groan again and begin to mess up your hair, frustrated over yourself and this situation. Suddenly, an idea pops up in your mind. What if you pretend to be sick? Then you can skip the rehearsal. You might skip the actual play too if you’re lucky.
But then Maki would be upset that you’re not there.
But isn’t it for the better? Your heartbreak is a bigger deal than Maki being upset.
Okay.
You’re not going to tomorrow’s rehearsal.
Scene 6: The Finale.
“I’m really excited to show you everything I have practiced,”
You smile at Maki who’s guiding you to your seat. He had reserved you the second front row seat – even though it’s just a rehearsal, plenty of people are coming to see.
What happened to your original plan of not coming to rehearsal? Well, you had to scrap it because you remembered you had a quiz and needed to submit your essay for the school competition. You told yourself in the morning to act all lethargic and everything to make excuses, but… you had forgotten about it as soon as Wonhee greets you, so you have no excuses other than attending the rehearsal.
You really suck in acting.
“I hope everything goes well, Maki,”
“I really hope so too. I’m so nervous, damn,”
“You’ll be alright. Just think everyone as potato and you’re going to do well,”
Maki giggled at your words, making you tilt your head as you wonder what’s so funny about it.
“Why potato?”
“I mean, I consider everyone as a potato whenever I need to speak in front of class or during the assembly,”
“Am I a potato too? I hope I’m a handsome potato,”
“Enough of this nonsense. Go get ready to be ‘the Romeo’, Maki,”
You said while quoting with your fingers, causing Maki to giggle again.
“Aye aye, captain!”
Maki then left after saluting you, making you shake your head – as soon as he disappeared from your vision, the smile on your lips faded away. You begin sighing away as you try to come up with the best way to be here while not being here. Woonhak had suggested you go to the toilet when it’s about time for them to kiss each other, and so far, you haven’t come up with an idea that could rival his, so you might just do so.
Your phone buzzes multiple times, prompting you to check on it.
| Wonhee <3: behind you
| Wonhee <3: I memorized the play so I can give you a cue to go to the toilet in advance
| Wonhee <3: If you agree to Woonhak’s idea
You turn to your back and find Wonhee and Woonhak sitting two rows behind you. Wonhee waves her hand at you while Woonhak is busy opening a bag of chips – it wasn’t until Wonhee nudged him that he waved his hand at you.
| you: thank you, Wonhee
| you: I owe you guys a lot
| Wonhee <3: it’s nothing, Y/N
| Wonhee <3: for the sake of your happiness, we’re willing to do everything
| Wonhee <3: oh but Woonhak said he’s not willing to eat vegetables.
| Wonhee <3: he can do anything else but that.
You laugh at Wonhee’s text – your chest, which starts to feel strangely heavy, becoming a bit lighter at the joke your friend throws.
Wonhee really carries her job well. She will spam you endlessly until you check your phone, and you will leave to go to the toilet and won’t come back until she tells you to do so. So when the play ends, your heart isn’t broken that bad, and you have a good memory of it – of Maki, obviously. How well he played his character, and how charming he looks in those costumes.
“Are you okay?”
Wonhee and Woonhak approach you as the audience starts to leave after they wrapped up the play.
“Yeah. Thanks, Wonhee. Didn’t get to see them kiss at all,”
“Actually I–”
Woonhak halts his words as he gets elbowed by Wonhee, before he gets what Wonhee is trying to do.
“Actually…?”
“I was the one who memorized that play. Can you believe it?”
Woonhak quickly covers up, and receives an approval glance from Wonhee.
“You? I never think you’re the type to read a book, Woonhak.”
“Ahhhh, I do read books! Why do people not believe in me when I say I read books?”
Your words caused Woonhak to throw a tantrum – you can’t help but laugh at his reactions.
“Maybe because you’re not really that clever,”
Wonhee adds. Woonhak groans and their usual bickering session starts again – you will never get tired of watching these two, you think.
“Hey guys,”
Maki greets three of you – he had finished changing and ready to go home, with you.
“Oh, Romeo is here~ Oh, Romeo~”
Woonhak teases.
“Oh stawppp,”
Maki giggles and lightly hits his arm, acting all gushy and mushy. You can only shake your head at the two, while Wonhee looks at them in disgust.
“How was it? Did I do well, Y/N?”
“You did great! You really embodied your character really well, and there’s no scene that gives away an awkward feeling. Everything feels natural,”
“Wow. Wow… Thanks. Thanks for the compliments, Y/N. I guess I have nothing to worry about,”
“You have nothing to worry bro,”
Woonhak chirps in and pats Maki’s back.
“Thank you bro. Thank you,”
“You really should get going. You have your big family dinner at 6.”
Wonhee’s words make Woonhak’s eyes widen – he completely forgot about it. Woonhak excused himself in panic, and dashed out of the auditorium without looking back.
“That boy. It’s his family dinner and I’m the one who needs to remind him, lol. Bye Y/N, bye Maki. I’m off to see Yunah and Moka,”
“Oh, bye Wonhee,”
You wave your hands at her and she too, did the same, and leisurely walked out of the auditorium.
“Let’s go home?”
Maki asks, and you smile.
“Let’s go home, Maki.”
On your way home, Maki tells you that they’re supposed to have a post-mortem as soon as the rehearsal ends, but Harua suggested everyone to take a rest first – he said something along from the Director’s vision and from the audience vision, so Maki figured Harua probably want to hear the feedback from the audience first before doing the post-mortem session.
“I’m really looking forward the feedback on the kissing scene lol,”
Maki said while giggling. You, on the other hand, feel your heart break into pieces – like a ceramic vase falling from the top shelf, hitting the hard ground and shattering.
“Why?”
You ask – you really hope that Maki didn’t notice the slight trembles in your voice. You quickly put on your seatbelt as Maki already buckled up, ready to drive you home.
“Because we weren’t kissing! You weren’t able to tell, weren't you?”
What?
“Huh? Why– why are you guys not… kissing?”
You’re happy at the news, of course. But you’re puzzled at the same time, because why not?
“Because I don’t want to,”
“Why wouldn’t you want to kiss Eunchae?”
“Okay, listen. I know this sounds childish but I make a big deal of my first kiss and Eunchae respects that. She said she feels uncomfortable kissing in front of the crowd too,”
“Wait. Maki– what? Isn’t Eunchae the perfect girl for you to have your first kiss with? Like, she’s the heartthrob of the school?”
Your words caused Maki to deflate – it’s the same reaction you get when you were in the fast food restaurant back then. His lips then quivers, before he heaves a sigh.
“It wasn’t enough, huh. All the efforts… it wasn’t enough to make you realize that I’m in love with you,”
Shocked is an understatement – your eyes grow as wide as it’s able to, and your jaw dropped to the floor.
Maki is in love with you.
“Wha–”
“You’re really driving me crazy, why you’re so– ughhh, painfully obvious to my feelings… I dropped hints here and there– okay, it’s– you know what, it’s my fault for not being a man and not confessing to you first. But Harua scared me! And I’m a scaredy-cat! He said he’s not getting any positive response from you, so he said I’m definitely going to be friendzoned if I confess, and I– I can’t afford that! I would mess up my theatre practice if I did that– okay, I’m rambling. I’m–”
Maki buried his face in the steering wheel, embarrassed for rambling – he had pictured a cool confession scene in his mind: he brings you out to somewhere nice and confesses to you. Not out of the blue and… not while sitting in the car… like right now…
And you’re still in the school’s parking lot.
Fuck. Maki thinks before he groans.
You freeze as your mind recalls all your memories related to the current situation – the most prominent memory was of him kneeling on the floor to ask for your forgiveness.
“Yeah if it was me and Woonhak, he definitely won’t do that,”
Wonhee’s voice popped up in your mind – suddenly, you feel like you’re the main lead in a romcom movie, where there’s a little angel and devil sitting on your shoulder. But for you, it’s Wonhee and Woonhak.
“Why would I do that? We’re just best friends! Y/N and Maki are not!”
Woonhak’s loud voice causes you to squint – even in your imagination, his voice is still as loud as ever. You quickly shake your head to get a grip of reality.
“So you were… flirting with me?”
Your words make Maki turn his head to look at you.
“For the past few years, yes. Thank you for finally noticing it.”
You bite your lower lips and close your eyes to gather courage to speak your feelings out loud. Maki too, shut his eyes – ready to get rejected by you. He’s really positive that you don’t see him in that way. And honestly, he gets it. The two of you have been friends for a while, and you probably see him as an extension of you and–
“I love you too, Maki.”
Maki’s eyes shot open and his eyes grew as big as saucers. His jaw, too, dropped – you’re pretty sure that you look just like him earlier when he confessed to you.
“What? Is this for real?”
“Yes,”
“What– Oh my God. Wait. Wait, the question. Okay. I need to stay calm and be cool. I’m Romeo. I’m cool. I’m poised. No, fuck. I’m– I cannot be calmmmm!!”
You giggle as you watch your best friend lose his mind. Maki begins giggling too when he hears your giggles.
“May I be your boyfriend, Y/N?”
He asks once the giggles die down, and you eagerly nod.
“Yes, my Romeo.”
Director’s Cut.
Harua and Eunchae watch you and Maki from the window of the art room, walking together to the school’s building, hand in hand. Both of you look so giggly, making Eunchae and Harua can’t help but smile. They’ve heard the news from Wonhee – discreetly, of course.
“What are you guys looking at?”
Taki asks and tiptoes to see, while Harua pushes him slightly away and takes the coffee from his hand.
“Hey! My coffee– oh, they’re dating now, aren’t they?”
Taki said as he noticed both you and Maki, and Harua nodded.
“Aren’t you over the moon, Mr. Director? Afterall, your real life play ends well.”
Harua’s lips curl into a wide smile at Taki’s words – all his efforts to pin you and Maki together and push one of you to confess have finally paid off.
“He really pulled every strings,”
Eunchae said, before taking a sip of her drinks. She’s truly amazed by the amount of effort Harua put into scheming to make the two of you a couple – other than Eunchae, he even recruited Wonhee, Woonhak, Asa, and Kyujin to pull everything off.
“Now, let’s focus on the stage play, shall we?”
additional notes: thank you for reading until the end <3
wherein; you can't help but develop the smallest crush on the one guy the universe (and your friends) keep bringing you back to.
(955 words)
pairing: crush!nicholas x reader
genre: headcanons, fluff, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, friend group setting, byun euijoo mention, crushing!!!, nicho is very nice
warnings: none!
a/n: hello my beautiful chocochips!! i always seem to come back from writers block with nicho hehe (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) i actually wrote this TWICE because i wrote the first draft a while back and just... lost it??? sorry its been a minute but i hope you guys enjoy a lil bit of nicho sweetness!! ♡ i miss him i miss having crushes
crush!nicholas who you first saw at your best friend euijoo’s birthday party.
crush!nicholas who you’d seen in pictures before. euijoo brought him up every now and then, so you knew they were close.
but he seemed like the kind of guy who was close with everyone, sitting across from you and looking entirely too comfortable for someone you’d never spoken to before.
crush!nicholas who introduced himself with an extended hand and an easy grin, one that softened the sharpness of his features.
you returned his greeting with a shy smile and nod, wondering how euijoo could consider himself an introvert when he had this many friends.
crush!nicholas who left it at that, communicating with you solely through little glances and short nods for the rest of the night.
and yet, his bright laugh echoed in your head when you got home, for reasons you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
you thought that was the end of it.
but another birthday turned into a hangout, then a group game night. euijoo’s friends turned into yours too and, somehow, crush!nicholas became a familiar face before you even realized it.
crush!nicholas who became someone you subconsciously looked for whenever you joined the group, your heart stuttering whenever you caught him already looking at you, only for him to smile and look away.
crush!nicholas who you kept finding yourself beside.
lining up for food together one day, leading the group through a haunted house the next, his easygoing energy coaxing the words out of you. words that would normally fall unheard amongst the friend group’s chatter.
crush!nicholas who was becoming someone you enjoyed being around more than you probably should.
he made it easy.
he laughed at every joke you made, listened to every unnecessarily long story, and somehow always found a way to include you in the conversation.
crush!nicholas who you grew to love listening to just as much as you loved rambling. he told you about his life, his passions, and all the little things that made him who he was.
almost annoyingly, your brain latched onto every new piece of him it could get its hands on.
you found yourself sticking to crush!nicholas more often than not, or maybe it was the other way around.
but your closeness with him didn’t go unnoticed by your friends, who exchanged knowing smiles when nicholas saved a seat for you or waited while you tied your shoes.
crush!nicholas who, in your eyes, seemed so fearless.
the only one in the group who remained unflinching during horror movie marathons. or the friend you shamefully called during a thunderstorm, his calm a stark contrast to how you’d jump at every crack of lightning.
crush!nicholas who seemed so fearless, until the group opted for a theme park trip.
crush!nicholas who insisted he was perfectly fine with roller coasters despite his very obvious fear of heights.
˚. ᵎᵎ looking him up and down, you took in nicholas’ frame. his body, which usually took up space so casually and loosely, was now stiff, fingers drumming against the railing he leaned on.
the unfamiliar sight brought a smile to your lips, “you scared?”
he turned to look at you, his empty gaze meeting yours.
nicholas took a deep breath before answering, “nope.”
you couldn’t help but giggle as he shook his head absentmindedly, almost as if he were trying to clear his mind. you could practically see the million thoughts racing through it.
and, despite the nervous laughter and his screams that were louder than everyone else’s, he still went on every single ride.
crush!nicholas who, even just walking around, still looked suspiciously nervous. you couldn’t tell if the nerves hadn’t worn off or if there was something else on his mind.
crush!nicholas who slowed his steps to walk beside you when he noticed you trailing behind the group.
crush!nicholas who glanced down at your bag after watching you shift it between your shoulders for the third time.
˚. ᵎᵎ “do you want me to carry your bag?” nicholas asked, eyeing the purse that weighed heavy on your side.
“oh, no, thanks,” you replied despite the ache in your shoulders. “you don’t have to.”
“but do you want me to?”
you blinked up at him, thinking for a moment before giving in.
“…yes, please.”
“okay,” an almost triumphant smirk played at his lips as he took it from you, slinging it over his shoulder like it was nothing.
crush!nicholas who spent the rest of the day making you laugh, stealing bites of your food, and found himself as your partner on rides.
crush!nicholas who volunteered to drive you home once the day was over, leading you toward his car in the parking lot.
crush!nicholas who stopped you just before you could get into the passenger seat.
˚. ᵎᵎ “wait,” nicholas’ voice echoed through the parking lot. “can you help me get something out of the trunk real quick?”
you turned around.
“sure.”
crush!nicholas whose hands trembled a little as he lifted the trunk hood to reveal a bouquet surrounded by snacks and plushies, paired with a sign that read:
can i be your boyfriend?
crush!nicholas who laughed at you standing there, slack-jawed as his foot tapped nervously against the pavement.
˚. ᵎᵎ “so…?” he prompted your answer.
crush!nicholas who barely had time to react before you rushed into his arms, shouting a yes.
crush!nicholas who stumbled back a step before laughing and wrapping his arms around you.
crush!nicholas whose arms felt like the safest place in the world, and who was a little bit more than just a crush now.
tag list: @nichozzystuffs, @peachteaxz, @jothehirono, @minhosimthings (ask/comment/dm to be added or removed!)
