#and then they pine for each other from across the universe . maybe even visit on weekends | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cielie-voss · 3 months

Note

Hey there!

Stumbled across your blog and fell in love with your Eddie Fics! 😍

If you're still taking request, I'd like to request something Rockstar!Eddie x Reader, where Reader works at a bar or cafe and Eddie is on tour with Corroded coffin and meets her at work. She doesn't believe that he's a rockstar and thinks he just wants to impress her until one day, she accepts his silly pickup lines and goes on a date with him.

If you don't like this, it's totally fine. Hope you have some peaceful holidays (and a very unmerry Christmas, absolutely loved this!)

Rockstar!Eddie x fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I'm so sorry it took me so long, I hope you like it! I just wanted to write something short and simple (ha, jokes on me, short and simple seems to be something not possible for me). I had so much fun writing this!

Warnings: Rockstar AU, Fluff, bad pickup lines, idiots in love, mutual pining, Reader is a writer, some petnames, takes place in the 90's. Wordcount: ~8k ("something short and simple") Summary: After some crazy years of university stress, heartbreaks, family problems and the wrong kind of friends, Y/N decided to take a year to discover herself, figure out her dreams and wishes. With her newfound freedom she just wanted to do some Minijobs and travel the world. No university stressing her with exams, no annoying family who's trying to tell her what to do, no backstabbing friends, and most importantly: no dating and no more heartaches. But boy oh boy, she could've never been more wrong. Taglist: @violetmiroh If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗 Masterlist

Finally.

After years of stress and torture you finally found some freedom. You successfully graduated college with your major in literature, ready to enter the real world. And that’s not the only thing you had to master throughout the past years.

“Why don’t you study something useful? Maybe business administration? Or marketing?” Your parents had perfected the game of making your life a living hell. Literature was something useless for them. Something where you would never get a real job. But you wanted nothing less than to write. Write about everything. Poems. Dramas. Novels. You wanted to tell the world about the little stories in your mind. But writing wasn’t a job. At least in your parents opinion.

“Did you meet a nice guy? At least some guy that likes girls who can’t get their noses out of these damn books? Any friends other than Tolkien or Poe?” God, these people are so ignorant. Everytime you visited your family or called them, your mother had another blind date arranged for you.

“You remember Daron? Yeah, the Daron you went to elementary school with. His fiancée cheated on him, you know? He’s such a nice and handsome guy. Why don’t you call him? Wouldn’t it be sweet if you guys meet again after years?” No, mom, that wouldn’t be sweet.

“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry. I totally forgot I asked Fred and his mother to come over for lunch. You remember Fred, right? He used to tease you back in middle school. You know what they say: lovers like to tease each other!” You were glad your mother turned away from you as you were rolling your eyes dramatically. Laughing at her own ridiculous joke, she turned to Fred and his mother.

To be honest, your dating life was just as miserable as it could be. Even without your mothers help. And not because of what you were studying or your interests, like your mother said. Or because of your casual and comfy style or mostly reserved and introverted personality. Your heartaches and frustration with the male gender was mostly due to their immature behavior.

Over the years you experienced nearly all sorts of failed romances. Caught them cheating, being ghosted, unknowingly ended up as a one night stand, being the affair, constant fighting, being rejected and creepy mothers who tried to arrange a wedding after two weeks of going out or guys with a special relationship to their mothers. Some weird Norman Bates kind of relationship. There was even one guy, whom you really liked, that sadly turned out to be gay.

“Why did you have to move so far away?” Well, this one is self-explanatory.

“At least you could call us every second day.” Thanks, but no thank you. You didn’t want to give them another way of terrorizing you with their unrealistic ideas and expectations.

All you wanted was to live your life the way you wanted to, and not how they wanted your life to be. No parents, no stress, and most important: no dating. Just you.

So after you graduated and broke up with the seemingly most perfect guy, who turned out to be a rotten liar and the most unfaithful piece of shit, who didn’t just cheated on you multiple times, but also stole your hard earned money, you decided to take a year off to travel around the world, to find yourself. You sold your car and the stuff you wouldn’t need anymore and with that money, you started your journey.

On your trip you’ve seen the probably most beautiful cities and met even more wonderful people. To afford your stay you worked from time to time in little cafés and lovely bars. In exchange for room and board you worked as a temporary worker on farms. In your free time you sat down and wrote. The people and landscapes were so inspiring, you filled one notebook after another with short stories, poems and even started to work on something that might be your first novel. Every now and then you sent your works to different agencies and participated in writing competitions, improved your writing and earned some reputation for your works.

London was the city you stayed the longest. You stayed with a lovely family, the Bakers, who owned a little pub in the outskirts of London. They treated you like family, like a family you never had but always wished for. You helped them with their household, tutored the kids after school and worked downstairs at the pub in the evening.

When you had a day off, you’d usually sit down at the bar, a pint of ale in front of you, pen in hand. The words seemed to flow right out of your pen, as natural as breathing.

You could’ve never wished for a better time. The Bakers treated you like a daughter they never had, and even the regulars at the pub treated you like one of the Bakers. Between lovely drunken blue-collar workers, who loved to tell their stories and sing their work songs, you felt somehow at home, you felt safe and came out of your shell. With each day you became more extroverted, literally flourishing and bristling with self-confidence.

And it was in that pub where you met the guy in Jean's vest who stood out like a sore thumb in this scenery. From behind the bar you couldn't help but notice how his leg bounced up and down like a nervous child. After some minutes you decided to help him calm down a bit.

“Are you waiting for your date?” With a warm smile you looked down on him.

“Huh?” As if you pulled him out of a trance, he winced and looked at you with a dumbfounded expression. You huffed at his reaction and sat down the pint in front of him.

“I asked, if you’re waiting for your date to show up.” The smile remained on your lips as you looked into his big brown puppy eyes. His eyes darted to the pint you just gently shoved towards him.

“Don’t worry, that’s on the house.” You assured him.

“Thanks, uh … “ Again, like he was in a trance-like state, he shakes his head and looks back at you. “My name’s Eddie.” He reached his hand out to you and you shook it. You noticed the unusual rings that adorned his fingers and the little bats that were tattooed on his forearm. He obviously didn’t belong here.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie. I’m Y/N.”

There was something in the way he looked at you that you couldn't identify. So after a short moment of awkward silence you took a sharp breath in, pulled your lips into a thin smile and said “Anyway, let me know if I could do anything for you. And good luck with that date.” You gave him a wink and turned back to your bar to serve the regulars who are now, bit by bit, rolling along.

As the hours ticked by and the bar settled into its usual hustle and bustle, you found yourself repeatedly returning your gaze to Eddie. Something about his appearance had a mesmerizing effect on you. And there was no way you could say what it was that captivated you.

Slowly he began to warm up a bit, engaged in conversations with some other guests, but without further notice, he also caught himself repeatedly trying to catch a glimpse of you.

“Make sure he gets home safe!”, you called out to the cabbie, a lovely man named Barnaby, after you accompanied a slightly drunk Tommy outside to the cab.

“Y/N, my dearest!” Tommy slurred after you handed him over into Barnaby’s hands. “One day, I promise, I will introduce you to my son! I’ll gladly take you as my daughter-in-law!”

“Go home and sober up, then we’ll see!”, you laughed and waved the drunk redhead, with a face glowing as red as his hair, goodbye.

“Isn’t she just the most loveliest person on earth?” Tommy asked, now turned to Barnaby, who was just smiling and nodding in approval.

Quietly grinning to yourself you closed the door and headed back to the bar. It was already past midnight, the pub slowly became quieter until Eddie was the only one sitting there, his ringed fingers wrapped around his emptied glass.

“I guess it’s time to kindly tell me to fuck off, isn’t it?” You had to admit that Eddie’s puppy eyes made you soft.

You cocked your head and with an apologetical expression you nodded. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie just shrugged, a sheepish smile playing around his lips as he carefully slid the glass towards you.

“It’s okay. I’m glad I had the chance to be stood up and get you as my substitute-date.” He got up from the old, shrieking bench, winked at you and left the bar.

“Keep the change, Y/N my dearest!”, he chanted.

Only now did you look down at the glass and saw the bills peeking out from underneath. You wanted to shout out to him “Eddie, I think you made a mistake!”, but he was gone and left you with this lavish tip.

For a moment you stood there, stunned by this man, before Mr. Baker could pull you back to reality. “C’mon Y/N, it’s late, go to bed and get some sleep.” You turned around to face him, the human version of a teddybear, looking down at you with a knowing smile. You quickly took care of closing out the register before stuffing Eddie's tip into the big tip jar.

“No, no, no. You keep that.” Mr. Baker pulled out the bills and handed them over to you. “It’s yours.” And before you had the chance to protest, he patted your shoulder and gently pushed you towards the door that leads to the family’s private apartment.

You tried to find some sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, you saw this lovely smile and these big round puppy eyes. God damnit! Why did he have to be so cute?

The next morning you pulled out your notebook, after multiple failed attempts to fall back asleep again. Maybe some writing would banish this handsome face out of your mind that kept you awake. But jokes on you!

Your mind always wandered back to this guy, his messy hair, the sloppy smile, the tattoos on his arm, his big, brown eyes … It was enough to drive you up the wall. So instead of accidentally turning the love interest in your little fantasy romance into a copy of Eddie, you put down your writing stuff, took a deep breath and left your room.

When you entered the small kitchen, Penelope Baker, who everyone called Poppy, already waited for you with a knowing smirk dancing around her thin lips.

“Good morning, lovely.”, she chirped, her words underlined with a cheeky undertone that made you stop mid motion. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion and cocked your head before you let yourself down on your chair.

“Good morning.”, you answered with a skeptical frown.

“Coffee?” As if nothing had happened, Poppy offered you the coffee pot. With a nod you cued her to pour the steaming hot liquid in your cup. You thanked her and wrapped your hands around the cup to warm yourself a bit. The smell of this freshly grounded coffee filled your nose and was already enough to wake up your still sleepy mind.

Just as you thought Poppys previous smirk was just another one of her quirky habits and meant nothing, her voice turned into that typical ‘I’m your mother and know exactly what’s going on’-tone as she said “So Theodore told me about that guy last night.”

For a split second you froze, then let out a sighed “Oh my god.”

“What? Teddy said he seemed to like you. Oh lord, isn’t that adorable? A young, handsome, mysterious guy showing up, unexpectedly sweeping this young lady off her feet.” In a dramatic motion she clutched her hands to her chest and jumped out of her chair.

“Oh, young love! I would give anything to feel like this again in my old days.” As if she was dancing with the ghost of a long lost lover, she seemingly floated through the small kitchen.

With a frustrated sigh you buried your face in your hands. Your grumbled “Oh my god” was more embarrassed this time.

“But you do know I’m right here, my love?”, Theodore coaxed, as he leaned back in his chair and watched his wife with a raised eyebrow.

“Tz, I’m not talking about you, Teddy.”, she waved him off.

Sensing the upcoming argument, even if it’s not meant seriously, you grabbed your cup of coffee and sneaked out of the kitchen. “Okay. I guess that’s my cue to leave you two alone.”

The rest of the day you spent with Nathan and Ethan, helping them with their homework. You haven’t met a lot of twins in your life so far, but you never met twins that were so different from each other than Nathan and Ethan, which made tutoring them a real challenge. But sitting between these bickering boys was still a better alternative than being ribbed about Eddie by Teddy and Poppy.

Since it was your day off and you couldn’t focus on your writing upstairs in your little room, you went down into the pub earlier than usual. Your hopes were high that the hustle and bustle around you would distract your mind a bit so you could focus on your writing.

The first few sentences had a hard time coming out. But after you got back into your flow the words came out on their own. That was until you noticed a brown haired figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

“Aw, did you miss me?”, you leered and leaned back to face Eddie with a smug grin. “Or do you wanna give your date a second chance?”

“Well, actually,” Eddie declared, nonchalantly dropping into the seat opposite you, “I was just trying to get away from some of these pushy fangirls, you know?”

As if he was discussing the weather, he leaned back, fingers tapping a casual rhythm on the table. “Yeah, sure. Clingy fans,” you joked, closing your notebook and using the pen as a bookmark.

“Listen, being a rockstar isn’t easy when you’re smoking hot like me,” he explained, a self-assured chuckle escaping him as he tilted his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor.

You disappeared behind the bar and met a very amused looking Mister Baker.

With furrowed brows, you leaned to your side in an attempt to peer through one of the beautiful stained glass windows. Eddie followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a puzzled expression after trying in vain to discern what had caught your attention.

"What?" he inquired, reverting to the shy and nervous behavior from yesterday.

You couldn't contain the giggles bubbling out of your chest as you leaned back and faced Eddie again. "Nothing. I was just trying to get a glimpse of all those fangirls you escaped from."

"Oh, great, you're making fun of me," Eddie stated, rolling his eyes.

"C'mon, Eddie. You're trying to convince me you're a rockstar." You waited for a response, anticipating another remark about his alleged status as a musician, but were met with a sulky Eddie instead.

"Okay, I'm sorry, Mister Rockstar," you apologized playfully. "How about a drink? My treat."

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered in an exaggerated pouty manner.

“Don’t you dare say a single word!”, you hissed to the man and to emphasize your statement, you raised a warning finger. Still grinning, he playfully raised his hand, mimicking the action of locking up his lips with an imaginary key.

You poured beer into two pints and placed one of them in front of Eddie.

“Cheers.” With your glass raised for a toast, you added “Let’s start over again. Hi, I’m Y/N.”

His eyes darted between you and his beer until he eventually gave in. “Hi Y/N, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.” As you clinked glasses you locked eyes, which unexpectedly sparked something inside of you. Something you couldn’t quite explain, but it felt unexpectedly good.

For the rest of the evening, your intention to continue with your manuscript was completely forgotten and replaced by the desire to talk to Eddie for hours. He asked about your notebook and after you told him that you were about to write a novel, you found yourself in a lively conversation about your favorite authors with him.

You talked about Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, George Orwell, Virginia Woolf for hours without noticing how late it was getting. There was this spark between you and him that ignited a fire within your soul, a fire that became bigger and bigger the more you talked about your interests. And when you spoke, his eyes were literally glued to your lips. You’ve never felt more comfortable in your life than in this exact moment, talking to a stranger about your biggest passion and your dreams to publish your first fantasy novel.

A few more beers followed, Teddy even brought you some snacks. Then Eddie told you about the DnD campaigns he planned and plotted years ago with his friends, his love for Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and assured you that he’ll be the first one to buy your book. When you told him, you never had the chance to play DnD, because you never really had that kind of friends, something flashed in his eyes.

“You never played DnD?" Eddie's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as if your statement had personally offended his very existence. "Oh, what a shame! Okay, you know what?” His elbows crashed onto the table, and he leaned in so close that you could practically feel the intensity of his gaze. His soft eyes locked onto yours, filled with determination. “I, Eddie Munson, promise you, Y/N Y/L/N, that I’ll introduce you to the world of DnD one day.” With a mischievous smile playing on his lips, he dramatically raised his pinkie for a solemn pinkie promise, an act you sealed with your own pinkie.

“Alright, deal.”, you whispered, absolutely mesmerized by the guy you just met yesterday.

“Deal.” He repeated solemnly.

“Okay, you lovebirds.” Mister Baker's voice interrupted your promise, pulling your attention back to reality. The pub around you was empty and the chairs were already put back on the tables. “I’m really sorry, but my wife will kill me if I don’t close the pub soon.”

With your face blushing with shame you quickly leaned back into your seat and looked away. How embarrassing that must have been to watch. Like you were teenagers again.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a look at the clock. “Oh, shit, yeah. I should go now, my friends are surely wondering where I am. Goodnight, Y/N.” He paused for a moment to look at you one last time before he left the pub in a hurry.

The looks both Mr Baker and Mrs Baker gave you were unequivocally. But in your opinion, they were reading something into your casual conversation with Eddie. Something you didn’t seem to perceive.

The next few days, Eddie found himself inexplicably pulled to that charming little pub, his heart fluttering with excitement every time he spotted your Y/H/C hair behind the bar through the stained glass windows. Without fail, he made his way there each evening, armed with a new and absurd excuse. Sneaking up behind you, he would unleash the most cringe-worthy pickup lines, each one more outrageous than the last. You'd heard your fair share of cheesy pickup lines over the years, but none had ever elicited the same blend of blushes and giggles that Eddie's managed to. It was as if you both had regressed to the age of twelve, sharing a playful banter that was both bad and yet undeniably funny.

As you brought his first pint of beer for the evening, you found him crouched forward in his seat, his face twisted in an exaggerated expression of pain. Concern etched on your face, and with furrowed brows you asked, “Everything's okay, Eddie?” To which he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Do you have a Band-Aid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you." This unexpectedly caught you off guard, and despite your efforts to suppress them, snickers escaped you, filling the air with shared laughter.

Another very stressful evening, when you passed him with a full tray of empty glasses, he said “Hey, Y/N, you dropped something!”

“Huh?” You promptly came to standstill, the glasses clinking at the abrupt stop, and tried to figure out what you had dropped. But after you couldn’t find a damn thing and slowly became somewhat desperate, you noticed Eddie's lopsided smile. He seemed to be biting back his laughter as he quipped, “My jaw”, and brought that lovely smile of yours back to your lips with this poor attempt at flirting with you.

One evening, you were seated at the bar, leisurely sipping your coke, when Eddie stealthily approached from behind. Gently placing his hands around your waist, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You know, with all these secret rendezvous with you, I feel like I’m a spy or something. Hidden identities, clandestine meetings, just you and me, and no one knows about this, far away from the public.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and retorted, "Oh, please. You're not James Bond, Eddie."

He chuckled, "I may not be James Bond, but I am a famed rockstar by night.” To make sure no one heard him, he looked left and right, then turned back to you. “Shh, it's a secret!", he whispered and winked at you.

After releasing you, his warm hands leaving a lingering sensation, you sighed and turned your barstool to face him. For a fleeting moment, your gaze flickered to his slightly parted lips, now curled into a smug grin. Looking back into his eyes, you cocked your head and, absolutely unimpressed, countered, "Yeah. Nice try, buddy. You're not fooling anyone with that."

By now, your jokes about him allegedly being a rockstar didn’t seem bother him anymore. No. Instead he chimed in on your jokes, complained about clingy fangirls, unreliable sound engineers, the bad food during their tour. And you laughed at his jokes, thinking he was trying to impress you.

You could’ve sworn he must have heard your heart beating heavily in your chest when, with his hand resting on the counter behind you for support, Eddie leaned forward, nearly brushing your cheek. Just inches away from your face, the sensation of his breath on your skin caused a shudder to run through your body. If you would have tried to stand up, you suspected your legs would give way, as your body inexplicably turned to jelly in the mere proximity of him.

Eddie flashed a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, can't blame a guy for trying, can you? But it seems like it doesn’t necessarily need a secret agent or rockstar to sweep you off your feet, right?" His coarse voice, barely above a whisper, was vibrating in his chest. Chuckling, he leaned back, feigning nonchalance, though a subtle twinkle in his eye hinted at the amusement behind his teasing attempt. As his face, and lips, were outside the danger zone, you noticed that you were straining holding your breath for what felt like an eternity.

“How was your date?” Poppy asked teasingly as you came upstairs one evening. Eddie brought you his copy of The Hobbit and some flowers he picked from some front yard that reminded him of you. The pub was very crowded that evening, so you two decided to just chill in the backyard, counting stars and eating the cookies he brought.

“That was not a date.”, you declared and rolled your eyes.

“Oh. Of course. No date. I understand. Like the other not-a-dates you two had the last couple nights, right?” Poppy winked at you knowingly. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, so you turned away and took care of the dirty dishes.

One day Eddie came to the pub earlier than usual. The pub wasn’t even open yet. Shaking from the nervousness that filled his body, he paced up and down the sidewalk in front of the pub. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was all nervous and excited like this. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, as he waited for you to come down after he rang the doorbell.

“Okay Eddie. Breath in-” He took a deep breath in, “- breath out.” His breath was shaking. And since his attempt at calming himself down didn’t quite have the effect he wished for, he took a long drag from his cigarette, inhaling the smoke that had at least a little soothing effect on his nerves.

“Eddie?” The sudden sound of your voice made him jump, causing you to smile. You stuck your head out of a window and looked down on him.

“Hey, Y/N!”, he greeted you. All of a sudden the words he already laid out in his head vanished into thin air.

“I … Y/N would you … I mean …” Eddie closed his eyes, took another deep breath and gathered his courage. “Would you like to go out with me? Tonight?” With furrowed brows he looked up to you. His heart nearly jumped out his chest as the words left his lips.

“You mean like a date?” The smile on your face grew wider than ever before. “A rockstar is asking someone like me out for a date? Is this some cinderella kind of story?” Your nervous laughter made him hold his breath, expectantly waiting for your final answer. His body tensed up as you finally nodded, accepting his invitation.

“Sure. When and where?”

He smiled from ear to ear as he told you the time and place.

“Alright. See you tonight!” You waved him goodbye and disappeared back into your room.

“Yeah, see you tonight.”, he whispered dreamy with his eyes fixed on your window for a little longer before he turned around and went back to his friends.

“So how’s the no-date-policy going?” Teddy leaned against your doorframe as you turned around, grinning like a highschooler that’s been asked out to prom.

“Oh shut up.”, you laughed in an attempt to hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Hey! Poppy! Guess who has a date tonight!”, Teddy’s voice echoed through the apartment. His words had only just left his lips when Poppy was already standing in your room, seemingly faster than light and with a grin that almost looked scary.

“He asked you out?” But before you could answer, she grabbed you by your hands, pulled you into a tight embrace and swirled you around. “I never thought I could be any prouder as a mother than this.”

“Poppy, she’s not -” Teddy tried to intervene to remind her that you were not their actual daughter. But Poppy, filled with pride, interrupted him.

“Oh shut up, Teddy.”

Still giggling she released you to look you up and down. You were still in your baggy shorts and a faded shirt, that once used to be a blue and violet tie dye. The longer she looked at you, the more you got anxious.

“So … “ she started after a moment. “And what are you going to wear?”

“What?” Her question caught you off guard. You were still busy to not freak out with joy.

“What are you going to wear tonight? Sure you can’t go on a date looking like this, sweetie.” Well, she was pretty damn right with that. In your mind you went through your little options. Because you were often switching between hostels and other places to stay the night, you chose not to carry that much clothing around with you. So most of your outfits consist of simple shirts, most of them already pretty baggy and faded, and some simple jeans. Nothing that you could wear on a date to make a good impression. Well, you honestly didn’t intend to go on dates anyway.

“Oh my god.”, now you have started to freak out. “What the hell am I going to wear?!” With furrowed brows and slightly panicking you looked at Poppy.

“Don’t worry, darling. I got you.” She gently squeezed your hand, then left your room, skipping like an excited child.

“I guess I should leave you two girls alone.”, Teddy whispered to you, somehow happy to leave this intimate mother-daughter moment.

As long as Poppy combed through her wardrobe, you faced the mirror, trying to tame your hair to look nice and girly and not like a crazy witch. Just as you were trying to braid your hair, Poppy came back with a pile of clothes. This might be a more complicated and complex quest than you thought.

You tried on outfit after outfit. Dresses. Skirts with lovely ruffle blouses. Your favorite so far was a dark brown culottes with a fluffy beige blouse. That was until Poppy pulled out a dress, short puffed sleeves, flowy skirt and a lovely floral pattern. You instantly put it on. The fabric was soft and light, the layered dip hem skirt flowed down from your waist like a waterfall of flowers. You never were a fan of these oldschool puffed sleeves, but you had to admit, that these were pretty flattering. Around your waist, the fabric was a bit ruffled up and tightened in your back like a corset. And the neckline was low-cut, but not too revealing.

As you eyed your reflection, admiring how the dress accentuates your favorite features and yet managed to conceal your insecurities, Poppy carefully completed the dress with a cute little necklace.

“You look absolutely stunning!” She stood right behind you with her hands on your shoulders and examined your reflection too, looking like the proud and loving mother you never had.

“Thanks Poppy.” was all you managed to get out at the moment. You never considered yourself good looking, not even close. Instead you always tried to hide your body and your low self esteem. But your new found family taught you in so many different ways how beautiful and stunning you actually were, on the inside as well as on the outside.

It felt like an eternity until it became evening and your long-awaited date with Eddie came closer. Watching the clock hands seemingly move in slow motion, your impatience grew with every second to infinity. Poppy helped you to braid your hair and embellished your french braids with colorful flowers from their balcony.

Every fiber of your body was tense and it was a miracle you managed to walk to your destination. Nervously fidgeting with your ring, you found the place Eddie told you. But to your surprise, it wasn’t a restaurant or bar. It was a nightclub. Every time the door opened, rock music blared outside, then fell silent again when the door closed.

Did he mess up the address? Or did you mess up? Anxious, you verified the address of this place over and over again, finding no mistake, until the ticket taker spoke to you, thinking you were the next in line. “What’s your name?”

Pulled out of your thoughts you looked at him. “What?”

“What is your name, so I can let you in.”, he repeated.

“Oh, Y/N Y/L/N, but I think I got the wrong address, sorry.”

Just as you were about to leave, embarrassed and downhearted, he opened the door for you and the music carried you inside.

As you hesitantly entered the club you simultaneously entered a whole different galaxy. The heavy guitar sounds and fast drums adapted to the fast and nervous beating of your heart. With a loud thud the door slammed shut behind you.

People mostly dressed in black leather jackets or jeans vests covered in patches, pins and studs ushered you further into the club. You let yourself get carried by the wave of metalheads, standing out like a sore thumb with your cute little dress and the flowers in your hair. The masses around you came to a stop and you found yourself in front of a big stage that was covered in red light, a flag hanging on the wall behind the setup that announced a band named ‘Corroded Coffin’.

Squinting your eyes, you tried to find the guy with the wild, brown hair, but to your disappointment you couldn’t find him. After some minutes of desperately searching for that lovely smile, the few lights that tried in vain to lighten up the whole place dimmed and everything fell silent for a moment before some slow and hauntingly beautiful guitar riffs filled the air. Your eyes needed some time to adapt to the darkness around you. The crowd started to cheer frenziedly, jumping up and down uncontrollably as the heavy beats of a drum joined the guitar. Caged in that impetuous jostling, you had to stand on your tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the now partially lit up stage.

And when you caught sight of that wild, dark brown mane, you froze for a second, eyes wide open in shock. “No fucking way”, you mouthed in disbelieve.

The world around you seemed to fall into slow motion as the realization hit you hard. That guy in front of you, believe it or not, was Eddie. Eddie Munson, the guy you randomly met at a pub and made fun of because he claimed to be a rockstar. He was shredding his guitar like a maniac, a burst of energy radiating from him. And just as the crowd was about to freak out with excitement, he grabbed the microphone and, with a contagious enthusiasm, hollered to the crowd, "Alright, folks! Let's make some noise that'll shake these walls! We're here for a hell of a good time, so buckle up and get ready for a wild ride!" The crowd erupted into even louder cheers as the concert kicked off with a surge of electrifying energy.

His eyes were scanning the crowd, desperately looking for your unmistakingly beautiful face. Fortunately his eyes found you, his look a mix of triumph and satisfaction. A silent declaration that spoke volumes, as if to say ‘See, I wasn’t pulling your leg.’ Still in disbelief, you shook your head as you watched him perform with his band.

“In the shadows of the night, where the demons come alive,

Echoes of thunder, a twisted ride, where the fearless dare to strive.

As the spirits intertwine, prancing to a symphony of the dark,

In the heart of rebellion, we leave our lasting mark.”

Even though this wasn't your type of music, the sight of your type of guy performing like he's possessed by the devil himself made the whole show surprisingly enjoyable.

“Rising from the ashes, we're forged in the fire,

restless souls and a rebel's desire,

Riding the storm, breaking the chains.

Legends are born in the heat of the fight,

In the roar of the crowd, where freedom reigns.”

For the rest of the concert, Eddie couldn't take his eyes off you. The sea of leather and denim jeans around you blurred into a viscous, gray mass, completely insignificant to him. All that mattered to him at that moment was you – your smile, outshining any star in the night sky, and your eyes, radiating a warmth that could envelop him even in the darkest of clouds overshadowing his mind.

The thundering beat of your heart, on the verge of explosion with excitement, merged seamlessly with the unexpectedly peppy song. At first, it was just the drums, synced with the slow strumming of the bass, gradually increasing its pace until it abruptly fell silent, giving way to Eddie's voice as he chimed in.

You couldn't have possibly missed the smug grin on Eddie's face, the grin you began to love throughout the past days, as he let his piercing guitar riffs slice through the dense air. The drums and bass seamlessly joined in, weaving together to unveil Eddie's latest song, evidently penned about a certain girl he had met just days ago.

“In a haze of neon lights, the city's heartbeat loud,

A crowded room, lost faces in the crowd.

Then there she stood, a vision rare,

Sweet innocence like the flowers in her hair.”

After they played their last song and the stage was once again covered in darkness, the masses around you, still hyped, rushed outside. Countless thoughts mixed with a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over you, leaving you riveted to the spot, unable to move. But as soon as you caught a glimpse of Eddie's wild mane while he climbed down from the stage, there was nothing that could’ve held you back. With a flock of muttered and incomprehensible excuses gushing out of your mouth, you pushed yourself through the remaining crowd towards Eddie.

“Her laughter echoes, a sweet serenade.

Lost in the moment, nothing else compares.

Her eyes sparkle like stars in the night,

A sweet surrender, everything felt right.

Her words like poetry, a gentle breeze,

In the storm of life, she puts my mind at ease.

In the chaos of life, she's my symphony.”

“Eddie!” A security guard blocked your path, but you exerted all your strength to reach Eddie. “Please, let me through. I know Eddie; we’re friends. Please,” you pleaded, standing on your tiptoes and waving desperately for Eddie to notice you.

“Okay, you lovebirds. Don’t you think we should go somewhere more … quieter? At least with less prying spectators.”, the bassist, a tall guy with a smile sweet as honey which he desperately tried to hide, suggested.

“Nice try. I can’t let you through; the backstage area is just for the band.” The guard attempted to shoo you away, gently restraining you.

“No, you don’t understand. I…” Eddie, prompted by his drummer who pointed at you and the guard, rushed towards you, wearing the broadest smile on his lips.

“Y/N!” The sound of your name startled the guard, who turned his head, sensing trouble he needed to address. Taking advantage of the distraction, without a second thought, you leaped over the barrier.

There was no way anyone could have held you back at that moment.

Everything unfolded rapidly, yet it felt like slow motion as you enveloped him in your arms. His warm hands cupped your face, fingers entangled in your hair. His lips met yours, moving in sync to a silent rhythm set by your connected heartbeats.

“Okay, nothing to see here, guys!” His bandmates pivoted to shield the curious looks of the crowd, slightly bewildered by the unexpected sight of their lead singer's romantic interlude.

“I never thought you would actually come,” he whispered against your lips, breaking the kiss but still cradling your face with his calloused hands. His voice trembled, and you could feel his heart pounding violently against your chest.

“And I never thought you were telling the truth, but here we are,” you retorted, still breathless, earning a laugh from him—a laughter you never wanted to miss in your life again.

“Is this Eddie’s secret girlfriend?” someone screamed excitedly, pointing at you and Eddie.

“Well, does this look like a secret to you?” the drummer huffed, attempting to disperse the onlookers.

With the help of the security, his bandmates managed to give you and Eddie some private space, away from their curious fans. They already suspected something was going on since they couldn’t figure out the reason behind his late night trips or the silly smiles dancing around his lips when he returned to their tour bus. He seemed to be a completely different person after he went out one night after a little argument with their manager. And now they finally had an answer, the answer was right in front of them.

“Yeah, I think Jeff is right,” the drummer agreed. “And don’t you think you should introduce your secret girlfriend to us?” He playfully mimicked quotation marks with his fingers, emphasizing the words with a teasing tone, the rest of the band loudly agreeing. With his arms crossed above his chest and a raised eyebrow, the curly haired drummer, who was wearing a Corroded Coffin shirt underneath a red plaid flannel, nearly squeezed himself between you and Eddie.

Eddie took a deep breath and let go of you, silently cursing his nosy friends for interrupting this intimate moment with you. He grabbed you by your hand, squeezing it gently to, on one hand, assure you that everything is okay since he sensed your unease, but on the other hand to make sure you wouldn’t leave his side.

“Okay, okay.” He rolled his eyes in a playful manner and added "When you finally stop pestering me" like an annoyed parent would to silence their nosy child.

"Okay, let’s go, move, move!" the bassist, Jeff, demanded excitedly, ushering them into the backstage area with animated enthusiasm. You clung onto Eddie as the rest of the band, with combined forces, led you two further into the backstage area.

You spent the rest of the evening with Eddie and his Band, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, you snuggled against his chest. His friends welcomed you with open arms and treated you as one of them, as if you knew each other for years.

As they settled in, the atmosphere turned light-hearted, and this group of grown up adults, famous rockstars, who had momentarily reverted to their teenage selves, cracked one bad joke after another. Eddie's friends wasted no time in sharing embarrassing stories from their shared past, tales that had long been hidden in the recesses of their memories.

Amidst the banter, they found joy in recounting youthful escapades, revealing anecdotes about Eddie that made him both blush and join in the laughter. The tour bus became a time machine, transporting them back to the days of awkward adolescence, with the added delight of sharing these moments with someone who had now become a part of their close-knit circle.

As hours slipped away, the scent of beer and cigarettes lingered in the air, and your adoration for the dorky, brown-haired guitarist only deepened with each anecdote shared by his bandmates.This became one of those core memories that etch themselves into your soul—a source of perpetual joy, belonging, and safety whenever you reflect upon it.

Even though you enjoyed the time you spent with the band, you longed for some time alone with Eddie. The earlier kiss lingered, leaving a sweet longing in its wake, the taste of him remaining on your lips. Each and every time you caught a glimpse of his lips, your heart seemed to skip a beat and a cozy warmth spread within you as the memory of his lips moving against yours flashed through your mind. And it was no different for Eddie.

Gareth noticed the looks you shared, your nonverbal conversations, not knowing how to get away from the boys for some alone time. So he did what every best friend would do.

“Alright guys.” He clapped his hands, gaining everyone's attention. “I think we should give our lovebirds some time for themselves.” As he stood up, he winked at Eddie, who, in return, mouthed a relieved ‘Thank you’. Before you and Eddie left them, everyone hugged you goodbye, like you’ve always been friends.

You stumbled out of the bus, still laughing and grinning like a teenager. The cool air of the night let shivers wash over your body, which Eddie noticed instantly. Like the gentleman he was, he put his jacket around your shoulders and placed a kiss on the crown of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. You pulled him into a tight embrace, never wanting to let him go, your fingers buried in his still sweaty shirt. But you didn’t mind. He was yours and you were his. That was all that mattered in that moment. His hands slowly wandered up and down your back, his fingers gently painting little circles on your skin.

“I’d love to take you out on a date sometime. A real date.” With his hands cupping your face, he looked down into your eyes. His expression was soft, almost sad at the thought of leaving you soon.

You melted under his touch, a sensation you'd never experienced before. No one had ever made you feel this way, and dreaming of such a connection was something you'd never dared. Surprisingly, Eddie managed to make you forget about your self-imposed "holy oath" against dating again—a so-called no-date policy that now seemed nothing more than a ridiculous joke.

“Come on, sweetness. Let’s get you home,” he whispered after what felt like an eternity. Reluctantly, you agreed and sighed as he broke the embrace. Slowly, you walked back home, taking some detours to prolong the precious moments with him.

Beneath the cloudless night sky, with the moon casting its enchanting glow on the Thames, turning its surface into an ocean of little, shiny diamonds, you felt like you were living in a dream. The most beautiful dream you never wanted to wake up from. All the way back to the pub you talked about home, his tour, your plans for the future, and your plans for whatever that was you two had going on.

With a heavy heart, you sauntered through the small alleys, cast in the dim light of old lanterns, drawing closer to the pub where your little story began. Soon, you recognized the green and brown stained glass windows of the pub, illuminated by the fairy lights Poppy insisted on decorating them with. You knew that Poppy and Teddy would probably be worried about you since it was getting pretty late, but you still didn’t want to leave Eddie's side.

“Whenever and wherever you want,” you promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “I can’t wait to spend more time with you.” You reached up to him, your fingers combing through his soft hair, and gently kissed him again. Eddie's tensed body relaxed under your touch, and you thought you heard a soft moan leaving his chest as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss.

Suddenly, a shrill screeching cut through the silence, abruptly interrupting your kiss. “Teddy! Teddy, they’re kissing! Oh my god!” Poppy’s excited voice echoed from the small balcony, where she must have been watching the two of you, causing you both to break out in laughter.

“I bet she won't give up until I tell her every single detail about tonight,” you whispered, placing another kiss on Eddie's rough lips.

“Please don’t give this old lady a heart attack with your lewd disclosure of our little romance,” he admonished in a playful way between kisses.

“Teddy! Hurry up! They’re kissing again! Oh, sweet, sweet young love!” her voice filled the air again.

“Jesus Christ, she’s worse than all of those pushy fangirls,” he joked, earning a laugh from you.

“Yeah, sure, Mister Rockstar.”

“What? Don’t believe me?” He looked down at you, something provocative flashing through his eyes.

“Well, maybe I would believe you if you take me to one of your shows, Mister Rockstar,” you winked back at him, a smug grin dancing on your lips before he could kiss it away.

___________

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obetrolncocktails · 1 year

Text

Kiszka Creek | Josh Kiszka X F!Reader

Warnings: None really, just heart-exploding, feet kicking fluff!

Word Count: 2K

Summary: It's the first time you're visiting Josh's house "as a friend," but you both want so much more...it just seems every time you want to tell each other how you feel, nerves snatch the courage from you. This time, maybe it will be different.

“It’s so pretty back here,” You said, looping the thongs of your sandals between your fingers, watching your bare feet as you tiptoed carefully around the rocks, sticks and leaves that lined the creek in front of you.

“Jake and I used to spend hours over here in the summer.” You looked at Josh as he walked across a fallen log, crossing from one side of the creek to the other. His arms were stretched out beside him in a careful balancing act as he spoke. “Sam, not so much.”

“Josh, please don’t fall,” you pleaded, trying your best not to be a hypocrite as you teetered into the cool water.

“Trust me, I’m an expert when it comes to Kiszka Creek.” He finished the sentence with a perfectly stuck dismount on the other side. He offered you a boyish grin that seemed to say, ‘I’ve got the universe in my hands. I’m unstoppable.’ The creek was in a lightly wooded area behind his house. Tall pine trees allowed for shady cover over the stretch of water, offering bright dapples of sunlight through the canopy of leaves overhead. You made your way a bit further into the water, letting your toes feel the first chill of the cold stream. It was crystal clear with no sign of contamination. Under the glassy surface, you could see hundreds of rocks worn into round orbs that had been embedded into the earth from many years of constant current. The longer you looked, you began to see the tiniest minnows swimming in schools, migrating to areas where the current was weakening. “We’d come back here and swim all the time,” he said, wiping his brow. “Mom would yell at us from the back door to come back inside once the cicadas started. We’d bicker and beg for more time. Jake always made me do it because I knew how to soft-talk Mom, and most of the time, it worked.” He looked up at you as he walked along the other side of the stream, his toes digging in the silt and sediment, flipping over eroded rocks and pebbles as he spoke. “ We’d swim, build forts with tree limbs, watch and collect tadpoles, catch frogs…complain and argue…talk about girls.” You watched him as his cheeks reddened slightly with blush. You looked away.

“Want to get in?” he asked, eyes moving between you and the cool water.

“Uh…” you hesitated, thinking about the possibilities of hidden creatures despite the clarity of the water.

“Or are you scared?” He picked at you, stepping into the shallow drift, trudging toward you.

“No, I just don’t want to get eaten.” You said matter of factly, crossing your arms over your chest, looking into the water suspiciously. Josh let out a belly laugh. “What do you think this is? I promise no river monster is going to come out of this tiny little creek and eat you. If anything tries, I’ll kill it first.”

“Josh, you can’t even kill spiders in the house, let alone monsters.” He made his way across the creek, holding out his hands for you to take.

“Take a chance, Y/n. Come on.”

“I-I don’t even have a bathing suit,” you contested, taking a step backward.

“It’ll be fine, relax. I’m sure Ronnie will have something you could borrow.” You wore a simple white tank top with a lacy bralette underneath, paired with a pair of thin linen shorts. You and Ronnie were similar in stature, although you were a bit bigger than she was. You’d just have to hope that you’d find something and that she wouldn’t mind that Josh volunteered her clothing to you. Josh still held out his hand for you, wiggling his fingertips as if to entice you to join him. You took his hand and he led you further into the creek. You felt the water edging up your legs, the chill causing goosebumps to dot every inch of your body. The water felt miraculous. When you looked down, you could see straight through to the bottom. You watched your toes wiggle as you disrupted the silt that had settled, and you observed the weak current carry it all upstream, leaving the water still remarkably clear. You waded as a pair into the deeper part of the creek. “Be careful not to rely too much on the bottom. It gets slippery right around here,” Josh warned. His arm snaked around the small of your back, and you could feel your neck and cheeks beginning to flame from his close proximity. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. “Just keep your legs kicking.” You did as he suggested, lifting from the slick rocks as the water edged further up your body, the buoyancy lifting you from the bottom.

“Ew, it’s gross down there.” You felt sliminess in between your toes, and it took everything in you not to squirm frantically.

Josh took your other hand and helped you drift forward so that you were swimming directly in front of him. “One time, Jake slipped on these rocks and broke like two or three of his toes. Dad made him suck it up and walk it off. He actually went like that to school for a whole day before calling home from the office,” he said with a grin. “Mom chewed dad out so badly, he might as well have slept in the shed in the back.”

“Oh my god, that sounds like hell,” You admitted.

“Trust me. Jake milked that injury for months,” Josh said. “I guess it makes up for a lot of the stupid shit I’ve done in my life.”

“Like what?” You asked.

Josh smiled, pulling you closer, his lips pulling wider and wider across his face. You struggled to keep your gaze trained with his. “Like this,” he answered, bringing his fingertips to your face and leaning forward to kiss you. Only, he never stopped leaning. Your lips connected with his as he held you and you felt your body floundering backward into the water, still connected within the kiss. Air bubbles filled your sight, most likely from Josh laughing stupidly while under water. His arms held onto you securely as he turned you, lifting you with him so that you were back above the surface facing him. You sputtered as the water poured down your face. You punched him in the chest.

“You’re such an asshole!” You were annoyed, but admittedly, the sight of his wet body halted you from any further upset. You couldn’t help but grin as you smoothed your hands over the top of your head.

“Sounds so good when you say it, honey,” He said. “Sue me.” He shrugged, irking you further. Without warning, you threw your feet to the bottom of the creek, despite his warning. You launched yourself upward, throwing your body on top of his, pulling him into the current. This time it was you that was giggling. You felt the water infiltrate your sinuses, the burning sensation pounding through your head. You came up out of the water coughing and spitting.

“Oh my God, Y/n! Are you okay?” Josh asked, grabbing you by both elbows, pulling you to him. You nodded after a moment.

“I’m fine. I’m perfect.” As if it were a movie–a scene from the Notebook, no matter how tacky it sounded–silence ripped through your embrace, filling your shared personal space with an unspoken dialogue. The trees above rattled in the wind, shaking down ill-fated leaves. Cicadas began to roar from deep within the woods, and you could hear the water trickling around the added obstacle of your bodies. Your eyes cascaded down his body in slow motion. His hair that usually curled around his head in a halo was smoothed flat, water dripping down from the ends and off of his ears to continue its journey down the rest of his body. His white t-shirt that usually hung from his body was now plastered to his skin and you could see his nipples through the shirt as well as the fit contour of his chest and abdomen, his happy trail evident through the wet fabric. He was just as guilty, his gaze disconnected, tracing the shape of your breasts beneath the thin t-shirt you wore.

“You know those mistakes you were talking about?” You asked finally, breaking the heavy silence. You stepped forward toward him, finding solid footing despite the warnings he had given. Perhaps it signified the truth and rightness of the decision you were about to make. Josh nodded slowly.

“Yes,” He answered simply, and you watched him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. You found his hands and pulled him closer to you, an arm’s length apart.

“I don’t think this is one of them,” You said slowly, wanting him so badly to make the next move. You watched the water around you ripple with the slow movement of your bodies. You watched as his irises ignited with an intensity that was only matched with the bright rays of golden hour, cutting through the branches and across his face, illuminating his beautiful features.

He shook his head slowly, which made your heart suddenly lurch with embarrassment and dread before he finished. “Neither do I,” he finally answered, drawing you in closer. You felt the warmth of the summer breeze drift along your skin before it was replaced with Josh's fingertips, caressing your jaw so tenderly. You closed your eyes as he leaned forward, tilting his head to place the first real kiss upon your lips. He touched you so slowly and thoughtfully that it took everything in you not to spring forward, wordlessly begging for more–but he made you wait, his lips hovering just above yours, the heat of his breath wisping against your lips and cheeks. Then he took your lips again, this time with more intensity, the tilt of his head dancing with yours, moving in natural rhythm to the increasing intensity of the embrace. You inhaled him through every kiss, your hands migrating to rest on his shoulders before moving to his chest and up to his neck, feeling the solidness of his body before you. You stood there for what seemed like forever, intertwined in an embrace that you both had secretly pined for for so long. When you finally broke from the kiss, you felt the pressure of his lips still pulsing against your lips, the soft graze of his beard a memory on your skin.

“Wow,” you said, rubbing your lips together, feeling the unconscious grin spreading across your face.

“I wonder what took us so long,” Josh said, rubbing the back of his neck in nervous habit. “Hope it was worth the wait.” He said, his cheeks flushing lightly.

“Definitely,” You said, taking his hand in yours again, squeezing it tight.

“Are you guys done?”

Your heart almost sprung out of your chest. You spun around. Sam was standing on the far side of the creek. “Mom sent me to find you two. Dinner’s done, but well–” he said, eyeing you both. “Shall I give you time to get decent?”

“Sam, we’ve got it. Tell Mom we’ll be a little late to dinner. Something important came up.” You felt Josh wrap an arm possessively around you, and you couldn’t help but smile, your heart feeling impossibly full.

Sam scoffed, but his faint grin told a different story that perhaps he was happy for his brother. “I’ll stall Mom, but you owe me.”

“Thanks,” Josh murmured dismissively before turning you back against his chest, leaning in to kiss you once more. His lips pulled tightly into a grin of true happiness as he kissed you. Kiszka’s Creek may have been a childhood memory to Josh, but to you, it had become one of true adult longing. You silently vowed to yourself never to forget the warmth of the breeze drifting around your body, mingled with the cool chill of the water against your skin and Josh’s lips pressed for the first time against yours.

___

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milfgyuu · 2 years

Text

Heart & Seoul | Ch. 13 [M]

❥ Pairing(s): Jeon Wonwoo x Fem!Reader

❥ Series Tags: Series, Exes to Lovers!AU, Fluff, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Humor, Romance, Smut.

❥ Chapter Warnings: [5.2k words] language, nudity, mentions of physical ailments, some secrets, some assumptions, briefly described panic attack (daisy), medical things.

❥ Check out the Series Master List here! ~ banners made by @beaniegyu

❥ Summary: Your first love hit hard & fast but it was all swept away in the blink of an eye when your boyfriend is sent away to a Korean University after your high school graduation. Seven years later, work lands you in the heart of Seoul and never in your wildest dreams did you imagine running into the one person who’d left with your heart years ago.

“Spiced citrus with honey and a mocha espresso.”

Wonwoo stands before you can move a muscle, walking over to the counter to pick up your drinks. It’s a newly declared Sunday morning tradition to visit the cafe, the place where you first re-connected. You share the same little table by the window while you sip your drinks and watch passersby.

It’s simple and wonderful.

That’s another one of your favorite things about Wonwoo. You don’t have to talk much to enjoy each other’s company. It’s unrealistic to think endless conversation and witty banter will fill each day, especially when you live together. Comfortable silences can be a godsend after the end of a long work day when just being together is enough.

His hand finds yours atop the table and he strokes his thumb over the back of it. You look up at him for a moment, a small smile peeling back at the relaxed look on his face and then you both turn away to the window again, quietly holding hands and enjoying your drinks.

It’s been nearly two weeks since you've come home from the hospital. True to your word, you moved into Wonwoo’s home and after a week of you fussing over his broken ankle, Chan was moved into your old apartment. He’d grinned and wrapped you in a big hug while you argued and shamelessly pouted though he assured you he wasn’t going very far and you knew just where to find him.

You were selfishly glad he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Even if it was because he injured himself…and maybe one day you’ll get to thank that cute girl at physical therapy he keeps blabbing on about. Maybe she’ll convince him to stay even longer. Perhaps permanently.

The appointment Dr. Choi set up for you ended up getting pushed back another week due to the doctor herself becoming ill but that gave you a little more breathing room and you were still undecided about how to handle it, though…you did tell one person. Besides, there were other things on your mind like being back in school and…

After a while, Wonwoo checks his watch and hums, catching your attention.

“Is it time to go?”

Wonwoo nods, chuckling when you eagerly jump out of your seat. You hold your hand out for his and pull him up from his chair, though there really was no effort on your part. Wonwoo was just as excited as you were. He was just more stoic.

You’ve grown used to Wonwoo’s habit of not letting you lift a finger because, as he explained, it’s not that you can’t. It’s just that he wants to be the one to do things for you. So when he opens the car door for you, holds your hand when you slip into the passenger seat, reaches over and does up your seat belt, you don’t fuss about it. You simply accept the kiss he plants on your lips and feel grateful to have someone who cares about the little things.

He holds your hand in the car, pulling it up to kiss your fingers every now and again, and you let yourself relax into the seat, watching the world pass by.

Just a few days ago, he’d surprised you with a big question.

“I think we should look for a new house,” he’d suggested just after dinner.

You wipe your mouth and slowly lower your hand, still gripping the napkin. “You want to move? I just moved in,” you laugh quietly.

Wonwoo reaches across the table for your hand. “Why not?” he grins, “This isn’t a family home. It’s too stiff, there is no yard, there are no other families nearby. I just think we should find something that's more…us…I want us to have a home to grow in.”

You free hand shakes in your lap and your lip quivers. Tears begin forming but just enough that you can keep them at bay. “Are you saying you want a h-home…we can…raise a family in?”

Wonwoo’s cheeks pinch from smiling but he turns a little red and he’s quieter this time around, “Yeah, I mean…when you’re ready to uh, do that. I just want to be prepared I guess and maybe it's just my privileged rich-kid upbringing but I feel like buying the right house with everything we could need is where to start.”

Your laugh is broken and joyous, tears now freely running down your cheeks, “How could I possibly say no to that?”

Presently, you pull up in front of a massive house, far too big for your liking, and you turn toward him with wide eyes. “Oh…babe…no.”

Wonwoo laughs at your face and squeezes your hand, “It’s only the first one. If you don’t like it, there are plenty of others.”

He’s right, though you’re hoping not all of the houses your realtor, Yunho, has chosen are as large and grandiose as this one. It’s beautiful, truly, just not what you’re looking for. Wonwoo comes around your side, opening the door to help you out and Yunho makes his way over, greeting you both with a warm sense of familiarity though you’ve only met him once before.

“I am sensing apprehension,” he gauges correctly, “But let me show you the inside before you make up your mind.” Yunho smiles down at you, as eager and friendly as Wonwoo claims he’s always been, “I hope you both wore your walking shoes because we have appointments lined up and we are going to find you the perfect house today.”

You smile weakly, not because you aren’t excited about the prospect of buying a home with the love of your life. It was more so the promise of being on your feet all day that left you internally sighing.

Wonwoo chuckles at the two of you, shaking hands with his old friend whom he hadn’t seen much of since Mingyu bought the restaurant. “Thank you for doing this,” he says with a smile, “I know residential property isn’t really your thing anymore.”

Yunho claps his shoulder, “I’m just happy you called,” he somewhat chastises, “You’re terrible at asking for help.”

Wonwoo grumbles but Yunho ignores him, turning back to you. “Since I know this sap will like whatever you like, you are the one I need to impress.”

He’s not wrong. Wonwoo had told you as much when you sat down together and wrote out a list of all the things you wanted in your new home.

“I’ll try not to be too picky,” you offer, following him to the front door.

Yunho produces a key from a small lockbox hanging off the handle and winks at you, “Nonsense. We’ll find something that checks all the boxes. Be as picky as you want.”

Many of the homes are far more grand than you were expecting but given Wonwoo’s price range and not wanting to stray too far away from your workplaces, you figured your wish list would need to be a little flexible. You just hadn’t seen the need for a five car garage nor a full gourmet kitchen and one home was even three floors. You wouldn’t even be able to find your hypothetical children in such a big home.

After four hours of home showings you’re just about ready to tap out and Wonwoo can tell. You sink into the car seat, eyes closed with your head against the plush leather material. You feel his hand squeeze your thigh before rubbing it gently.

“You look exhausted,” His deep voice comes across velvety, comforting. “One more for today and I’ll have Yunho reschedule the rest, okay? We’re almost there.”

Your lips pull into a smile and you cover his hand with your own, lacing your fingers together just for Wonwoo to pull them up to his lips, kissing your warm skin tenderly. He’s always been one for physical affection but he’s been especially gentle with you lately. Every touch, innocent or not, was reverent.

Sleep finds you quickly, as it does more often these days, and before long, Wonwoo is gently waking you at the final showing. Your eyes blink open slowly and you release a little sigh at the fact that you’ve fallen asleep again. It never fails nowadays. You sit for more than ten minutes and pass out automatically.

Wonwoo is making his way around the car when Yunho opens your door, offering you a hand out of the low vehicle and your lover makes a mental note to have Jeonghan start looking for SUV’s that are easier to get in and out of. You stretch your limbs and apologize for your bleary state but Yunho just smiles and waves you off, moving to your side to give you a clear view of the home.

It’s much more moderately sized than the last few and you adore the pretty little garden along the front, the vines climbing along trellises. You glance up at the taller man and he nods, knowing this one is going to be your favorite by far.

With five bedrooms, three baths, and a sizable study, it’s still a rather large house, similar to the one you live in now but the architecture is less modern, more robust and earthy. The selling point is the beautiful glass sunroom at the back of the house and private yard with another garden and plenty of space for all things you’ve dreamed of.

Nights spent around a fire pit, weekend cook-outs with your friends. A goofy puppy bounding around the yard to expel a little energy before going off to bother Gureum again. Children running and swinging under the tall trees.

Back in the open living space your eyes trail over the empty walls, imagining them filled with life. Photos of your friends and family. Shelves filled with books you bought with Hansol and plants Seungkwan talked you into getting even though you had no idea what to do with any sort of greenery. That framed photo Mingyu gifted you of a drawing made especially for you by sweet Yeojin.

“This is the one…”

Yunho beams with pride for having found a home that sparked such wonder in your eye and looks to Wonwoo who simply smiles, tucking you into his side with a kiss to your hair. “Let’s make an offer.”

Gureum is hysterical when you finally arrive home, even with the extra amount of food you left for him. His frantic meows have become somewhat worrisome but he always seems to settle down when you stop moving long enough for him to sit with you. He’s been like this since you came home from the hospital.

You plop down on the couch, utterly drained of all energy and Gureum follows you without pause. He bunts his head against your belly and purrs non-stop for your attention. Wonwoo drops the takeout bags on the kitchen counter and watches curiously, “He’s been so obsessed with you lately. It’s like he’s always checking on you as if he knows something happened.”

Rubbing between the cat’s ears, you turn to him and smirk lazily. “I think he just likes mommy more than daddy,” you cup Gureum’s fuzzy cheeks in your hands, “Isn’t that right my pretty boy?”

Wonwoo stares at the two of you for a bit longer. Brows furrowing tight.

“I’ve heard that animals can be particularly sensitive to a woman’s hormones,” he pauses in thought, “Especially when they’re ovulating...or pregnant.”

You force yourself to blink. “Yeah, I think I saw that somewhere. Like Netflix or something.”

Wonwoo looks at you and you look at him.

“Interesting,” he mumbles to himself.

His phone buzzes and his fingers fly across the screen, typing at lightning speed, and you huff out a little laugh, assuming it’s about work. “Everything ok over there? Building on fire?”

Wonwoo chuckles and pockets his phone, “Everything is fine,” he reassures you, “That’s just Yunho, the sellers wanted to negotiate closing costs but I had him offer over asking and he’s pretty positive we’ll have an answer by this evening.”

You tilt your head, not a single clue how real estate works, “So quickly?” you ask in disbelief, “I thought these things took weeks to process and…stuff.”

Wonwoo leans down, both hands on the back of the couch over your shoulders and kisses your forehead, “Not always,” He explains softly, “The home is vacant and the sellers are pretty motivated. Yunho is excellent at what he does so we could close and be moving in, I would say…about two weeks. Just in time for your birthday.”

“That’s incredible,” you murmur, accepting a chaste peck on the lips. “What do you want for dinner? I can’t start pulling out-” You attempt to rise from your seat but Wonwoo gently pushes you back down. “What’s the matter now?”

Wonwoo smiles, sitting on the low table in front of you. “Why don’t you relax tonight and I’ll make us something to eat? You get tired so easily and we did a lot today. I just want you to rest a bit.”

You lean forward, taking his face in both hands. “I love you, but your food is not always edible, baby. I can cook, I promise.”

You make a second attempt to stand and Gureum yowls unhappily beside you. Wonwoo points at him and raises his brows, “He doesn’t want you to get up either.”

You huff indignantly and he grins. “We’ll compromise,” he kisses your hand, “I’ll get take-out from Gyu’s place. You stay put, I don’t burn the house down, the cat doesn’t go berserk. Everyone wins.”

“But then you have to leave me,” you pout, pulling him closer, but he doesn’t oblige you all the way, he leans just far enough to kiss you and then stands, grabbing a blanket and laying it over your lap.

“I’ll have Boo put a rush order in,” he smiles and hands you the remote, “Why don’t you catch up on your drama or give Sam a call,” he checks his watch, “She should be up by now.”

He’s right. “Ok, fine,” you sigh, grabbing your phone off the side table and offering him a playful side eye, “Tell Mingyu to throw in some sweets please,” your lips pout, suddenly thinking about the heavenly sugar filled deserts your best friend makes, “Oh and those rice balls! I really love those and the teriyaki strips! Do we have any lilac tea left? I might have used the rest…or was that the dandelion tea? I might have mixed those up…”

Wonwoo looks at Gureum and the fuzzy cat stares back just as curious as his owner.

“I will…get all the things,” Wonwoo laughs, “Text me if there is anything else you think of while I’m gone,” he steals one more kiss for good measure, “I love you.”

You watch him go with a lovesick grin, “I love you, too.”

He’s not sure if that’s for him or the rice balls.

“What does it mean when a woman has really weird cravings?”

Seungkwan sighs heavily, leaning one hand on the counter while he rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He looks up at Wonwoo with a grimace, “Of all people, you thought I would know the answer to that?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “You usually have the answer to everything.”

“Thank you?”

Mingyu rounds the corner with two large bags in hand because you had in fact texted him asking for extras. “Are you guys having some sort of weird buffet?”

Wonwoo raises his brows, as if to say, ‘the hell if I know’.

“This is what she specifically requested,” he grimaces at the overwhelming contradiction of aromas wafting from the bags, “Ever since she came back home she’s been really fatigued, she craves strange things, she’s been wearing her glasses more often because her vision is a little fuzzy - which cheol said is fine…I guess, and not that I’m complaining, but she’s like super horn-”

Mingyu holds up a hand and stops him. “Shut up, please, she’s practically our sister.”

“We do not need the details,” Seungkwan assures him with a look of discomfort.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s ignore Mingyu asking her out when they first met,” he reminds them both and shuts them up before either can argue, “Anyway, you don’t think she could be pregnant, right?”

There is silence and then both Wonwoo and Seungkwan’s head’s swivel around to face the chef who’s anxiously humming to himself.

Mingyu stutters and then holds his hands up, laughing nervously, “Why are you both looking at me?” he notes the quirk in Wonwoo’s brow and sighs, “I can neither confirm nor deny any accusations on behalf of my dearest friend,” Seungkwan elbows him, “My dearest female friend, whom trusts me with any and all confidential information she shares with me because I am a trustworthy friend who also,” he raises his voice pointedly, “Keeps your secrets,” he points a finger at Wonwoo,” So, if and when she tells me something as big as that, I still would not tell you. Because I’m awesome.”

Seungkwan scoffs, “You’re dumb but you are a good friend,” he rolls his eyes then looks at Wonwoo, ignoring Mingyu’s incredulous stare, “Listen, women go through weird hormonal phases all the time. It could be as simple as that,” He shrugs, as if the answer is clear. “Just relax and learn to trust your girl because she’s making the effort to trust you.”

Wonwoo looks confused and Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. “You were being too suspicious and she asked what you were planning,” he explains and Wonwoo pales slightly, “I assured her that nothing dangerous or illegal was going on and she agreed to just trust you to do your thing. You might have even gotten lucky because now I think she’s under the assumption that the house shopping was the secret. So, you’re not that great at subtly and distraction. Do better.”

“Do better,” Wonwoo mimics under his breath, “She’ll be plenty busy and distracted soon because I bought the damn house. How’s that for ‘do better’, asshole?”

Seungkwan scoffs in disbelief, “Didn’t you just start looking today?”

“Yeah, it just worked out really well,” Wonwoo grins pocketing the phone he’d slipped out only a moment earlier, “Yunho found the perfect house and she fell in love with it. He just texted me that our offer was approved and we’ll be able to move in before the party so the venue is officially changed.”

Mingyu and Seungkwan come around the counter, taking turns hugging him, “Congrats man! This is great news!”

“That’s amazing! Daisy is going to be over the moon!”

Wonwoo grabs the bags and tucks them under his arm, “I’m gonna go tell her right now and I’m sure you’ll hear about it,” he smiles, turning on his heel before he thinks of something. “Oh, uh…keep the baby talk thing between us, ok?”

They both nod and watch Wonwoo walk out and then Seungkwan is turning on Mingyu with a mischievous grin, “Tell me what you know right now.”

Running through his own restaurant while being chased by his manager was probably Mingyu’s least proud professional moment.

Waking up this morning almost feels like coming out of a time machine because you aren’t exactly sure how you arrived at this moment so quickly.

The past few days seem like a blur of motion with so much happening all at once. You bought a home and were moving, again. The end of the school year was rapidly approaching and you were busier than ever in class. You learned Sam and JJ were coming to visit the same time you were moving which was just as joyous as it was overwhelming.

And today, more potentially life altering news. You wished for a real-life pause button just for a moment to breathe.

Wonwoo’s face is pressed against your chest, his arm tossed over your waist in a bid to keep you impossibly close to his body and you hate to wake him but he has to get to work and so do you. You scratch his scalp gently and he hums, still hardly lucid. “Honey, you’re supposed to be at the office in an hour.”

He audibly whines and you smile, dipping your chin to kiss his forehead.

He kisses your chest, just over your heart and shifts to lay his head on your shoulder, slowly blinking his eyes open. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, you know that?”

“You only have one eye open and your glasses are way over there,” you snicker, stroking your hand up and down his warm skin, “Come on, let’s get moving before we’re both late.”

His pouted lips part when you kiss them, rolling over his body to get out of bed and he takes a moment to lie there, eyes roving over your naked body.

He can’t help the way his gaze lingers on your belly, looking for even the subtlest of changes but he supposes he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for. Maybe for small bump, or a kick, or a glowing neon sign that says ‘hey! there’s a baby in here!’ and he realizes that it’s something he wants to see.

He’s not just curious, he’s hopeful.

He really doesn’t mean to let the thought make it out into the open air between you. “About the whole ‘buying a house to raise a family in’ thing...”

You freeze mid-stretch and turn to him curiously, breathing still even though your nerve-endings are on fire. “Uh, yeah…what about it?”

Wonwoo sits up, blanket pooled around his waist, “Well, I was just curious, ah,” he scratches the top of his head, hair a mess, “When you thought we should, you know…go for it.”

Your eyes widen, mouth dry. You already bought the house.

“Have kids?”

“I mean…I figure we’d start with one but yeah, kids.”

“Um,” you dig through your drawers, pulling on a bra and underwear while you stall. “I mean, we kind of have our hands really full at the moment. Don’t we? Maybe it would be better to wait a while?”

Wonwoo blinks, considerably quieter than before.

Perhaps you’re not pregnant and he’s been reading into things too much. A slight stab of disappointment blossoms in his chest but he squashes it, standing and making his way over to you with a smile, arms wrapping around your body.

“You’re right and we don’t have to rush anything,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, “I’m yours. For as long as you’ll have me and if there comes a point where you’re ready, know that I’m all in, baby.”

You pout your bottom lip unconsciously and he kisses it. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he grins, “Now we really do have to get ready or Jeonghan will have my ass.”

Even after Wonwoo’s pointed conversation this morning, you don’t tell him you’ve taken the afternoon off or ask him to come with you to your appointment. You truly believe he’d be there in a heartbeat had you asked but you stick with your plan and remain grateful that your emotional support human didn’t cave and tell on you. He really can keep a secret when threatened.

Mingyu picks you up from the school and drives you to your appointment, awkwardly humming along to the radio to calm your nerves but you’ve mostly tuned him out, focusing instead out the window. Even after weeks of contemplation you haven’t the damnest clue what you’re hoping for as the outcome.

“Daisy,” Mingyu’s voice drags you out of your trance and you look up to find him holding the car door open for you, “Are you sure you don’t want to call him?”

You hastily grab your bag and get out, walking ahead of Mingyu but he quickly catches up with those long legs of his. “I just need an answer and then I’ll know what to do. If it’s a false alarm then we all just move on and go about our day. No big deal.”

He quirks his brow, pulling open the front door, “And if it’s not a false alarm?”

Your body quivers and you latch onto the straps of your purse just to close your first tight around something for stability, “Let’s just get through the appointment first, ok?”

Mingyu holds back on commenting further and dutifully follows you to the front desk where you check in and again toward the furthest corner of the waiting room where you both find a seat and wait anxiously for your name to be called.

After nearly fifteen minutes of your leg bouncing up and down and your posture straightening and slouching repeatedly, Mingyu catches your shaking hand in his own and looks at you in genuine concern. “I’ve never seen you this nervous before, are you sure you’re okay?”

Your chest constricts, throat squeezing painfully and Mingyu looks around in panic as your breathing becomes more staggered, more audible. He’s about to stand and shout for someone and then a nurse is calling your name.

Mingyu picks his head up, fear is clearly visible in his face and she comes right over, kneeling down to assess you. “Hi, sweetheart, everything is going to be okay. Alright, let’s go back and have a doctor look at you, okay?” She turns to Mingyu seriously, “Are you her partner?”

Mingyu stammers with building adrenaline, “Ah, no she’s my…s-sister.”

“Ok, i’m going to get your sister up and into an exam room for some privacy and have her quickly evaluated,” she says, helping you to your feet and walking you toward the door, away from pitying eyes in the lobby, Mingyu follows behind you and the nurse turns at the last moment, “Wait right here for me, okay? I’ll have someone bring you back in just a moment.”

Mingyu stands there in shock, the door closing in his face as the nurse hurries to care for you and he looks around, met with several worried and curious faces, and he turns on his heel walking out of the building and pulling out his phone. He dials Wonwoo twice, nearly throwing his phone against the pavement when he doesn’t answer and then he calls someone he knows always has his phone in hand. Jeonghan.

Today, there are endless meetings and Wonwoo is keeping up but his thoughts end up occasionally flitting back to you. He hadn’t imagined he’d be so distracted by a simple conversation but he keeps replaying it in his mind, wondering if he’d misinterpreted anything. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he ignores it, but then it buzzes again and he quietly slips it from his pocket.

Mingyu?

He can’t imagine what he’d be calling for in the middle of the day but figures he’ll either leave a message or shoot him a text he can check later but then another audible buzz interrupts the speaker and he realizes it’s not his phone but Jeonghan’s now. He looks at his screen curiously and pushes his chair back, worry etched on his face.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he bows, “I need to take this call.”

Wonwoo watches him rush from the room and he becomes increasingly anxious the longer he’s gone. After a few minutes, he re-enters the room hastily, lips tight, eyes on Wonwoo’s. He walks up the the person speaking and bows to the room, “I’m terribly sorry for the interruption but we’ll need to postpone the rest of the meeting and any other meetings today for an emergency. You’re all dismissed.”

A few of the attendees groan though most scatter, happy to be free from the wheel of monotony that is endless hours in the boardroom but Wonwoo’s eyes are trained on Jeonghan who is briskly walking over and grabbing him by the arm and dragging him from the room. “What’s going on?”

“That was Mingyu, he’s with Daisy and something is wrong. I’ve already called Hansol and he’s downstairs, you need to go now,” he says, pushing him into and elevator, “I’ll stay here and handle things. Go down and meet Hansol. Do not try to drive yourself.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo punches the button for the ground floor. He takes out his phone and dials Mingyu but he doesn’t answer. He dials him again and gets the same result.

Hansol is right where Jeonghan said he’d be and he jumps into the vehicle, barely closing the door before the car veers off into traffic. Wonwoo continues to dial both you and Mingyu with no response and he sends his fist flying into the the headrest of the passenger seat before slumping back, nearing tears.

“Where are we going, sol? Where are they?”

“I only have the address but I think Mingyu said it was a doctor’s office,” he replies, making a sharp right hand turn. “We’ll be there soon.”

Wonwoo shuts his eyes and clutches his phone in his hand, willing it to ring. For someone to call him and let him know you’re all right as all the worst possible scenarios play out in his mind.

Another ten minutes pass and then the tires of Hansol’s SUV are screeching to a halt in front of a tall building and Wonwoo throws the car door open, sprinting inside. Everyone stares at him for bursting in so dramatically and one of the nurses in the lobby stops him before he can get to the front desk. “You must be Mr. Jeon,” she says calmly, the complete opposite of his state of panic and disarray, “Come with me, everything is alright now.”

His suit is wrinkled, tie askew, hair mussed in several places.

He looks like a train wreck but it couldn’t hold a candle to how poorly put together he was on the inside. Following the nurse through the halls, she finally pushes open a door and you’re sitting on an elevated bed, Mingyu at your side, and he rushes over, both hands cradling your face, “What happened? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You pull his hands down, kissing each one in turn, “I’m sorry I scared you,” you voice is tired, weak, and Wonwoo’s heart thuds loudly in his chest, “I had a panic attack in the lobby and gave everyone a bit of a scare but I’m okay now.”

His brows furrow, “T-that’s never happened to you before, has it?”

The nurse steps in when you shake your head to offer a little clarity, “This can sometimes happen when woman experience big hormonal shifts especially after going through a traumatic event such as what she’s suffered recently.”

Wonwoo blinks rapidly, as if suddenly remembering where he is and he straightens himself out, eyes flickering between you and Mingyu. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a follow up appointment today?” he asks, “I could have come with you.”

Mingyu stands, averting his eyes and you squeeze Wonwoo’s hand. “It’s not a follow-up exactly.”

He looks very confused and Mingyu pats him on the shoulder, worn out from the whole ordeal. “I am going to let you take over while I go update the guys.”

The nurse politely clears her throat to get your attention and smiles at the two of you. “Your test results should be ready so I’ll grab the doctor and we’ll be right in with you, okay?”

You both nod politely though Wonwoo still hasn’t a clue what’s going on and she sees herself out, closing the door behind her with a soft click. “What’s going on, babe? Is there something wrong? I can call Cheol and-”

“Cheol,” you swallow unevenly, “Cheol referred me here. When I was in the hospital, my lab results had shown some elevations that indicate that I could-”

There is a knock on the door and you heart stops.

Moment of truth.

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brightestplanets · 2 years

Text

thinking maybe you'll come back to the place that we'd meet [ dreamling, 1923 words, rated T for language, cross posted from my ao3 ]

hob waits, pines and waits some more.

-----

Hob was no stranger to waiting. He had waited one hundred and thirty-two years to see his stranger again. The waiting wasn’t the hard part. He had kept busy, changing his identity to his own son sometime in the nineteen nineties. He found the new inn, invested some money, moved into a flat nearby, and buckled down to wait.

The New inn was a place for Hob to wait, he was convinced the universe itself was begging him to wait. To keep busy, he taught every day at a university nearby during the week. He had been many things in his life, in-between his meetings with the man he had been told was called Dream, when he had shown up late to their meeting. All of Hob’s aches had been soothed by the soft tones of his voice as they updated each other on everything and anything that day. Since then, they had promised to meet at least once a month. Hob never had any idea when, he waited all the same, though.

The table he sat at in the back of the New Inn was never taken, no one wanted to take the table of the man who could not be moved. Hob sat there, every evening for hours after his classes at the local university. He graded papers, watched people bustle around, and chatted idly with the staff. He always kept a single chair next to him, his table never filled by anyone but him until Dream would eventually arrive. He was well aware of how pitiful he looked, drinking alone where he sat. It was still early evening, so the crowd that would send him looks and drinks had yet to arrive.

Most knew that Hob would be joined eventually, by a man who would cause his face to light up. Hob knew this too, in his bones, that he would not wait forever again. Dream had promised to come to visit again soon, the last time he had been there. Hob believed him, because somewhere along the way, while Dream had been gone, he realized his love for him went far beyond friendship.

However, the last time he had been to visit was only about a week ago. Hob was jarred out of his thoughts and his work by the sound of light footsteps of heavy combat boots. He looked up, meeting Dream’s gaze and the words that escaped him were, “You’re early,” He said.

“Hello, Hob Gadling,” Dream said, taking the seat across from him and leaning back casually in the chair, “I was in the area. Is it a problem that I am here? I thought this was what friends did, visit each other.”

Hob was taken aback, still. Why was Dream here? He couldn’t have just been in the area, the fuckin’ anthropomorphic personification of dreams was in the area, his ass. He shook his head, “It’s not a problem, you just normally take longer to come back and visit,” He explained, fidgeting with the pen in his hand.

“As I said, I was in the area,” Dream asserted, his voice suddenly softening as he tilted his head, “Do you wait here every night?”

Hob froze. Oh. He was there every night. He suddenly felt the weight of those words. He knew whatever he said could put the delicate friendship in jeopardy as he tried to process the question. If he said yes, he would give himself away. Instead, he stood.

“I have to go-” he said quickly, trying to not sound as spooked as he was, “I have an early class and my day is packed tomorrow, all on top of these papers I have to grade.” He shoved his things in his bag quickly as he wouldn’t meet Dream’s, now rather concerned gaze.

“Hob, if I said something to offend you, I sincerely apologize,” Dream said, standing as well as if he was approaching a spooked animal.

Hob, much like Dream had about 232 years ago, turned away and went for the door, “I just have a lot to get done, no worries, my dear friend,” he said. With that, he was headed for the door. Out of fear of being questioned further, he looked over his shoulder to see Dream looking confused and a bit hurt if his eyes were not betraying him. Hob kept walking.

Hob did not return to the new inn for the rest of the week. He did not want to be caught again, in his hopeless pining. He was too tired for that. Instead, after he was done with classes for the day, he headed to his flat. It was a small apartment in a building down the street from the new inn. Parking his car and shoving the keys in his pocket, he narrowed his eyes at the sight of a figure in black on the steps of the buidling.

He got out of the car, surprised at the sight of Dream standing as soon as he started his approach, “What are you doing here?” Hob asked.

Dream looked, almost, sheepish as he stood there, “I figured I would wait for you, for a change,” He said, “You have not returned to our usual spot.” It wasn’t fair, he was so pretty.

“And you did?” Hob asked, astonished at the revelation that Dream had looked for him. It made his face hot, almost. “How did you even find my fucking flat?”

“I know all, Hob Gadling,” he said with a shrug. Hob stared at him for a moment and after a beat, Dream seemed to turn his body towards the building, “It seems we should talk, inside.”

Hob gave him a look, “I didn’t invite you inside.”

Dream sighed, giving into Hob’s games way too easily, “May I come inside?” he asked after a moment of debate.

At this, Hob nodded. He gestured for Dream to follow, entering the building, not glancing behind him as he started to ascend the stairs of the building. He stopped at a door on the third floor, fishing his keys out of his pocket to open the door, muttering, “Take off your shoes,” as he led the way through the door. He kicked off his own shoes, noticing Dream shed his shoes and his beloved Jacket. He looked painfully normal like this. Hob hated how much he liked the look of him in his flat.

“You wanted to talk,” Hob said after a moment, leading the way into the kitchen where he turned his back. He knew where this was going. Dream would have made the correct inference, that yes, he had waited almost every night to see him. That he had developed feelings for him. He busied himself with the kettle and water and mugs. He kept his back turned.

Dream gave a soft sigh. Hob heard him step closer to him, to his back. “I did not mean to scare you away, the other night,” He rumbled, “I was only curious as no one had ever shown care for me like that before.”

Hob dropped a tea bag in his own mug, then a second. He knew Dream would likely not drink it but he hated the idea of not sharing. He wasn’t even sure what to say, “I didn’t want to miss you, somehow, if you showed up.” he explained.

“Why is that meeting so important?” Dream pressed. Hob could imagine he was looking at him with those sad galaxy eyes and squinting. He ached to smooth any worried creases in his eyes away with a gentle hand.

Yet, he kept his back turned. “You’re my friend,” Hob said. His voice shook and his chest ached with the lie. He knew the truth would be too hard. Maybe the truth would even make Dream run again like he had years ago and like Hob had done a few days prior.

Dream’s voice suddenly cracked, “Hob, please turn around,” he said. Hob didn’t want to. He knew his expression would betray him, he would give it all away. Maybe Dream already knew. He must have already known. He was endless.

Despite the protests in his mind, Hob turned to look at Dream. He looked beautiful in the light of the kitchen, with pale skin and dark hair, and galaxy eyes sparkling in the harsh artificial light. Hob loved him immensely. “I don’t want to ruin anything,” He said before he could stop himself, emotion bubbling up his chest.

“Oh, Hob,” Dream said gently, reaching out and suddenly Hob was against the counter entirely and Dream’s hands were on his shoulders as if to ground him, “You needn’t be afraid.”

Hob shook at the contact, his body wanting to run, to hide, scared of what Dream could say to him next, fearful of the rejection that could be coming. He assumed that Dream would be grounding him to reject him. He closed his eyes and only opened them at the feeling of a hand brushing hair behind his ear.

“Look at me,” Dream said, gently, “It’s okay, I won’t run.”

Hob opened his eyes and Dream was smiling gently at him. Suddenly, Hob couldn’t control himself. He was reaching for Dream’s face with one hand, and the other finding his slim waist to drag him into a kiss. Hob Gadling kissed like he did everything else in life, with a smile and a passion for life that was unrivaled by anyone. He felt Dream freeze slightly and automatically let go, carefully shoving him back.

“Please don’t do this to me,” Hob said, voice raising and breaking as he felt hot tears suddenly form in his eyes, “Don’t give me hope and show up to wait for me and let me kiss you and let myself think for a fucking second that I might get to love you!”

“Hob-”

“I’ve been waiting for you and I’m exhausted and I can’t do it anymore.”

“Hob!”

Hob was out of breath from his outburst as he looked finally again at Dream, “What?” he asked, incredulous, that he could interrupt him when he was so upset.

“I’m terrified of how much I love you,” Dream said, now that he was allowed to speak, “You needn’t have waited for so long, you needn’t have ached like that…You could have lived your life free of me altogether, it would be better for you.” He stepped closer again, to Hob, and Hob let him. Dream touched his face, gently and carefully.

“I love you too,” Hob said, his voice barely more than a whisper before Dream was leaning in to kiss him harder than before. It was messy. Hob couldn’t stop himself from fisting a hand in Dream’s shirt as he was pushed against the counter once again, Dream’s hand resting on the counter behind him to cage him in.

Then, finally, Dream broke the kiss to allow Hob to breathe, “No more running? From either of us,” He muttered softly.

“I don’t want to have to keep waiting,” Hob replied, their lips almost brushing as their noses almost bumped.

“I assure you, you can no longer get rid of me,” Dream kissed him again, now. Then, to Hob’s disappointment, the kettle on his stove had finally started to whistle.

A curse escaped him as he wrangled himself from Dream’s embrace to move the kettle and turn off the stove. He turned back to see Dream watching him, eyes firmly on him. Needless to say, the tea was long forgotten when Dream kissed him again.

#dream of the endless #dreamling #hob gadling #the sandman #hob × dream #fanfic #sandman fanfic #dreamling fanfic #idk what this is #unbetad #cross posted on ao3

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out-of-jams · 3 years

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War & Peace || jhs

↠ War & Peace ↞ “Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that was what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok had growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

But you know what they say; all’s fair in love and war.”

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings/Genre: Alpha!Hoseok. Omega!Reader. Enemies to lovers. ABO dynamics. Explicit language. Fluff.Slight angst. Cliché spin-the-bottle scene. Pining. They’re both annoying idiots. Competition au(?). Bad puns. Cliche Jackson throwing a party (a party ain’t a party if it ain’t a Jackson Wang party).

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

The room was abuzz.

You paused where you stood at the entrance to the Four Seasons’ Hotel ballroom. Fingers tightening around the small, black clutch bag in your hand, you let your eyes rove over expensive dresses and suits and quaffed hair and curls. At least the spaghetti strap, two piece off-white dress your mother had bought (and forced you to wear) fit the occasion quite well, so your inherent fear of accidentally standing out wouldn’t come to fruition.

Whoever had decorated the ballroom had pulled out all the stops. There were miniature chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, lights turned to a dim setting. Small-yet-cosy circular tables were spread out evenly, chairs for two either occupied or emptied. A man in a catering ensemble approached you, extending his tray of bubbly champagne. Normally you wouldn’t put alcohol of any kind into your body, but you’d make an exception just that once. You took one with a smile of thanks and swallowed a mouthful in an attempt to chase away your nerves.

When your parents had first approached you about attending the matchmaking event, you’d been wary. The events themselves weren’t rare; young adults who had yet to find a mate would go to them. They had a ninety-nine percent success rate when it came to matching you. However, you found the whole thing to be quite archaic.

It wasn’t that you were against love or finding a mate or anything like that, you just didn’t think that attaching yourself to another person for life should be so significant. You’d been too busy during college getting your degree to date anyone seriously. And you’d never felt the desire to, hadn’t needed to.

As an Omega, you were the lowest tier in the societal hierarchy. And as an unmated Omega, you were a rare commodity. It was expected for an Omega to be mated before they even reached their twenties. Something about needing to be taken care of or some other bullshit that you disagreed with. You could take perfectly good care of yourself.

But when you’d come home mateless after graduation to visit your parents before trying to find a job with your degree, they’d been concerned. Your mother, a fellow Omega, had sat you down and forced you to fill out the overly long, three hundred questionnaire for the matchmaking service. Of course, you’d rolled your eyes, but ended up relenting. You’d decided that you’d just go to the damn event, let the mysterious matchmakers do their thing, give some excuse to leave sometime in the middle of the thing, and then go home and tell your parents that you’d tried.

You should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

Glancing down at the dark red card the size of your palm that the woman manning the check-in desk had given you, you memorized the two numbers printed on it. As if you hadn’t looked at it a few dozen times already. Just in case. You didn’t want to be there, but you weren’t about to somehow accidentally embarrass yourself either.

The flared, lace skirt of your dress brushed against your legs while you made your way through the room, eyes scanning the number placards on the table in search of your own. Some of them already had couples sitting at them, engaged in conversation and hiding shy smiles behind dainty hands. Your heels click-clacked against the shiny marble flooring as you weaved between others who were still finding their seats.

Eight, nine, ten, you mentally counted in your head, passing by the white-clothed tables. Eleven.

Your feet halted and you glanced down at your card one last time before looking up. Table twelve was already occupied, leaving a single seat left.

“Wow,” you murmured through red painted lips. He looked up at the sound of your voice, soulfully deep brown irises alighting on your form. Dark hair parted perfectly to reveal the smooth, tan skin of his forehead curled above a single one of those eyes. Heart-shaped lips that appeared soft to the touch parted in surprise. “I know you almost failed fifth grade math, but I didn’t think you were still this bad at counting.”

"I—what are you doing here?” Jung Hoseok looked so utterly bewildered that it would’ve been endearing if it had been anyone but him. He subconsciously smoothed a ringed hand down the front of his midnight black satin tux and stared at you like he’d never seen you before.

“What are you doing here?” You avoided answering his question with a raised eyebrow.

“What does it look like I’m doing here?”

“It looks like you’re sitting at my table,” you gestured at the aforementioned seat with your flute of champagne.

“No, I’m sitting at my table.” Hoseok tilted his head, sharp jawline standing out and tiny dimples revealing themselves as he pursed his mouth. “It’s not my fault that you can’t read.”

“Excuse me?” A sound of indignation sprang from the back of your throat and you dropped your clutch on the table in order to flip around the tiny card in your hand. The number twelve was embedded on it in swirling, looping gold font. “Now move.”

He did not, in fact, move. He just sat there like an impressive impersonation of a statue. The only part of him that moved was when those espresso hued eyes of his widened in either surprise or shock, you didn’t know. Nor did you care. Or at least you hadn’t until he slowly lifted a hand to show you his own card with the number twelve printed on it.

And then you too, did the best performance you could muster at being frozen solid. As if the universe was attempting to prove that the two of you had, in fact, been matched together, your voices harmonized as you spoke at the same exact time:

“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.”

(Seventeen years ago)

Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled, and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that’s what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

The kindergarten classroom had been packed with screaming, rambunctious toddlers. It was an important time in every child’s life — not because that was the age where friendships first began; it was when nature started to reveal itself. When the part of the brain in charge of scent glands that separated the Alphas from the Betas from the Omegas developed.

You’d been relegated to one of the tables in the corner with all the rest of the soft, floral smelling, shy Omegas. Until the green colored crayon you’d been using to smear across your paper in an attempt at drawing the vast forest outside ran out. The closest resupply of your writing instrument had been lying all the way across the room on one of the empty tables.

Of course, because fate was nothing but a bitch, your quick hands snatched the crayon box up point-two seconds before a pouting Jung Hoseok could. He’d looked at you with those gentle, chocolate brown eyes of his, and then the first words he’d ever spoken to you passed his heart shaped lips.

“Hey, give it!”

And yours to him. “No way! I got them first, loser!”

The rounded apples of his cheeks puffed up with a scowl, jaw clenched. If he’d been taller than you, maybe he would’ve been intimidating. But to you, he’d just looked like a fluffed up chicken.

“Well, you’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha, so you gotta do what I say,” his tongue fumbled over the larger words and he crossed his arms over his chest with a look that told you he thought he’d just won the battle.

“Make me,” scoffing, you leveled him with a glare and waved the box of crayons under his perfectly straight nose.

“Fine.” His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Give them.” His dark irises flashed gold as he laced his words with the power of an Alpha Command.

If he were older and had more of a grip over his powers, perhaps you would’ve felt compelled. But the only thing that overcame you was annoyance. Your fingers tightened around the box; your arm cocked back. “Fine.”

And it went careening straight into his forehead with a crack! that had all heads in the room turning to look back. Sticking your nose in the air, you slipped your stolen green crayon into your dress pocket and skipped back to your table.

That was when your rivalry first started.

And the war began.

Eleven years later and the whole town knew of your blatant dislike for one another. It was difficult not to when the moment the two of you entered the same room, you were immediately at each other’s throats. Some of the older, more set-in-their-ways Alphas frowned upon your rivalry with Jung Hoseok. Though they were more annoyed at the fact that he never used his Alpha Compulsion to “put his mouthy Omega in her place” than anything else.

His. Hearing them call you his never failed to absolutely infuriate you. Like you were nothing other than a piece of property. Like you belonged to the one person in the world who you despised the most. Like you could belong to anyone at all.

Omegas were supposed to cow to Betas, and above all, Alphas. The hierarchy had been around since the beginning of time. Since Alphrina, the goddess of all mankind, had created the first Alpha in her image. They were the strongest of the Three, Betas coming in second and Omegas last.

If Hoseok had been like any other Alpha, then he probably would’ve long since made you submit to him. But he never had. Lisa, your childhood best friend and the town’s most popular female Alpha, had theorized that maybe he just didn’t know how to use his Alpha powers. But you knew better. His pride would never recover if he’d been forced to Compel you into listening to him.

Not even after you’d paid Jeon Jungkook a hefty sum to switch Hoseok’s shampoo bottle during the football team’s after practice shower with a similar one you’d filled with green hair dye back in high school. He’d stormed up to your locker the next day, cheeks aflame with rage and jaw clenched while he spat out (true) accusations.

But he’d had no proof that you’d been the one to make him look like a very festive Christmas tree, what with the already bright red strands of his hair stained with streaks of green. You’d thoroughly made sure that Jungkook would do it while the team was actually showering, so the soap and hot water would wash away any lingering scent of the culprit.

Hoseok had gotten you back, of course, by sticking a huge glob of chewing gum in your hair after you’d fallen asleep on your desk during history class. You’d cried for two days straight after your mom had to chop off your long locks into a shoulder length bob. And the cycle repeated itself with you taking revenge by stealing the janitor’s keys after school, and hiding a dead fish in Hoseok’s locker to decompose over the two week long Christmas break.

At least your rivalry had stopped anyone else from trying to mess with you due to your Omega status. Either they’d been too afraid of stepping on Hoseok’s toes, or had just been way too entertained by your antics, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t complaining, not when you saw how the other Omega’s in your school had been treated.

It hadn’t been good.

At all.

Suffice to say, maybe you would be somewhat grateful for Hoseok if you didn’t despise his existence so much.

You blamed your last weekend of your high school career for implanting the seed into your mind. For flip-turning your opinion of Jung Hoseok right upside down. Not that you’d exactly noticed it at first; it’d just kickstarted the slow sliver of doubt that began to fester.

Partying wasn’t usually your thing. You didn’t have anything against it, nor the people that chose to do so, you just refused to partake in anything that could alter your state of mind. Because being an Omega not in full control of yourself was a dangerous thing to be. But it was the end of mandated schooling and a very important milestone that deserved celebrating.

Which was the exact argument that Lisa had used in order to convince you to go with her and Jennie (a Beta and the most recent addition to your friend group) to the after graduation party. Jackson Wang’s house was unnecessarily massive, most likely due to both of his Alpha parents being on the city council. He’d somehow been able to convince them to take a weekend vacation and leave the estate in his (ir)responsible hands.

By the time you pulled up with both of your friends, the party was in full swing. Cars littered the curved driveway all the way down to the street below. (And seeing as how the Wang Estate was fifty acres, that was a long way down.) Music poured out from the opened front doors, heavy bass rattling the windows of Lisa’s Nissan.

You pressed your nose against the passenger side glass with a grimace. Fiddling with the overly tight dress that Jennie had forced you into, you sighed deeply.

“Oh, come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” Jennie leaned forward from the backseat to cheer encouragingly.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you argued and finally turned away from the steadily approaching mansion.

“You didn’t have to. You have that I-Don’t-Want-To-Be-Here face,” Lisa spoke up from the driver’s seat, eyes intently focused on finding a parking spot.

You snorted. “That’s because I don’t. Being surrounded by loud, drunk Alphas and Betas isn’t the most appealing way to spend my Friday night, thank you very much.”

“We already told you that we’re going to watch out for you tonight.” Lisa made a noise in the back of her throat when she finally found somewhere to leave her vehicle.

“Exactly. Remember what happened last time some asshole Beta harassed you?”

“You mean the time Lisa almost got arrested when she fought that guy in the McDonald’s line?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“I’m still mad I never got my McDouble,” Lisa sighed forlornly and cut the engine to her car.

“All you think about is food,” Jennie laughed, quickly scrambling out of the car before Lisa could turn around and swat at her leg.

“Well, she’s not wrong.” The only thing that saved you from your best friend’s wrath was the fact that you were faster than she was.

Inside the house was just as you’d expected: crowded, loud, so many smells and sounds that had your heightened senses almost crying from overstimulation. You followed Jennie and Lisa to the kitchen for them to make themselves drinks (and to snatch up a can of soda for yourself).

Somehow, somehow, your night ended up with Lisa shoving her tongue down some poor Beta’s throat, and you stuck sitting in a circle in the basement of Jackson Wang’s overly large house. Playing a game of spin-the-bottle with a group of people that you barely knew. Well, most of them anyway.

And you hadn’t intended to play at all, hadn’t had any interest in it, but one look at your mortal enemy’s shit-eating grin sitting across from you had made you stop yourself right before you bowed out. Because you knew for a damn fact that if you’d tried, he would’ve ended up saying something to try and embarrass you.

So instead, you reached out and watched intently as the beer bottle spun around and around and around and around. The green hue of the glass gleamed beneath the dim, blue lights in the basement tauntingly. Everything slowed down, your heartbeat thundered in your eardrums, the music faded into the background. You thought it’d never stop.

Until it did.

A hush fell around the group as you sluggishly trailed your eyes upwards and locked them onto your apparent make-out partner. Fate was a bitch and your life was nothing but a cosmic joke. Because of course, of course, clichés wouldn’t be clichés if they weren’t clichés.

And god you hated clichés.

“Ew no,” slipped out of your mouth unhindered before you could even think to form the syllables.

Directly across the circle, Hoseok raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. (You hated he looked so good even when his hair was such an obnoxious and unflattering shade of red.) That annoying, self-assured smirk tugged at the corner of his coral hued, heart-shaped mouth. “Afraid?”

Everyone around the circle had fallen silent, choosing to sit back and watch the drama unfold instead of talking over it. Like you were some kind of live entertainment, their heads bouncing back and forth between the two of you. So when you scoffed, it was loud enough that every ear could hear it.

“I’m not afraid, I just don’t want you touching me because you’ve slept with so many people. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Careful, you sound a little jealous there, L/n.” A second eyebrow jumped up to join the first and Hoseok leaned his weight forward. That insufferable smirk grew.

“Jealous?” Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “As if I’d ever be jealous of anything involving you, Jung.”

“It’s okay to admit it,” he shrugged casually. “If you ask me, I think it’s kind of flattering. Sad and a little pathetic, but flattering.”

“What would I possibly be jealous of? Didn’t you have an STD last month?” You shot back with an unamused snort.

He did that thing again where the apples of his cheeks puffed up and his mouth pursed. While that expression had made him appear very non-intimidating in the past, with puberty had come the sharpening of his jawline and the development of high cheekbones. Maybe if it were any other Alpha looking at you like that, your inner Omega would’ve been cowering. But witnessing someone pee their pants and then cry about it in the first grade tended to make it impossible to see them as menacing.

“That was just a rumor!” Hoseok glared, face beginning to pink beneath the stares of everyone in the room.

“That’s not what Sulgi said,” you hummed. “Yikes.”

“You—”

“As entertaining as this foreplay is to watch,” Jackson’s deep voice piped up, leaning back on his hands from where he sat between two girls you didn’t recognize. “I’d like to take my turn sometime tonight. So either kiss or go fight out in the parking lot, I don’t care.”

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, more than likely contemplating arguing with the party host (you knew he didn’t like being ordered around, especially by another Alpha), before a spark of mischievous amusement lit up his mocha colored irises and he turned back to you, head tilted. “I would love to move on, but L/n over here is too afraid to.”

Your lip curled. “I already told you that I—”

“Nervous then? I bet that you haven’t even been kissed before, have you?”

Even though he was correct, you refused to allow him to know it. So you’d never kissed someone before, who cared? People graduated high school all the time without locking lips with someone else. And it wasn’t like you’d never had the chance to—you’d had plenty of dating offers—you’d just never found any of them worthy enough to kiss. That was it.

Not that Jung Hoseok needed to know that.

So you lied.

“Of course I have.”

“Oh really.” It wasn’t a question. “Who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you sniffed.

Hoseok looked like a wolf right before it pounced on its prey: smug. “Then what’s the problem then? Afraid you’d like it?”

“Wow, I don’t know how you fit through the door with your ego as inflated as it is. Like I’d ever enjoy kissing you. It took Sulgi months to shut up about how bad you are at it.”

His haughty expression dropped from his face and his stare darkened at the blatant insult. You realized your mistake the very moment that the challenge sparked within his eyes. He stood slowly, gaze locked on your own as he stepped over the bottle in the middle of the floor. When he reached you, his hand shot down and grasped onto your upper arm, lifting you from your cross-legged seat and onto the soles of your shoes.

“Wha—” He cut off your indignant protest with his mouth before it could fully form.

The last thing you ever would have expected was for Jung Hoseok to kiss you, let alone softly. For his mouth to press against yours with just enough pressure to be labeled as delicate—like the tickling of butterfly wings. He trapped your bottom lip between both of his, slender fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck. You shouldn’t have let him touch the most sensitive part of your body. Shouldn’t have instinctively liked it.

Shouldn’t have let your eyes flutter closed and kissed him back. But you were too wrapped up in his strong scent, the warmth of his skin, the gentle exhaling of air as he breathed, the lingering taste of the alcohol from his emptied cup. One kiss turned into two, into three, into four. Until your hands came up to grasp the material of his shirt between your fingers.

Jung Hoseok kissed you like you’d always wanted to be kissed. Slowly and softly and warmly. When his tongue slipped between your lips and touched yours, it wasn’t with the roughness of someone trying to take control. It was a dance; one where he took the lead subtly and you willingly let him do it.

His hand on your arm found your waist and pulled you close, pressed your fronts together until there was no longer any space separating you. A sigh escaped when his tongue brushed against yours more firmly, more determined to have you melting and pliant beneath his touch. Until you had to swallow a whimper when he finally pulled away.

He didn’t go far, just enough to look at you down the slope of his straight nose, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy and mouth kiss-swollen. You hated him then, in that moment, more than you ever had before. Hated him for stealing your first kiss. Hated him for making you want to lean forward and pull him back until you could no longer breathe. Hated him for dropping his hands from your heated skin with a wink and that knowing smirk of his.

Hated him.

The rest of the game had been a blur after that. You’d sat back down between Jennie (ignoring her imploring expression) and a Beta whom you couldn’t even process the face of. You didn’t spin again, had been content to just sit next to your friend and sip at your almost empty can of soda.

And you hated, hated, hated yourself for noticing that Hoseok never took another turn either.

(Present Time)

You’d been content with the fact that you’d never have to see your rival again after that night. With high school finally over, you would be going off to college on the other side of the country and would finally be free. To say that you’d been ecstatic would’ve been an understatement. There would be no more biting comments aimed at you in the hallway, no more having to be paranoid about being the victim of another of Hoseok and his friend’s pranks.

No more Hoseok.

It had been a glorious, stress-free (to an extent) four years of your life. Both Lisa and Jennie had applied to and been accepted to the same university as you, so you’d split the rent three ways and moved in together. City life had been a difficult adjustment, a culture shock, but now you were used to it and absolutely loved it.

Which meant that fate had to come around and fuck things up.

Silence had fallen between both you and Hoseok. All around you, couples sitting at the other tables in the expansive ballroom were jabbering away, getting to know one another to see how compatible they were. Laughter and glasses clinking harmonized together with the gentle music playing from the hotel speakers hidden somewhere you couldn’t see.

You’d collapsed bonelessly into your seat after the shock of being matchmade with your mortal enemy wore off. Now you were just annoyed. At your parents for making you go to the stupid thing, at yourself for not lying on your questionnaire, at the universe for existing. At Hoseok for existing. There was a lot to process.

Obviously, the matchmaking service was flawed, false, fake, inaccurate. And you were glad that you hadn’t been excited for the event in the first place, because you would’ve been dead by now. Reason of death? Disappointment. How in the world someone could think you and Hoseok were compatible at all was a complete mystery to you.

Glancing up from where you’d been glaring at your still half full flute of champagne, you eyed your unwelcome companion. Hoseok was looking out into the crowded room, stare blank as his mind went somewhere you had no interest in trying to follow even if you could. Four years had passed since you’d last laid eyes on him and in that time he’d changed physically, but also still looked the same.

No longer was he the teenager who’d yet to grow into his cheekbones, though he still had those broad shoulders and large hands and muscular-yet-slim athletic build. He’d always been handsome—not that you’d ever tell him that, even if your life was at stake—and his looks had only matured. Hoseok was all angles and sharp lines and deep set eyes framed by long lashes that always made you secretly jealous.

Which only fueled your puzzlement.

“Why are you here?”

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts were running through his mind and turned back to you. “What?”

“Why are you here,” you asked slowly, tongue spelling out each of the syllables like he couldn’t understand you otherwise.

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we already had this conversation.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms. “I meant here as in this stupid event looking for a mate, not this stupid table.”

“Why are you? Already scared off everyone on the other side of the country with your annoying personality?” Four years later and he still had that infuriating smirk, that quirk of his lips that had your blood pressure instantly spiking.

“Are you here because you’ve slept with the whole town already?”

Humming, Hoseok tilted his head to the side in fake contemplation. “Your jealousy is showing again, L/n.”

“Your inflated ego is showing again, Jung.”

“Oh? If I’m recalling correctly, that’s exactly what you said years ago, right before you slobbered all over my chin.”

“Me? Me? Says the one who—”

“Could I have everyone’s attention please?” A woman’s voice cut through your heated response. Somewhere between the time the conversation had first begun and now, both you and Hoseok had gone from putting as much distance between the two of you as possible, to practically falling on top of the table to spew insults at one another.

With one last glare, you turned to look over your shoulder at the well-dressed blonde woman standing on the stage near the front. The material of her designer jumpsuit shimmered beneath the lights as her manicured hand held a microphone to her glossy, smiling lips. “Hello everyone! I’d like to welcome you to this year’s MateMaking—”

Hoseok’s quiet scoff echoed your own at the sound of the horribly unwitty play on words. His annoyed scowl also mirrored yours when you turned back to throw him one.

“—event! I can see that everyone has already found their mate-tastic partners for the evening.” She winked, earning a few light, nervous giggles from the crowd. “There are a few house rules that we must go over before we can officially begin. For starters, there will be no exchanging of partners. Secondly, a limit of two alcoholic beverages per person has and will be implemented. And last but not least, please make sure to enjoy yourselves! Now, onto the mate—” another wink “—event.”

“The grand prize for the lucky couple who wins tonight’s competition has been graciously donated by the Four Seasons Hotel.” She held up her fingers as she listed them, but you were too busy hanging onto her previous statement. “A free, one night stay in the penthouse suite tonight, an unlimited tab at the bar down the hall, and,” she paused in an attempt to build up the anticipation. “Eight hundred dollars cash.”

“Competition,” you questioned under your breath. What the hell did she mean by that? Wasn’t the whole event supposed to just be a glorified blind date? You threw a glance over your shoulder at Hoseok, who was too busy mouthing the words “eight hundred dollars” to pay you any attention.

“Now if you could all please leave your seats and gather onto the dance floor with your partner, we can begin.” The sound of chairs pushing back from tables echoed around the room and you watched as the people closest to the large opening in the middle of the floor started congregating.

Confused, you blindly rose to your feet and looked to see Hoseok doing the same. “What the hell is going on? I thought this was supposed to be about matchmaking?”

He blinked once, twice, before a laugh bubbled up his throat. “Did you not read the details of the event?”

“What details?” Your cheeks were slowly turning pink in embarrassment, you could feel it, and also couldn’t help it.

“You’re really telling me that you missed the giant, bold letters on the website?”

“What bold letters?” Weaving through the emptying tables, you tried your best to keep up with him on your shorter legs.

Hoseok tutted. “And you always tried to say that I was the stupid one.” He looked down at you once he finally found a spot on the floor that he liked, humor dancing across his face. You were just far away enough from the two coupled next to you that you couldn’t hear their conversations without trying to eavesdrop.

Annoyed, you smacked a hand against his arm and hissed, “Just tell me, asshole!”

“Owch.” He rubbed where you’d hit him, faking a grimace like you’d ever be able to actually hurt him. “Is that how you talk to someone you’re trying to get to help you?”

Your mouth opened to let out another string of character attacking profanities, but he halted them by holding up a hand. “This is a matchmaking event, but it’s also a competition. One that I’m not going to lose, not with that prize money on the line.”

“Oh,” you responded. Well, that explained some of it, but. “We.”

“What?”

“One that we’re not gonna lose,” you corrected him, mind already reeling with what you could use all of that cash for. “We win and split the money.”

“What makes you think that I’d want to split it with you?” A raise of his eyebrow.

A roll of your eyes. “Like you have any other choice. Do you see any other person you can impose your irritating presence on?”

A pause in the air. Pursed lips. Then: “Fine.”

“Fine.”

An agreement.

A temporary ceasefire just in time for one of the workers of the event to reach your side and gift the two of you with a bright green, inflated balloon. He walked off with the parting instructions not to pop it before making his way down the line and giving one to each couple he passed.

“The first stage of tonight’s competition,” the woman MCing (you were pretty sure she’d introduced herself, you’d just hadn’t been paying attention) addressed the crowd. “Is a slow dance to test you and your partner’s ability to be gentle with one another, both with the body and the heart. You must take the balloons that you have and put it in between your bodies.

“Whenever you hear the music change, you and your partner must step closer to each other. The last seven out of our ten couples that succeed in not popping the balloon or letting it fall to the ground will move on to the next round. Those of you who do not pass, will be shown to the bar across the hall to better get acquainted. Let us begin! Don’t be shy, everyone get into position.”

A few chuckles filtered throughout the room, balloons squeaking and strangers lightly conversing as they tried to follow the instructions. You looked up at Hoseok who looked back down at you with the medium sized balloon clutched in his hand.

He tilted his head to the side and wiggled the piece of rubber and hot air. “Are you going to come closer or not? Don’t pretend like you don’t want to touch me.”

“Trust me when I say that I don’t have to pretend,” you huffed, but stepped closer. One of his hands shot out to wrap around your waist, long slender fingers spreading across the whole expanse of the small of your back. You did your best to ignore the heat that bled from his body like a leech, and placed your left hand on his right shoulder.

With the balloon now firmly in place between the two of you, Hoseok took up your free hand with his just in time for the music to start pouring over the speakers. It wasn’t anything that you recognized—some indie song where the singer crooned lyrics about love or beauty or whatever. You didn’t care enough to pay attention.

“You better not step on my feet,” you spoke as the two of you swayed side to side, just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough for the slow dancing couples around you.

“Me? Step on your feet?” Hoseok gave you a look of disbelief. “Aren’t you the one who broke Felix Lee’s foot at prom?”

“No.” At the raising of his brows, you rolled your eyes and looked at some point over his shoulder so you wouldn’t have to meet his skeptical stare. “Okay, so maybe.” — he snorted — “But that had nothing to do with dancing!”

“You’ve always been a horrible liar, L/n.”

“And you’ve always been horrible at telling the truth, Jung.” The song changed into something a little more upbeat, one you thought you might have heard a time or two. Unfortunately, you had to step an inch closer to the man steadily guiding you around the dance floor.

A pop! resounded from the other side of the room as the first couple was eliminated. Squeaking from the balloon cushioned between both of your chests had your conversation pausing for a moment before it picked back up.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know what it means.”

“Believe it or not, L/n,” Hoseok began, “But I would never claim to know what goes on in that cluttered mind of yours.”

“I—wait,” you narrowed your eyes. “How do you know who I went to prom with?”

His mouth opened and closed, obviously ready to swing at you with another comeback before your question caught him off guard. “What?”

“How did you know that I went to prom with Felix?” Another change of the song had you automatically taking another step forward. “I thought you didn’t go to prom.”

“How did you know that I didn’t go to prom?” Hoseok fired back, avoiding the question.

“Oh, please,” you took a breath through your mouth and immediately regretted it when his strong, husky scent invaded your senses and lingered on your tongue. “If you were there, you would’ve been up my ass all night.”

“Now who’s the one with the inflated ego? Everyone was talking about how you’d stomped on him with your ogre feet the next day of school.” He didn’t make eye contact when you looked back at him, his gaze trailing over your head.

You raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s the horrible liar?”

“I’m not lying.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Liar.”

“Truther.”

“Truth— what — what even is that?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Which is?”

Hoseok’s lips pulled back into a grin, tiny dimples popping into place and white teeth kissing the air. “A truther.”

“You’re so annoying,” the words were supposed to sound annoyed, but you couldn’t help the amused upwards twitch of your mouth.

“I don’t think you have any room to talk, sweetheart.”

You blinked at the pet name. That was new. “Sweetheart?”

Hoseok didn’t respond right away. He just stared down at you past his perfectly shaped nose, dark eyelashes framing brushing the apples of his cheeks. And for the first time in as long as you could remember, you realized that you couldn’t read the thoughts lingering behind his softly bright eyes. Silence lingered for one moment, two, and then his heart shaped lips parted and—

Pop!

You started, jerking back in surprise and Hoseok’s grip on you was the only thing that prevented your balloon from falling to the floor. Pop! Next to you, a couple let out noises of disappointment as they watched the remnants of their popped balloon scatter beneath their feet. They must have frightened another pair of people in the center of the dance floor because theirs popped as well.

“And that concludes our first round!” The MC spoke out over the crowd. “Congratulations to those who have made it though. Now let’s see if your luck persists during round two!”

You looked at Hoseok and he looked back, previously open expression dropped. No words were exchanged, but you already knew that the conversation would be dropped.

Hoseok’s back was warm from where it pressed up against yours, the chairs you sat in doing nothing to stop it from seeping into your skin. In your hands was a tablet, screen displaying the game that the two of you were about to play. The goal was to “defuse a bomb” by following the manual filled with instructions. Which sounded easy in retrospect, but seeing as how the only way you could get said instructions was by Hoseok reading them off the packet in his grasp.

You weren’t allowed to look at the manual, and he wasn’t allowed to look at the tablet screen. And somehow, some way, you were supposed to “defuse the bomb” in five minutes. The MC had said something about testing your ability to communicate with one another, blah, blah, blah. All you knew was that there was no way you were going to lose the stupid competition.

Even if you had to deal with Hoseok’s frustrated grumbling.

“Just tell me which wire I need to cut, Jung!” Or perhaps it was you who was doing the frustrated grumbling. But eh, semantics. The tablet screen was displaying a section of the “bomb” that had four wires criss-crossing one another and you were only allowed to “cut” one of them.

“I already told you,” Hoseok grunted. “The blue one.”

“There’s two blue ones!”

“Then cut the one that’s more blue!”

“They’re the same color you idiot!”

“Stop yelling, I’m trying to read!” He huffed, the sound of paper turning accompanying it. Around the room, the noise level was a cacophony of people talking over one another. The closer the five minutes got to being over, the higher the voices rose. “It says, ‘if there is a red wire—’”

“I only have two blue’s and two white’s!”

“Cut the first blue wire then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, L/n.”

“Fine.” A pause as you tapped on the screen and waited for it to do something. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie—oh wait, no, there’s a little x on the screen. Okay I think we’re good with that one.” You didn’t even have to look back to see Hoseok’s face to know that he was rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Now it’s showing a square with four different symbols inside it. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Hold on.” He shuffled his papers in search of the next set of instructions. “Okay, it says ‘always press symbols higher in the column than lower in the column.’”

“What does that even mean?”

“How am I supposed to know? Do I look like the game designer?”

“You’re an Alpha, aren’t you supposed to have great leadership skills or something?”

“What does that even have to do with this?”

“Just give me the damn instructions, Jung!”

“You’re so pushy. No wonder you’re still single.” Hoseok didn’t give you a chance to respond to his jibe before he continued. “Push the symbol of the pitchfork first, then,” he halted for a second, more than likely trying to find his next words before continuing. “Press the one that looks like a pregnant letter T.”

“A what?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about!”

You scrutinized the symbols before going with the one he described, not that you’d ever tell him it was pretty accurate. “Now what?”

“Next is the one that looks like a football goal.” (“God, you’re such a jock.”) “And then push the last one.”

Your finger tapped the screen and a noise escaped your throat when all of the panels on the “bomb” turned green and the timer stopped counting down. “Oh, hell yes!”

“What? Did we beat it?” Hoseok’s head tilted in your direction without him actually having to look back at you.

“Fuck yeah!” Okay, so maybe you were shouting a little too loudly and maybe all of the other couples who had yet to finish the game were giving you looks, but it wasn’t your fault that you were the first team to win.

“Yeah?” Hoseok finally turned to face you, torso twisting in his chair in order to do so. His face was lit up in excitement, the adrenaline of trying to complete the game sparking to life in his beautifully expressive brown eyes.

“Yeah!” It was unusual for an Omega to be competitive, but you couldn’t help your inherent desire to win. If you were to analyse it, a therapist would probably say that it was more than likely due to growing up competing with the man who sat at your back. (But you weren’t a therapist.)

You weren’t sure who went for it first, who moved, who decided to cross that boundary. But one moment you were looking up at his face, and the next your nose was pressed into the junction between his neck and shoulder. Hoseok’s arm was wrapped around your upper back and both of yours were loops around his neck.

The celebratory hug didn’t last long, just enough for his scent — gentle and earthy like petrichor right before it rained — before the both of you pulled away like you’d been electrocuted. An awkward silence followed the accidental physical contact and you weren’t sure where you were supposed to look. But it wasn’t at him.

And you definitely did not miss the feeling of being pressed to his chest.

(Or maybe Hoseok was right and you were a terrible liar. Even to yourself.)

The second round had eliminated a majority of the remaining contestants. Now all that was left were you and Hoseok, a petite woman with a contrastingly tall man, and two average height men. Since your team had come in first place during the last round, you were relegated to nonsensically going last in the final one. With the previous eliminated couples allowed back into the ballroom, you had quite the audience.

Sitting in another chair in the middle of the dance floor, you fiddled with the whiteboard and marker in your hands. You were facing Hoseok so the two of you couldn’t cheat by looking at what the other person was writing. The MC stood between and a little behind both of you, lips pulled up into a smile as she held a stack of cards in her hand.

You’d only ever seen this game played at the weddings of family members you’d gone to over the years, so why they’d chosen to have to (what they thought) complete strangers play it was a mystery to you. Something about “getting to know one another” and “testing compatibility” bullshit and the couple who got the highest answers correct was the winner.

Whatever.

When the MC asked her first question, you were ready.

“Okay, let’s begin! First question, write down which one of the two of you that you believe owns more clothes than the other.” Holding back an eye roll, you quickly scribbled down your answer with the dry-erase marker at the same time that Hoseok did. “Now show us your boards!”

You turned yours with a flick of your wrist, Hoseok’s name written across the surface in ink. It came as no surprise at all that he’d also penned himself down; he’d always been on top of all of the trends in the fashion world so you knew for a fact that his closet greatly exceeded yours.

“Would you look at that!” The MC crowed. “Already so in sync!”

(Unbeknownst to you both, your faces mirrored the same grimace as you erased your boards.)

“Second question: who do you believe is the most stubborn?”

That one took a bit more thought, your eyes flickering up to watch as Hoseok easily scrawled on his board. You already knew what he was going to write and you wanted to win, and you’d do whatever it took to do so. Even if it meant admitting something that wasn’t true.

At the MC’s cue, your boards flipped around to display your name written down on both of them. You glared. The crowd aw’d. The MC squealed at how “you were on the same wavelength.”

“Who’s most likely to cry during a movie?” Hoseok.

“Who do you think is the smartest.” You (much to your surprise that he wrote that down).

“Who has to have the final word during an argument?” You. That one took a little longer to decide with the two of you eyeing each other over the tops of your boards.

“Who got better grades in school?” A snort and the sound of your marker dragging across the board to scribble your own name down.

“Who’s the better dancer?” Hoseok, of course. Who could forget him dancing in the school hallways early in the morning before people even deigned to enter the place?

“If you were to become a couple, who would wear the pants in the relationship.” That question had you glaring and fingers cramping as you dug the tip of the marker into the board. Both was scribbled down on each.

“How about this one: who do you think is the better kisser?” The time in Jackson Wang’s basement popped to the forefront of your mind. It’d been years, but you could still remember the feel of Hoseok’s lips moving against yours and the taste of him on your tongue. You paused, marker hovering over the board before you took a deep, silent breath and wrote your answer down.

That was the first question that the two of you got wrong. With his board displaying your name and yours displaying his, all you could do was stare. Hoseok’s mouth was pressed into a line, not one of his angry ones, but the one he would unconsciously do whenever he was thinking hard on something. You weren’t sure what it was, nor did you have the time to try and figure it out.

“Aw, the first question they’ve gotten wrong. Or did they get it right?” Cue a wink from the MC and a few chuckles from the crowd. “How about we get a little more serious with the final question, hm? Who do you believe would be the first to fall in love with the other?”

You were positive that that would be the second question the two of you would get wrong, but you wrote your answer down anyway. When the cue came to flip them over, you felt your heart stutter. Lips part in surprise. Breath catch in your throat.

Hoseok looked at you with his lips pressed in that thin line, espresso hued, deep set eyes displaying an emotion that you’d never seen before. Never thought would be aimed at you. The whiteboard clutched between your hands shook as you read his over and over and wondered at what it meant (and if you were going to lie to yourself again).

Hoseok was written down on both of your boards, much to the delight of the onlookers.

The MC announcing that the game was complete and that you and Hoseok were the winners was a blur. The cheers from the crowd were a blur. The way the MC held both of your hands as she congratulated you and gifted you with your prizes was a blur.

Hoseok’s refusal to look at you was the only thing that was crystal clear. His back, his broad shoulders cloaked in his black satin tuxedo jacket, the nape of his neck, were the only things you could see. You didn’t get the chance to even speak to him until the elevator doors leading up to the penthouse slid shut.

The MC had sent you off with the key and a wink and a promise that the aforementioned eight hundred dollars was awaiting the two of you in the penthouse suite. Silence engulfed the steel box as it ascended that was neither awkward, nor tense—just heavy. You couldn’t stand it. So you wouldn’t.

“Hoseok.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, back braced against the elevator wall.

“Why did you write your name down for that question?”

“Which one? There were dozens.”

“You still suck at telling the truth.”

A pause hovered in the air, the red digital numbers above the elevator continuing to count upwards. And then he spoke. “I was telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok laughed breathily. Not of amusement, not of someone who’d found something particularly funny. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so all you could do was nod.

“I’d been wanting to kiss you since you threw that box of crayons at my head.” He turned to look at you, eyes deep and open and luminescent. “And I’ve been thinking about doing it again ever since that game of spin-the-bottle.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words stuck in your throat until you forced yourself to cough them out. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

He scoffed. “Why would I? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Hoseok.” The syllables of his first name were unfamiliar on your tongue, but you loved the taste of them anyway. “I’ve never hated you.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Really.” It wasn’t a question.

“Okay, no, that was a lie,” you mumbled. “I didn’t hate you until after that kiss. But it was only because I’d never wanted it to end.”

“What are you saying?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” You shot back without any heat.

“Maybe,” he hummed, lifting a hand to brush against your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours. That was the only warning you got before he captured your mouth with his. Hoseok’s lips were just as soft as you remembered, his kiss just as slow, taste just as intoxicating. You involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip and tugged.

“I love you,” he breathed into the crevice of your neck.

You sighed. A soft, gentle thing that had the corners of his mouth ticking upwards. “I love you too.”

A pause and then:

“Even though you’re annoying.”

Hoseok’s laugh shook both his frame and yours and you couldn’t help the giggle that harmonized.

tagged: @kotaevln @ladyartemesia @alana-ba @lifegoesondotcom @ardoren @awsome-small-k @chimchimsauce @jjamsbangtan @ohheyitssj @bewitch-me @lovetic @veronawrites @lilacdreams-00 @clarissalance @daydreambrliever @unicornbabylover @taestannie @forever-once-gone @outrofenty @hoseokslefteyebrow @1am9root6 @btsmylife21 @fireheart2003 @iv-bts

#bts #hoseok #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #magicshopnet #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #bts fic

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

The Reunion

Day 5--I had completely forgotten that I had written this lol. It’s more fluff as usual. Can’t wait to read everyone else’s later on!

Enjoy! :)

1.8k words

Rowan couldn't wait to get home. Today had been...exhausting, to say the least. He was a personal trainer, and with that came the territory that people would talk about their issues while working out. Which was fine, Rowan understood that letting out emotional issues when working out helped people to stay motivated. He himself had been known to rant about his issues when working out himself.

But today had been a lot. One of his regulars had put on weight over the Yulemas holidays and was beating himself up over it. Another regulars marriage was over and was dealing with that guilt. Someone had lost a favourite aunt. Another one had to break off an engagement because it was a loveless relationship. And on and on the issues piled up.

Rowan was good at compartmentalizing, but after a while, he ignored his lunch break in order to go to the park to just...not think for a while.

Being at the park cheered him up a little, but his break was soon too over. And he was back to work, and that was when the skies decided to open up and pour down buckets of rain. Making a bad day into a shittier one.

His wipers were on the fastest setting and he was driving at a snails pace when he looked away for one second, one fucking second, when he heard a thump and a feminine voice yell out “what the fuck!”

Slamming on the brakes, Rowan came to a speedy conclusion.

He was at a pedestrian crossing and he just hit someone with his car.

He just hit someone with his car.

“Fucking hell!”

Pulling up the handbrake, Rowan got out, not sure what to say or do when he came across a golden haired woman, her eyes spitting out blue and gold fire.

Rowan blinked at her, because despite being covered in rain and sitting on her behind, hand rubbing at her hip, she looked familiar.

But now wasn't the time to thinking about that. He had to see if she was okay. “I'm so sorry,” he got out, “I have no idea what happened. I looked away for a second, that was all. I'm so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”

“My hip and my ass hurt, and I suspect that I'm going to have a wicked bruise, but I think I'm okay,” the stranger said. “You should really watch what you're doing, though.”

“I know. I'm sorry, again.��

The stranger sighed, and even that sounded familiar. “What a fucking day I'm having,” she mumbled.

“Bad day?” He probably made it worse, too. He should also really get her into his car, but she starting ranting before he could do anything about it.

“The fucking worst. I'm facing a deadline that I can't finish, because I'm having dreadful writers block. My landlord is a fucking creep who came to my place today saying that my underwear 'accidentally' got mixed in with his laundry. My cousin's dad recently came back into his life, so now he's angry all the damned time and it's leeching into me. And you just hit me with your car.”

Rowan nodded in understanding, but only could manage to say, “Yeah, your day definitely sucks.”

She glared at him, silently telling him that that wasn't really the best way to respond, but he was having a bad day, also.

Which wasn't an excuse he knew, but Gods, it wasn't really his day either.

Rowan helped her up, her hands warm despite the cold and took her to his passenger seat and pulled over to the side. He couldn't help but notice that she smelled like jasmine and lemon verbena. A calming scent.

“I'm not sure what the protocol is,” he admitted after handing her a hand towel from the glove box. “Do we call the police? Or my insurance? I should take you to the hospital, I know that much.” Even if all she said was that she hurt her behind and hip, it'd be best to ensure that she didn't fracture anything.

When she said nothing after a moment, Rowan turned, noting that the silence from the woman was a little concerning, scared to death that maybe she hit her head and was going into shock.

Her blue-gold eyes were wide. “Are you okay?” he asked again. He really should get her to the hospital.

“Are you...? This is...you couldn't be. Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn?”

Rowan blinked, his concern turning inward. “Yes, that's my name. How did you—?”

“I, uh, it's me. Aelin Ashryver Gala—”

“Galathynius?” He finished for her. She nodded.

They sat in silence as Rowan stared at her, taking in her blue-gold eyes, golden hair, the lemon verbena and jasmine smell of her. Recalling the familiar sigh. All of it.

Rowan wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel when all of it came crashing down on him. He had just hit his high school crush with his car.

Rowan, for whatever reason that he couldn't name, wanted to laugh. He never would have suspected that he would hit Aelin Galathynius with his car ten years after high school graduation.

He was fairly certain that high school him had been in love with her from the moment he saw her. Rowan had wanted to ask her out at least a dozen times, but he was an awkward seventeen year old that didn't know how to talk to women that weren't family members and never gained the courage to do so.

It was one of his biggest regrets from his teenage years.

The last time he had seen her was at the after party of their graduating day. She wore a daisy flower crown and was sparkling in a golden dress. He had never seen someone as beautiful as her—even to this day.

Unbeknownst to Rowan, Aelin had felt the same way. She was confident back then as she was now, but every time she wanted to go up to Rowan to talk to him, to get to know him, the butterflies in her stomach threatened to strangle her.

So she never did ask him out. And here she was now, ten years later, in his car. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

She was still pissed as hell though that he hit her with his car.

It had only taken a moment, a single moment, for her to realise who it was she was sitting next to. The moment that the hand towel touched her face and she breathed in the pine and snow scent of it, she was transported back to the past.

“How have you been?” Rowan asked her after long minutes. His green eyes still as pretty as the day Aelin saw them. She was sure that was what she loved about him the most all those years ago. Other than Lysandra's, Aelin had never seen such a stunning green.

Aelin snorted, her fond memories disappearing at the inane question. “You were listening when I was ranting, weren't you? My day has been shit.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, and her heart skipped a beat. He still smiled the same. She had liked that about him, too. Still did, apparently.

“No, I mean how's life been since graduation? You mentioned writers block. Are you a writer then?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I write fantasy-adventure-romance novels under the name of Celaena Sardothien.” She had liked the animosity of it all, with none of her books containing a single photograph of her.

“That's amaz—wait. You mean to tell me that you're the writer of the 'Fireheart' series?”

Aelin smiled proudly. “That's me. Have you read them?”

“I have. It's one of my favourite series.” They were his guilty pleasure, really, but it felt rude to say that out loud, as if it was shameful.

Aelin blinked, taken aback at the confession. “Really? You mean to tell me that brooding Rowan Whitethorn reads romance novels?”

Rowan frowned a little bit at that. “I don't brood. Not anymore.”

“You're brooding right now.”

Rowan grumbled. Okay, maybe he was, just a little bit, however.

“How about you, though?” Aelin asked. “How's life been?”

“Busy. And right now, it's a bit shitty. I'm sorry for hitting you with my car, truly. We should get you to a hospital, though. Just to make sure that you're okay, please,” he added, when he saw that she opened her mouth to likely protest. “I won't be able to sleep if it turns out you need a hip replacement or something and I didn't take you to get checked out.”

Aelin truly doubted she would need a hip replacement, but nodded anyway. “Okay, you can take me to the hospital. And then afterwards, I'll give you my number and you can take me out to dinner.”

Rowan blinked at that and then smiled. He had always like confidence in a person. “Okay, it's a date.”

“I've never had a date after a hospital visit.”

“Well, then, I better make it great.”

Aelin smiled, warmth filling her. The day turning out a little nicely, despite it all. “You better.”

x x x x x

As Rowan lead Aelin to the dance floor, he couldn't believe his luck. Never in a thousand years did he think that accidentally hitting Aelin with his car would lead to this.

To their first dance as husband and wife.

It had been exactly one year to the day when he saw her again after ten years. It was very much an Aelin thing to want to have their wedding anniversary to match the date.

The story had been re-told by a slightly tipsy Fenrys as part of his best man speech, about how Rowan would be the only man in the world to meet his future wife by way of a car accident. The story always made people laugh, with people saying that the universe must have wanted to get them together and was sick of them taking too long.

Because as it turned out, when Rowan and Aelin's relationship grew and they learned more about their ten years of life, they were always somehow minutes away from running into each other. From when Rowan was starting his hike in the Southern Continent, Aelin had just finished hers and was going back to her hotel—the very fact that they were staying at the same hotel, but floors apart.

When Rowan had missed out on book tickets to a signing of her third novel in the Fireheart series, and he had to turn around and leave the bookstore since it was a private function just as Aelin was moments away from going on.

From going to the same concerts, to the same festivals, from seemingly everything that they had in common, they had missed each other by minutes.

They silently thanked the universe, even if the way they ran into each other was less than ideal. But they wouldn't change it for the world.

Rowan kissed his wife and thanked his lucky stars.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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nanatsumu · 3 years

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TEENAGE FEVER

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x f!reader, oikawa tooru x f!reader

synopsis: iwaizumi has strung you on long enough and you’re finally at the end of your rope.

genre: heavy angst... like make your heart wrench in pain heavy, one sided pining

warnings: manga spoilers, bad grammar (didn’t know it was that bad until i used grammarly), MATURE themes, drinking, smoking, alcohol, iwaizumi being an asshole (he’s also a frat boy because surprise! frat boys should never be trusted), subtle hints at sex, bittersweet ending

word count: 6.7K

series masterlist

part one | part two | part three | part four

“y/n we know you’re in there, someone told me they saw you run in here.”

great!

you slowly sit up from the toilet, dragging your feet across the bathroom tiles until you make it to the door and begin unlocking the lock at a snail’s pace. but before you can even get a chance to twist the doorknob, somebody is already doing so on the other side of the door and the next thing you know, reina’s screaming ‘HURRY UP’ and you’re assaulted by the bathroom door.

“REINA!” you scream as the result of the door flying into your face has you clutching your head.

“SHIT! SORRY Y/N!”

“geez, why are you so fucking slow,” oikawa complains as he sucks his teeth, pushing the door in a little wider so that you can see standing him behind reina as well. “did iwa-chan’s kiss mess you up that bad?”

“your friend is a prick, oikawa!” reina jabs him in the side, eliciting a grunt from the poor man. “it was supposed to be a quick smooch but that guy had to be extra and start using tongue!”

“what kind of guy kisses a girl who he’s only met once like that?!” your female friend cries.

“only someone as ballsy as him would even try and do that,” oikawa stops scratching his head, his eyes widening like saucers as if he’s just realized something. “and don’t put all the blame on iwaizumi! y/n, you literally moaned! and i even saw you kissing back!”

“don’t make me feel shittier than i already do oikawa!” you jeer.

“he...” you sigh and you can feel the tears start to prickle your eyes. “i feel so humiliated, and embarrassed.”

“and i-i felt so... so exposed.”

oikawa’s playful expression falters as he hears the hurt in your voice and manages to squeeze his way past a protesting reina before kneeling down so that he could meet your glossy eyes.

“listen, i’ll apologize on his behalf for now and i’ll take him about it later, alright?” he awkwardly pats your shoulder, not sure what to do as he’s never been in a situation where he’s had to comfort a girl bawling her eyes out.

“y-you... don’t have— t-to do that,” you whimper. “i’m just being a big crybaby, it’s just a silly kiss.”

“no it’s not!” reina blurts out a little louder than she intended to. “that prick completely disrespected you and embarrassed you in front of everyone! it wasn’t even a matter of him kissing you, it was a part of a game, but that dude took it too far and crossed the line!”

“listen, this is why i told you to stay away from him in the first place,” your roommate shuffles closer to you and pulls you in for a hug. “let’s go home alright?”

“let me walk you guys home, it’s getting late outside and even though you two are together, you never know what’ll happen.” oikawa offers, and while you are quick to accept, reina wavers momentarily.

“how do you know you’re not gonna take advantage of us, hm?”

“please, if i wanted to i already would’ve given the circumstances but i haven’t because i. do. not. want. to!” he smiles patronizingly which irks reina.

“whatever, but if you even think about trying anything then i’ll cut your dick off and feed it to my lizard.” she threatens but oikawa doesn’t take it to heart.

you finally get the last of your sniffles out as you stand up to your feet and exit the bathroom with oikawa and reina trailing along right behind you, similar to an assembly line of ducks— a very... tall duck, a crying duck, and an angry duck.

the walk home was rowdier than you had expected it to be. while you were quieter than usual and still in a bad mood from earlier events, that didn’t stop oikawa and reina though from causing a ruckus on the way back to the dorms.

“you’re telling me, that THAT’S hajime? like hajime iwaizumi? the notorious playboy of irvine?” reina gapes as she stares at the photo of iwaizumi back in high school that oikawa had saved in his phone.

even you were surprised to see what iwaizumi looked back then when reina practically shoved oikawa’s phone in your face, the brightness radiating from his phone screen only further irritating your bloodshot eyes.

while he still had a bit of muscle on him back then, he looked a lot lankier in comparison to his university counterpart who had grown twice in size. his once pale skin had become almost a sun-kissed tan color that complimented his features. but what shocked you the most was that the iwaizumi shown to you in the photos was free from any blemishes on his arms and his ears weren’t dressed in dangly silvers or studs.

“that’s iwaizumi?” your jaw dropped and oikawa was quick to make a teasing remark about how your mouth was wide open enough for flies to fly in.

“what happened to him?!” reina cries.

“sometimes i wonder why he hasn’t visited japan in the past 4 years but when i look back at this photo and then compare it to present him, i would piss my pants too if i were him and had to go back home to my mom.”

“does his mom not like tattoos or piercings?” reina questions as you and oikawa give each other a look before turning back to the girl.

“i don’t know about iwaizumi, but my mom is pretty strict about tattoos and piercings,” you start to explain. “she’s the ‘girls shouldn’t get tattoos!’ and ‘guys shouldn’t get piercings!’ type of mom, so she’s not completely against it, but if i came home with a huge ass tattoo like iwaizumi then she’d sure as hell chop my arm off.”

“japan’s pretty strict about piercings and tattoos, especially when it comes to students because tattoos are kind of a sign of the yakuza in japan,” oikawa adds in addition. “piercings aren’t as frowned upon as tattoos but it’s usually the younger kids who have ‘em.”

“yakuza?”

“like a gang basically? or a mafia i guess.” you answer reina to the best of your abilities.

you start kicking a pebble around and breathe in the crisp california air, watching as a puff of smoke escapes your lips with every exhale.

“you alright?” oikawa asks as he begins growing worried since you haven’t said anything in the past few minutes.

“yeah, just thinking,” you stuff your hands into your pockets and continue kicking the pebble beneath your feet. “california is a lot hotter than japan.”

“you think california is hot? just wait ‘till you spend a day in the summer heat in argentina.” he counters.

“maybe one day,” you say in consideration. “maybe when i graduate university i’ll consider traveling somewhere before my life completely revolves around paying taxes and bills.”

“if you do come to argentina one day then just give me a call and i’ll be more than happy to give you a tour around.” he beams.

“my cousin is playing volleyball in brazil, i think?” you say, remembering your mother telling you that hinata had gone to play beach volleyball in brazil. “he’s blood-related but he lived in miyagi while i lived in aomori so we never really got to see each other that much.”

“miyagi? i used to live in miyagi too!”

“huh? really? do you know a hinata shoyo then?” you ask, intrigued at the newfound information. “i heard from my mom that he started playing volleyball in high school so he’s probably played you once in a game if you played volleyball in high school too.”

“i did actually, his team beat mine during the qualifiers for spring nationals my last year of high school and man, i think i probably broke the record for most bowls of ramen eaten in one sitting that day.” he chuckles but it comes out sounding more half-heartedly in your ears, almost like he’s recalling an unpleasant memory from the past.

“so what made you go to argentina?” you ask and oikawa answers like he’s been asked this countless of times (which he has.)

“when i was a kid, there was this volleyball player i really looked up to,” oikawa starts. “his name was jose blanco and there was a tournament happening in sendai that i went to where he played against japan, and at the time there was a young ace on the team who was a fledgling star,”

“he made a big impression during the first half of the tournament but he started getting worse as things progressed. he was kind of off for the rest of the game and i thought that he was gonna be subbed out but it wasn’t until they switched setters that i noticed the ace was getting back into his groove. jose was a veteran setter, 38 years old i think? and if you were to be asked who the star of the game was then you’d probably say the ace since he was the one who scored most of the points right? but if you ask me, i think the setter was the star of the game!”

“he was so cool too! like he was so calm the entire time and he inconspicuously helped the ace get back on to his feet and just simply left the court,” oikawa continues to ramble. “i even got an autograph but that dumbass iwaizumi took the paper that i bought and got the autograph of some dude on the japan team so i had to give jose the jersey i bought earlier that day instead. although it did end up getting washed though....”

“hah! desperate much?” you laugh as you bump shoulders with him.

“desperate time for desperate measures! no way was i gonna leave without getting the jose blanco’s autograph!” he emphasizes.

unbeknownst to you and oikawa, a cheeky smile creeps upon reina’s face as she watches you and oikawa converse with each other like you two were long-time friends catching up for the first time in forever.

you, on the other hand, were starstruck by the man that is oikawa tooru.

the story he told you left you feeling heart-warmed because you noticed how his eyes sparkled and his lips curved into a genuine smile as he talked about his idol and the sport he is so passionate about. oikawa was many things: a flirt, a smooth talker, a sly fox, and he could get a little handsy sometimes— but you could tell the love he had for volleyball was like no other and you respected how committed he was to the sport, even going as far as to going to argentina in order to follow his long-time idol.

“i think it’s really cool that you’re so passionate about volleyball,” you smile as you peer up at the night sky. “in my opinion, i think being committed to one thing your entire life is a bit hard depending on who you are, but at least there are guys like you who are one-in-a-million.”

your words strike a chord in oikawa and reina is quick to notice the way his lips part as he holds his gaze on you.

“oh would you two quit flirting!” reina lets out an inhumane noise that startles you and oikawa.

“you scared me!” you take a deep breath and frantically clutch your heart.

“just say you forgot that i was here because you were too busy getting chummy with oikawa!” she groans while pulling her face.

“you’re just jealous i’m stealing your roommate away,” oikawa sticks his tongue out at your roommate before stopping in his tracks and pulling you into a hug. “but don’t worry! i’ll take extremely good care of her.”

“no way buddy,” reina takes a hold of your arm and uses all of her strength in order to pull you away from oikawa. “she was my roommate before she was your friend!”

“wow i feel so popular,” you say sarcastically, accompanied with a roll of your eyes. “it’s 1 now and i think i would very much rather be at home right now in my jammies instead of listening to you two bicker back and forth.”

“you don’t mean me do you, y/n?!” reina wails as she clings onto you.

“oh look! it’s a bear!” you point out to the other side of the street and reina snaps her head in the direction you’re pointing in.

“where?!”

with her attention off of you, you take this chance to slip away from her and run towards your dorm building along with oikawa who’s right on your tail.

“you’re... really... fast!” oikawa pants as he speaks in-between breaths. “like a lo— WOAH!”

he trips over a slab of concrete that was out of place and out of reflex, he latches onto the nearest object— and unfortunately, you were the closest thing he could grab onto.

“H-HEY!” you screech when you feel yourself being pulled down onto the ground.

with the split second that he had of clarity, oikawa took advantage of the opportunity and moved his hand under your head so that it wouldn’t make contact with the concrete and his hand, would instead, cushion your fall.

you hit the concrete with an ‘oof!’ and while you were awaiting the sharp pain in the back of your head to come, it never came. instead, you open your eyes only to see oikawa’s brown ones staring right back at you with an astounded expression that mirrored yours.

“so, how are you doing this fine night?” he grins.

“pretty good, up until your dumbass tripped and pulled me down with you,” you snort.

reina gasps dramatically when she catches up to you guys and sees the position you two are in.

“you deny your chumminess with him and then you run off to get all handsy with him!”

“this idiot tripped and then thought it would be a good idea to pull me down with him,” you stand up after oikawa offers to pull you up. “what kind of thought process do you even have to think that i could catch your fall?”

reina squeezes his bicep, triggering him to let out a yelp.

“oh it’s hard alright.” reina smirks as oikawa yanks his arm away.

“do you work out a lot?” you sneak up behind oikawa and put your hands on his broad shoulders.

“yup!” he flexes his arm and gives you both a cheeky smile. “i gained 10 kilograms of muscle mass!”

“1-10?! isn’t that like 20 pounds?!” reina gawks at the volleyball player.

“yeah and guess what, i only grew one centimeter so it was all me baby!” he laughs almost mockingly.

the rest of the walk home was full of laughter and heartwarming bantering between the three of you and you were happy that you were able to meet reina, an amazing roommate, and oikawa, who was a cocky shit but still managed to squeeze a laugh out of you.

it was going to be a long 4 years away from home, but just as long as you were surrounded by the right people, you were sure that these 4 years would fly by in a jiffy.

when you guys finally arrived at your dorm building, you notified reina that you would stay outside and chat with oikawa for a bit and so she gave you the okay and headed up to your room first so that she could get ready for bed since she was about ready to knock out right then and there.

“thanks for walking me home, oikawa,” you pull him in for friendly hug that he didn’t expect, but nevertheless, he hugs back anyway because who is he to decline a hug from you? “i feel bad for having you walk me home even though you probably want to hang out with iwaizumi.

oikawa feels his stomach churn at the mention of his best friend and guilt creeps upon him like bile rising in the back of your throat.

oikawa had turned a blind eye to iwaizumi’s bad habit of playing around with girls and leaving them after he’s had his fair share of fun because iwaizumi was his best friend and despite the drastic transformation he had gone through within the 4 years that they’ve been away from each other, oikawa knew deep down that he was still the iwaizumi he knew and loved— the iwaizumi who had stuck with him through thick and thin during his adolescent years.

however, now that he’s taken the time to familiarize himself with you personally and grow to learn what type of person you were— someone with a good heart but isn’t afraid to voice their own opinions and stand their ground when people try to walk all over them— he can’t help but be greedy and want you all for himself.

“say, y/n,” you give him a soft hum in response which prompts him to continue taking. “you wanna grab some milk bread with me tomorrow at the cafe you were talking about?”

“are you asking me out on a date right now?” you wheeze. “you’re pretty bold for asking out someone you’ve only met twice your entire life.”

“it’s not a date unless you want it to be.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“a platonic date sounds good to me, don’t you think?”

“there’s no such thing as a platonic date, y/n.”

“maybe not to you since you’re probably used to girls flocking around you all the time,” you say and he’s visibly upset at the fact that you think he’s a casanova or something when in reality he still hasn’t had his first girlfriend yet. “so you in? i’ll even call it a date if you’d like.”

“yeah i’m in,” he puts his fist out for a fist bump, which you are content with returning, and he beams at you with the biggest smile you’ve seen him give you. “does the afternoon work for you?”

you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket and open up the contacts app before handing it to the male.

“just give me your number and we can go over the specifics over text tonight.”

he punches in his number, saving the contact as “tooru👽” before handing the device back to you.

“an alien emoji?” you laugh as you read his contact name displayed on your phone. “you’re a dork.”

“like you’re any less of a dork than me.” he playfully rolls his eyes as he pulls his phone out and gives it for you to return the favor.

you clumsily put your number into his phone, accidentally pressing some random digit one too many times, and save your name as “y/n :3” before handing his phone back to him.

“a bunny face?” he threw his head back and let out a humorous laugh.

“shut up!” you give his shoulder a gentle push. “as if an alien emoji is any better, at least my emoticon is cute!”

“yeah yeah, whatever you say.” he slips his phone back into his pocket before giving you one last final hug that feels a bit warmer than the ones he’s given you before.

“get home safe, oikawa.”

his eyes linger on your face for a bit longer than he would’ve liked.

your eyes were crinkled and your smile lines were more prominent up close, but it didn’t stop oikawa’s heart from skipping a beat.

“sweet dreams y/n.”

you awaken the next morning to the sound of your phone ringing and reina’s abnormally loud snoring (you’re surprised that the girls in the next room over haven’t come knocking at your door telling your roommate to snore a little quieter.)

with the sleep still present in your eyes, the brightness of your phone screen causes you to squint before your vision clears up and you’re able to make out the numbers ‘7:30 A.M’ displayed across your screen.

when the haziness finally leaves your system, you take a look outside your window and realize that the only speck of sunlight present at all is the sunlight that’s provided by the rising sun, peeking out from across the horizon.

you mentally curse oikawa out in your head as your fingers dance across your keyboard to type out a brief response to oikawa’s suspiciously ominous text message.

you reluctantly get up from your bed and slip on your fuzzy bunny slippers before treading over to your door, unlocking it, and then swinging it open, revealing your tall, brown-haired friend standing right where he said he would be.

“nice jammies,” he lets loose an unrestrained, boisterous laugh as he reaches out to fix the strap of your tank top which slipped off your shoulder. “i dig the bunny slippers by the way.”

you haphazardly shuffle your feet, gaining a smile from oikawa as he chuckles softly.

“can i come in?” he peers into the room by leaning over a bit where he sees reina sprawled out in a weird position on her bed, snoring loudly.

“uh, reina’s actually asleep,” you sheepishly scratch the back of your head. “the dorms don’t have separate bedrooms, everyone just sleeps in the same room with their respective roommates.”

“so movie night’s no longer in question?”

“i guess if you don’t mind reina being a plus one,” you shrug as you gesture for him to come in, letting him enter the room first so that you can close the door on your way in. “she’s a heavy sleeper so don’t worry about waking her up.”

oikawa throws himself onto your bed, even going as far as to slipping under your covers and making himself right at home, which, you don’t hesitate to scold him for doing so.

“what’s the point of coming all the way over here just to go back to sleep?” you cross your arms as you walk over to your bed, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress.

“the bakery opens at 8:30 so i wanted to pick you up since the walk there is 25 minutes from here,” oikawa pulls his phone out and checks the time. “it’s 7:37 now so hurry and get ready!”

you shuffle over to the worn-out dresser that has been with you since the day you moved into the dorms and pull out the drawers that contain a majority of your most worn pieces. taking into account the outfit that oikawa was currently sporting— an oversized hoodie, a loose pair of sweatpants, and some sneakers that looked to be on the pricier side— you decided that wearing something similar to that would suffice.

“can you turn around?” you ask as you grab a pair of black sweatpants, not bothering to check the design since they looked all the same anyways, and an oversized hoodie that you forgot you even had in your possession.

“hm? why?”

“i’m gonna change?” you shrug. “unless you don’t mind staying here by yourself? or you can just step outside for a minute if you want to.”

“oh yeah, sure.”

you watch as he heeds your request and begins to turn around to face the wall before proceeding to take off your pajamas, making sure to keep a close eye on him just in case he decides to be a peeping tom.

“you know, you’re pretty credulous trusting a guy you’ve only met last week.” he says as he rocks side to side, head still turned facing the wall.

“well i don’t have to worry about you peeping because i’m already done changing,” you pull down the rest of the bunched up fabric of your hoodie that’s around your waist before slipping on a random baseball cap you saw laying around. “even if you did turn around, i have a 5-pound textbook and i’m not afraid to use it.”

oikawa’s about to make a snarky remark in return to your futile threat when suddenly a loud snore escapes reina’s mouth, encouraging the two of you to give each other a flabbergasted look that leads to you both erupting into a fit of hushed laughter.

“let’s go before reina wakes up and gets a heart attack after seeing you in here.”

“no way!”

after exiting the dorm building and beginning your journey with oikawa to the designated cafe, you two arguing about whether or not milk or cereal should go first after oikawa mentioned to you that he was a firm believer of “milk first, cereal last.”

“if you put milk in first then you’re just gonna get less cereal and who the fuck eats cereal just to drink the cereal milk?” you shoot him a grimace.

“when you pour in the cereal after the milk, then it’s just gonna float there and who takes satisfaction in seeing that shit?” you add. “that’s why cereal first is way better because you get a bowl full of cereal and it’s just... perfect!”

“but your cereal is gonna be soggy by the time you put the milk back in the refrigerator!” oikawa retorts.

“then just wait until after you’re done to put it away? how long do you even take to put the milk back in the refrigerator that when you come back your cereal gets all soggy?!”

“and aren’t you supposed to be an athlete? i’m seriously concerned if it takes you at least over 15 seconds just to put back a carton of milk.” you take a jab at him.

“i will not allow this oikawa slander from you!” he stops in his tracks before abruptly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“h-hey! put me down! i’m heavy, oikawa!” you squirm around in protest, but oikawa shows no sign of letting you go anytime soon as he starts to pick up his pace.

“i didn’t gain all of that muscle for nothin’ baby!” he laughs maniacally as he’s practically full-on sprinting down the street now.

luckily enough, the cafe was just around the corner of the street that oikawa started running down from which meant there was finally a reason for the male to let you down, despite the fact that you had been punching his back for the last minute or so but you couldn’t seem to crack him, his arms, nor those broad shoulders of his.

you let out a huff of feigned annoyance once you’re down on your feet while oikawa is still laughing his ass off as you two walk into the establishment.

“not funny! i almost dropped my hat when you pulled that stunt!” you complain as you’re frantically trying to fix your hair: when oikawa abruptly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, the baseball cap on your head was about to fall off but thankfully with your reflexes, you were able to catch it in the nick of time— however, at the price of your own hair.

“here, i got you,” oikawa extends his hand out to your head and starts to brush away at your mess of a hair. “if it makes you feel better, it’s on the house.”

“i was gonna make you pay anyways.” you stick your tongue out at him playfully, feigning annoyance.

“pft, and you brought your wallet anyways?” he grabs your wrist and pulls it up so that you could see the object in your hands.

“it has my id in it you doofus,” you roll your eyes but there’s a hint of blush on your face as you realize he’s practically holding your hand. “and what if you forgot your wallet, hm?”

he lets go of your wrist before slipping his hand into his sweatpants pocket and pulling out a black wallet.

“i never forget my wallet sweetheart,” he winks and you laugh. “especially if i know i’m gonna be going out with a pretty lady— don’t wanna leave a bad impression y’know”

“i think you’ve already left quite the impression on me from your stunt earlier.” you bump shoulders with him.

“so see anything you like on the menu?” he puts his hand on the small of your back and guides you over to where the menu is so that you could get a closer look at all of the options the cafe had to offer its customers.

“we’ll... we did come here originally for milk bread,” oikawa notices how deep in thought you are over something as trivial as baked goods and he can’t help but smile a bit when he notices the little pout on your face or the crease that forms on your forehead when you scrunch your face a little bit. “but i wanna try their matcha bread! and their boba looks good, or is it a little bit too early to be drinking boba?”

oikawa’s so lost in thought (*correction: staring at you) that he doesn’t even realize that you’ve been trying to grab his attention by calling his name 5 times— and it’s only when you physically have to shake him a bit that he snaps out of his little daydream.

“oh, sorry!” he gives you an apologetic smile. “what’s up?”

“i was asking if you wanted to share one of their drinks with me but you were too busy staring at me to hear.” you sneer. “do you have a crush on me or something? heh.”

“pshhh, no way!” he has a sheepish look on his face that you can’t stop yourself from laughing at.

“you better not go falling for me anytime soon, you playboy.” you jest while nudging him with your elbow.

“i’m pretty sure i should be the one telling you that,” he rolls his eyes playfully. “i’m surprised you haven’t confessed your undying love for me yet.”

“i don’t fall in love that easily, pretty boy, and i certainly do not fall in love with someone i’ve only recently met.” you snort at his comment.

“hi there! are you two ready to order?” a voice startles you and oikawa as you both turn your heads towards a woman standing behind the counter.

“oh i’m so sorry about that! i’m sure you didn’t come to work just to see the two of us play around.” you giggle as the woman mirrors your action.

“it’s nothing new to me, it seems like this place is a hotspot for couples to come and hang out so it’s kind of the norm for me now.” she reassures you.

“are you a college student?” you ask the cashier, taking note on how she looked to be around your age.

“i actually graduated from culinary school about 2 years ago,” she starts off. “my parents supported me throughout my 4 years of culinary school, but when it came down to actually opening this cafe, my boyfriend— well, fiancé now— helped me look for a good place to rent out and it was history from there!”

“it was a bit hard at first since i was still fresh out of culinary school and i could barely start this business with the funds i had saved up, but thankfully my boyfriend was able to pitch in and help make my dreams come true,” she continues and you feel your heart grow fuzzy at how whenever she mentioned her boyfriend, her face would soften and a small smile would make its way onto her face. “i honestly cannot imagine a life without him, he’s been with me since high school so he’s always known about my longtime dream of owning my own cafe. he’s always been my rock during my hardest times and— oh my! i started rambling didn’t i?”

she starts to apologize for burdening you with her life story, but you dismiss her worries by waving your hands in front of you, oikawa laughing and copying your motions.

“i think he’d be really happy to hear that you think so lovingly of him.” your lips curve into a gentle smile, which the woman reciprocates.

“what’s your name?” she asks.

“i’m y/n! and this big guy is tooru.” oikawa waves at the woman, her following suit.

“ah i see! well y/n and tooru, my name is maia and it’s so nice to meet you two!” she brings her hand out for a handshake, which you and oikawa return. “are you two college students?”

“yeah! i’m actually a student at the university of irvine!” you answer enthusiastically. “tooru is just visiting from argentina at the moment so i wanted to take him around the area before he left.”

“argentina, really?” her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. “it must be hard doing long distance, huh? i couldn’t even imagine if my fiancé and i had to live that far away from each other.”

you and oikawa turn to look at each other in confusion before an invisible lightbulb goes off in both of your heads and you bring your attention back onto maia, who’s now equally as confused as you two are.

“we’re actually not dating!” the pink hue from earlier creeps back onto your cheeks and from the corner of your eye you can see oikawa fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. “i met him at one of the frat parties i went to last week and we kind of just clicked.”

“i’m so sorry for assuming!” she has a distraught look on her face and you’re quick to tell her that it was just a misunderstanding. “you two just look really cute together, plus i’m also really used to a lot of couples coming here that i was quick to assume that you two were dating!”

“i mean, we’d be a cute couple right, y/n-chan?” gone was the nervous oikawa you saw just a second ago, and back was the cocky oikawa you all know and love.

“you wish!” you scoff, not bothering to shrug off the arm he slung around your shoulder.

“anyways, is it alright if we can get two of your milk breads as well as a matcha bread and a oolong milk tea with boba?” you order and maia quickly input the order into the tablet in front of her.

“will that be all for you today?”

“anything else you want, oikawa?” you ask him but he shakes his head in response. “i think that’ll be all for us today then, maia.”

you’re about to insert your card into the chip holder when suddenly oikawa grabs your arm and plucks the card out of your hand.

“h-hey! what are you doing? give me my card back!”

“didn’t i tell you that it was on the house earlier?” he looks at you with a teasing smirk on his face and before you could protest again, a pleasant sound comes out of the machine, signaling that the transaction was successful.

“such a gentleman! you should snatch him up before someone else does, y/n!” maia coos.

“i think it’d be best for someone else to snatch him up, i don’t think i could handle all of... this.” you motion to his entire body.

“are you flirting with me?” oikawa had a shit-eating grin on his face that you were so tempted to wipe off, but his actions from less than a minute ago still caught you off guard and you had to admit, you were glad he wasn’t a cheapskate and offered to pay in your stead— well, more forced you out of paying.

“thanks, oikawa,” you didn’t know what you had the other day to make you act so bold, but you stood on your tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek out of gratitude. “for being the only gentleman on campus, even though you’re technically not a student here.”

out of instinct, oikawa’s hand immediately flys up to the spot where your lips touched his skin and starts to graze it.

“heh, i like your spunk, y/n.” he shows you a cheeky smile.

“don’t let it get to your head, it was just a complimentary kiss.” you laugh and it sounds more melodious than usual to oikawa’s ears for some reason.

“so...” he starts and you let out a small ‘hm?’ which prompts him to continue. “do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

“i don’t think so? i have the dorm all to myself from when reina goes to her blind date and up until she comes back, so if you wanna do something then i don’t mind squeezing you into my schedule!” you reply, but a thought suddenly resurfaces in your mind. “no frat parties though, i heard one of iwaizumi’s friends are hosting one tonight but i don’t think i can think about another frat party without having to gouge my eyeballs out.”

“got it, no frat parties,” oikawa chuckles. “if it makes you feel any better, i never liked those frat parties anyways and i only went because iwaizumi is the only person i know here which meant i was obligated to follow him around everywhere but now that i know you, it changes the whole game!”

“i’m just as new to california as you are oikawa, don’t get your hopes up too high.”

“but that’s the fun part about it, right? we get to explore california together! it really feels like we’re a couple don’t you think?” he blurts out in the heat of the moment but quickly comes to realize the weight of his words. “oh shit— sorry... i hope you’re not uncomfortable hearing me say that out loud.”

“not at all!” you look down at your shoes for a fleeting moment before looking back up at oikawa. “it’s quite... endearing? i’ve never really had a lot of ‘guy friends’ and mostly hung around with girls so this is the first time i’ve ever really had a guy show any interest in me— platonically of course!”

“and you’ve never ever had a boyfriend before?” oikawa lifts an eyebrow.

“nope, never even had my first kiss,” you say but you think back to the events that took place last night. “well, up until yesterday...”

you tried to hide the grimace on your face as the memory of you and iwaizumi kissing kept playing on repeat in your mind, but oikawa was able to see right through your mask and clenched his fists as he recalled the distressed look on your face when he and reina found you crying in the bathroom.

oikawa believed that you should have deserved to have your first kiss taken by someone who truly loved you, but instead, it was taken away by his scum of a best friend, who, he was currently disappointed in for treating you the way he did last night.

oikawa is about to open his mouth up to say something, but he’s interrupted before he even gets a chance to say anything when maia announces that your order is ready.

“it smells so good, maia!” you say after you skip over to the other side of the counter and take a whiff of the freshly baked pastries.

“oh you’re making me blush, y/n!” maia cups her cheeks bashfully while you laugh at her antics.

you shake up the cup of boba so that the pearls were evenly distributed throughout the drink before taking a straw and puncturing a hole through the film on top of the cup, taking a small sip after you mix the drink around one last time with the straw.

“mhm! so good!” you lean back, not realizing that oikawa had moved to stand right behind you, resulting in you crashing into his chest.

“shit, you scared me oikawa!” you laugh as you slap his chest. “want some?”

you hold the straw up to his lips, and you notice the way his eyes widen by a fraction.

“you wanna share?”

“well yeah? unless you’re scared of getting cooties or something, what are you? 12?” you tease. “or are you worried that it’s an indirect kiss? i can always get another—”

your rambling is cut off when his lips wrap around the straw and he takes a long sip of the drink in your hand.

“there, we just indirectly kissed!” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before shooting you a goofy grin.

“pft, how childish do you have to be to be freaked out over an indirect kiss.” you mumble, but it doesn’t cover up the blood that rushes up to your face, painting your cheeks in a pinkish hue which oikawa finds endearing.

part one | part two | part three | part four

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you.

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things.

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world.

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening.

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?”

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show.

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity.

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine. “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.”

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay.

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him.

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs.

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it.

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him.

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course.

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared.

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face.

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful.

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you.

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does.

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you.

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions.

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout.

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips.

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin.

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to.

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time.

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man.

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple.

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease.

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone.

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress. “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous.

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio.

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!”

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it.

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you.

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features.

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch.

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed.

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said.

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern.

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked?

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there.

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin.

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are.

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser.

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not.

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole.

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it.

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ.

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you.

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of.

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right.

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room.

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room.

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.”

There. You said it.

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back.

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok.

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you.

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you.

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth.

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be.

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles.

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over.

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly.

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright.

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him.

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of.

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty.

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly.

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you.

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology.

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast.

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.

#jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jhope smut #bts x reader #jhope fluff #hoseok fluff #bts #jhope #jung hoseok #joy.masterlist

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dropsofletters · 3 years

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get a grip [pcy]

—summary: working for park chanyeol, one of the favorite soccer players of the entire country, is damn right exhausting. taking out his obvious good looks and his charming smile, there is nothing more she can enjoy about him when she has to walk his demonic chihuahua through his rich neighborhood and get a sightly lower than average paycheck at the end of the month.

but it’s expected. he’s rich, successful and he probably bought the dog just because he could. all she has to do is her job. she barely even sees him, either way.

a lost chihuahua later and a few excuses spewing out her lips, the least she expects is for this year’s soccer promise to say he’ll be staying at home the rest of the summer, and that she better get his dog back to normal, if not, she’ll lose her job.

as if that barking demon isn’t enough of a problem, now she has to deal with her intense yet misunderstood attraction towards chanyeol. that isn’t such a promising summer.

—title: get a grip — pairing: park chanyeol x reader — genre: dog walker!au ; professional soccer player!au ; boss!au ; strangers to enemies to lovers!au — type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; suggestive — word count: 11,196 — note: this is a gift for one of my kofi supporters. thank you!

No matter how spacious this mansion is, it always remains empty. Pine green vines curl against the grass while her cheap sneakers step on it, shortened breaths leaving her lips in hopes of releasing the stress that accumulates inside of her.

Think, five thousand square feet worth of space in this house, and one tiny chihuahua had managed to slip the confines of its collar to run away as if he was on the brink of winning the goddamned Olympics.

How difficult could it be to find a beige-toned, short-haired, teeth-baring chihuahua in the middle of Park Chanyeol’s mansion? Well, extremely so, much more when said chihuahua belongs to him and she can’t find it anywhere.

She turns to the left, watching some of the chefs taking a break by one of Chanyeol’s balconies, cigarettes slipping through their lips to let out clouds of smoke. Three of them, to be exact, one shorter and fuller, one extremely buff and tall, and the shortest one the slimmest of them all.

“Guys!” Waving her hand in the air, she tries to recollect the attention of the trio. The shortest one stops smoking, waving back as he screams out her name. “Have you seen Messi?”

Yes, that’s the dog’s name. God bless Park Chanyeol for the ironies of his train of thought.

“The chihuahua?” The chef shouts back, and she has to blink away the eye-roll that almost emits from her. As it turns out, she is the dog-walker for a reason, the only individual she’d have to deal with here is…well, Messi. Not the soccer player, but the dog.

“Yeah. Have you seen him?”

“No!” Her bones grit against each other, practically seeing it all in the back of her eyelids. Unemployed, again, with a dog missing and someone gaining way more than she has in this job once they find him, somewhere along this unnecessarily expensive neighborhood. She’s guessing thousands, that’s how important this dog is. What she’ll get? A kick in the ass. “Maybe ask Junmyeon? He’s around the household.”

“Okay. Thanks!”

The recognition should go to the architects that worked in such masterpiece or the painters and designers that turned this mansion into a daydream. Tall white walls, curling trees and flowers spread across the front yard, the sun falling across the entrance—all emit beauty, accompanied by twelve bathrooms, nine bedrooms, one cinema, a bar and whatever else she hasn’t managed to hear about. She can go around the main spot, though, going through the living room and stepping on the almost-too-pristine marble flooring as she inspects around the room.

Chanyeol is never here, a shadow whenever he passes by to change his clothing and get on another plane. Most of the time, he lives in Spain. She doesn’t know why he bothers keeping this place when all his business with soccer is dealt with over there, but his house remains intact, leaving people to grant his every wish. Chefs that work on prepping meals that sometimes he eats, sometimes he doesn’t. Dog-walkers, such as herself. Gardeners. Cleaners. Maids. The list is endless.

Maybe, his dog is not everything Chanyeol has lost.

In the second living room, on the right wing of the house, she finds the figure that the chefs had been talking about. Junmyeon hunches over a table, inspecting through a folder before he jots something down with his pen. His black hair, moved away from his face, rests just below his ears, wearing his typical sweater—this time, champagne-colored—and jeans.

Chanyeol’s physiotherapist doesn’t spend much time around the mansion. Unless Chanyeol is there, of course. But the times that he has been around, she has enjoyed his presence. Some kind of friendship had blossomed—quite ironic, to be exact. Her mouth runs on speeches of ‘eat the rich and Park Chanyeol’, while Junmyeon defends him. Something about him having a deeper heart than she could ever judge.

Yeah, right.

“Jun,” She calls out, panting when she spreads her fingers on her knees to catch a breather. “Have you seen Messi?”

The man’s rounded cheeks lift when he gives her a smile, hanging his pen from the collar of his sweater. “May want to check in Argentina.”

What’s with this mansion and the stupid jokes? “Junmyeon, I’m serious. Messi slipped away from his collar…” Her hands lift the white and blue collar up in the air, the elegant decorations making it seem ridiculous. “And now I can’t find him. He’s gone.”

Junmyeon’s smile falls, going over to where she is. “Shit, Chanyeol will lose it.”

Her world crumbles down to pieces at that moment. The chefs are always here, maids upon maids that welcome her for each walk in the morning with a chihuahua that jogs and jogs and never gets tired, but if Junmyeon is there, it’s because he needs to tend to Chanyeol.

“Fuck, is he here?!” Panic starts to creep up on her, opening the doors of the living room to lead herself to the pool place in the mansion. God forbid that little dog is swimming in a pool the size of an average family’s house.

Junmyeon scoffs, though helping her lurk through the bushes and the seats. “It’s the end of the season and his meniscus are killing him. If I’m here, it’s because I need to tend to Chanyeol—”

Smacking her hands against her thighs, she looks around the place. Where had that little thing gone? “Well, excuse me for thinking you’d be visiting me for once.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, trying to find a defense mechanism for her endless anger. “We—We walked five blocks, all the way back and just when we got to the door, that fucking Houdini decided to slip away from the collar.”

“It must’ve been loose. I don’t think a chihuahua named Messi can just go like that.” Junmyeon answers, and she shakes her head, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Job lost. That’s it. She may want to start to buy the newspaper again just to check what’s available.

“It wasn’t loose.”

“Okay, damn, don’t use that tone on me.” His hands spread on his waist, harsh rays of sunshine falling upon his olive skin before he sighs deeply. “Where did you see him last?”

“Blasting towards the gardens.” She points towards the entrance door. “But I checked there, Jun. He’s not there.”

“He’s hiding or he left. Let’s hope it’s the first option.” The man is already walking ahead of her, getting out of the pool area and returning to the living room as she follows after his steps. He seems to have a plan, and she was starting to run out of options. “His favorite snacks are in the kitchen. We’ll just make a trail of food for him to follow and he will. He just came from a jog, he’ll be hungry. Or thirsty, we could add some water there.”

Bonus points for the man who actually graduated from university. Light transcends through her body, relaxing her every muscle as they get towards the kitchen. The chefs are not there, so the embarrassment will lessen, as well.

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Because you never think when you’re panicking.” A year of working in this household does that much. Hours spent with Junmyeon, waiting for Chanyeol to arrive because of his early appearances and her late outings with the chihuahua had led to some friendship to blossom there.

“You know how much I need this job.” Seriousness bathes over her statement, dragging through every syllable of what people don’t notice. They see the woman with the graphic t-shirts and jeans, looking unfitting in this exquisite place, that walks the dog every morning. They don’t see the reality of why she needs this job, and why she’s never as put-together as the others.

“I do.” He pushes the wooden doors of the kitchen open, turning around to give her a relaxing smile. Those that make his brown eyes twinkle, pushing his lips closer together. “And Chanyeol just left, so he’s not going to notice Messi gone.”

“I’m sure. It’s not like he ever pays attention to his dog either way.” She pushes the door of the kitchen open with her back, continuing to walk backwards as she speaks. “Seriously, why does someone get a dog when they are never going to take care of them? He doesn’t even live here, and when he does, he’s out and about. That’s like having a child and never taking care of it.”

The shadows in Junmyeon’s face cast down just like the smile that falls down from his features, widened eyes concentrating on whatever is inside that kitchen. She stops when her back collides with the island in the middle, turning around upon his horror. There, with its barking ways and humongous eyes is Messi, hugged tightly to Chanyeol’s chest.

Which, speaking of the man, he doesn’t seem pleased.

What’s the part that bothered him? The bad father part? Or the part where she questions why he even got a dog on the first place?

Messi doesn’t stay still on Chanyeol’s trained arms. He twists and turns until Chanyeol drops him on the floor, and she takes this time to stare at him. Sure, she has never been too fond of people in surprisingly well-established positions, and those who live such lavish lifestyles when others are completely devastated in what consists of economy, but Chanyeol is a sight to look at, nonetheless.

Brown hair that falls just over his forehead, tossed from practicing, his skin a bit tanner than when he stays in on winter. Protruding ears tinge in a blush thanks to the frown on his features, wide eyes dead-set on her. His lips push together, stifling whatever curses he wants to throw her way, arms crossed over his toned chest. A black t-shirt covers him, and she sees the strength of his calves in his basketball shorts.

“Ah, Mr. Park—” She tries to laugh through the issue, pointing towards Messi. “He was giving a walk on his own.”

“I found him barking at my car when I parked here. I forgot my phone, thankfully.” Never had he looked so serious, fire flaming from his eyes when he steps forward, spreading his hands on top of the island to look at her face to face. “I didn’t hire you to lose my dog, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t.” She responds after swallowing thickly. “He just slipped away—”

“Well, that’s my child. You can’t just let it slip away and expect me not to notice because I’m never here.” Ouch. The words must have hurt him, a long sigh leaving his nostrils when he shakes his head. “He’s developed anger issues.”

Her eyebrows raise on her forehead. That dog has always been one little barking thing. He’d bite, grunt and scratch whatever gets in his line of sight. He was like that one year ago, when he was a mere puppy, and the story goes on.

“He’s always been like that…” She replies, parting her lips in an amused smile. “That’s not my fault. I’m not a dog trainer, I’m a dog walker.”

Chanyeol points at the dog, now growling at him and scratching at his legs, as if trying to get to the top of the Everest. For someone so small, Chanyeol’s legs must be the road to heaven, too close to the sky for him to even try to get on him. “He never did this before. He’s—he didn’t even bite me in the past!”

Maintaining her stance, she crosses her arms across her chest. It doesn’t matter that half the country has popularized Chanyeol with a fame that even himself couldn’t control. Gold never blinded her enough not to realize the stain on a ring—so, that won’t be the case with Chanyeol. “Try thinking like him. He doesn’t recognize you. He doesn’t even recognize me. He must be acting up because he is always left on his own.”

Frowning deeply, he shakes his head: “No. You’re the one who has been with him the longest. You must have put him through some shit if he’s running away like that—”

Junmyeon lifts his hand in the air, like a student in the middle of class, staring at his two bickering teachers, practically throwing daggers at each other from their positions on that island.

Fuck Park Chanyeol, and not in the good kind of way. Fuck him in the sense of fleeing him away to a far, very far island where no one can find him and cannot hear his absolute bullshit.

Seriously, Messi developed anger issues because of her?

Junmyeon’s theory is a bit more factual. “Maybe, he’s just acting up because he is alone a lot of times.” He complements, shrugging in the process. “You know, like how kids do when their parents are never home. They start, I don’t know, not going to school, biting kids in elementary, probably thinking they’re a dog? I know those things happen.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, kneeling down to try and pat Messi’s short hair, but the dog clings onto his fingers, not biting as harshly to cause him pain, but enough to stick to the skin. “He wasn’t like this with me when I was here.”

“What, a trillion years ago?” She mumbles, widening her eyes when Chanyeol connects his gaze to hers. Fire radiates from those brown irises, standing up and moving to her side of the island.

Bye-bye dreams of a bigger apartment.

Farewell her curriculum.

Goodbye to her dignity.

See you later gossip mornings with Junmyeon.

“Sorry.”

His taut and trained arms cross over his chest, pushing his hair away from his eyes before returning to his scolding position. “If you know so much about my dog, why don’t you teach me how to be a great father?”

She snorts out a laugh. “It’s a dog, Mr. Park. I’m sure he doesn’t have enough braincells to—”

“He does.” Chanyeol utters, quirking one of his eyebrows. “Now that I’ll stay here for the summer, I want you to reconnect me with my dog. I’ll walk him with you every single day if I have to, but Messi…Messi changed with you and that fact stays.”

“Just listen to yourself. This is ridiculous!” She exclaims, expanding her hands towards the dog. “He was like that when I met him. Just—I don’t know, you’ve got money. Hire a dog psychologist or—or, I don’t know? A family counselor? A therapist? Don’t include me on this—”

“You want to keep your job?” The jab of his tone has her closing her eyes tightly. Okay, so she has to keep the job, but walking goddamned Satan on a leash every morning is not the job of her dreams. She hums, opening her pupils to show him her interest. “Well, stay and teach me how to be a dad. If by the end of the month it doesn’t work, I’ll have to find someone else for your spot.”

Eat the rich.

They are fucking ridiculous with the things they wish for. It’s a dog. All he wants is food, attention and a bone thrown his way from time to time. He can’t connect with him because Chanyeol is never here. Period.

Or because he’s a chihuahua. Shit, Paris Hilton’s dog mustn’t have the best attitude either.

But she extends her hand, interlocking it with his to give it a shake. “You’ve got it, Mr. Park.”

“Great.”

“Excellent.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He swings his hand towards the door, absentmindedly and relaxed. “We’re done here. Thank you for…uh, walking my dog and almost losing him?”

Poor dog doesn’t know what kind of person he just came back to. She tries to give a tight-lipped smile, nodding once and turning around to get out of that goddamned kitchen, cursing Chanyeol’s name inside her head endlessly.

###

Give life a mask and a stage and it’ll take anyone’s breath away, dramatic as it gets, bleeding out the pure execution of a wrongly written script. It’s a comedy, one of those dark ones that have people on the brink of feeling bad because they laughed.

Hell, but everyone has been laughing at him for the past week. The gin burns with the friction it leaves on his throat, clearing it once or twice when he leans back on one of his plenty of couches in his mansion. The King of Red Cards, the media had called him—and sure, Chanyeol knows not everything is fair in soccer, and most players use dramatics to earn the others some extra time or simply, when the shot of competitiveness settles inside of them and they use every touch against their skin to win the game.

Chanyeol? He doesn’t do well with red cards. They match his face when someone points it at him, and he’s all shouts and widened eyes. He knows where he touches, how he does it, and while he may seem like it, he’s not malicious. His body isn’t trained to extend his leg far enough to hurt someone non-accidentally.

But the media has done two things with the last three matches of his team. Mock him with endless pictures of his angered face as he tried to explain himself. Blame him for his team’s loss, and, how to forget? Tell him he’s not worth the money he earns.

That has him tipping his head back and downing the rest of the gin, listening to Sehun’s laughter as he tells him what had happened this morning.

Sure, the championships are over, he’s back home, there is nothing to worry about…but here’s the thing: he hasn’t been home, every day, since well over a year. The couches are practically new, the bed is spacious enough to hold five people in it, and he hates it. He had been taken for so long that his somber thoughts almost irk him.

Jesus Christ, how does one turn off that voice inside his head that repeats: An entire summer, Chanyeol, you can’t leave this mansion for an entire summer—?

“You really made that scene just because of your dog?”

Sehun has a point. He’s not half as tipsy as he is, still downing his first drink, one leg crossed over the other when he speaks. Amusement had covered his enigmatic features, long nose scrunched up after hearing him speaking about the fucking dog-walker.

Sure, Chanyeol had just gotten the news of his long-vacation, as announced by his manager, that morning…but he really shouldn’t have taken it all out on the girl.

Red card for that one, too.

“Messi wasn’t like that.” Chanyeol says, putting the glass down on the white coffee table, matching his leather couches and spacious bookshelves, filled with books that bring a tinge of color to this white lounge room. “You know, the dog.” He intensifies with some hand movements. “…I…He wasn’t like that when I was with Sohyun. When we adopted him—”

“And left him to be taken care by other people? Yes, that’s when he was tiny and sweet.” Sehun chuckles at his own words, leaning forward when parting his legs and serving himself some gin. “Chanyeol, be honest with yourself. Sohyun was a little, petty, spoiled bitch and you bought her a chihuahua because she wanted one. None of you were home to take care of the pet equivalent of a child, come on.”

His lips part, lifting his index finger in the air to form a debate before lowering it slowly. “Sohyun was here for the first three months of Messi’s life.”

And she really shouldn’t have picked that name, now he thinks. The poor dog is probably made fun of when with other dogs, in their own language.

One thing that should be known about Sehun, his best friend and actor, is that there is not a single hair on his tongue. He uses it to get women, and he definitely uses it to put Chanyeol in his place. “Tell me,” He starts, taking a sip of his newly served drink. “When was she taking care of Messi? During those three months, when she lived here, and all she did was cheat on you…or was it when she, clearly, put the dog away from her room to fuck your publicist?”

Talk about harsh.

His life should have never intercepted with Sohyun’s. With her long-bleached hair, small shoulders and wide hips, she had made her way through the world of modelling. A socialite with pretty lips, a soft voice and the most sensual of touches had practically put him to his knees in the matter of seconds. One week of dating, a month of locking himself up in his room after practice just to spend hours and hours between her legs had turned into a relationship.

He should’ve never gone to that party he met her to. Shouldn’t have moved in with her so soon. Shouldn’t have given her the benefit of the doubt when she promised she’d stay by his side while he was in Spain.

This mansion is haunted with the ghost of the plenty of men that passed by this couch, his bed, his rooms, his kitchen, the bathroom.

Someone, call the ghostbusters, because he’s not entirely pleased with still living here.

“I know I overreacted.” Chanyeol says, tracing the outline of his empty glass. “But…he really wasn’t like that. She has made him more aggressive.”

“Says who?”

“Me. I say so.” His eyes widen, resting his hand against his forehead when he leans back. “Sehun, I’m having the worst day of my life and I have to live in this fucking mansion for an entire month, just…let me be.”

His friend squints his eyes, inspecting his features for a few seconds before humming.

“Is she, like, the woman that comes around here every morning…at around seven, and takes Messi with her?”

Chanyeol scoffs. “That’s what a dog walker does, ain’t it?”

With that, he’s settled. Sehun melts into his chair, pleased with the scent of his gin when he closes his eyes and tries to muffle his laughter. “You’re being a kid.”

“Why?” He asks. “She—I may have not been good with my words, but my point stands. He’s—”

“Let me remind you, Chanyeol, I was with you when you hired her.”

He doesn’t recall the exact day but he uncovers his forehead to look at him properly. “What about it?”

Sehun shrugs. “I don’t know, bro. You were looking through the pictures of all the people trying to walk your dog to hell and back if you asked them to, and you only hired her because you thought she was hot.”

Oh, now he remembers.

Maybe, it was one of those judgement-clouded, ego-hurt, post-break-up decisions that he had made. Sohyun’s bags packed, she had left their dog behind, wanting to do nothing with him now that they were separated, for good. Of course, some ties unite him to the small, little puppy that now hates him to bits, but at the time, he had to go back to Barcelona.

His manager arranged it all, and Sehun was planning on helping him with the interviews when he came across her picture. All he had to do was point and say:

“I said she was cute, not hot.” Chanyeol corrects, half-drunken in his slurred voice.

“Same thing.” Sehun fights back, but Chanyeol shakes his head.

“It’s not the same thing.” He says. “Besides, she’s a back-talker and extremely disrespectful. There’s this air of arrogance to her—”

“That battles yours? What a match!” Sehun claps his hands together, laughter escaping his lips when he shakes his head. “Park Chanyeol, look at you. Haven’t gotten laid in a while and now you’re not sure how to get a girl. Have to act like a kid pulling at his crush’s braids.”

Chanyeol scoffs. Sure, she’s not half bad looking in her simple clothing with that troublesome smirk on her lips, but she is definitely not enough trouble for him to be spending every single day with her just because. “Dude, seriously, I would never do that.”

“You wouldn’t have done that before, but you haven’t been in the game for a while.” Sehun stands up, tugging at his jacket to put it on before giving a sugar-sweet, teeth-rotting smirk. “I’m betting my sweet little ass something is going to happen, and not on her side of things, but in your side.”

“Why?!”

Sehun opens the door, cackling in the process. “Because it’s obvious, douchebag. She hates your guts!”

He grabs one of the pink cushions on the couch, throwing it towards Sehun only to be stopped by the man closing the door behind him.

“That’s it, go away, asshole!”

As if he could really absentmindedly go all those extra miles just to get some…some arrogant dog-walker that thinks he hasn’t tried to establish a relationship with his dog.

Sehun’s really on some hard shit. He’s betting acid—with his sweet little ass, as Sehun would say.

###

Books are a bunch of bullshit. Crap. Manure. Shit.

Or, maybe she’s just thinking about her breakfast—that also looks like absolute shit.

Some mixtures just don’t go well. The soft texture of black beans, somewhat dulcet and creamy on top of a crunchy, half-bitten toast is not what anyone would call an ideal breakfast. It doesn’t bring any source of happiness or energy to her day, much less when accompanied by lukewarm water. Her small bed works as her dining table as she munches on her breakfast as quickly as she can, reading a romance book once of her friends had given her to pass time.

If life was good, she’d have a house as big as Park Chanyeol. Another thing that doesn’t go well with her morning. She sighs deeply, leaning back on the bed and bringing the book up to her eyesight. The bodyguard, meaning the main man, has decided to leave everything to protect his princess, rushing through fields of people just to get to her before the bad guys do. Heroic, so inherently…false. No one is like that.

The neighbors next door have decided to prove her right. It’s six in the morning, and it seems like the couple is still on their honeymoon phase. Her bed’s headboard slams against the wall when she hears the first few moans and whines, the neighbor’s old bed squeaking with each word that escape the couple’s lips.

“Oh fuck, right there—”

They’re on their fifties. Maybe, they don’t know it’s six in the fucking morning.

“Harder!”

And the headboard actually slams harder against her wall.

Who would have thought old Mr. Lim still had it in him?

“Har…der!”

Okay, time to get to work earlier.

She grabs her hoodie, pulling it over her head and pushing her phone inside her pocket before getting out of her apartment. Even in the hallway, consisting of equally as small apartments, she can hear the Lim’s going at it like rabbits. Good luck for the other neighbors who have to wake up to realize that Mr. Lim doesn’t have an erectile disfunction. Not yet, at least.

That dick is up-and-at-them.

The book was left behind, because if life was like a book, someone would have already come save her—or there would have been some nice man, looking like he is Leonardo DiCaprio’s long lost relative, telling her that he’ll pay her whatever thousand or million dollars just to pretend to be his girlfriend. Life would be good then, because she’d have a happy ending and she wouldn’t have to worry about putting bad food on her plate.

But it’s not how life works.

Luckily for her, she doesn’t have to wait long by the bus stop, getting inside it to greet the driver. From then on, she concentrates on the atmosphere, the most dangerous part of the city melting into the center, far more packed and prepared for the day. From then on, she has to get off and walk towards Chanyeol’s rich neighborhood. The muscles of her thighs thank her for the workout but it’s damn right exhausting—this routine, that is.

Crisp air wraps around her arms, moving her hair when she finally crosses the gates to Chanyeol’s neighborhood. Fifty minutes later, but she’s there. The neighbors are not more normal than others, even when they are rich, living in their grand mansions. A woman is taking the sun in in her front-yard, pinned back hair and almost nonexistent bikini cladding her body.

Good for her, she looks nice.

Kids are rushing in mini cars. Men are working out where everyone can see them. It’s all about image in this place.

The white walls of Chanyeol’s spacious mansion finally welcome her, sweat pooling at her forehead when she wipes it off and greets the guards by the entrance. She doesn’t even ask if Chanyeol is here—of course, he is not going to be here. A ghost in his own home, he probably exaggerated when speaking to her yesterday.

So, she opens the doors of the mansion, inviting herself in when Messi comes rushing towards her.

“Hello, my boy—” Her voice heightens because he may be a headache and the devil at the same time, but Messi looks cute with his big chihuahua eyes and his swinging tail early in the morning. “I need to find your leash first, babe. Follow me.”

He does as she says, at least, he seems to be happy today. She moves towards the main living room, humming a song under her breath. Some rock tune from the eighties that she can’t quite recognize, but she doesn’t pay much attention to it, getting to the corner of the expansive living room and opening the drawers to get one of the many leashes out.

She feels like pink today. Perhaps, she needs to feel like she’s the main character of Legally Blonde today.

Yet, when she closes the drawer and she turns around, she hears a guttural groan. Mr. Lim is nowhere in sight, and he would kill to sound like that, so that only leaves her with a few options.

A man lays on the couch, half-dead, maybe, he doesn’t move much, but she knows exactly who it is. One of his toned, muscular arms spreads on top of his eyes, covering the light that rakes through the glassed doors and windows, his dark hair done a mess on top of his head, lips plump and swollen from the amount of alcohol he had taken. Shit, it stinks like whiskey or gin in here—

The empty bottle of gin on the table tells her it’s the latter.

Her eyes go towards his worked, toned stomach, uncovered…because of course someone like Chanyeol just had to sleep without a shirt on, and his long legs spread on the otherwise tiny couch—at least, for him—, cladded in gray sweatpants.

He opens one of his eyes, groaning at the sight of her once again and she closes her eyes tightly.

Forget the sound.

She’s not there to think as Chanyeol as anything other than fucking annoying.

“What are you doing here?” His voice has a rasp, barely lifting his head to look at his phone on top of the coffee table before dropping it again. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“I’m doing my job. I always walk Messi this early.” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Messi rushes towards the living room, swatting his tail like a maniac. “Don’t worry, Mr. Park. You can keep sleeping, I’ll walk the dog and leave.”

But Chanyeol doesn’t take it, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair, and it takes all the will in the fucking world not to look at his contracting biceps.

“I said I’ll accompany you, and I will.” Though, when he stands up, something switches in Messi, barking uncontrollably towards the tall man. “Yes, boy. Who’s a good boy? You are!”

Even those words don’t seem to tranquilize Messi, and she does her best to kneel down and take it in between her hands, but he slips away easily. “Hey, come back here!”

Just like yesterday, Messi scavenges and she’ll give him something—

Boy got quick legs.

He runs away from the living room and towards the entrance. Her eyes connect to Chanyeol’s momentarily, rushing after him only to hear his loud footsteps behind her.

“See? He can’t see you because he already goes crazy!” Chanyeol exclaims behind her, and she swears she hears his little paws tapping against the flooring. He may be going to the entrance door, again.

“Excuse me?” She questions, seeing the swing of the dog door on the entrance door before shaking her head at Chanyeol. “He went crazy when you woke up.”

“Then, you plotted him against me!”

“I didn’t do shit, Mr. Park.” She opens the door before looking around.

Chanyeol moves quicker, thinks faster, asking the guards by the entrance of his mansion. “Have you seen Messi?”

One of them frowns. “…In Argentina?”

If she wasn’t so worried about the goddamned dog, she would’ve laughed.

Chanyeol spreads his hands on his hips, elbows crooked. “No! My dog!”

“Oh, by the pool!”

“Thanks!”

Her boss is already a few steps ahead, speaking to her as he waits for her to follow after him. Shit, some people just are really insufferable—

“Stop cussing me out all the time. You don’t know me.”

“Well, you don’t know me, either.”

“I know you don’t like me. I think that’s enough.”

“It wasn’t a requirement for the job to be your absolute fan, Mr. Park. I’m just not very fond of how you point fingers at everyone when—”

“Shh!”

Upon reaching the pool, they see Messi swimming with his little paws, the sun raking down his small body as he enjoys the summery day.

She spares him a glance, as if asking him if he thinks the same way as her, and he nods. Okay, so he agrees, she’ll be the one to catch him.

Only that when she moves forward to grasp Messi in between her hands, Chanyeol does so at the same time. And then, everything she feels around her is water.

When she rises up from the pool, she feels someone’s body pressed right to hers. In front of her, she realizes after pushing her hair away from her face, is Chanyeol, in all his half-naked glory, droplets of water clinging to his face and chest as he frowns at her.

“I was going to get him!”

“Sorry for not knowing silent language…” Asshole is how she wants to finalize the sentence, but when she sees Messi paddling away by their side, as if laughing at their antics and enjoying his time by the pool. Her hands wrap around his small body, caging him in between their chests. “Nu-uh, my boy. You’re not going anywhere else.”

Each breath Chanyeol takes connects to her body, moves her as he tries to catch his breath. Sooner than later, he’s no longer pointing fingers—at least, not directly, but worried over anything else he feels.

“Why does he keep running away?” In his voice, the deflated optimism is noticeable and she looks up at his eyes before sighing.

“I think he just wants your attention.” Prompting, she looks away from the man. It’s not the first time that she realizes Chanyeol is above average-looking people, but that doesn’t give him in the benefit to just barge into her head like that. “You know, you gave him a hard time by leaving him with the sitter for so long and now he wants revenge. Or, he’s holding a grudge. One or the other.”

Messi bites at her hair, pawing at it to see the wet strand of her hair.

“But what do I do?” A pout takes over his features when he leans forward and his dog bites at his finger. “Ouch, Messi, bad boy!”

She huffs. “Maybe, try changing his name? No one is going to take him seriously if you call him Messi.” With that, she moves towards the edge of the pool, getting out with the dog between her hands. “I think he senses you and feels like running. Maybe, you could leave us on our own? At least, until he gets used to you again.”

His wide shoulders deflate. “That’s it? I can’t do anything?”

“I’m not sure.” She answers, sitting at the edge of the pool and wrapping the collar around Messi’s neck. “I’ll go walk him now. Just…let me do my job?”

Though, once she stands up, her skin becomes aware of the fabric of clothing clinging to her body, uncomfortably outlining every curve and imperfection.

“You want to walk around the neighborhood like a wet dog?” A charming smile takes over Chanyeol’s features and all she wants to do is wipe it off. Get some Kleenex and poof, clean it away before he continues with that confidence that both irks her and interests her.

She lifts Messi up slightly, who is blinking back at him as if judging him. “That’d make two wet dogs.”

“No, no.” And God, he makes a show out of getting out of the pool, his arms flexing when he pushes himself away, running his fingers through his hair to push the strands away. “I’ll lend you some of my old clothes and you can leave after.”

“It’s not necessary—”

“I wasn’t asking. I was offering.”

“And I’m denying. Thank you, but no thank you.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, tugging her by her arm to pull her with him. She doesn’t hesitate to go after him, after all, she knows he could very well drag her away. “Pride, pride, pride. It’s a bad thing to hold onto that, you know?”

“…Are we talking about you or about me?”

The warmth of Chanyeol’s mansion makes her sigh in delight, briefly letting go of him to lock the dog’s door and let go of Messi. He shakes his body before sprinting away with his barking ways.

Sure, he’s not usual, but he’s cute in his own way.

Chanyeol goes up the set of curved stairs, too long for her own good, but perhaps one of the many reasons why Chanyeol’s legs are to die for.

“You.”

“I’m not prideful, Mr. Park.”

“If that lets you sleep at night…”

Gasping, she catches up with his steps, walking alongside him, cringing at the squeaking of her shoes. “I’m sorry that everyone but me would die to have your clothes on them, but I’m not sure I want everyone here to think I’m just wearing your clothes because we—” She stops herself then, pressing her lips together because she may be bantering with her boss, the man that signs her paychecks…and now, he’s chuckling at her words, low and deep and somewhat, alluring.

“You don’t want anyone to think you’re fucking me?” Chanyeol questions, and she hums. Then, his shoulders lift in a shrug, moving through the hallways to get to his walk-in wardrobe. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing someone could think of you.”

She breathes out, almost wheezing: “Over my dead body.”

He opens the doors of the closet then, turning to look at her. “Is that really what you think? Am I the most undesirable man in this world for you?”

Okay, she really does try to not swallow thickly when he says those words, because one thing is difficulty—and another thing is having Chanyeol, shirtless, asking her if she deems him attractive.

“Yes.”

His eyes inspect her features, walking into the closet with a waltz on his steps. “Lies.” While he mutters that simple word, he looks through his clothing, racks after racks of fabrics pushed around by his big hands.

“Think what you want.” Tiredness takes over her mind because she’s damp and smells a little bit like a dog. All she needs to do is finish her job.

“I just know you’re lying.”

“I’m not.” She bites back through gritted teeth. Chanyeol snatches something away from a hanger, then something else from his folded clothing before tossing it her way. Quite a master looking through this closet when it’s three times bigger than her apartment.

“Either you lied or you had a basketball in your throat. That swallowing ain’t covering up well for you.”

“I have a sore throat.”

“May want to get it checked up.” With that, he moves towards the door, taking the handles between his hands and only closing them when he says: “I think it’s an allergy. It only happens when I am the one around.”

With that, he’s gone.

And thankfully, he’s not there when she goes out wearing one of his black sweatpants, tied around her waist, and a violet hoodie, miniscule scarlet letters reading out ‘sexual fantasies’. The worst part? It smells like him.

She walks seven blocks wearing an outfit Park Chanyeol may have sported some other time, with his dog and his scent lingering on her.

What a curse.

###

“Your friend is a feisty one, isn’t she?”

What the hell is Chanyeol doing thinking about his employee? He has no idea, much less when the question lingers with a hiss when his physiotherapist bends his knee to the side slightly, having him curse and lull his head back. The pain takes his curiousness away for once, too early in the morning for him to even be thinking about the woman that has been the reason behind his headaches for the past five days.

Worst part is that his dog, sleeping soundly on his bed as Junmyeon works on his knee, is tranquil before his walk of today. Messi always picks her instead of him, rushing away whenever she passes by those doors.

Junmyeon looks up from his knee, one that isn’t entirely injured…but Chanyeol overworks himself with practices at times, much more with the latest championship that had taken place.

“She kind of has to.” He describes, simplistic as ever and guarding a few secrets, shrugging his shoulder when he folds Chanyeol’s long leg and brings it up to his chest, then extending it and repeating the process. A huff leaves his lips when he tries to get used to the pain, worrying his bottom one between his teeth.

“Why?” He questions, and he swears he is just trying to concentrate on something else. It isn’t like he’s curious—

Because he isn’t.

“Lives in a bad neighborhood, I guess. She’s tough as bricks if you ask me, but she’s gotten tougher this past year.” Those words have him frowning. Sure, her paycheck is not the best…but it’s enough to live somewhere in the center of the city, like the rest of his workers.

Truth be told, Chanyeol feels bad at times. He was recruited for soccer since he was a child—grown and prepared to be one of the best players in any team he found himself in. Never alone, always cheered on for, Chanyeol knows what difficulty means—but the conceptualization is different from one person to the other.

“Really?” Chanyeol questions, looking up at the chandelier in the ceiling before he frowns. “Is the paycheck not enough?”

“…Chanyeol, if you’re really curious about her, maybe try to be more approachable and ask her yourself?” Junmyeon retorts, shaking his head as a laugh leaves his thin lips. “Seriously, you’ve been bitten by your dog enough times for it not to hurt if she does decide to bite back.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me!”

Junmyeon sighs deeply, putting his leg down on the soft mattress of Chanyeol’s bed before rubbing his hands together. He seems to be finished with his therapy. “She doesn’t know you…and what she knows is that you’re here, and then you’re not.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Not really. It just isn’t her cup of tea, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders, putting his equipment inside his spacious dark leather bag before turning to look at Chanyeol. “If you really want to know why she doesn’t like you, don’t ask me. I can tell you the path she walks every day to get here…but nothing else.”

Chanyeol purses his lips, looking over to the side before extending one hand to try and pet Messi. He’s asleep, so he probably won’t even bite him. “I don’t want to know.”

Then, the small dog growls and grasps one of his long fingers between his teeth.

“Okay, I’ll leave now.” Junmyeon instructs, moving towards Chanyeol’s bedroom door until he hears him speak again.

“Wait—!”

He stops on his tracks, turning around to quirk one of his thick eyebrows. “You want me to tell you where to find her?”

“…If you don’t mind?”

Okay, so maybe his vacations are boring and he just needs a distraction. One with a bite in her tone, amusement in her pretty lips and that will help him not lose a finger to Messi’s bared teeth.

###

The day is perfect for a cup of tea under an umbrella, cladding her from the sun as she reads a book. Instead, she’s jogging down the sidewalk, late to her job and now she knows Chanyeol is waiting for her at home. Her chest heaves up and down as her shoes clank over the pavement, the wind and harsh sun clashing against her hair and skin, highlighting in her most atrocious stance.

Turns out that the Lim’s work for something. They are helpers for when her alarm doesn’t even dare blast off in the morning, but they had either fallen asleep today or, for some reason, sex wasn’t on the table today.

Or, they took it to the table, just it wasn’t on the bed.

Whatever. She doesn’t think she has ever been this bummed about being late to work.

Though, just as she is starting to lose her footing, far too tired to continue, she hears the sound of a car honking by her side, loud and clear. She would’ve continued with her stance, forgotten all about the eyes inspecting her, probably some creep trying to get a hold of her, but when she sees that charming smile that she has tried to erase from her brain the past week, she really stops on her tracks.

“Chanyeol?!”

She’s not in his neighborhood yet, but she’s well into the city, his Ferrari blending into the gray buildings surrounding him far too well. One of his hands rests on the steering wheel, the other spread on the seat next to him, his striped shirt clinging to his chest when he lifts his dark eyebrows up.

“Come on, get inside. Someone is going to crash my car if I keep standing here.”

“How did you know I was here?”

Chanyeol sighs, looking up at the ceiling of his car. “Certain bird called Kim Junmyeon told me you took the bus and then walked all your way over here and I felt bad.” He tilts his head to the side, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk before he adds: “And then I remembered that you would probably die to ride on my Ferrari, so I took the chance.”

She scoffs. “Get a grip, Park Chanyeol. I wouldn’t die to ride on anything that belongs to you.”

She knows how to stand up against people. Debt had brought her lower and lower, from one bigger apartment to a medium one and finally, the lint she dares call a home now. With neighbors that fuck like rabbits and one or two robberies happening once a month, she acknowledges that Chanyeol is just…annoying. Not bad. Not malicious. Just plain out stupid.

He opens the door of the car then, a barking dog seated on the passenger seat, practically jumping at the sight of her. Messi. “Do it for the kid.”

And she looks around the sidewalk, thinking about all the kilometers she has to walk just to get to Chanyeol’s place, and there’s air-conditioner in his car. Definitely so.

So, she takes Messi in between her hands and takes a seat on the warm, soft leather of Chanyeol’s car. A smile taking over his features when his fingers spread on top of her head to pat her hair. “That’s it.” He replies, only starting the car when she crosses her seatbelt on top of her body, sparing one glance at her before chuckling. “You know you just called me Park Chanyeol, right?”

She stops for a moment.

Get a grip, Mr. Park. No, that’s not what she said.

Oh fuck.

Her hands come cover her mouth, as if stifling what had already been told. “Oh shit.”

“And that you wouldn’t ride on anything that belongs to me.” Then again, maybe that was a bit too harsh. If Chanyeol dared pass in front of a group of people, there would be at least one person who would jump on his lap if he dared invite them. Though, she’s not quite accepting of the idea that crosses her head—the one that tells her that if he asked nicely enough, maybe she would think about it.

“I—You have to understand me here.” She replies, petting Messi’s fur as the dog lulls into a deep slumber on her lap. Today, he’s tranquil. “You like teasing me a bit too much.”

“Because your replies are good.” Chanyeol announces, turning on a corner away from the road towards his home. “I’ll take you to some breakfast before we go home, though. I think Messi doesn’t mind the ride.”

Pensive, mindful and a little bit of a charmer, Chanyeol seems to have it all together this morning. “Thank you.”

“Continuing on…” Chanyeol trails his voice, looking over at her for a fraction of a second before returning his gaze to the road. Everything about him is polished, relaxed, tapping his free hand against his thigh to the rhythm of the soft song on the radio, the other driving them to whatever place he had deemed welcoming for breakfast. “I have the feeling that you hate me.”

“I have the feeling you reciprocate it.”

“Something that soccer teaches you,” He starts, a smile on his face. “If someone fights you, you fight them back. And you fought me first.”

“You were the one pointing fingers!”

“You were talking shit about me.”

Well, guilty as charged.

She looks down at the dog on her lap, rubbing her lips together as she voices out the one thing she would have never imagined herself saying:

“I think I’m envious of you.”

The world clashes in so much silence that it almost echoes around her. Envy, a sentiment that lingers within us, inside of her, burning and snatching away the pretty parts of her. There is always one lingering look, a diamond too bright, a sigh too loud that takes her attention away from her own road and she sees the mud in comparison to the complete cleanliness of someone’s life.

Chanyeol has it all together, and maybe, that made him pompous inside her head. Privileged, and the worst kind at that.

“…You are?” Chanyeol breathes out, a confused frown taking over his otherwise dulcet yet attractive features when she sighs.

“It’s one of those things I can’t explain.” She tells, scratching the back of her head. “You spend so much time in debt that you look at everyone who is rich as the same thing. I’ve had people take me away from my home, give me deadlines when they know I’m unemployed. I’ve seen the divisions of class, and I guess I just assumed you’d be the same.” A scoff leaves her lips. “You told me I made your dog have anger issues, and that was enough to make me lose it. I had made a mistake once and you immediately lashed at me—”

His fingers hook around the steering wheel a little too tightly, smiling in the process. “You know, it’s one of those things…” His grin is not similar to the ones he sports. This one is uptight, as if forced. “When…When everything goes wrong and you want to lash at the first person you see.”

“Bad days for both of us?”

“I guess.” He replies, humming at the sound of the song on the radio for a few seconds before looking at her from his peripheral. The day is gorgeous, matching him in every way, beaming sunlight and growing flowers. He blends well with summer, makes his skin shine brighter, his eyes look fuller. “I don’t want this to be a bad summer…but I don’t know what to do in that goddamned house.”

She turns on her seat, her cheek pressed to the leather as she hears his every word, inspects his profile with utmost interest. “You want someone to live there meanwhile? Because I could get used to a mansion, for sure.”

That steals laughter away from him, but she knows better than to poke him. Even with his money, he must have some issues of his own. “The championships went terrible. I was…I guess I just wasn’t in the best mood and got three red cards.”

“Oh yes!” She widens her eyes, reminiscent of the days she spent laughing at the pictures she had seen on her phone. “With your face all red and all.”

“You find it funny?”

“Hilarious, but go on.” She swats her hand, only to have Chanyeol breathing in deeply.

“…I’ve lived in Barcelona for well over a year. I thought I wanted to keep this mansion because Sohyun wanted it. I did everything I had to just to keep it to myself. I didn’t sell it, didn’t have anyone else live in it, just because I wanted to have something she didn’t.” The revenge in his tone reminds her of that name. Sohyun, she has heard it before.

“Your ex?” A model passes through her head, but she isn’t quite sure she remembers her features to utter perfection.

He nods. “She cheated on me a bunch of times. With my friends, my publicist, people I didn’t know about. All in that mansion.” The somberness in his voice is different, deep and tranquil, as if he has learned to live with this. “So, when I came back, I expected it to be all glued together. For my heart to be back, for my dog to love me, for every memory to be trashed away…and…you were there at the wrong time.”

“As per usual.”

Chuckling, he says: “Maybe, I’m the right-timer between the two.” Pointing with his long fingers in between their bodies, he explains. “I came to pick you up when you were Usain Bolt-ing that sidewalk.”

“Right time, right moment, wrong guy.” She replies, turning around on her seat to stare towards the road ahead.

With his lips pursed, like she has learned he does when he pretends to be angry, he asks: “Who would be the right guy?”

“If you get me his number, I swear you’ll be the best boss ever.”

“Who is it?” Chanyeol questions.

“Son Heungmin.”

“No.”

“Wait, why?”

“Because…no.” He replies, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to be with Heungmin.”

“He’s hot, successful, kind, a soccer player. Got legs for days…”

The man in question squints his eyes, parking in front of a very famous, yet unvisited by her café before unhooking his seatbelt. “…Are you sure you’re not describing me?”

Therefore, more words can’t leave her lips when she realizes that the descriptions fit him a little bit too well.

“Get a grip of reality, Park Chanyeol.”

###

“I’ll teach you how to kick some balls today.”

“Oh,” Placing her hands on her waist, she quirks her hips to the side, smiling at Chanyeol’s presence in his own wide field for practicing at his home. “I know how to kick some balls. Want me to show you? I’m not sure about soccer-balls, but the hairy ones, kind of soft? Those, I do work well with.”

Trees swish around him, blotches of red appearing on his cheeks and ears thanks to the harshness of the sun, holding a soccer ball in between his expanded hands. Though, he rests it against the hard surface of his abdomen, chuckling at her words.

“You work well with them?” He asks, inspecting her features up and down. “What kind of working are we talking about?”

“Definitely not the kind you’re thinking of.”

“Bummer.” Chanyeol rests the ball on the grass in front of him, trapping him with his Adidas shoes before sighing. “I’ll try to score a goal and you have to stop me, I want to see what you’re made of.”

“Isn’t it enough that you drag me for coffee every morning?” She wants to continue fronting, pretend that there isn’t a small, numbing warmth that has her staying in the same spot by the sidewalk for him to pick her up in. Maybe, there’s spot for friendship in whatever mess they have been part of for the past two weeks. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m training you.”

Her hands clasp together, a faux smile appearing on her features. “To meet Heungmin?”

His jaw tightens, a frown appearing on his features. “I am not introducing you to him.”

Though, he moves towards her side, sprinting with the ball and catching her off guard, her hand extending in the air as she exclaims his name. “Hey! Stop! I need to keep up with you.”

“If you really want to meet Heungmin, you better start getting in shape.”

One would never think about it, but Chanyeol is more than the pictures catch of him. He’s not the competitiveness or the frown that overtake him on the field. He’s not the polished suits he wears or the tight smiles he sports when taking pictures with people equally as rich as him. The beam on his face when he scores goal after goal, even breaking some of the rules of real soccer to let her have fun, is exactly what she would imagine the real Chanyeol is like. Far away from the own judgement he has of himself or the way he has fitted his big frame into a tiny box of misconceptions and pretentiousness.

Time is one of the most beautiful things in life. We fear it, but who doesn’t? It’s in the wrinkles around our smiles, in the weight of our shoulders, in the imminent fear of an end that is not as happy as we want it—so unknown that it makes us scared, but it’s the only thing that is promised. Time with another person, whatever short or long, is important…and she notices that with the time she spends with Chanyeol every day. That his banter makes her feel lightweight, and his instructing ways bring something out in him. Something that even his dog manages to realize.

For the first time in a year, Chanyeol is not thinking of the time he lost. He’s thinking of the time he has left. Of enjoying the ‘now’.

Limbs spread on each side of her body, she lets the sun engulf her when her lungs expand to take a breather. Chanyeol remains fresh, a shadow cladding her body when she looks up at him. Her eyes don’t squint, but they almost burn at the harshness of his beauty. The raw side of what is left within him that still palpitates with hope. The child in him that had all this as a dream, not as a job.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”

“Compliment?”

His dog steals a breath away from her when he plops his tiny body on top of her abdomen, her fingers absentmindedly coming down to pet him. “Pretty much, yes.” Chanyeol comments, his hair falling on top of his forehead when he asks: “Why Heungmin?”

“What?” She asks, a smile appearing over her features. “Are you really asking me that?”

“If you want his number, I’ll really give it to you. I’ll set you up, even.” Chanyeol’s voice becomes tranquil, hitting her bones in soft trembles, making her shake underneath him, eyes widened, smile dulled. “…But why him?”

Because he’s not you.

Because everyone is not as dangerous as you are, as close as you get, as burning as your smile.

Because it feels impossible, but you’re right here.

“Because I like to tease you.” She sits up then, fluttering her eyelashes to him before looking to the side. “He—He’s not really my style, I guess.”

“He’s not? You just said—”

“I know what I said.” With that, she stands up, giving Messi over to Chanyeol before shrugging. “I guess he’s not really my style anymore. I want more bite, less boy-next-door.”

She wants more of Chanyeol, but she won’t ever admit that.

###

“You have to take five things with you to an island. Just physical matters. What do you take?”

Pouring rain flashes against the windowsill, down to the glass, hammering their way down until they fall into a puddle. It’s well over the afternoon and the pet she should be taking care of is long asleep on Chanyeol’s lap, on her third week spending every day with him—and the rain has come, made a home out of this mansion to keep them trapped, seated with warm mugs in between their fingers, staring at the perfectly ruined day of summer.

He’s there, pensive, trailing after his train of thoughts to organize them, with his hair recently washed, raking the scent of jasmine and vanilla, sweetening her. She would’ve never thought she’d get used to his presence, his existence, the way he breathes in before answering:

“Three survival kits, my guitar…and a blanket.”

“You’d die of starvation.”

Chanyeol’s eyes twinkle when he looks at her, nudging her side as they sit close together, the wood creaking under the weight of fire in the fireplace. “Good thing I’m not being left on an island, isn’t it?” He questions, falling into silence when he licks his plush lips. “It’s…I don’t know. I would’ve said my phone before, or asked to have some sort of entertainment…but physical matters are not as important to me anymore.”

She chuckles, taking a sip of her warm drink. “Because you have it all?”

“Because having it all never made me better, or never made me feel less lonely.” Chanyeol confesses, looking into her eyes before giving her a small smile. “Without knowing, you’ve made this summer one hell of a lot better.”

“I know I have,” She tries to shrug it off—pretend that she doesn’t care that he is saying those words, but each one pierces through her with more force, claiming a spot for Chanyeol inside her brain, her heart, the core of her being. “…But why?”

The question is so small that it feels like a whisper between their bodies, a hum leaving his body. “Because I’ve gotten to know someone who doesn’t care about who I am, but cares about me enough to stand going out for breakfast with me every morning.”

Coffee cups shared along with stories, Chanyeol’s puzzle has started to take some shape—to rearrange itself into something she wants to know. “…Well, that’s going to change once you leave.” Once again, she stares at the droplets of rain, watching them fall…like how she doesn’t want to do with Chanyeol. It’s an abyss, and she doesn’t have the sources to put herself together. “You will have someone else to have breakfast with.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not…they are not like you.” He instructs, putting his cup down in between his crossed legs before sighing. His hand splays behind him, his vision burning the side of her face. “They won’t bite me in the ass if I do wrong.”

“And you like that?” She questions, a smile appearing on her features before she sighs. “Chanyeol, you’ll leave to Barcelona once this summer is over…and…and I don’t…I don’t want to get attached to this, you get me?”

Chanyeol shrugs his shoulders, biting his bottom lip as he thinks of his words. “You know what’s magical?” He says. “Trying. Living. It’s a thing we just…don’t think about. We’re so set in our routines, in the things we know and what we think is fitting for us that we never try. Shit, I thought Sohyun was worth giving it a try—and maybe, I’m damned, I like trying things, like a new drink or a new meal…but I don’t want to go one day thinking: ‘I wish I had been better. I wish I had done that. I wish I had made that mistake so I would have learned’. I want to think I always do my best to live the life I want.” Chanyeol answers, extending his hand towards her and planting his palm on top of hers, warm skin scalding her own, leaving her breathless at the mere touch. What’s with him today? “And I want to try, having breakfast with you until we get tired of it, get to know each other so much that we never stop bickering…I want to get a grip of what reality is like…just for once.”

“You’re serious?” Her voice becomes vacant, soft in its approach when Chanyeol wraps an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to his chest. Sturdy, tranquil, there for a moment but then gone—it’s in the magic of trying, of letting the flame die down if it has to…feeling something real and raw for once, though unexpected. That’s the magic of the world.

“Why not?” Chanyeol asks, leaning his cheek against her head before pressing a kiss to her hair. “If it rained during summer, why can’t we try to go out on a date? The world is filled with impossibilities, let’s be one.”

###

Chanyeol doesn’t leave with the passage of the harsh sun of summer. Time passes by and falls like the leaves of the trees that scatter around the mansion. One she’s staying in at the moment, reading a book with Messi laying somewhere on the bed that she shares with Chanyeol.

Some would call it quick, unexpected; they would say it’s an atrocity for opposites to be together, but they don’t feel what she feels with him. Confidence, control, warmth, even with the patter of the rain right outside the mansion.

The world is tranquil, only cutting through the silence when her throat gasps out at the words written on the last page of the book, scribbled in black ink. Fuck Park Chanyeol and his ways of always ruining her books with some words of his own.

This time, it’s a romance. He bought it for her when they were going out on a date last month, right before he left for another soccer event. Now, he’s miles away, but she swears she can hear his voice, right next to her ear, thanks to his messy handwriting.

“I hope our romance makes you swoon like this one day. Love you, Chanyeol.”

Little does he know, it already does.

#chanyeol scenarios #chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #kpop scenarios #writing #exo fluff #exo angst #exo au #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol angst #chanyeol au #soccer player!au #dog walker!au

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destieltropecollection · 3 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 28: Slow Burn

Celestial | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10,585 Main Tags/Warnings: slow burn, emotional affair, happy ending Summary: Dean is in a less than stellar marriage, but he assumes things will work themselves out. At the same time, Mr. Castiel Novak becomes his new co-worker at school and Dean has to rethink everything he thought he had figured out.

Profound Kisses | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,729 Main Tags/Warnings: destiel, smut, destiel kisses, clueless!Castiel, canonverse, post Purgatory season 8, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, mutual pining. Summary: Dean knows he's screwed. He discovers he is in love with Castiel in Purgatory, and now he can't even have the angel in front of him, because he knows it's a one sided love. It’s Valentine's day and Dean tries very hard to hook up as always, but he can't get Cas out of his mind. So he drives back to the motel, drunk, and he finds Castiel trying to help him. Then, when Dean asks Castiel for some experimental kisses and the angel accepts, Dean starts a very dangerous game… finding in Castiel's kisses the most delicious experiences, but also, his own perdition. Will Castiel fall in love with him? Or will he stay emotionless as always?

How to Raise a Mandrake | @SoraJonsei

Rating: Mature Word Count: 24,814 Main Tags/Warnings: Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Magical Castiel, Non-Human Dean Winchester, Fluff, Humor, Romantic, Fluff, Alternate Universe, Prankster Gabriel, Universe - Fantasy, Slow Build, Happy Ending Summary: What else was Castiel to do when he woke up one morning to a very naked man in his backyard?

Crimes Of Passion | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 32,396 Main Tags/Warnings: Cop!Dean, Artist!Castiel, Angst With A Happy Ending, Drug Addict Castiel, Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean, Slow Build Summary: Cas is a street artist from the wrong side of the tracks. He sees his world pretty clearly through his art... that is until officer Dean Winchester comes along and turns his drug induced world upside down.

The Hanged Man | @ellis-park

Rating: Mature Word Count: 87,602 Main Tags/Warnings: Slow burn, mystery, friends to lovers, graphic depictions of violence, child abuse Summary: After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

Felix Mori | @deans-jiggly-pudding

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 90,967 Main Tags/Warnings: Horny hospice, tech support!Cas, stripper!Dean, voice kink, power bottom Dean Winchester, slow burn Summary: Dean is living the dream: he gets to help people and shake his ass, and he gets paid for it. Gabriel Milton’s horny hospice is a fun place to work, but sees its fair share of technical difficulties. When the front desk computer malfunctions, the burden to call tech support falls on Dean. The man on the other end has a voice that does things to him, and if he’s lucky, IT man Cas just might feel the same way. The only thing that’s missing is his estranged brother. Dean wouldn’t have had to lie to him if it wasn’t for their deadbeat father, more obsessed with a life of crime than raising his own children. Even worse than the thought of never hearing from Sam again is the possibility of growing into someone who even vaguely resembles John Winchester, and that is a chance Dean simply cannot take. Come to think of it, maybe Dean’s dream life could use some healing after all.

The Moonlight Rule | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 129,362 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern Setting AU, Marriage of Convenience, Ranch, Slow Build, Home Invasion, Friends to Lovers, Trauma, Angst and Fluff Summary: After the sudden passing of Henry Winchester, Castiel learns that the late Mr. Winchester made last minute changes in his will: Dean will only inherit the family ranch he’s been running, if he marries Castiel and stays married for at least six months.

The Angel | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 155,684 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Temporary Character Death, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Fantasy AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Dean, Suicidal Ideation, Blood and Violence, Knight Dean, Fallen Angel Castiel, Scholar Sam Summary: They called him the Angel. Castiel never wanted to be a hero. He never asked to be a legend. He never considered himself a saviour. However, in his efforts to make up for his past after leaving Heaven, he became all three. They called them heroes. Growing up in the idyllic village of Lawrence, Dean dreamed of becoming a knight. In his nineteenth year, Dean journeyed to the Capital to earn his fortune. Sam, with his prized book of herbal knowledge clutched against his chest, traveled alongside Dean to become a man of his own. The Winchesters' drive and ambition lead them to the castle and into history as prominent figures in the Long War. Reality proved to be far more difficult than dreams.

Hot, blue and righteous | @Mistofstars

Rating: Mature Word Count: 168,016 Main Tags/Warnings: Romance, FluffHurt/Comfort, Drama, Domestic Violence, Sadness, HAPPY ENDING PROMISED, terrible attempts of humor, Domesticity, mentions of Castiel / Aaron (original side character), mentions of Lisa Braeden / Dean Winchester, Castiel is a judge, Dean is a cop, Alternate Universe, nothing supernatural here, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Previous death of side characters, feel good story, Sappy Summary: On the night of Sam’s graduation ball, Dean meets a guy called Castiel, and their insane chemistry instantly sets the air on fire, ending in a one-night-stand. However, it remains a one-off, and life continues. Three years pass, in which Dean meets Lisa and Castiel meets Aaron. After Lisa’s sudden death, Dean takes some time off from his work as a police officer and travels across the states to deal with his grief of losing Lisa. After Dean returns to his normal life again, he visits Bobby, staying with him for a few weeks. One night, Bobby gets an emergency call, and a beaten-up Castiel seeks shelter in Bobby’s house, far away from his abusive boyfriend Aaron. Both Castiel and Dean are certain they can never fall in love again after what had happened to them – but as soon as you start making plans, life happens.

So It Goes | @raiseyourpinky

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 236,469 Main Tags/Warnings: Friends to lovers, roommates, domestic fluff, Dean and Castiel are parents, mutual pining, depression, anxiety, top!Castiel/bottom!Dean Summary: Dean Winchester has finally bought his white picket fence dream house for his girlfriend Lisa and their son Ben. On top of living in the perfect neighborhood, they now have the best neighbors, the Novaks. Castiel and Amelia Novak are awaiting their first baby, Claire. They’re in love and are not afraid to show it. When their new neighbors move in next door, they become practically family. It feels as though nothing could ruin the ultimate domestic bliss Dean and Castiel have achieved. Until it all goes to hell. Then the two of them will be the only ones left to pick up all of the broken pieces and keep each other moving forward. Dean and Castiel soon realize that the only thing stronger than tragedy and pain is the love that they have for each other.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 28 #slow burn #destiel #supernatural #fanfic

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supremeinlilac · 3 years

Text

Don’t ask me what could have been

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2037

Warnings: Death, angst, idk its just a lil bit sad

A/n: I challenged myself to write a fic without dialogue, because my writing is super descriptive anyway, so I enjoyed writing this so much, you have no idea, even though it’s sad. Enjoyyy :))

For @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @shineestark I love you and you deserve the stars <33

Your death had been an accident.

Wrong place, wrong time. An unsettled ghost that you’d simply gotten too close to. Curiosity had indeed killed the cat after all, and now it had taken you too.

It was the first and last time Billie had requested you join her on a job, to watch her work. You’d eagerly accepted, excited to watch her work, slightly nervous about it being your first real experience with ghosts of any kind. She’d let you explore the giant house while she spoke with who she believed to be the problematic ghost, one of a small child.

It was in the bedroom you’d met the real ghost but he’d looked and sounded so real that you’d mistaken him for someone alive. His timidness soon turned to anger once he realised you weren’t there to held him, and you couldn’t even blurt out that Billie was just downstairs and that she could help. Everything happened so quickly. Too quickly.

Your last words were the whispers of her name but she had been too far away to have heard them. You’d slipped away without a goodbye. You still yearned for that goodbye, everyday you’d find the whispers of her name falling from your lips unconsciously, as if begging for her to hear you.

She couldn’t have helped. It didn’t help to ponder over what if’s.

Even so, you knew the memories of that day consumed her still. When she would wake from bouts of fitful sleep she’d reach out across the sheets for your comforting hand, your warmth, only to be met with none. She pined for your embrace, the way you’d coo her nightmares away with gentle kisses and your nails against her scalp.

The first smoking break she’d take at work, when the dew still clung to the delicately swaying grass and the mist of the morning had not yet cleared, she’d remember the way the droplets of tears would slip down the crease of your smile as your laughter rippled through your body.

Billie Dean couldn’t wear her pearls anymore. She couldn’t have them lay so close to her heart without the memory of you always sitting upon her lap, twirling them between delicate fingers and pressing a lingering kiss to her collarbone. Just as you always did when she wore them, which was why she wore them so often. She never got the chance to admit that to you. She wished she did.

They now lay untouched in a box beside the last book you’d been reading, unfinished. There was so much more of it you had yet to read. So much more life you had yet to experience.

When she’d open your wardrobe to the fading smell of your clothes, press a bunched up top in her fingers and bring it to her nose. Imagining that you were there, giggling and teasing about that specific habit, asking why she insisted on doing that when she had the real thing.

Had.

The past tense reminded her cruelly that you weren’t hers anymore. Weren’t anyone’s. Just weren’t.

No one was holding you, soothing you, making you laugh or stopping the flow of your tears. She ached to be able to hold you again. For one more time she would trade all her fame and success, didn’t care how cliché that sounded, because for you she would.

There were times she’d shrug on an outfit for a meal with her colleagues, turning as if to seek approval from you before her smile would faulter and her shoulders sag, and she’d have to fight herself to enjoy the meal in your absence. Her fingers pressing against her purse, and the knowing that your smiling photo lay just within. A photo she’d taken when you’d been unaware, that she’d kept to brush over and admire the way your cheeks would redden and crinkle, a silent laugh beaming over your face.

When she’d visit the house, you’d watch her from a distance. You didn’t trust yourself to be close to her. To be allowed to smell her, the lingering musk of her cigarettes and the sweet tang of her perfume.

She’d talk to you, telling you about her show and about celebrities she’d met on her travels and at events. You’d smile at her theatrics, the way she’d catch herself waving her hands around dramatically while in the throng of one of her stories.

She never spoke about meeting anyone. Not that you needed to be told that she wasn’t interested in dating. You could tell she’d thrown herself into her work to ease the insistent pain. The loss. You were proud of her.

On this particular day, the atmosphere was different. Eerie. You watched as she crossed the threshold into the property, hand lingering on the door a second too long. The other ghosts could sense it too, the change, and they scattered into the far corners of the house, leaving you alone with the woman who now ascended the stairs toward the bedroom she always zeroed in on, fingers tracing the wallpaper and cracked frames that hung.

You knew why she’d come. Knew why this time it felt so different. So final.

The thought of her leaving for good made your throat close up, sobs catching as you forced yourself to be stronger. To savour these fleeting moments in her presence as if they were to be your last. It was cruel to think that they would be.

In the bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed, as always, lips parting to hold a cigarette between teeth while she lit it with trembling hands. Oh how you wanted nothing more than to still them between your own, to comfort her.

You didn’t. Settling for simply watching her inhale deeply, the flickering trail of smoke that danced out of the crack in her mouth, dissipating into the air. You watched her lean to the side table to snub out the orange ember, fizzling out against the cool ash tray.

Approaching her, you knelt at her feet, the position you’d so often adopt when she’d had a trying day at work, head in her lap and fingers clutching at her pants while she’d stroke at your hair and relax. Your proximity to her felt so natural, like coming home. She felt like home.

She could smell your lingering perfume, as fresh as the day you’d died, enveloping her in your familiarity. Could feel the warmth of your breath against her neck, fingers reaching to brush over the goosebumps left. She swore if she just reached out, that she’d feel the curve of your jaw, a hand coming to rest upon hers as she’d caress your face.

She did, and her fingers curled around nothing, so she did it again, willing you to appear with the frantic clenching of her hand as if the more she did it the more likely you were to be. When her attempts bore no fruit, she let her arm drop limply to her side, a finality.

A small, sad smile painted her lips, and she suddenly looked so small and broken, like a child lost in the bustle of a crowd. Alone.

You wanted to reach for her too, to press the pads of your fingers against those lips, to tug at the edges and hold her until the smile was true again. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, an invisible string holding you back from her, one which you couldn’t sever.

You loved her.

You couldn’t, and wouldn’t shackle her to this house while she was alive, to you. You loved her more than the selfish desire that swarmed inside you to just appear to her and tell her to stay. You knew she would.

It was the best for her if she believed you weren’t here, so that the grief would slowly thaw and she’d be able to find peace. Move on. Maybe find someone else. Maybe.

Billie Dean Howard. Medium to the stars.

God how you wished that the stars in her eyes would sparkle like they did when you were alive, and not just with the sheen of unshed tears.

Billie Dean Howard was the stars. She was the stars and the moon and the sun, the universe painted perfectly in silk and cigarettes. The stars would fling themselves to the ground for her, bowing in her presence.

Scrambling to your feet and out of her way when Billie had stood, she walked to the wall at the far end of the room, her back to you and you wondered what she was doing. She’d never done this on any of her other visits. You didn’t have to wait long to find out why.

You heard the whispered goodbye, bit back the tears that threatened to fall at the finality of it all. Watched her rest her forehead against the cool wall, as she so often used to do to you, fingers pressed into the wallpaper as if she wanted nothing more than to be sucked into the very walls of the house, to be trapped just as you were.

Billie turned around, looking straight at you as if you were as clear and bright as the sun, before reaching into the bag on her shoulder. The shimmer of her pearls held up against the low light of the room. She’d brought them to you. She knew you were still here, watching. She knew what you were sacrificing for her freedom to leave and live and exist outside these walls.

You smiled. She was leaving a piece of her to you, a piece of you both to tie and strengthen the bond you shared, even in death. The faint clatter of the beads on the chest of drawers had you following her movements again, hands hovering over the line of her shoulder blades through the top she was wearing.

When Billie finally turned around, this was the closest you’d been to each other since your death. There was no way she could know your were there. Yet here she was, reaching up and cradling the air that would have been your face if you’d just let her in, as if you were as real as herself. As if she could see you, touch you.

As quickly as she’d turned, she was lowering her hands and gathering her things off the bed. She did it slowly, meticulously, as if rushing was breaking some unspoken rule. Unfortunately, she could only slow her movements so much, only put off her inevitable departure for so long.

You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t as if Billie was drawing any comfort from being in the room in which you’d died. You could see the pained way she’d glance at the spot she’d found you, the spot in which she’d curled herself into your body and cried for help to no one. The spot in which she’d learned how fragile life was, how quickly and cruelly it could be snatched from under someone.

You didn’t follow when she’d given a last fleeting look around the room, her footsteps echoed against the wood as she walked back toward the stairs to leave. Instead holding onto the image of her face in your mind, committing it to memory as the stairs creaked with her weight.

Out of the bay window, you could see the final sway of her hips, swish of her hair, golden now against the setting sun. She didn’t turn back to give one more pleading glance towards the house. You think that if she had done, she wouldn’t have been able to bring herself to leave.

You hoped that maybe, when the time came, Billie would return to you to die, wrinkled hands still holding the same warmth and gentleness that they always did for you. You hoped she’d remember the way your lips felt against her own, the way your bodies moulded perfectly as if designed for the very purpose of being close. You begged that she’d be drawn back in the final days, so that you could be together again, as you should be.

But for now, this was your goodbye. The goodbye you’d been robbed of.

taglist : @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @extraordinarilycelestrial @toujours-ensanglante@mssallymckenna @okpaulson @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt ,if you want to be added just send me an ask :))

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #american horror story #ahs murder house

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poppunkporco · 3 years

Text

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader fic)

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader)

contents: porco x fem reader, mentions of marcel galliard, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, alternate universe - college/university, modern au, bisexuality, smoking, porco galliard-centric

rating: teen and up audiences

summary: When he walks her home that night, Porco realizes he might have feelings for his childhood best friend. He has no idea in hell how to deal with it but he tries.

word count: 5079

notes: i just thought it'd be interesting to try writing a modern au porco/reader fic in a more porco-centric POV. what i try to do here is explore how he deals with the soft sappy feelings of slowly realizing he's in love since he's pretty bad at emotions and even more so when it's not a [strong, violent type of feeling]

*fic loosely based on this song:

*this is also cross-posted on ao3

***

2:40 AM at an empty parking lot behind a 7-Eleven. The nearest lamp post flickers weakly with its dimming orange light as Porco sets down his third empty beer can on the concrete with a yawn.

“Hey,” he says, lightly shrugging the shoulder against which she leaned her head on. She doesn’t budge from beside him. He rubs the lethargy off his eyes.

They’ve been sitting on this parking block for almost three hours now-- since they left the gig hours ago at the pub just across the university. They’d just spent the past few hours ranting about midterms and how fucked up alienated labor is along with the absence of ethical consumption under capitalism-- and how everyone is forced to participate in it, talking about trips they’d like to make in and outside the city, their ideal lovers, and anxieties about the future. This was a thing they did now and then, usually on Fridays and Saturdays-- seeking a kind of cathartic escape from their hectic academic life in each other’s company. A friendly rendezvous they’d jokingly call dates every now and then.

He leans forward just enough to get a peek at her face, partly obscured by the mess of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

So she’s asleep.

His eyes dart towards their things lumped together beside her feet-- their backpacks sitting atop an A4-size sketchbook along with the last unopened beer can.

Porco idly clinks his finger against the top of the beer can he had just emptied as he breathes out a wistful sigh.

Somehow, she always reminded him of his long-gone brother. Not to say that she shared even a bit of Marcel's fairly easygoing yet charming demeanor. Because she was far from that. She was loud with a crude mouth-- more like Porco himself, really-- except that she at least was kinder, more pleasantly charismatic towards other people than himself. And in that way, yes, she did remind him of Marcel. But there were other things-- pastimes and memories that reminded him of his brother when she came to mind. They’d known each other even as kids. Back in middle school, Porco remembers how she’d visit their home on the weekends so the three of them could build a Lego city which Marcel himself had drafted on the back of one of his sketchbooks. Those two were always quite the artists even as kids-- Porco recalls fondly. His brother had been the one to introduce her to Porco during one of those weekends. He didn’t like it at first-- how Marcel would seem to pay more attention to her at times as they animatedly sketched parts of the city on paper in the middle of assembling the Lego blocks. He’d eventually learned to be tolerant of her presence at least as the weekends passed by and the city gradually came to life-- vast with skyscrapers, houses, trees, vehicles, and lamp posts. Porco distinctly remembers building a garden with her beside a house that resembled the Galliard residence. He had assembled the green pieces that resembled leaf blades onto the flat Lego board, while she topped them off with tiny colorful flower pieces. It was honestly quite fun and it became a thing he eventually looked forward to on the weekends with Marcel.

But all things come to an end and at times, at points where they feel like they’re not supposed to. Porco knows this well.

In Marcel’s old room, the city remains hidden away, unfinished.

It was on a rainy day when Marcel had met an accident on his way home with a schoolmate. Onlookers had witnessed him racing against the red light to push Reiner away from the path of an incoming vehicle.

Even if it was an accident, Porco despises Reiner after that. He'd decided to never talk to him after the incident but as fate would ridiculously have it, they’d meet again in high school-- as classmates, nonetheless, to his dismay.

It was after this same incident that Porco had grown closer to her-- the only other person who possibly knew Marcel almost nearly as he himself did. She knew about the city and she knew about his sketches, after all. In the first few days after his brother’s wake, they’d simply talk about Marcel as they walked home together after school and how they both missed him. Those walks home would eventually involve detours at the nearest Mcdonald’s where they’d get nuggets and buy a Happy Meal-- the ones that came in flimsy cardboard packaging printed with colorful cartoon mascots-- for the sake of getting the collectibles that came with them. It was a thing they never really grew out of. Even now, as college kids, whenever they’d find themselves eating out together at the nearest Mcdonald’s after their Philosophy classes scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’d get themselves a Happy Meal, even if they sometimes earned puzzled looks from the cashier as they engaged in quick, petty quarrels as to which collectible they should get.

Soon, Porco feels her shuffle in her seat beside him, the weight of her head now off his shoulder. She rubs the sleep off her eyes with a yawn.

“...should go home,” she drawls, accidentally kicking one of the empty beer cans sprawled in front of them on the concrete. It lands right at the feet of a passer-by who in turn shoots her a cold glare before kicking the can back in her direction. "I-- hey, uh, sorry about that," she apologizes, louder than necessary. Said passer-by only clicks their tongue in annoyance as they raised a middle finger at her before walking away with a muffled swear under their breath.

She exchanges incredulous, befuddled looks with Porco for a few silent moments before eventually letting out a snort and bursting into a fit of stupidly drunken laughter with him.

“...is what I mean… fucking capitalism... makesnasshole out ofveryone,” she remarks, broken phrases drawn out in between chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I got it for the tenth time,” Porco says, laughing with a roll of his eyes. He stands up and stretches out a hand in front of her. “Now can we go home? Can’t exactly start a revolution when the alcohol’s fucked you up that bad,” he says with an impatient sigh.

“Yeah? How do you know? Did Karl Marx write that?” She languidly takes his hand.

“No, but-- fucking… well, I don’t know. Maybe? Indirectly? I mean, we did just give in to consumerism,” Porco says with a sharp click of his tongue as he pulls her up to stand.

“Well… yeah. I guess so.”

“Anyway.” Porco places a palm at the top of her head and urges her to face him. “You seem more out of it than me. I’m walking you home this time, alright?

”She shrugs languidly. “Sure, whatever,” she says, her words muffled as she falls face first into his chest.

“Give me the fucking keys,” he says coarsely after her third failed attempt at unlocking the door to her own flat. In the dim light of the hall, Porco tries to make out the shape of what he recognizes as the right one among the five keys dangling from her keychain. He sighs, frustrated as he finally unlocks the door.

“How the hell did you--?” Confused, she eyes the keys still dangling from the door. “Why wouldn’t it open when it was me?”

“For the love of--” Porco runs a palm down across his face with an exasperated sigh. “You were forcing the wrong key.”

“Oh.” She snorts trying to stifle a chuckle. Porco pulls the keys from the door and hands them to her along with the sketchbook he’d been carrying.

“Thanks.” She gives the door a light push before finally taking a step into the flat. And then a sudden stop. She pockets her keys and lets the sketchbook fall on the carpeted floor of the foyer. She tilts her head pensively for a few moments, staring blankly at the darkness of her room. Porco raises an eyebrow in confusion. She turns on her heel to face him again.

“What is it?” he asks.

She stands on the tips of her toes, eyeing Porco with what felt to him like newfound curiosity. She rests a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

Her other hand soon reaches up to cradle the side of his face. It comes as a surprise, but not the kind that made you flinch or visibly react in some way. This was simply… unexpected. Weird. And somehow new.

She’s looking at me. And she’s looking like she’s waiting.

And what is she waiting for, exactly? He feels a nervous lump in his throat, swallows it down. He has half the mind to lean his face closer as he, too, looks at her-- and he looks at her like he’s waiting.

Alas, whatever this is-- it ends where it feels like it’s not supposed to.

“‘Night, Porco,” she says with a feeble smile before falling back flatly on her feet.

“Yeah. You too. I’ll see you around,” he says, tentatively glancing at his side.She crouches down to lazily pick up the sketchbook before finally entering her flat again. Porco catches her giving him a tiny wave through the crack of the door moments before she completely pushes it closed. He bids her goodbye with a curt nod.

Once the door closes, he rolls up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time.

3:15 AM. Porco raises a palm to his cheek. The ghost of her touch lingers on his skin.

***

“Are you serious?” Porco scoffs. “Y/N, you’re not even watching the film.” He leans his head against his palm with his arm resting on the side of the couch.

“Sure I am,” she says, unpinning her hair before letting her head fall on his lap. As she types out a message on her phone, Porco manages to make out Pieck’s name at the top of the chat box.

“You keep checking your phone.”

“It’s fine. We’ve both seen this film before anyway. I told you-- I’m just rewatching it for my paper on Nietzsche.”

“So you dragged me into this for what?”

She gives a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. Felt like it. Just wanted to bother you for a good film.” She finally sets aside her phone to look up at Porco with a shit-eating grin. He sighs and flicks a finger against her forehead. “Ow. What the fuck.”

“At least try to look like you’re actually watching,” Porco says, turning her head to face the TV screen.

"Fine, fine," she says with a grimace as she kneads the pain away on her forehead.

They’re now about an hour into Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. As lovers Joel and Clementine ran through the memories-- hand in hand mapping the history of their relationship-- the ups and downs-- scenes of the two playfully mocking the film at a drive-in theater, a stroll through the flea market leading into talks of having a child, lovemaking underneath the covers as Clementine told Joel about her insecurities rooting from childhood-- all these small intimacies that nonetheless revealed to each other their flawed, detestable selves along with reasons they probably shouldn’t be together, Porco realizes it.

He looks at her, notes the way the flicker of the TV screen daintily lit up her solemn face and how she’d break into a smile every now and then. She’d brush the back of her hand against his knee and point at the TV screen to tell him that this was among her favorite parts so he absolutely had to pay close attention. A bit funny considering she was the one who wasn’t paying much attention to the film during the first part, Porco thinks. At least she’s watching now, even as he can’t help but watch her instead.

As he absentmindedly brushes a hand against her hair, he wonders if they could be something more, wonders if they’d be anything like Joel and Clementine-- imperfect, but nonetheless worthwhile. They’d known each other since they were kids and he can definitely make a list of things he doesn’t like about her-- like the way she’s too loud and frisky and never seemed to take the right things seriously, how scatterbrained she was that she’d forget the schedule for a midterm exam and how her room always seemed to be in shambles, the way she was so stubborn she’d easily get upset at something as simple as choosing to eat at a fast food different from the one she insisted on, how she’d smoke in his dorm no matter how many times he’d told her that she could get him in trouble for it. But it's not like he's perfect either. She’d told him that he came on too headstrong at times and that’s why a lot of people felt intimidated by him-- a trait that had gotten him into fights and eventually, long afternoons of detention back in high school. She says she hates the way he thought himself too strong to cry in front of anyone and how he’d grown dismissive of opening up to her as they got older. Whenever they’d get into heated fights, she’d tell him that all you ever are is angry and how he was pretty shit at saying sorry like he meant it. And despite all of these, they had remained close friends over the years. They’d promised each other that they’d get better-- slowly, but surely-- even if that was something easier said than done. He could live with that. He would.

***

“Hey, uh--” Porco breathes out a puff of smoke as he hands her the cigarette. He gazes distantly at the parade of city lights before them-- from the headlamps of the vehicles passing below them on the bridge, the streetlights, and the buildings overhead. “--do you still like Pieck?”

She suddenly lets out a cough and a puff of smoke at that. She gapes at Porco incredulously.

“Pock, it’s been three years since we broke up. And that was high school.”

“Look, I know that, but--” he sighs. “I was just wondering.”

She laughs. “That’s not really what you wanted to ask, is it? There’s something else.” She raises an eyebrow at Porco. He rolls his eyes at that, irked at how easily she could read him. “So ask.” She passes him the cigarette and he takes a drag of it.

“Ok--” he says with a sigh. “--Have you liked any other girls after her?”

She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“No, not really. Nothing serious, at least. I mean, I did have a crush on this girl who sat beside me in English class during freshman year. But... that was freshman year, you know? Nothing ever really came of it. And you know I would have told you if something actually did, anyway."

“I see.”

“There’s more you want to ask,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Ok. Fine.” Another drag of the cigarette. “How about-- boys? Have you liked any guy at all since then?” The city lights blur against the filter of smoke. Porco refuses to meet her eyes even as he feels her gaze on him-- heavy with something he could not exactly put his finger on. He knows she’s not smiling anymore and from his periphery, he thinks he senses a swallow in her throat. She turns to the city overhead.

“Yes, actually.” She takes the cigarette from him, smiling fondly upon the light brush of their fingers. “I-- you know, even though I’ve known for a long time that I liked both guys and girls, I still find myself doubting that sometimes. When I’m attracted to a girl, I sometimes think that maybe I was just gay all along. And now that I find myself actually liking a boy again, a part of me entertains the thought that maybe me liking girls was just a phase and maybe I was straight all along. But... I just know it’s not like that. And yet, what people say still gets to me-- they’ve got a way of making you think that being bi isn’t a real thing. Even though it is. I know because... I’m real, right?”

“Yeah. You are. You’re… you’re here.” The corner of his lips turn up as he says it. “I get it. I mean, I think I’m the same.”

“Really?” She turns to gape at him.

“I suppose I’ve never told you this either because it’s so fucking embarrassing, but…” He sighs defeatedly, kneading his temples with unease. “...I made out with Reiner in high school.”

She regards him with a scandalized look.

“Dude, what the fuck. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I do, alright? It’s just that… teenage hormones and shit. I was stupid and he’s stupid. I-- I don’t know what I was thinking that time. But… I do wonder sometimes--” He scratches his head tentatively. “--what my brother was thinking rushing in to save him from that accident. Like… just what did he see in that meathead that was worth saving?”

“And did you find your answer to that when you were making out?”

Porco eyes her with a deathly glare.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, so you did,” she says with an impish grin.

Porco flicks a finger against her forehead.

“Ow-- hey! Stop that,” she says with a grimace. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Reiner’s hot.”

He clicks his tongue at the remark before hastily seizing the cigarette from her grasp to take another drag. "Not like he's the only guy I ever found ho-- I mean liked."

She laughs.

"We should head back," he says coldly.

"Sure.” She nods. “Though… is there anything else you wanted to ask?"

As the filter of smoke hangs between them, Porco wonders about the boy she likes.

He shakes his head. "No. It's nothing."

***

“It was like deja vu,” Porco says, sighing into his phone as he shifts to lie near the edge of his bed. “Except in this dream… before she said goodnight, we, uh--”

“You kissed?” Pieck suggests from the other line.

“Well… yeah.” He puts a palm to cover his face, feeling the flush on his cheeks as he says it.

“So you like her,” Pieck says, almost breaking into a chuckle.

“I, uh…”

“I get it. She’s charming and reminds you of Marcel.”

“That’s…”

“I’ll be honest with you.” She sighs and Porco senses a smile from her tone. “Remember when I said I broke up with her because uni was getting too busy? The truth is that… I feel like you two always seemed to get along better than I ever could with her-- and it probably has to do with Marcel. When I realized that, I’ll admit I did start to feel jealous. I thought back then that you two might eventually get together. After all, you two were both still in high school, while I was already away in uni. It left me distraught for months so I just... decided to break it off. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s been years and it’s not like I haven’t dated anyone else since then. And in hindsight, that just might have been for the best. I mean, you confiding in me about her right now-- I think-- is a testament to that. Because you realized it too, didn’t you?”

“Oh." He pauses. "I never thought that you-- Pieck, look, I--”

“Pock, if you feel guilty about it just because I used to date her, don’t. It’s not anyone’s fault. That… that she just loved you first. It’s circumstance. She met you and Marcel first before me.”

That she loved you first. As Porco echoes the words in his head, he becomes acutely aware of the beating in his chest and the warmth swarming his face. He buries his face in a pillow and screams into it.

“Hey, Pock? You ok there?” Pieck chuckles.

“How do I-- you think I should tell her?”

“Well, it’s the honest thing to do. And I genuinely think you don’t stand to lose much by doing so. Even if by the littlest chance of her not returning your feelings, I don’t think confessing would ruin your friendship. Might be a little awkward at first, but I don’t think she’ll end up hating or avoiding you at all.”

“You sure you’re not just sayi--”

“No, Pock. I’m not just saying this because we’re friends. I’m saying it because it’s what makes sense.”

“Ok, well… thanks,” he sighs. “And by the way… I’m sorry I called you this early. I know you’re probably busy especially since it’s your thesis year.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me. Frankly, I do find satisfaction in knowing my speculations are correct. And you guys… you two are more predictable than you think-- if I’m being honest,” Pieck laughs.

“Well, I suppose being predictable isn’t so bad… if you’re right.”

Once they bid each other goodbye on the phone, Porco remains sprawled across the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He rests a palm on his cheek, internally cursing Marcel as he feels the warmth streaming his face once again.

***

“Fuck,” Porco swears under his breath as they both ran towards the car, their feet splashing against the puddled ground as the rain cascades. A looming thunder rolls across the night sky as they make it to the safety of the vehicle.

“So… still not convinced that trying to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday at midnight was a bad idea?” Porco says, trying to catch his breath as he sets down the paper bag on the space between their seats.

“Well, I’ll admit it kinda sucked that you had to have your car still parked in school. And in my defense, I didn't expect the drizzle to cascade so soon on the way back. But you know what? It’s fine. We got what we needed and that’s all that matters. I’ll stand by this being a good idea.” She laughs as she peels off her drenched jacket. “Oh, by the way, where can I put this?”

“Just put it in the backseat,” Porco says as he peeled off his own jacket.

“Got it. Here, give me yours too,” she says before turning to place both of their drenched jackets in the backseat.

“Thanks.” Porco switches on the car’s dome light and the windshield wipers. The car’s interior now warmly lit, he rummages inside the paper bag, then hands her a box of chicken nuggets along with a plastic fork. “You want the fries now or later?”

“Later’s good. Thanks.” Porco acknowledges her with a nod, then leans back on the car seat with a languished sigh.

The rain patters incessantly against the windows over the rhythm of the windshield wipers. The faint yellow glow lulls from the ceiling of his car. He recalls a rainy evening spent staring out the window as he nervously waited for Marcel to come home. A distant memory weighs heavy on his eyelids.

“Porco. Are you ok?”

“What? Yeah.” Porco shifts lightly in his seat, slightly startled. “I just… remembered something.”

“What is it?”

“The rain. It just reminded me of Marcel.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, he was…” She puts down her food and lightly wipes the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Back then, I considered him as something a little more than a best friend. I like that he liked my drawings and how he never made fun of them… even though he was ways better than me at it,” she recalls fondly.

He scoffs. “So… are you guilt-tripping me for something I said about your drawings when we were twelve?”

“You were an asshole, but you should be glad I’m past that.” She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “All I’m saying now is that Marcel was... really special to me.”

“What-- did you have a crush on Marcel or something?”

She snorts. “You could say... it was something like that. Yeah.”

Figures. He nonchalantly crosses his arms in front of his chest. The pattering rain fills in the lull in their conversation.

“I like your drawings too,” he finally says.

“That’s why I drag you along every time I go out to draw. You like watching me, right?” She teasingly raises an eyebrow as she says it.

“Well, sure.” He shrugs awkwardly in his seat.

“Tell me. What else do you like?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see…” he sighs, feigning annoyance with a roll of his eyes. “I like it when I’m in the middle of pulling an all-nighter at Tim Hortons… and you go on and disturb me just to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday midnight.”

“Yeah?” she chuckles. “What else?”

Porco turns to glance at her. As she meets him with a playful grin, his mind races with answers.

I like it when you steal my jacket and you leave me to freeze to death in the cold of the cafe’s AC. I like it when you go on a chaotic, semi-coherent drunken rant about how badly you want capitalism dismantled. I like it when you remember Marcel. I like your hair. I like how your hands unpin your hair before you rest your head on my lap.

He scoffs-- more in reaction to his own thoughts than at her teasing. Who knew he could be that embarrassingly sappy? “What are you… getting at?”

“Nevermind.” She shakes her head, still smiling. She laughs while timidly raising a palm to her cheek. “Can we share your fries now?”

***

“So I’m thinking of getting a tattoo,” Porco says, settling himself on the dormitory steps faintly lit by the porch lights hanging on both sides of the entrance.

“Cool. So where do you want it?” She sits beside him while setting down her things-- a shoulder bag and a sketchbook on the concrete step.

“I was just thinking on my arm,” he says, pointing a finger at a spot on his skin.

“What do you want it to look like?”

“Not sure yet.”

“I could draw you one.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. I could do it right now.”

“Really?”

She takes the ballpoint pen out of the spring of her sketchbook and begins to doodle something on his arm. Covering her drawing with a cupped palm, she chuckles while mischievously peering up at him.

“I swear to god, if you’re drawing something embarrassing-- Oh, fuck you.” Porco laughs, managing to take a peek at the ink drawing of a cartoon porcupine with the hair on its head stylishly pushed back. Below the drawing, it writes 'porcopine.' He pulls his arm away from her grasp.

"What? You don't like it?" She grimaces.

"Porcopine? Really?"

“What? It's cute,” she says with an offended click of her tongue, reaching for his arm once again.

Below the word 'porcopine,' she then writes the phrase 'i <3 you.'

Porco furrows his brows upon reading the phrase, then lets out a chuckle. “What does this--?” he asks, pointing out the inked words on his skin.

“What do you mean? It is what it is.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“How do you mean it?”

She tilts her head pensively and squints at Porco as she gathers how to describe exactly what she meant. She supposes that he’s right-- a clarification was indeed necessary. This kind of thing could get confusing, after all. When you’ve known each other for so long in a relationship such as this, lines tend to blur. One day, you could both feel like the bestest of friends, and then like lovers the next.

“I mean it in a way that I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

“Oh.” Porco gapes at her for a moment. “Ok,” he says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“What’s with that reaction? I’m serious, Pock.”

“I just… I mean, to be honest…” He furrows his brows, carefully pondering his words. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you either.” Porco scratches his head sheepishly.

“Ok then,” she chuckles, shifting in her seat to face him. “We could build something. Something bigger than a Lego house. Maybe one with a garden. A story with a perfect ending.”

“Yeah? And if it’s not perfect, what then?”

“Something worthwhile, then. An ending that feels like an ending.”

“Ok. I can live with that,” he laughs.

“Porco.”

As she cradles his face in between her palms, Porco becomes acutely aware of the flush in his cheeks.

Then, slowly, she leans closer to gingerly place a kiss at the tip of his nose.

They soon find themselves both chuckling at what was probably the most blatantly romantic gesture between them thus far.

“So, uh, what are we now, exactly?” he asks awkwardly as they soon pull away.

She shrugs. “Lovers? Best friends who would marry each other? Though the latter is kind of a mouthful if you ask me.”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that first one.”

“Say, Porco.” She tilts her head questioningly at him. “You want to tell me how this night ends?”

“How the hell should I--”

She puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. “Hey. Lovers now, remember? I’m not the only one telling this story. So tell me.”

“Ok. Let’s see,” he sighs. And so he indulges her. “It ends with you beside me. We’re lying down on my bed.”

“Clothed or naked?”

He gapes. “Are you seriously even consi--”

She flicks a finger against his forehead as she regards him with a mischievous smile. “Just answer the question.”

“Ok, fine,” he resigns, lightly kneading his forehead. “Look, I want to say naked because my AC’s broken ri--”

“Naked it is, then.”

“Clothed.” He glares. “For tonight.”

“Fine, fine,” she says, scratching her head in resignation. “You sure you’re not having second thoughts about letting me stay tonight, though? Not worried you might wake up with a bunch of porcopines on your face? Or I don’t know-- dick drawings?”

“Fuck off,” he says with a chuckle.

“So… what is it, really? You want me to stay or you want me to go?”

Porco sighs before slowly leaning his face closer to hers.

“I want you to stay,” he says against her cheek, before placing a chaste kiss on her skin. “Whatever I wake up to in the morning, I’m sure it’s worth it.”

#porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

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clubyukhei · 3 years

Text

in the mood for love (m)

pairing: wong yukhei x (f) reader

genre: fluff, smut, slice of life, some angst

summary: distance makes the heart grow fonder. in yukhei’s case, it makes him reminisce on all the firsts of your relationship and realise you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. (or: a long-distance relationship au where yukhei savours every moment of your short reunion.)

warnings: unprotected sex, language

tags: established relationship, flashbacks, set in hk, hendery and kunten appear, drunk texting, flirty dialogue, love letters, talks of marriage, pining, a bittersweet ending

word count: 14.6k

a/n: wow, it feels weird to be finally posting this because i’ve been working on this for months. this took way longer than expected and for that i wanna thank my sweet mutuals and anons who have been so patient and encouraging :’) i hope you’re in the mood for fluff and domesticity because this fic is full of it! enjoy! (reposting again bc the original one wouldn’t show up in the tags. tysm if you’ve interacted with that post btw <3)

heaven is in your eyes

bright as the stars we're under

oh, is it any wonder

i'm in the mood for love?

why stop to think of whether

this little dream might fade?

we've put our hearts together

now we are one, i'm not afraid

if there's a cloud above

if it should rain we'll let it

but for tonight, forget it

i'm in the mood for love

mornings like this are hard to come by for yukhei.

when the only sounds he can hear are the ticking of a clock and your soft exhalations. when you’re cuddled up to him, your face tucked into the crook of his neck where you breathe warm puffs of air onto his skin every few seconds.

it’s probably just another one of those dreams that yukhei gets every now and then. the kind he never wants to wake up from, because when he opens his eyes, all he sees is the dull grey ceiling of his dormitory before his bunkmates’ noisy snores snap him back into reality.

those mornings were the worst. yukhei would give up on going back to sleep. instead, he’d force himself out of bed to wash up and head to the canteen for an early breakfast, all while annoyed that his mind had once again translated his yearning for you into his dreams. he couldn’t help but feel like he was being mocked by his own self.

but this time, it feels different.

his back is resting on a bed that’s much comfier than the thin mattress he’s used to back at camp, and he’s awfully snug and cosy under what feels like a thick fleece blanket.

yukhei peels his eyelids open, ready to be met with disappointment again.

the first thing he sees is the sunrise peeking through the curtains, greeting him good morning with a dark orange glow — which is weird, because he’s always up before the sun is. even though his mind is still fuzzy, yukhei has an inkling that he’s not back at camp. so he lifts his head off the pillow and looks around.

there’s a messy work desk between two huge potted plants; a wall fully plastered with polaroids and pictures; and a clothing rack with clothes that clearly aren’t his but it’s the bra hanging over an armchair that finally tells yukhei that he’s in your bedroom.

he looks down and sighs in relief seeing you in deep slumber next to him. you’re sleeping on your side with a hand absentmindedly resting on his waist, your head tilted as if you fell asleep while gazing at him. your eyes are closed and the look on your face is so peaceful — it’s an image that yukhei wants to keep in his mind forever.

wrapping an arm around your hips, yukhei gently tugs you closer to him. your eyebrow scrunches in reaction and he panics a little, freezing when your hand lands on top of his. but you turn on your other side and snuggle back against his chest instead, and his lips curl into a lopsided smile at this tiny movement.

yukhei hugs you from behind, nuzzling into your hair and sighing when he gets a whiff of your apple-scented shampoo that he has missed so much.

just like that, the warmth of your bodies wrapped around each other and the thought of getting to spend the next few days with you — in real life, not just in his dreams — lulls him back to sleep.

yukhei would never forget the day he first met you.

or the sight of you sitting at the back of his mum’s restaurant, sipping on a glass of iced tea as you stared out of the window and silently observed the hustle and bustle of shatin plaza.

the fact that his usual seat was occupied and that a pretty girl was sitting in it left him speechless, but not annoyed at all. sure, it was his favourite spot. it also unofficially belonged to him, seeing how he sat there nearly everyday doing his homework — but that was years ago.

yukhei felt like the universe had something up its sleeve when it presented him with such a scenario on a day where he finally managed to pop by his mum’s restaurant and pay her a visit. he rarely popped by on weekdays anymore because of how hectic his academic life was becoming.

“look who it is! our yukhei who keeps growing taller and taller!”

yukhei smiled shyly as he stepped behind the counter and greeted the longtime staff — aunties who never failed to shower him with all sorts of compliments — and rushed into the kitchen looking for his mum.

mrs wong was less than pleased when she saw her son, to say the least. the smile on her face lasted for a good minute before she started nagging about how he should’ve gone home to study instead.

“i am going to study! right after i eat.” he whined, shocked that his presence had irritated her so much.

“you always say that, yukhei. but you just play games on your phone!” mrs wong retorted, not looking away from the refrigerator.

yukhei gulped at that statement, unwilling to admit that it was quite true.

“mum, who’s that girl outside? sitting at my table?”

“your table?” she chuckled before looking up at him.

yukhei watched her make her way towards the kitchen entrance to peek at the stranger outside.

“ah, that’s _____. she comes here often.” she said with a bright smile that even yukhei himself rarely received. “she helped us understand what the tourists were saying, talked to them in english for us a few times now. a very sweet and smart girl.”

if anything, yukhei became more attracted to you at that moment.

maybe it’s the thought of you helping his mum out while he’s not around — he knew how rude and impatient some tourists could be with language barriers, having personally dealt with them several times — or maybe it’s just the way you entered his life that, for some reason, felt like an important moment to him.

either way, he already made up his mind about one thing.

yukhei ended up serving you the pad thai you had been waiting for, warmly introducing himself as the lady boss’ first and older son and striking up a conversation with you that went on longer than he had expected.

he thought it was bad that he had to control his excitement when you suggested he take the seat opposite yours, but it only got worse as you both began to talk about everything and nothing.

when you smiled, he lost his train of thought. when you laughed or so much as even chuckled, his chest squeezed around his heart and he wanted to keep hearing the sound of it. and when you listened to him, he had to look away because your attentive gaze on him was truly too much.

by the time you were done with your meal, yukhei had your number saved in his phone. he offered to walk you out, opening the glass doors for you all gentlemanly as if you had just dined at a five-star hotel restaurant.

“it was nice talking to you, yukhei.” you turned to smile at him just before you stepped outside. “see you again, i guess?”

“yeah, let’s—um. yeah, see you around.” yukhei stuttered pathetically.

you giggled and waved goodbye to him and mrs wong before heading off. the lady boss had been subtly keeping an eye on you two after her son insisted on waiting your table.

once you were out of view, yukhei sighed, cringing at how nervous he sounded. before you, he had never in his life felt that self-conscious in front of anyone.

“my dear, what was that?” his mum asked with a sly look of amusement on her face.

yukhei wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

“i don’t know, mum.”

all he could think about was seeing you again.

when yukhei wakes up again, he’s alone in bed.

the midday sunlight glares into the room and shines on the empty spot next to him, prompting him to roll away and further into the shade.

he lies on his side, watching some plant-shaped shadows sway across the wall for a minute before forcing himself out of bed. those extra hours of sleep did wonders for his circadian rhythm and for once he doesn’t feel tired to be awake at all — just bummed that he woke up with you not in his arms.

something in the air shifted after last night. yukhei couldn’t get over the way you jumped into his arms when he appeared at your doorstep, or how you got emotional at his shaky confession as he presented you with the promise ring he had been keeping for so long.

he had been craving for your presence so much over the past few months that seeing you reciprocate those feelings made him relieved and somewhat clingy. all he wants is to stick by your side every second he has with you before he leaves again.

so he gets out of bed immediately, walking into your tiny living room where he hears the sound of running water and finds you leaning against the kitchen counter with your back facing him, busily tending to the roses he had gifted you last night.

yukhei makes his way to you fast. his hands sneak beneath your oversized t-shirt and around your waist, pulling your frame against his front as he places a kiss on your temple.

“morning,” you say, relaxing into his touch and reaching for the nape of his neck with one hand to tug his face closer to yours.

yukhei hums in satisfaction when you angle your face perfectly to lock your lips with his in a tender kiss and whines when you attempt to pull away. he wants to taste your lips for a little longer, he’s far from done and you know it too.

you turn around to face him properly, abandoning the stalks of roses that had your attention earlier. a gasp escapes you when he slides his hands down to your bum and swiftly lifts you onto the counter.

“missed my baby so much,” he mumbles against the juncture of your jaw and neck, relishing in your soft sighs by his ear.

he doesn’t miss the way your legs hook around his waist to pull him closer or the way your fingertips lightly scratch his scalp as he busily sucks at your skin, determined to leave a trail of love marks for his own appreciation.

the doorbell rings just as he’s licking over his masterpiece, rudely interrupting the moment.

“yukhei.” you squeeze his shoulders and yukhei forces himself to pull away.

“who’s that?” he asks, unable to hide the tone of disappointment in his voice. his hands refuse to leave your skin, his thumb gently caressing the curve of your underboob.

you giggle at his pouty lips before adjusting the short bangs hanging over his forehead that he hated despite the many times you told him he looked cute.

“i ordered brunch for us.”

dumbfounded and still in a half-asleep state, yukhei helps you off the counter. he watches you look into the peephole before opening the door and picking up a large paper bag that had been sitting on your doormat.

“i thought you’d be hungry after waking up.” you say, setting the bag into your small dining table for two. “i hope you don’t mind, bub. i didn’t want to cook anything because, well—i can’t. i haven’t been to the grocery store this week. but we can always head there later and get stuff for the next few days.”

yukhei lets out a huff of disbelief. “baby.”

but you don’t hear him. you’re so busy unpacking the small food boxes onto the table as you ramble on and on, oblivious to the way he was staring at you in adoration.

“i got you your favourite stuff. spring rolls, shu mai—what?”

at last you notice how quiet he has been and you freeze, looking at him with your eyes wide in concern.

“sit down and let me do the work, please.” yukhei pleads, dragging a chair out. “you did all that while i did nothing and slept like a log!”

you laugh, shaking your head as you sit down. “i just dialed a number and asked for some food. and i know you really needed that sleep.”

once all the food boxes are arranged neatly on the table, yukhei takes his seat next to you. you’re in the midst of reaching for a pair of chopsticks when his hand grabs onto yours, halting your movements.

there’s a moment of silence as you curiously watch him readjust his thumb below the joints of your fingers, bringing the back of your hand towards his lips.

“thank you, baby. i love you.” he tells you with a dazed smile, placing a kiss just above where the promise ring hugs your finger.

“you’re welcome.”

you tell him you love him too before you bite back a huge smile — the kind that satisfies yukhei so much because he knows he’s the reason behind it.

yukhei couldn’t put into words how elated he was when you texted him back a few days after your slightly awkward first meeting, agreeing to hang out with him that upcoming friday night.

truth be told, there weren’t any concrete plans for your first date. it was amusing to him really, how the conversation ended right after you both settled on a meeting place, with no discussions of what to do or where to eat.

maybe you were simply excited to see him again and didn’t really care about what the plan was — because that was exactly how yukhei felt.

the bus ride to the shopping mall felt longer than usual. yukhei found himself staring at his reflection in the window a few times, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket and making sure he looked good.

he had rushed home straight after javelin practice and taken the quickest shower of his life before spending a good amount of time styling his hair. it was not the wisest idea — choosing a late school day when there were six other days in a week where he wouldn’t have to rush — but he had been merely trying his luck when he sent that message asking if you were free. he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes.

so when he spotted you waiting all by yourself from afar, he quickened his footsteps amidst the crowd, never taking his eyes off of you.

your face lit up as soon as you saw him and you waved, the crop top you wore lifting a little. yukhei’s gaze flew to the sliver of skin exposed and the nervousness that had been bubbling in his tummy earlier instantly melted into nothing.

the night went quite smoothly. yukhei could not have enjoyed himself more, from dinner at the sushi bar you had recommended to the impromptu movie session that had the both of you sharing the only available seat left: a couple seat.

he was falling harder as he got to know you more and it scared him just how fast it was happening.

“do you watch superhero movies a lot?” you asked as the two of you turned into another alley of food stalls.

yukhei had insisted on accompanying you back to the train station after the movie as it was getting late. he was not going to leave you alone when nightlife in the city was just starting, not when the streets were bound to get rowdy.

“not really. i mean blockbusters are nice but i love old dramas and action flicks, you know?” yukhei answered, turning to look at you in his jacket that had been on you since he noticed you shivering in the cinema. he couldn’t help but smile at how your fingertips were peeking beneath the long sleeves.

“wait, me too!” you gasped, turning to look at him with a huge smile. “why didn’t you stop us from watching iron man?”

“well you suggested it so i thought you really wanted to watch it!” yukhei laughed as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “i’m sorry.”

“no, that’s my bad. i didn’t know what you liked so i just picked something popular.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “maybe we can watch the great gatsby next time. i think we might enjoy that.”

next time?

it took yukhei a few seconds to acknowledge the idea of a second date that you had brought up so casually.

“r-really?” he cringed as the single word fumbled through his lips.

“yeah?” you replied, the blank look on his face amusing you a little. “we can watch something else too, if you want.”

“no!” he perked up. “let’s watch gatsby.”

eventually the two of you arrived at the train station, where goodbyes were exchanged rather reluctantly and awkwardly. yukhei watched as you took a few steps away from him before abruptly turning back around.

“what’s wrong?”

“your jacket!” you ran a hand through your hair abashedly. “i almost forgot! i mean i did, but.”

yukhei’s hands flew to yours before he could stop himself, stopping you from taking his black denim jacket off.

“it gets cold in the train. you should have it.” his hands flew to his sides awkwardly. “you can give it back to me next time, it’s okay.”

“oh.” you said so softly that yukhei almost missed it. your eyes fell onto the short sleeves hugging his arms and he read your mind right away.

“i’ll be fine. my bus ride home is pretty quick.” he reassured you. it was a lie. the weather had started getting cooler and that’s why he brought a jacket out in the first place, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

yukhei noticed that your cheeks had reddened a little. why were you so cute?

“okay then,” you said with a tiny smile. “thanks again, yukhei.”

yukhei landed on his bed face flat after a warm shower, absolutely exhausted and ready to hit the sack. to be fair, it had been a long day for him and it was close to midnight.

if it was any other weekday night, he would be snoring already. but he had just sent you a text asking if you reached home already and was eagerly waiting for your reply.

at last, after a long five minutes, yukhei’s phone buzzed a few times in a row.

[from: _____][sent at 11:57PM]

hey

i just got out of the shower

thx for checking in :)

and thx for tonight again, i had a good time :)

wait it’s almost 12!!

you’re still awake?

yukhei didn’t realise a bunch of alphabets and symbols could make him so happy. his thumb hovered over his phone screen as he began to type out a reply, but a more texts came flying in.

[from: _____][sent at 11:59PM]

well

in case you’re already sleeping..

goodnight and sweet dreams~

just minutes ago, he had been so ready to fall asleep. but the rush of happiness he experienced as he read your texts over again made that impossible now. yukhei couldn’t put away his phone, couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

he was screwed. he knew he was, when that was the effect you had on him after only days of knowing each other.

“well, well, well. if it isn’t my favourite couple.”

“sorry,” you sigh while yukhei simply shoots an apologetic smile at kunhang as he slips into the booth after you. “you know how bad traffic is at this hour.”

“it’s okay.” says ten who’s sitting next to kunhang and shoving his nintendo switch into his bag. “but we ordered some stuff first because i’m starving my ass off.”

“oh that’s great!” yukhei cheers. “i’m hungry too.”

“already? weren’t you guys just at your mum’s restaurant?” ten chuckles as he looks up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

kunhang snorts. “he’s hungry all the time, remember? you should see his snack stash back at our dorms.”

just before they parted ways at camp at the start of their vacation, kunhang had suggested to yukhei that they have a get-together meal with ten — the oldest of the trio who recently scored a job at a renown art gallery in town and decided to stay for good, instead of flying back to his hometown.

yukhei agreed to it, not just because he missed his friend dearly, but also because it’s been a while since all of you had a meal together. when he brought it up to you, you were thrilled at the idea of catching up with them, even if that meant giving up some of his already limited time with you. that’s how you and him ended up sitting across from his two best friends at a hot pot restaurant tonight.

as food arrives and gradually takes up every inch of space on the table, everyone takes turns giving updates on their lives. yukhei shares memorable incidents at camp and kunhang adds on to his stories with funny anecdotes that make you and ten laugh, while ten announces that his longtime boyfriend, kun, has moved into his apartment.

“so how’s it like living with kun so far?” you ask, ladling soup from the simmering pot in the center of the table for everyone.

“i’m getting used to my fridge having food and my kitchen actually being used.” ten replies with a shy smile that yukhei rarely got to see. “it’s only been a week and it’s getting messy in there, but i’m not complaining.”

“aw.”

yukhei hears you coo, and he can practically see the look of endearment on your face even though he’s focused on all the meat you’ve put on his plate earlier.

“and when are the two of you planning to tell us that you’re getting married?” the long-haired boy smirks, squinting at the gold band hugging your ring finger.

the question stunts you and yukhei and kunhang nearly chokes on his sprite. the innocent smile that was on ten’s face just seconds ago was now long gone and replaced with a mischievous one.

“married?” kunhang exclaims, his voice so loud that the couple in the next booth turns over to look. thoroughly embarrassed, he presses the front of his cap down to hide his eyes. “how am i not the first person to know this, yukhei?”

yukhei sighs. where, and how, should he begin?

as he glares at ten who’s enjoying this a bit too much, you set your chopsticks down and hold your hand out to an eager kunhang, who marvels at the piece of jewellery on your ring finger up close.

“so?” ten lets out a cheeky, high-pitched giggle at the look yukhei gives him. “did you guys just come back from telling your fam the good news or…?”

yukhei grins devilishly as he picks up a bean sprout with his chopsticks, ready to fling it at ten, but you’re faster than him.

“we’re not—i mean, we’re getting married. eventually! not now, obviously.” you chuckle in a flustered manner.

we’re getting married.

yukhei’s heart flutters at that sentence. he wants to hear you say that again, wants to be the one to tell his friends that.

“you’ll be the first to know when we do.” yukhei adds, nudging kunhang’s foot underneath the table, earning an eye-roll from ten.

“well, you better.” kunhang quipped. “we’ve been talking about this for years now. it’s time you two quit playing and actually get it done.”

“ah, so this is a promise ring?” ten cuts in excitedly. it’s now his turn to examine the ring as kunhang gets back to his food. “it’s so pretty. it definitely suits you.”

“thanks,” you beam as you pull your hand back. “yukhei got it years ago but won’t tell me when or where. says it’s a secret.”

the two boys gawk at yukhei right away and he sighs, bracing himself for what’s to come.

“oh xuxi, you romantic baby!” ten teases, clearly having the time of his life making yukhei blush tonight.

“so this is what you were nervous about!” kunhang scoffs in disbelief before looking between you and ten. “we were on the train back to the city and he wouldn’t shut up about being nervous for some surprise plan. and he just wouldn’t tell me what!”

“oh my god, you guys are so cute. it’s gross.” ten shakes his head. “you’re lucky i love you both!”

yukhei smiles bashfully. he was a little embarrassed at first, but of course ten and kunhang had to make it worse. he wanted to pull his beanie over his entire face and ignore everything.

you’re awfully silent next to him as you glance between your food and your lap shyly, your hair shielding your face from everyone else. a warm rush of adoration washes over yukhei and he finds himself gently adjusting your hair, tugging a loose strand behind your ear.

“okay, that’s it.” kunhang groans, grabbing his bag and pretending to leave the table. “thanks for the meal, you guys.”

“you can’t just leave!” ten exclaims, reaching for his cup of tea. “you haven’t asked _____ for her friends’ numbers yet.”

kunhang stares at ten, his eyes widening and jaw dropping in horror before he starts bickering with him — a scene that has you bursting into laughter and yukhei reminiscing the good old days where the four of you would hang out at the mall for hours after class. kunhang was always so starstruck by the popular girls at your all-girls school though you weren’t close with any of them. nothing has really changed since you entered university.

“you told me to remind you!” ten retorts.

“not in front of everyone!” kunhang cries dramatically.

“dude. it’s literally just the four of us.” ten deadpans. “always has been.”

“anyway,” kunhang rolls his eyes as he turns to face you. “so, _____. any of your friends single again?”

you do your best to look sympathetic before shaking your head. yukhei splutters out a laugh while ten pats kunhang’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“this would be a lot easier if you were, you know, into guys.”

yukhei’s first kiss with you was, for him, a long time coming.

it happened at the end of your fifth date, after a day spent at the park.

summer had fully transitioned into fall and the weather was cool enough for the two of you to set up a picnic at a sunny spot. everything was perfect — from the calming sounds of nature to the desserts you both brought to the cute dress you wore underneath your sweater that matched the greenery around you.

more than a month had passed since yukhei first met you. with every date, the urge to hold your hands when you walked around in public and to kiss you and finally know what your lips tasted like kept growing.

yukhei smiled as he watched you talk about your week even though he already heard these stories since you text each other so much. your words went in and out of his ears and it was hard for him to concentrate because all he could think of was whether you liked him too.

there were moments that made him consider it a possibility, like how you surprised him with his favourite snacks after one of his javelin practice sessions or the way you would smile when you caught him staring at your face.

he was torn between over-romanticising those moments and acknowledging them as the plain and simple fact that you liked him too.

he felt it again as the two of you watched the sun set and slowly sink into the horizon across the river, the sky dissolving into hues of orange.

the scene in front of him was majestic, but yukhei could only concentrate on how close to him you and him were. so close that your arms were brushing against each other��s, so close that you could rest your head on his shoulder if you leaned a little.

“i like this a lot.” you said out of the blue, your eyes still fixed on the sunset in the distance. you leaned back, anchoring your palms against the mat to make yourself comfortable.

“i like you a lot.”

yukhei couldn’t stop himself. those words had been kept inside him for too long.

silence hung in the air as your proximity grew tense. yukhei couldn’t see your face and he was starting to think that maybe it was for his own good. when he felt you sitting up straight and he held his breath, expecting the worst.

“i like you too.” your voice was barely audible and you sounded just as nervous as he did, but yukhei heard you loud and clear.

his eyes widened as he turned to you at the speed of light. you had been looking at him nervously but as soon as your eyes met, your gaze quickly flickered towards your hands that were fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater.

“really?” yukhei placed his hand over yours, gently circling the back of it with his thumb. “you like me… in that way?”

“yeah.” you mumbled, resting your head in the nook between his neck and shoulder exactly how he had pictured in his mind earlier. “i like you. a lot.”

relief flooded yukhei’s veins and he could finally breathe hearing you say the words he had so badly wanted to hear. nothing else mattered in that moment, because all he could think of was you seeing him in the same light he saw you in.

and suddenly, everything made sense to him. how could he be so stupid, after all that had happened in the past few weeks? the way you’d remember the little details of things he told you and how you’d blush at his terrible pick-up lines? of course you liked him too.

“what are you thinking about?” you squeezed his hand as you pulled back to look at him.

your face had never been so close to his. yukhei could count your eyelashes and have a proper look at your lips that looked soft and velvety. everything about this moment made it impossible for him to ignore what he had been dreaming of doing.

“can i kiss you?” yukhei asked.

all he could remember was how your eyes lit up instantly, every trace of worry fading away as an innocent smile graced your face. then you leaned in and closed your eyes just as he did, your lips meeting in a long awaited kiss.

yukhei cupped the side of your face with one hand, his thumb drawing soothing circles over your cheekbones. he felt himself sink into the feeling of your fluffy lips moving languidly against his, the way they tasted sweet like the strawberry shortcakes you shared earlier.

it took everything in yukhei to not whine when you pulled away to catch your breath, even though the kiss was probably longer than it should have been. he could still feel the butterflies in stomach as you pressed your forehead against his and he didn’t want them to fade away so soon, so he spoiled you with a few chaste kisses in a row that left both your lips tingling by the end.

“been wanting to do that for a long time.” yukhei beamed.

he reached for your hand that had been on his knee and interlocked your fingers — a small gesture he could now make anytime he wanted, and that made him a very happy boy.

the sun was almost gone but even under the dim fluorescent lighting from the street lamps, yukhei could tell that you were flushing and giddy with affection like him. the golden hour casted a warm orange glow onto your skin and you couldn’t look more like the girl of his dreams.

“i know. me too.”

the butterflies in yukhei’s stomach fluttered wildly at the sound of your airy chuckle. there was nothing that could take away the smile on his face.

yukhei did not expect to wake up to the sight of you in nothing but his camo jacket.

the lack of body heat woke him up and he found himself once again lying alone in bed and wondering where you were — but all his thoughts flew out of the window when he heard the bedroom door creak and saw you stepping back in.

he had to blink a few times to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him and that you were indeed, dressed only in his camo army jacket.

you’re standing beforeyour dresser to examine the love mark yukhei branded on your neck the night before, oblivious to how he’s silently observing you and getting hard again.

there’s something about the way his jacket reaches your midthigh and teasingly moves upwards to offer him a glimpse of your ass each time you lifted your hands to run over your skin that turns him on so much. and he has seen you in his t-shirts and muscle tanks many times before, but none of that could compare to how you looked right now and he has no clue why so.

maybe it’s the consecutive months of being deprived of your touch and having to picture your body as he took cold showers to relieve himself on some mornings. but he doesn’t have to rely on his imagination now that you’re here, in front of him, like a present waiting to be unwrapped and appreciated.

yukhei lets out a whine that gets muffled into the pillow, but you hear it immediately and whirl around in surprise.

“hey.” you smile lazily as you make your way back to bed, landing on your knees and crawling towards him.

yukhei’s eyes are glued to the gap between his unbuttoned jacket, which hangs loose enough on your body to bless him with the sight of your cleavage, the smooth expanse of your body, and as he lowers his gaze — your core between your parted thighs.

he’s visibly infatuated, and you clearly don’t entertain that as you sit on where his crotch is beneath the sheets, lying down on him to give him a quick smooch. your lips are warm and taste like lemon, which tells yukhei you just had your morning mug of tea.

“morning,” yukhei mumbles, slipping a hand beneath his jacket to rest on your back. your skin is smooth and warm under his touch as always. “this looks so much better on you.”

“yeah?” you chuckle softly. “hope you don’t mind, it was cold.”

“i don’t mind it at all,” yukhei smiles, raising his other hand to cup your cheek affectionately. “but i need you.”

“need you to warm me up, baby.” he says, his voice deepening with the next sentence. “want you to ride me in this.”

you’re looking down at him in a hazy gaze when your breathing pauses. you don’t answer him with words — instead, you slot your lips between his, never pulling away as you get on your knees and pull the covers off.

yukhei sighs into the kiss at the feeling of his cock standing tall and unrestrained, desperately begging for your attention. he lets out a heavier sigh as your hand wraps around his hard length and starts stroking him with purpose.

“just like that.” he groans, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as his hips start thrusting into your grip. you line his jaw with kisses, making him feel pampered and content.

“want you too.” you purr.

yukhei hears how needy you are and tightens his grip on your ass, but you’re already one step ahead of him. repositioning yourself, you let your slick folds slide against the length of his cock as you continue pumping him, lubricating him with your own arousal.

the room is filled with desperate sighs. you’re grinding your clit over his tip when it becomes all too much for yukhei, who wants to be deep inside you already.

“baby,” yukhei mutters, squeezing your ass cheeks which elicits a loud gasp from you. “need to be in you now. please.”

the urgency in his voice prompts you to lean forward and stable yourself with a hand pressed to his chest. yukhei watches you guide his cock towards your opening before sinking onto him in one go.

“fuck.” his throat goes dry at the feeling of your soaking walls enveloping all of him and his jaw slackens as he takes a few moments to appreciate how it feels to be buried in you.

“yukhei,” you whine. “it’s hot.”

he watches you shrug his jacket off, letting it hang past your shoulders in a teasing manner. at this point, he just wants to rip it off you. but all he manages is a guttural groan before running his hands up and down your thighs.

“you’re driving me insane, baby.”

you giggle softly at his words, the sound ringing in his ears and going straight to his cock.

“i love you.” you tell him sweetly and kiss him again. then you plant your hands flat against his lower abdomen where his abs are, lifting yourself off him until only his head is left stretching you open.

yukhei grunts when you drop back down slowly and start riding him at a hypnotic rhythm. he’s too overwhelmed to say a word, too entranced by your breathy moans and the lewd image of your chest rising and falling.

you’re clenching around him in such a delicious way that all he can do is knead your asscheeks with his large hands and let out deep “uh-uh-uh”s.

“fuck,” yukhei hisses as he watches you arch your back, moving you hips differently to get the perfect angle.

“let me take over, baby.”

yukhei plants his feet flat on the mattress just as he feels a familiar tight feeling in his balls. you oblige right away and collapse against him, ready for him to fuck you senseless.

pressed chest to chest, he grips onto your ass firmly as he starts pounding into you from below.

the scent of passion and desire wafted through the air. his cock leaves and enters you at a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping only getting more erratic with your cries for his name right by his ear.

“yukhei…” you cry weakly as his tip nudges your sweet spot again and again.

“i’m here, baby. gonna come inside you, you want that?”

“y-yes. miss you filling me up.”

yukhei curses, and you reach your high just seconds before he does. your entire body shakes in pleasure before he comes into you, flooding your insides with his warm release. he groans as you ride out your high and roll your hips, the feeling of you being warm and full all too heavenly.

after a short while of nothing but heavy breathing as the both of you succumb to a blissful state, yukhei removes the jacket hanging off your elbows and rolls you over with his softening cock still snug in you. he hums in satisfaction, nuzzling his face against your neck as your fingers comb through his hair.

“i love you.” yukhei sighs contentedly. “didn’t get to say it back just now.”

he hears you hum softly and feels a peck on his forehead. when he gains the energy to pull back and look at you, he finds your eyes already on him, half-open in adoration.

“i’ll clean us up, okay?” yukhei asks softly, his elbows pressing against the mattress as he moves to get up. he’s sure there’s already a mess on your sheets.

“no, don’t go.” you murmured, tightening your thighs around his hips in an attempt to lock him in place. you end up pushing him deeper into you instead, making him hiss. “stay like this for a bit.”

yukhei notes the clinginess in your voice and the way your hands trace love patterns along the curves of his back. he lies back down, joining your lips in a deep kiss.

“i’m not going anywhere.”

it’s so easy for him to do whatever you say, he realises. you have him wrapped around your finger because you’re just as clingy as he is — and only he gets to see that side of you.

yukhei had sex with you for the first time in a hotel overlooking the ocean.

it had been his first holiday with you. every december, yukhei would fly back to his mum’s hometown in thailand with his family to visit his relatives — that wasn’t anything new. what was new though, was you tagging along after his mum had enthusiastically asked you to join them.

the week-long trip was the most fun yukhei had in years. minus the shy introductions and teasing from his relatives who were overjoyed to finally meet his pretty girlfriend whom they’ve heard much about over phone calls, it was like a mini honeymoon for the two of you.

after catching up with his cousins in the first half of the trip, yukhei spent all the other days ‘having fun by yourselves’ as his mum had insisted. you ended up exploring the coastal town, hanging out at the beach, and eating the local food to your heart’s content.

the highlight of the trip for yukhei though, was finally being able to make love to you. the resort stay was a godsend opportunity after the many interruptions during your steamy makeout sessions in yukhei’s tiny bedroom. it was the perfect time and place that you both needed.

yukhei swore you were a goddess as you laid on the bed with your legs spread out, your hair fanned out against the pillows, patiently waiting for him to put the condom on.

it was his first time seeing all of you, your curves and body marks displayed to him like a work of art in a museum. he couldn’t look away, couldn’t ignore how rosy your face was from coming apart on his fingers just minutes earlier.

“is this okay?” yukhei asked tenderly, pausing when he stretched you out halfway. “can i go deeper, baby?”

you nodded fervently though the tense look on your face made yukhei unsure. he really wanted you to enjoy this too. sensing his hesitation, you pulled him down for a deep kiss.

“so tight, fuck—” yukhei mumbles against your lips as he pushed himself further into you, his hands caressing the underside of your thighs.

yukhei sighed, the pressure to not come quickly making him slightly nervous. it was difficult not to when your walls were warm and hugging his cock like a glove, letting him experience euphoria like never before.

“beautiful.” his voice gentle as he gave you an open-mouthed kiss. “all mine.”

as soon as you signalled for him to move, yukhei took charge, thrusting into you slowly as he gauged your reaction. his pace quickened after a while a combination of sighs and moans spilled from your mouth. your neck arched against the pillows, presenting him with the perfect location for a love mark.

but yukhei was distracted. he couldn’t take his eyes off your soaking core, couldn’t get over the way you stretched open to welcome him each time his cock slid all the way back in. he had seen his fingers disappear in you before so many times, but this image was incomparable.

“so deep,” you said breathlessly, your fingernails digging crescent moons into his back.

yukhei looked at you. from the hair that stuck to the side of your neck to your lashes fluttered shut in pleasure, you were a sight to behold.

“yeah?” he kissed you sloppily. “does it feel good?”

“yes—oh!” you whimpered just as yukhei’s fingertips landed on the sensitive bundle of nerves right above where you and him were connected.

he drew circles on it with his thumb, groaning when you clenched around him. “you feel so good around me too, baby. you’re doing so well.”

yukhei’s thrusts grew uneven as he coaxed you into your orgasm. by the time he shot his release into the rubber, you came undone beneath him too, crying out in rapture one last time as your thighs shook intensely.

a moment of silence hung in the air as your pants slowly faded into deep and slow inhalations. seeing you come all over him, because of him, gave yukhei’s ego a huge boost. it didn’t help that you were trembling in sensitivity while he cleaned you up as gently as he could and muttered praises into your ear.

“yukhei,” you called him softly and he halted his movements, worried that he had accidentally hurt you.

“i don’t know if i can go out tomorrow.” you mumbled, covering your eyes with the back of your hand.

yukhei instantly relaxed, a smirk taking over his face as he threw the wet wipes aside. “we don’t have to go out, but i can carry you wherever you like.”

when you didn’t respond, he crawled over you and pulled your hand away. you avoided his gaze, looking at his chest instead.

“i’m serious, baby.” yukhei tilted your chin up and looked into your eyes as genuinely as he could. “we can stay in all day if you want.”

“okay. sounds nice.” your hand quickly hovered over your face again.

the smirk on yukhei’s face softened into a smile. it was amusing and adorable to him, how you could still be this shy after the night’s events. he felt as if he was in heaven and within the next second, he was placing kisses everywhere on your face but your lips. when you broke into a fit of giggles, yukhei couldn’t help but keep going. he finally stopped when your hands framed his jaw, guiding his plump lips back to yours for a short, innocent kiss.

“thank you for being so patient with me tonight.” you paused, swallowing a lump down your throat. “it was nice even though i’m a little sore now.”

yukhei’s heart grew three times at your words.

“is that all? just nice?” he smirked.

you pinched his bicep playfully and hid your face again, muttering something about him being so annoying.

“i’m playing with you,” yukhei giggled, pretty sure he had hearts in his eyes as he looked at you. “love seeing you get all shy for me like this.” and with that, he pulled your hands apart and trapped them against the pillows.

just as he was about to kiss away the pout on your lips, the sound of a door slamming shut thundered down the hallway and echoed in the room, sending both of you into speechlessness.

yukhei put his boxers on hurriedly, rushing to the balcony and sighing in relief when he noticed the lights in the next room a distance away had just turned on — a sign that his parents, who had been out the entire evening, have just gotten back. at that moment, he couldn’t be more thankful that his plans for the night turned out well. he wouldn’t know how to face his parents if they overheard him and you, and just the sheer thought of it brought goosebumps to his arms.

“are they back?” you asked nervously, pulling the covers up to your chin.

yukhei nodded, turning the bedside lamp off before cuddling up to you. “we have to be quiet.”

“oh, we will be.” you yawned, making him smile and hug you more tightly. you responded by wiggling around in his embrace. “yukhei, i’m sticky.”

“don’t care.” he whispered against your skin. “just wanna hold my baby like this.”

after a few more indulgent kisses and sweet nothings were exchanged under the moonlight, you dozed off in each other’s arms.

the next morning, yukhei woke up to the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. you were already awake and sitting up with the covers wrapped around you as you silently admired the swaying palm trees outside. yukhei sat up sluggishly, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

you turned around to return a kiss to his lips, eyes still closed when you pulled away, the intimacy of last night clearly still in the air. you opened your eyes, looking completely lost in him just like he was in you.

“good morning to you too.”

the rest of the day was slow and relaxed. you both agreed to stay in the resort, and so the afternoon flew by as you lounged by the pool and dined at the restaurant next to the beach. safe to say, the sight of you in a bikini all day led to another intimate, even raunchier night.

yukhei thinks he’s ready to move in with you.

maybe it sounds a little impulsive. but that’s because there haven’t been a lot of opportunities for the two of you to live together, with yukhei studying at another university and you living in a shared apartment over the past few years.

but staying at your apartment over these few days has given yukhei a sneak peek of life under the same roof as you, and he loves it so much that he wants to be done with his enlistment duties and fast forward to the part where he gets to share a home with you already.

yukhei wants to wake up past noon on weekends and whip up a hearty brunch with you, wants to spend the rest of the day helping you with mundane tasks like laundry and watering all your plants.

yukhei wants to be there for you on days where you’re exhausted from grad school life, when you turn down his pleas for you to take a break despite being drained from staring at your laptop screen. but he’ll massage your tensed shoulders, take your glasses off, and pull you to bed where you doze off to his soothing back rubs and soft praises of how proud of you he is and how well you’re doing.

he craves that kind of domesticity even right now as you lay on top of him, your limbs entangled comfortably and your cheek squished against his chest while your eyes are glued to the great gatsby playing on the tv.

there aren’t any plans to go out today due to the simple fact that you were both too lazy to get dressed and leave the house unless it’s for food. and probably because, though you wouldn’t admit it openly, you want him all to yourself — which is fine because yukhei feels the exact same towards you.

the living room is hushed as you and him watch a drenched gatsby reunite with daisy in a lavishly decorated flower-filled cottage. you sit up just as the scene ends, elbowing the couch as you rest your chin on your palm.

“why are you looking at me like that?” yukhei asks. there’s an unsure look on your face that he can’t quite read.

“i think i remember.” you hold your other hand up, flashing the ring that has been making you so happy. “thailand?”

yukhei grins brightly, the top row of his teeth showing. he nods proudly, taking your hand in his to look at the ring — a thin gold band with a pale blue sapphire — and admire the way it gleams in the afternoon sunlight.

it’s just as beautiful as the first time he saw it in that gift shop in thailand.

yukhei remembers that day vividly. it was the last day of the trip, and both of you were shopping around for souvenirs for your friends back home. he caught you admiring a few vintage jewellery pieces by yourself as he stood in the corner of one of the many shops you stepped into that day, pretending to be interested in some touristy postcards. though it didn’t seem like much to him at first, he later noticed that you picked up the same ring a few times, looking back at it even as you walked away.

eventually, thanks to what he could say in his broken thai, he managed to charm the shop owner into reserving that very ring for him. yukhei secretly returned for them while you thought you were waiting for him to be done in the bathroom at a cafe. he felt a little bad at first, but he knew it had to be done or else he’d regret it so much in the years to come.

yukhei always imagined what the ring would look like on your finger. its design enthralled him when he first examined it up close and he quickly understood why you took such a liking to it — after all, anything vintage was right up your alley. little did he know it would look even more beautiful sitting on your ring finger.

“oh my god.” you let out a huff of disbelief as soon as he finishes explaining everything.

you’re speechless as your eyes flick back and forth between the ring and the coy look on yukhei’s face. this is the reaction he has been waiting for.

“yukhei.” your voice is fragile, like you’re about to cry any moment.

the smirk on yukhei’s face drops immediately. he does not like hearing his name from you like that.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you smile weakly, quickly brushing away the tears that escaped your eyes with the back of your hand. “i just love you so much.”

“and i’m going to miss you. a lot.” you continue before he gets to reply. “every day. all over again. i miss you already.”

“oh, baby.” yukhei croons as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you down for a tight hug. he rubs your back, feeling helpless at the sound of your sniffles.

yukhei knew this would happen. of course he did. he’s struggling just as much as you are to ignore the impending distance you’ll both have to deal with again — maybe that’s why he was clinging onto the idea of a future with you so tightly.

“we’ve talked about this. the sooner the better, right? ” yukhei says sadly, finding it hard to agree with himself.

“i know, i’m just being emotional again. i’m sorry.” you chuckle unhumorously. “i didn’t think i’d get to see you before the year ends, you know? but you came back. you’re actually here and i’m so happy.”

“and,” you prop your arm up on his chest, the promise ring once again in yukhei’s view. a moment passes as the two of you stare at it — the symbol of your love and future.

“i love you so much. i want to live the rest of my life with you, like the past few days.” you say resolutely.

yukhei is overwhelmed with happiness, love, and nostalgia all at once. suddenly he’s transported back to that park where you first kissed as teenagers, where he first found out that you liked him too. but loving someone and knowing that they love you back so much so that they want to be with you forever is something so much more special. it’s a privilege yukhei never thought he’d have.

and now, he does. as he looks into your eyes, he realises that you’ve blessed him with that privilege, and that you’re truly the best thing that has ever happened to him.

yukhei finds himself unable to express in words just how he feels at this moment. so he shifts your bodies around until you’re lying side by side, until all he sees is your face up close. he cups your tear-streaked cheeks before softly brushing his lips against yours, sinking in the warmth that blossoms in his chest.

“i love you.” he says delicately when he pulls away, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “i’m so glad the universe chose you for me.”

the fond smile on your face falters as a tear rolls down your cheek and your bottom lip begin to quiver, the violins playing in the long-forgotten movie adding more melancholy than needed to this moment.

yukhei’s heart breaks as he watches you avoid his gaze and desperately blink away the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. but he knows that you two will make it, that the distance is merely temporary. and he knows you know it too. what you and him have is so strong.

“hey, look at me.” he whispers.

you turn towards him, your eyes curiously examining his face.

“i’m gonna come home. to you.” yukhei places a kiss on your forehead. “and it won’t be long. think about it baby, i’ll be out this time next year and we could be living together by then.”

“i can’t wait for that.”

“me too. you’ll get to wake up next to me everyday, but you’ll have to teach me how to not burn our pancakes for breakfast until they’re perfect.”

at last, the corners of your lips twitch and you chuckle into the sleeve of your sweater.

“how does that sound?”

“waking up to you everyday or the pancakes?”

“me coming home. and us living together.”

“like a dream come true.”

a moment passes as you smile at each other in a placid silence.

yukhei cups the side of your face with one hand, brushing over your cheekbone and memorising every little detail that adorned your face and made him feel at home no matter where he is. you lean into his touch, reveling in the warmth of his palm.

the fact that he only has one more day until he will have to wait months before he gets to be with you like this again makes his heart swell in longing. so he holds you close, enjoying the moment while he still can.

the first time yukhei told you he loved you, it was an accident — not really.

that morning, he was awoken by a ball of fur nuzzling against his bare shoulder.

he opened his eyes, looking around the room for a good minute before spotting a familiar siamese cat that was perched at the foot of the bed and observing him with its soft gloomy eyes like it had been waiting for him to wake up for the longest time.

“good morning, louis.”

the cat meowed once as if announcing its disappointment in yukhei before hopping off the bed and making its grand exit by squeezing through the slim door gap.

yukhei shrugged, reaching for his phone that had been charging on the nightstand right by the bed. a quick look at the time and date on his lock screen refreshed his memory, vaguely reminding him of the events of the night before.

he crashed against the mattress and let out a muffled groan into the pillows, shuddering at the thought of how much alcohol he had downed. he was absolutely regretting his idea of not having a birthday party, but instead an entire night of drinking to celebrate turning his legal age.

his final hours of being seventeen were fun, though. ten, kunhang, and a couple of other friends brought him to an upscale steakhouse located in the city’s nightlife district. but like every other boys’ night out, the night eventually descended into borderline chaos. in last night’s case, they went through too many rounds of drinking games and yukhei soon came to the realisation that he was the type to get all giggly and sappy when intoxicated.

yukhei threw the covers over himself and ignored the dryness in his throat, ready to slip back into slumber but he couldn’t. something felt off. he grabbed his phone again and there you were, smiling back at him in his lockscreen wallpaper.

oh no.

flashbacks of how he had asked for you last night and proudly claimed that you were “the one” for him came running back to him. he quickly unlocked his phone, checking his text messages.

[to: ♥][sent at 1:55AM]

hey baaby

baby

i miss u ;(

ii'm still with ten and. kunhang

he mahde me drink so muhch hheheehe

babyy reply me plz

i can seee u readin all of thiks :(

i miss You

[from: ♥][sent at 1:56AM]

oh my god yukhei

are you okay?

wru now???

[to: ♥][sent at 1:58AM]

hi bab

im OK

at tens place now…

he has 2 catss. theyre so Cute

anyway

i need to tell u sometxhing

its rneally imbportant

and that is i love u

u make me so happi

u r so pretttyjf n soooo smart

ur alsoreally kind.. lwiterally an angel

hdeheheheheheee

im so lucky to be youre boyfrjend

becayuse i get to see Ur smile everyyday. hold your hand whenegver i want

onlyi can call u Baby

did u know ?

i bet u djd not ;)

i l o v e LOVE you

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

[incoming call from: ♥]

declined.

[incoming call from: ♥]

declined.

[from: ♥][sent at 2:00AM]

why aren’t you picking up yukhei

you’re making me worried now

are you okay :(

[to: ♥][sent at 2:15AM]

hey _____, ten here. don’t worry about xuxi! he just passed out on my couch.

[attachment: 1 image]

i’m just gonna let him crash here tonight since my parents aren’t back anyway. feel free to pop by in the morning btw, i think he would be really happy. and sorry for texting you at this hour!! goodnight :D

yukhei stared at his phone screen blankly, the jumbled letters of his drunk texts burning into his eyes. there was also that picture of him sprawled across the leather couch in ten’s living room in deep slumber, with his shirt completely unbuttoned and a party hat strapped to his forehead like a unicorn.

“morning, birthday boy.”

yukhei’s heart jumped. he jammed his thumb against the button on the side of his phone, turning around to find ten’s head poking out of the door.

“how are you feeling?” ten asked. yukhei sat up immediately when he saw a glass of water in his friend’s hand. “like shit, i’m guessing.”

ten sat himself down at the foot of the bed, handing the water to an eager yukhei who gulps it all at one go.

“close enough. i feel like i’ve been run over by a bus.” yukhei replied, coughing to clear the raspiness in his voice.

ten hummed. “well, your girl came over with a lot of food. i think you’ll feel better after eating.”

yukhei’s eyes widened, his voice lowering into a whisper. “she’s here? now?”

“sort of. she went out to get coffee with guanheng but they should be back soon.” ten narrowed his eyes at yukhei, trying to read the look on his face. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

“uh huh.” ten snorted. “you suck at lying.”

“okay, fine. i might have spammed her with some texts last night while i was wasted.”

“oh yeah, i saw those. you were crying for her for at least thirty minutes last night by the way.”

“fuck.” yukhei let out a groan. “let’s not talk about that. not now please, ten-ge.”

“okay, okay.” ten smirked. “only because it’s your birthday. now, continue.”

“i told her i love her. like, love love her.”

“oh.” ten paused, his expression fading into one of confusion. “wait, i don’t get it. is that a bad thing?”

“no, no. it’s not.” yukhei cut in quickly, glancing at the door every few seconds nervously. “it’s just—i haven’t told her that before!” he whisper-shouted.

“i don’t know how she reacted to it! what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

ten burst into laughter right away, his eyes squinting into crescents. “oh, xuxi. you’re so cute when you’re in love, you know?”

“i really don’t think you have to worry about her not feeling the same. but i do think you should go tell her in person soon.”

yukhei blinked, relaxing a little when he realised that ten was probably right. the older male grinned, ruffling yukhei’s bed hair playfully before leaving the room.

in less than five minutes the door swung open again, and yukhei tensed a little when he saw you, almost as if he had seen a ghost. he didn’t realise you were back already and had been planning to sit in anxiety by himself for thirty more minutes.

“you okay?” you chuckled as you walked over and sat next to him.

yukhei hummed as you cradled the side of his face with one hand, your thumb smoothing away the drool crust on the corner of his lips that he didn’t even realise had been there.

“someone clearly had a lot of fun last night.”

yukhei’s lips curled into a silly, crooked smile as you crossed your arms and pouted. your attempt at guilt-tripping him had failed completely, it endeared you instead and suddenly he felt like his drunk self bombarding you with all those confessions last night.

your lips eventually cracked into a huge grin. you threw your arms around his shoulders, doing your best to engulf his big frame in a tight hug which made yukhei chuckle. he loved it whenever you hugged him like that or let him be the small spoon when you cuddled.

“happy birthday bub.” you coo dearly, giving each of his cheeks a loud smooch which made his face scrunch up adorably. “are you sure you’re okay?”

“thank you, baby.” yukhei smiled, his mind completely free from his worries already. “i’m okay, just a little hungry.”

“well, it just so happens that there are loads of yummy things waiting outside. maybe even some of your favourite desserts.” you smirked enticingly as you grabbed his hand and stood up. “c’mon, let’s go eat.”

“wait.” yukhei’s breathing stuttered, pulling you back quickly. “i need to tell you something.”

you moved into the spot between his legs, waiting for him to say something as your hands hung in the air intertwined.

“what is it?” you asked.

yukhei looked up at you, taking in the curious smile on your face. it brought so much joy and warmth to his life and he could never get tired of seeing that.

“i love you.” yukhei said, each word rolling off his tongue so naturally. “all those texts i sent you last night? i meant every single word. i love you, _____.”

your eyes were glossy as you relaxed a little, sinking into his touch when he clasped his arms around your thighs to pull you closer. yukhei could tell you were recalling all those cheesy texts as you bit your lip shyly.

he closed his eyes just as you bent down to slot your lips against his in the most delicate way possible before whispering those three words back, as if they were only for him to hear.

“i love you too, yukhei. you make me so happy.”

“say it again.” yukhei asked, his voice laced with desperation even though he knew it was the first of many ‘i love you’s to come.

your cheek was soft and warm in the palm of his hand. you grinned, closing the distance between your lips once more.

“i love you.”

it was the best birthday gift yukhei had ever received.

as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

in yukhei’s case, the past five days have flown by quickly and alas, it is the penultimate day of his short vacation.

but he’s more than satisfied with how the week has gone by despite how short it felt. he managed to visit his family, catch up with his closest friends, recover all the hours of sleep he had lost while on duty, and most importantly, be around you literally every day of this vacation so far. he woke up and slept next to you, cooked and ate all his favourite foods with you, and interrupted every other activity with sex and cuddling sessions — and he wouldn’t have it any other way. just looking back on those moments brought a smile to his face.

his thoughts are interrupted when the door to your bedroom opens and you walk in with a small stack of laundry in one hand.

”thank you baby.” he says, taking the clothes he had worn in the past few days, that are now clean, from you. they’re still warm from being fresh out of the dryer, and he gets a whiff of roses when he holds them under his nose.

“you’re very welcome.” you plop down right next to where he had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, packing his belongings.

as yukhei stuffs his sneakers deep into the bottom of his haversack, you look at all his other things that have been laid out neatly, side-by-side, on your bedroom rug. he doesn’t pay much attention as you pick up his wallet and entertain yourself with its contents.

“is this what i think it is?”

you ask, pulling out a small folded piece of paper that was stuffed into one of the card compartments. the look of curiosity on your face morphs into one of surprise as soon as you unfold it completely and realise what it is.

“you keep this in your wallet?”

it’s one of the few handwritten letters you mailed to him during his first month in camp when he, like every one of his teammates, had zero access to their phones and gadgets.

yukhei still remembers how tough that period of time was. being thrown into a whole new environment and expected to adjust to a lifestyle that was the complete opposite of university life was not easy at all. not only was his freedom snatched away, he had to deal with a long list of strict rules and responsibilities dumped onto him. and as if all that wasn’t enough, he had to witness his newly-made friends live through the countless military break-up horror stories he heard from his seniors.

it was a lot, but he got through each day thanks to the camaraderie he shared with his team and those letters you had mailed him, since they were the only form of communication he had with you.

“yeah. it got me through some tough times, you know.” yukhei admits, watching you read through your own words.

each letter was detailed with updates on your life and things his mum told you to convey to him. they all ended with a short paragraph of best wishes and sweet words which yukhei appreciated very much because he was absolutely sick of hearing about duty and honour.

yukhei had no idea he was so sentimental. he’d reread those letters in your voice, stare at your handwriting, and hold it up to his nose to get the faint scent of your perfume. it was like a piece of you — which was what he needed to fight the homesickness gnawing at him.

“maybe you should write to me.” you mumble, refusing to look at him as you slid the letter back into his wallet. “i mean, if you’re not too busy. i would love getting mail from you even though we can text and facetime now.”

“i’ll try to, baby.” yukhei smirks. “my good morning and goodnight texts not enough for you?”

“no,” you drawl, rolling your eyes playfully. “i love waking up to a bunch of heart and rose emojis.”

yukhei laughs, going back to packing his things while you roll his clothes into bundles that would help him save space. after a short while of teamwork between you two, his haversack is stuffed and he’s done.

“don’t forget these,” you hand him his leather glasses case that had been sitting on your bedside table. then you’re on your feet, pacing around the room as your eyes scan every inch of the space, looking out for anything he might’ve missed.

“i’ve looked everywhere earlier.” yukhei tells you before getting on his feet too. he stretches his arms high above him and lets out a silent yawn. “i think that’s it.”

“okay.” you answer in a small voice.

now that you’re done helping him pack, there’s just one last thing left to do and it just happens to be the hardest task of all — you’ll have to say goodbye to him this time, tomorrow, at the train station.

that realisation settles between the two of you, once again compelling yukhei to make the most out of the time he has left. with a sad smile he holds his arms out, instantly drawing you into his embrace like a moth of a flame. you squish your cheek against him, hands locked behind his back as he hugs you warm and securely.

“you need to stop working out so much, your abs are hard enough.” your voice comes out slightly muffled. “by the time you’re out, i’m gonna be hugging a rock.”

yukhei grins at your words, bursting into full-blown giggles when your fingers poke into his sides and smooth across his tummy. the faint muscle lines that were there before he enlisted were now more defined, some even visible through the cotton fabric of his t-shirt.

“you say that like i have a choice, baby.” he replies. “i can’t just sit aside while everyone else does seventy push-ups and ten laps around the field.”

you let out a disgruntled noise and hugged him even tighter, as if you were trying to mold your body into his.

“and you like it. admit it.” yukhei teases.

“i do.” you murmur. “you smell so good, by the way.”

yukhei giggles at how quickly you switched the topic.

“it’s that detergent you’re using. i wish my clothes smelled this nice when i’m there.”

“i’m talking about you, bub. the way you smell. my hoodie doesn’t smell like that anymore.”

“the way i smell?” yukhei laughs. “and i think you mean my hoodie.”

“it’s been mine for a while now.”

“well, wanna give it back to me? since it lost its purpose.”

“okay. i’ll trade it for this shirt.”

you tug on the hem of his shirt as you look up at him, eagerly waiting for his response. it’s moments like this where yukhei wonders if you know you have him in the palm of your hand.

“whatever you want, baby. i’ll give it to you.”

the lovestruck smile on his face widens as he places a kiss on your forehead, drawing circles on your back.

“can i have it now then?” you ask innocently, but yukhei’s ears pick up the hint of playfulness in your tone.

“right now?” he asks.

“yeah. what’s stopping you?”

“oh, i’ll give it to you now.” yukhei tells you lowly.

the cheeky smile on your face morphs into an ‘o’ shape as his grip on your waist tightens, guiding you towards the bed where you both crash against the mattress. there’s a moment of silence as he hovers over you, suavely tugging his shirt off with one hand and dropping the crumpled fabric next to your face.

“thanks.” you whisper.

it’s hard to ignore the way your core is perfectly aligned with his when you’re lying underneath him in a hoodie and a pair of grey boyshorts that have been testing his patience for a while now.

yukhei runs his hands up your thighs to your sides, bunching the hoodie up to your chest. wet open-mouthed kisses are left all over the smooth expanse of your tummy and he takes delight in how hard you’re breathing.

“it’s no problem, baby.” he replies nonchalantly, his fingers pulling at the waistband of your boyshorts. “anything else you want before i take this off?”

you shake your head and shoot him a silly smile, and it’s all yukhei can remember before he embarks on yet another mission to please you with his mouth. then he makes love to you again, his warm touch roaming every inch of your body which he memorises to perfection.

later, when you’re both sated and holding onto each other like two long-lost lovers, yukhei dreams of you again. this time, he’s hiding another velvet box in an even bigger bouquet of roses as he sits nervously in a dimly lit living room, waiting to surprise you when you get home.

the thought of you being his forever is enough to make him smile in reality, enough to push him through the upcoming months of separation. yukhei was more than ready to be done with that.

it’s only been a minute since you’ve gotten home but the place already feels too big for one person — which is laughable because your apartment isn’t even that huge to begin with. now that yukhei is gone, it feels as if life has been sucked out of these four walls. it has reverted back to nothing more than a roof over your head and a living space for one.

after hanging your coat up and stepping out of your shoes, you stroll to the kitchen and lean against the counter, staring into thin air with the refrigerator whirring softly behind you.

even though it’s only three in the afternoon, it has been an awfully long day for you. the few hours you spent outside drained you and all you did was sit at a restaurant with yukhei and his family for one last meal before sending him off at the train terminal.

the meal was nice and the send-off was not as bad as you thought it would be. but it was still an emotional farewell and you shed a few tears despite it being nowhere as difficult as the first time he had to leave you.

you and yukhei stood at the train platform hand in hand until the train finally arrived and came to a stop in front of everyone.

you let ten and kun attack your boyfriend with their bro hugs first, followed by mrs wong who affectionately caressed her son’s face and repeated her fifth “take care of yourself, my little soldier boy” of the day, and lastly, a less-emotional mr wong who gave his son a few encouraging pats on the back.

looking around, you were filled with dread as you watched the same thing happen with every other soldier who was hugging their loved ones and waving goodbye to them.

when everyone left and when it was just you and him again, yukhei instantly pulled you into his arms, clearly just as reluctant as you are to face this moment.

this was it.

he pulled back, cupping your cheeks and smiling at you forlornly. you stared back at him, taking in how smart he looked in his uniform and the beret framing his beautifully sunkissed face, and mustered all the strength in you to not cry.

it was impossible. tears swelled in your eyes within seconds and you couldn’t help it, the harder you tried to force them away, the more they wanted to spill out. you silently chided yourself for how naive you were to have wished for a tear-free farewell.

“don’t cry, baby.” yukhei pleaded softly, his big eyes looking watery too. “remember what i said?”

you swiped your tears away with the sleeve of your turtleneck and nodded frantically, not trusting your voice at the moment.

“i’m gonna come home to you. we’re going to live our lives together.”

his voice was soft yet grounded with conviction, calming you down instantly and offering you the consolation you needed.

“i’ll be waiting for you.” your voice croaked and you rolled your eyes at how pathetic it sounded.

“i know you’ll be.” yukhei smiled, gently stroking your back. “and you’ll be getting your first letter really soon, i promise.”

“something else i get to look forward to.”

you tightened your arms around him, closing your eyes to really savour what it felt like to be in his arms one last time before forcing yourself to let go.

yukhei interlocked your hand with his, pressing a kiss to the back of it and stealing a glance at your favourite ring.

“i love you so much.” you said, adjusting the collar of his uniform thoughtfully. “eat well and be safe, okay? don’t worry about me. you know you can call me—”

he intercepted you with a long kiss to your lips, letting go only when you pinched his arm. unlike him, you weren’t bold enough to be this affectionate in public.

“i will.” yukhei answered breathlessly. “promise me you’ll sleep early and not overwork yourself while i’m away. i need you to take care of yourself too.”

“i promise.” you mumbled, locking your pinky with his as you looked around anxiously. “you should get going now. don’t want you missing your train.”

he squeezed your hand to bring your attention back to him. “i love you.”

“love you too.”

and with a final kiss to your lips, his hand loosened from yours, reaching for his haversack on the ground and swinging it over his shoulder in one go.

“text me once you’ve settled down?”

“i will, baby.”

after one last peck to your forehead, he turned around and trudged towards the edge of the train platform, where kunhang had been taking pictures with his sisters while waiting. you stood rooted to the ground as you watched your boyfriend’s figure become smaller, waving at him when he turned around to look at you one final time before getting onto the train.

ten and kun kindly gave you a lift home afterwards. you nearly teared up again when you walked past the parking lot and spotted the two of them patiently waiting for you in the comfort of their heated car. on the way home, they even made dinner plans and insisted you didn’t spend the rest of the day alone — which you were extremely grateful for.

you still have a few hours to yourself before meeting them, and it dawns on you that you should probably take a short nap after the sad amount of sleep you got last night. so you force yourself to stop moping and drag yourself to your bedroom to find a comfy set of clothes.

you spend what feels like hours under the hot shower that by the time you step out of the steamy bathroom, the skin of your fingers are wrinkly. just as you start combing your hair, your phone buzzes, its screen lighting up to show you a single notification.

you whisk it off the table, gaping at the sight of yukhei’s name staring back at you.

[from: yukhei][sent at 4:10PM]

hey baby i miss you ♥

[to: yukhei][sent at 4:10PM]

miss you too :(

you guys back there already?

[from: yukhei][sent at 4:11PM]

we’re still on the train

i didn’t get to nap. kunhang snored so loudly :(

[to: yukhei][sent at 4:11PM]

poor baby…

[from: yukhei][sent at 4:11PM]

it’s fine

your boyfriend is a strong man. a day without a nap is nothing :D

you snort at his reply. the typing icon appears next to his name so you wait for his next text.

[from: yukhei][sent as 4:12PM]

anyway, i left a surprise in your desk drawer for you

i think you already know what it is ;)

you don’t.

[from: yukhei][sent at 4:12PM]

i hope you like it baby ♥

you never know what to expect from yukhei because he’s always surprising you with the sweetest, most meaningful gestures. even the story behind your promise ring has you in wonder still. when you pull open the drawer and realise just what he had left for you, a huge grin spreads across your face and you take a second to appreciate the sight of it. he was truly something else.

there, carefully placed on top of the paperwork you had kept in the drawer, is an envelope with your name on it.

“yeah. you’ll be getting your first letter really soon, i promise.”

you reach for it, immediately peeping inside when you notice it’s unsealed. there was indeed a letter as yukhei had promised. you recognize the lined paper that he clearly tore off from one of your notebooks and assume he wrote this secretly while you were sleeping. the mental image of that melts your heart.

to _____, my favourite girl in the world.

i have been staring at this blank piece of paper for ten minutes now while you’re sleeping so peacefully. i still don’t know what i should write for my first letter, so here’s an old-fashioned love letter from your admirer for life, your boyfriend, and your future husband: me <3

you giggle to yourself like an idiot. it’s funny how a single paragraph could switch your mood instantly, how yukhei manages to make you happy even though he’s so far away now.

was that too cheesy? i’m sorry. you know i’m not a poetic person even though i wish i am. you’ll probably laugh as you read on but that’s okay, because i want you to be happy whenever you read this.

so where should i begin?

how about the first time we met? when i saw you sitting at the back of mum’s restaurant, i had butterflies in my stomach (is this how that phrase goes?) and quickly hid in the kitchen. do you remember?

the smile on your face grew as you continued reading yukhei’s letter. it spoke of the vivid details of all your firsts in your relationship, of the little habits you have that he adores. of the warmth and safeness he feels when he’s around you, of how in awe and inspired he is by you — and how lucky he is to get to experience all that for the past few years and hopefully, the rest of his life.

by the time you reach the end, you’re laughing and crying. you miss him so much.

i love you, _____. nothing else matters. you’re the light of my life and i hope i can keep making you feel the way you make me feel: safe, happy, and loved.

until we meet again,

wong yukhei

p.s. i hope you’re not crying. and if you are i really hope it’s because i made you laugh too much.

you reread the letter again, letting his voice linger in your head for a bit because you’re not ready to let it go yet. then you laid on the bed for a good fifteen minutes as you stared at the ceiling with his letter clasped to your chest, yearning for his presence all over again.

it’s going to be fine, you tell yourself. you can handle a few months without him. after all, you already have. and he’s never completely away from you, you realise, as you hold your hand up and admire the gorgeous ring shining in the afternoon sunlight.

for now, that’ll do.

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