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lxclerc · 10 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐝𝐫𝟑

summary... it’s never the right time for you and daniel, always something pulling the two of you away from each other. requested... yes by literally everyone. yall were coming at me with pitch forks for this warning... age gap (7 years), emotional cheating, physical cheating, angst, angst, angst, light smut (more on fade to black) pairing... daniel ricciardo x horner! reader

note... i am tagging each and everyone of you who asked for a part 2 bc this fic has quite literally loomed over my head ever since i posted it a year ago. literally everytime i open this godforsaken app, someone is offering me their first born for the part 2 so yall better give me all the notes!!!

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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high tide came and brought you in

“if you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?”

the question caught you off guard as your friend drunkenly pondered over it out loud. where would you go? you were sober enough to say home, the most acceptable answer that would not invite any other follow up questions. it’s simple and doesn't need a discussion. the reason it caught you off guard wasn’t just that though but because your answer was instantaneous in your head. your answer isn’t a where but rather a who, came your bitter realization.

and you knew that if you could go anywhere in the world right now, it’d be him you’d go to. he always lingers in the back of your mind, everything that reminded him of you tends to bring a certain kind of aching and longing you’ve grown to resent over the months and years spent without him.

daniel sent you away and deep in you, you know he meant good. he’d done a selfless thing, loving you and setting you free. but missing him was unbearable, loving him all consuming and you resent him for doing this to you. you resent the world for making you fall for a man without letting you have him.

still, you did as he told you. you went back to school, pursuing a career in a field you knew he’d be proud of, achieving your dreams and living your life as though a part of you hadn’t been left with him.

your friends carry on with the party. half of university was partying which is a scene familiar to you. this time, it’s on the beach, the salty air and sound of crashing waves echoing with the sound of the music and chatter. still though, you can’t help but scan the place as though looking for him among the crowd of people the same way you always would. you miss the way you’d find his eyes already on you, pools of brown dripping like honey on your skin.

but he’s never there and you feel dirty whenever another man looks at you, their gazes too eager as they look at you as though you’re a piece of meat, never gentle like his as though you’re aphrodite herself walking among mere mortals.

you miss him is the ugly truth. you miss him so fucking terribly it makes you angry. you don’t want to miss him. you no longer want to love him. loving him hurts, as though he’s clawing at your chest and squeezing your heart together in a sick sort of torture.

but even before he touched you, you were his. all he had to do was look at you. you exist in two places – here and wherever he is.

eventually as the night progresses on, you move away from the party. you’re in some fancy country club and the tile is expensive on your feet as you step out of your heels and walked towards the beach, feeling the cool sand against your skin.

in hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in a place like this but despite looking for him wherever you go, you’d never expect to find him. searching for him has become a comfort the same way longing for him has – in a sick, twisted and painful way.

but he’s here now and in the one time you hadn’t searched for him, he found you. the moment you’d spotted his figure looking out at sea, he turned to you as though a gravitational pull connected you to him.

one year, three months and fourteen days. that was the last time you saw him but he looked no different from the man who’d brought you back to your hotel room only to say goodbye.

and then he smiled and it was as though the sun shone on you again.

“honey,” he says and your heart trembles.

daniel.

it was too early. and you’re drunk and you aren’t entirely sure if you were dreaming or not.

but he stands before you, eyes of brown looking as though you’re aphrodite herself and he can’t quite believe he gets to stand before you. eyes of brown that seem to be sobbing without tears. daniel.

you’re still not talking and he’s letting you, watching you so intently as though he’s memorizing your face. he looked the exact same but you know what he must be seeing. you look nothing like the woman he left behind. you’d cut your hair short and dyed it. long gone were your summer dress, replaced by tight fitting ones that showed off your body. you feel different and you tried so hard to make sure you wouldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. you hated seeing the woman who couldn’t make him stay.

but in his eyes, you see your reflection and you recognize her well.

“daniel,” you muttered as the crashing waves touched your feet. would you love me now? you wanted to ask.

he smiled again. “you look beautiful as you always are.”

please touch me, you wanted to beg. soft eyes and soft soft hands. you’re lonely without him.

you manage a grin. “sure, old man.”

the laugh that he let out echoed against your soul. “i’m being honest.”

you missed him. god, you missed him so fucking much.

but daniel still would not let himself love you. not yet, not now that you’re finally building something for yourself. you have friends and have set goals. not yet.

“y/n!” someone calls from behind you but you’re hesitant to take your eyes off of daniel, terrified he’d become a figment of your imagination the moment you do. but your friend's familiar calls force you to. “come on, we have to go.”

you ignore her, turning back to daniel and he smiles at you, offering his hand for you to shake. this is the best he can offer for now. “i’ll see you around, kid.”

you wanted to cry, wanted to scream that it’s so unfair, but you smile sadly as he shook his hand, his calloused fingers so familiar against yours.

“in a few years,” you say.

and as the ocean brought him back to you, the waves must return to the sea.

but you were still gone and gone, gone and gone

the next time you see daniel again, you were twenty four. you’re in your last year of university, applying for your doctorate. you loved academia, you loved your two cats and your little apartment downtown, you loved science and the galaxy it holds and you eventually realized that this is why he let you go. he wanted you to have this — be more than someone who just follows a man around country after country.

he wanted you to grow, wanted you to find the things you really loved without influence from him. he wanted you to find your independence and learn to stand on your own two feet.

max brought you here. it’s his first world champion and as his self proclaimed best friend, he refused to allow you to skip this one and so you pulled up your big girl pants and got on with it, arriving in abu dhabi on friday.

by some cruel twist of fate, he’s the first person you find the moment you enter the paddock. it would have been rude to ignore him and so you smile even though you can clearly see the woman next to him and the way she stands close.

goddamn it.

it hurt. it hurt seeing her there. it hurt seeing her cluelessly smile at you. the way he looks at you now, eyes of brown full of silent apologies, looking as though he wanted to reach over and touch you, to comfort you.

you release a shaky breathe, raising your hand in an pathetic attempt of a wave before you walk past him. you aren’t the same young kid like before. now, you have enough self reservation to not actively put yourself in a situation that would only hurt you. you don’t need to play besties with daniel’s new girlfriend.

the moment you enter the red bull motorhome, you hit max at the back of his head.

“what?” he exclaimed as you glared at him.

“you’re an idiot,” was all you said before moving towards your father. you’d ignore daniel and his girlfriend. you’re here to support max – even if he is a stupid idiot – and there’s no need for you to obsess over daniel.

but of course, you still do anyway. even as you watch the race, you’re watching him. he looks good, amazing, fucking edible. he looks like he stepped right out of your dirtiest dreams, all thick neck and stable arms. he looks beautiful, absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking and you selfishly want him just for you. but you’ve always wanted that and you’ve never been allowed to have him.

and then you’re watching her. she’s grace herself, really. she’s exactly the kind of woman he needed and you wonder if she knows about you and then you wonder what it is about her. what is it about her that made it so that daniel thought she’s good enough for him to love when he never could you?

“mate, it’s getting creepy,” max said as he took the seat before you. he looks tired but he looks determined and the way the hair falls over his face makes you smile. max is a very special person to you and you know that he always will. you hold him close to your heart and you know you’d move the earth for him.

you reach over, fixing the collar of his red bull shirt. “shut up.”

“her name’s caroline,” max says. “if you want to get to know her then just approach her.”

you glared at him. you don’t want to know her name. you don’t want to know what her laugh sounds like or the color of her eyes. you don’t want to know what made daniel fall in love with her. you don’t want to know her.

“shut up,” you say again. “i’m still blaming you.”

max laughed and you think him annoying you might just be his way of distracting himself from the race so you let him. you let him talk on and on and on the entire time till he’s needed back in the motorhome. you let him steal yur ice cream and tap your nose.

but when you turned back to her, caroline, you find him staring right back at you, anger and jealousy in those brown eyes you missed so much.

and it was like you’re twenty again, petty and young as you glared right back at him. he had no reason to be jealous when he has her beside him. he has no right to be jealous when he’s the one who’s never allowed the two of you to be more.

these hands had to let it go free

that night, he called you for the first time in three years. his name lit up your phone and your hand shook as you picked it up. his picture, smiling up at you taken at your twentieth birthday stares right back at you.

“daniel,” you breathe out as you press the phone against your ear. you’d arrived back in your hotel room two hours ago smelling of champagne and victory. max’s world championship trophy is laying next to you after being forgotten because your best friend was far too drunk to grab it before his girlfriend dragged him out. throughout the party, you avoided daniel like the plague, keeping to your side of the room and never straying towards him.

“i missed you,” he says from the other end, voice cracking and slurring. he’s drunk and you push back the blanket as you enter the bathroom, hand gripping your phone. “but fuck it, i don’t miss this.”

“what are you saying?”

“he’s my best mate, y/n.” there goes your name. not sweetheart or honey. he says your name like it’s sacred, something he’s only ever allowed to say when he’s at his most vulnerable, completely raw and baring his soul to you. “and i wanted to fucking punch his face the entire night.”

you close your eyes. this is familiar to you. daniel and his raw honesty when he’s drunk. daniel and his jealousy of max. this is all so familiar to you that you feel twenty again. you feel young and out of control and so drunk in love with a man you can’t have that it physically hurts. he’s ripped you off the past few years where you’ve grown into yourself. you’re twenty again and so tragically in love.

“i wanted to punch his fucking face because his touching you, because i’m not allowed to touch you,” he continues as you sink to the floor.

“you’re the only one who’s never let yourself touch me, daniel,” you whispered on the phone, broken down from one phone call.

he laughs bitterly and you might as well not have said anything. “and here i am, can’t even sleep next to my damn girlfriend because i keep thinking of you. it’s so unfair.”

you wanted to laugh too. unfair? how does he get to talk about unfair when he’d been the one to create this mess for the two of you? how dare he talk about being unfair when he’s the one who’s with another girl? this is unfair. it’s unfair to you. he doesn’t deserve to talk about it being unfair.

the night he left you in your hotel room on your twenty first birthday, you’d called his name again and again like a child. you hoped by some magical thing that he’ll appear. you were desperate.

“you shouldn’t have come back,” he says. “not yet. we both weren’t ready.”

you wipe the tears falling to your cheeks. “and when will that happen? when will we be ready? maybe it’s time to accept that it isn’t us.”

you heard him let out a shaky breath. “don’t say that. don’t say it.”

“i’m so tired of waiting. if it wasn’t us then and it isn’t us now, why do we still believe that it’s us someday?”

“ask me to stay,” he whispers. “ask me to stay and i will. ask me to drop her and i will. i will drop everything if you ask me to.”

you cry, pulling your knees against your chest. “goodbye, dan.”

struggled through the night with someone new

the next time you see daniel again, you invited him. you’re twenty five, it’s two thousand and twenty two, you’re engaged and you’d gotten arrogant.

you met your fiance, james, in university. you’re in the same program and the same friend group though you never paid much attention to him. for the most part, you never really paid much attention to anyone. six months later and he asked you on a date, one you’d declined without a second thought. it didn’t matter how many guys asked you out, you always declined, daniel in the back of your mind always reminding you of what you’re truly waiting for.

but james never treated you any differently. he never made it awkward and never put you on the spot. for the most part, you both acted like it never happened. but you applied to the same doctorate program and coincidentally ended up in apartments right next to each other. he was a comfort, a friend you already knew that you could rely on. he never made anymore advances towards you but it was inevitable to grow closer.

he’s stability and curiosity. he never once pulled back whenever you touched him or apologized for liking you. it was a breath of fresh air – to be admired so freely. you did your thesis together, hands tightly clamped together as you defended it.

you were the one to ask james out on a date, knowing he wouldn’t again in fear of making you uncomfortable. and after leaning on each other as friends for so long, transitioning to become lovers was so easy, you didn’t have to worry what anyone would say or think of you. you didn’t have to worry what your family would think. everything was easy with him.

james was so different from the type of love you were used to. you could love him without guilt, without pain and longing. you could love him simply, easily. you didn’t need to ask him to love you back, didn’t need to wonder if he’d still love you tomorrow. it was so easy being with him and you’d gotten lazy. waiting and hurting and crying for daniel was exhausting.

you wanted a love you didn’t have to fight for.

you’ve convinced yourself that you no longer felt anything for daniel, gaslighting yourself into believing that you’d close that chapter and left it in the past. you can move on now. there was no need for you constantly being miserable and lonely waiting for him to be ready.

and yet here you were, your fiance’s arm around you as you stare at the front door. you shouldn’t have invited him. there was no reason for you to do so but you wanted to prove yourself. you wanted to prove to yourself that he no longer affected you. daniel is in the past and you’ve told yourself repeatedly that you’ve let him go but now you wanted to show yourself that you have.

if you’re lucky, maybe he wouldn’t attend at all.

“are you okay, love?” james whispered against your ear, having noticed your stiff posture. you spent weeks planning your engagement party, stressing over the smallest details but now you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.

you loved this about him – the way he’s able to read you like an open book. james knows there was someone before him – someone who’d left you broken and torn apart. he just didn’t know that person would be attending today.

you nod, taking a sip from the champagne glass you’d been holding as an excuse to stop your hands from fidgeting. “just a bit nervous from the crowd.”

“don’t worry too much. it’s just friends and family.” he gives you an assuring smile, accepting your reasoning as he pulls you closer towards him to try and comfort you.

you’re an idiot, the biggest one there is. max told you himself after you told him that you sent the invite to daniel. you’re a massive idiot and you’re in denial and you set your own trap, tempting yourself when there was no need to and now you were going to hurt james because the moment daniel entered the room, your breath was knocked out of you, heart beating furiously as though it recognized him.

it was daniel. how can you be so stupid?

his eyes meets yours and you missed the way those eyes of brown settle on your skin, grazing as though his soul was touching yours. but they’re sad this time – sad and exhausted and defeated and you can practically hear the way your heart shatters. it was daniel. it has always been daniel. it will always be daniel. how stupid were you to think otherwise? how stupid were you to believe you could ever forgot the way your heart and soul roars back to life the moment he enters the room.

you’ll break james’ heart, you’re breaking your own and you’ve broken his.

the entire time, you and james had stood before the door, greeting all of your guests and showing them where they can wait. you absolutely had no plans to greet daniel. it was bad enough that he was here, but james, sweet sweet james, who had no idea what he was doing dragging you towards the formula one driver, hadn’t gotten the memo.

he didn’t know that having daniel’s eyes on you so close would set wildfires in your stomach and he didn’t know how exhausting and difficult it was to contain those wildfires. he didn’t know that he was burning himself as he all but dragged you in front of him.

“hey,” your fiance says cluelessly. “daniel ricciardo!”

daniel is looking at you and you feel frozen under his gaze. it’s heavy. he makes you feel heavy, like you were cheating on james simply by looking at you. you feel nauseous but with guilt eating up at every cell in your stomach. but you shouldn’t feel guilty. he had no right to make you feel guilty for moving on. he moved on. last you him, he had a girlfriend. why aren’t you allowed to do the same? why can’t you go on with your life and build a future with a nice man that isn’t him?

“i’m a big fan,” james says cheerfully, offering his hand for daniel to shake and forcing him to tear his gaze away from you.

daniel forces a smile to his face, moving to shake his hand and you know this is the part where you’re supposed to introduce him. daniel is your guest after all and so you clear your throat, hoping your smile isn’t as stiff as you feel like it is.

“james, this is my friend daniel. daniel, my fiance james.” you manage to let out, gripping your champagne glass to avoid having to touch either of them the same way you avoid the way daniel’s eyes hardened when the word fiance tumbled from your lips.

“it’s really nice to meet you, mate,” james says with a massive smile. god he’s so nice and sweet and you hate what you’re doing to him.

daniel says nothing, only smiling and you end this entire interaction the moment you get a chance to. pointing at the snacks table, you turned to him. “there’s food over there and max is around here somewhere. nice seeing you again, daniel.”

you were lying through your goddamn teeth. thankfully, he seems to have taken the hint, walking away without saying another word.

the entire night, you feel his eyes on you. even as james makes his speech declaring his love for you, daniel stares at you with hooded eyes. he looks pissed and sad at the same time and you wanted to scream. stop looking at me! you couldn’t take anymore of this. he’s looking at you as though you’re under a microscope – staring into your soul like he could reach you there.

you’re an idiot and now that he’s in the same room as you are, the illusion has left you. you’re not over daniel because you can never be over him. he’s engraved in your soul, his fingerprints all over your heart. he was, and still is, the sun that made your universe turn. you’re choking and you needed to get away lest you burst.

daniel is overwhelming. he’s terrifying and addicting and you hate him but you’re madly in love with him. and worse of all, you’ll spend the rest of your life being in love with him. you’ll spend the rest of your life wanting him and hurting for him and and longing for him and that’s a goddamn fucking tragedy.

you manage to get through the party, practically dissociating yourself. eventually the guests leave one by one, only your family and closest friends left. you sit on the foyer with max, the dutchman watching you drink champagne straight out of the bottle.

“you shouldn’t have invited him,” he tells you quietly. “you were fucking yourself over.”

you roll your eyes. you stare inside the house where daniel is talking to your father. your dad offered his home for your engagement party. you know he likes james. your mother too and your little siblings can’t get enough of him. that fact almost makes you want to throw up.

“i thought i was over him,” you say.

it’s max’s turn to roll his eyes. “you’re just a good liar. you’ll never be over daniel and he’ll never be over you. even i know that.”

you glared at him. you already know what he’s telling you and quite frankly, you had no desire to hear it again. “i hate you.”

“neither you nor dan would survive this long without me.” max laughed and you threw the throw pillow at him.

not that he’s lying. you met max the same time you did daniel and you clicked immediately. he knows everything, comforted you many times as you pined over dan. he’s your best friend and he’s also daniel’s best friend. he knows more than anyone how deep the connection you two shared.

“go home already,” you tell him. you’re tired and slightly drunk and you just want to go to bed now. “and make sure you take him with you.”

max laughed at the way you said him like it’s a bad taste on your tongue but did as you said anyways.

that night, you laid on the bed you and james shared, you couldn’t sleep. he’s fast asleep next to you, his arm over your stomach as you lay wide awake. you shouldn’t have invited him because now he’s turned your world upside down again. everything you’ve built for yourself was gone the moment his eyes met yours. he’s a plague, sucking all the happiness out of you.

eventually though, the restless night was about to get worse as you picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts till you found his name. you stared at it for a while, knowing that you shouldn’t but you’re rattled and your self control is at an all time low. you shouldn’t have been trusted to make any types of decisions.

you come back to what you need

daniel was waiting for you when you parked your car outside his apartment building, hand gripping his phone as he watched you step out of the vehicle. four years since he first let you go and one year since he last saw you and you look as beautiful as you ever were.

he shouldn’t have told you to come but he’s so exhausted from staying away, from waiting for the right time. there will never be a right time and tonight, he’s done holding back. he wants you, he always has and he no longer has the energy to stop himself from wanting you.

“i shouldn’t be here,” was the first thing you said as he opened the door for you.

a lazy, almost mocking smile covered his lips. “and yet here you are.”

you glared at him but daniel’s heart was soaring. it’s been so long since you were this close. he can smell the perfume that followed you and the scent of your shampoo. he’s so so tired, he just wanted to hold you.

he’s going to make this as hard as possible, you realize. you’re no longer a child, he doesn’t need to play nice and easy with you anymore. you’re a woman now and he’s going to treat you like one. but you just need to get over this. you need closure. you need to put him in the past where he truly belongs so you can go about your life. you need him out of your system.

daniel may be everything you wanted but it’s time to accept that he’ll never be what you need.

“why did you come?” you asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as you can. three years pining for him in red bull and four years of longing for him and everything leads you here.

daniel cocked an eyebrow. he’s done with playing nice. “you invited me.”

okay, you walked right into that one. “you still shouldn’t have come.”

daniel wanted to laugh. “i guess we both like doing shit that we shouldn’t do. now the question is, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

“i’m getting married, daniel,” you whispered. “we need to accept that it isn’t us.”

“i thought you did that in abu dhabi.”

he’s being an asshole. “you’re the one who told me to leave. you don’t get to be mad that i’m moving on.”

“you’re not moving on,” he laughed, leaning against the wall.

you glared at him. “yes, i am. i’m getting married!”

he looked at you as though you said something hilarious and you wanted to punch him in the face for it. “and yet you’re here.”

“for closure.”

he stepped towards you and you found yourself holding your breath. from this close, you can see the freckles on your cheeks, the ones you used to spend all your time trying to memorize. the curve of his plump lips and the intensity in his eyes. and when he touched, it felt like the first drop of rain after a million years of dessert. his hand perfectly fitted on your hips, warm and so achingly familiar.

his hand snaked from your hip to your legs, finger light on your skin as he ever so slightly tugged at your shorts. you need to pull away but your body needs him closer. you want him. you want him to get closer. you want him to touch you more, to feel his skin against yours. you can have every single inch of his body pressed against yours and you’d still begged to get closer.

his lips graze your cheek before it reaches your ear, even breathes in contrast to your desperately shaky ones. “is that really what you want, baby?”

with every ounce of sanity you have left, you forced yourself to nod and you can feel the way his lips formed into a mocking smile against your cheek.

“really?” he mocked. “then why are you clutching my shirt like you want more?”

you hadn’t even realized the way your fist is holding on to his shirt, pulling him closer towards you like you’re terrified he’d disappear right between your fingertips.

“fuck,” you muttered, the heat of his skin against yours dizzying. james is nowhere near your mind as your hand slips under his shirt, self control flying out the window as you feel the curves of his abs. you want him. you’ve always wanted him so desperately that you’re willing to go to hell for it. “fuck me.”

he kissed you then, fire in his lips as it finally finally touched yours. this is all you’ve ever asked for and it’s worth the damnation you’d be paying in return. you pull him impossibly closer, going on your tiptoes. you need to get closer. closer, closer, closer.

like an addicted chainsmoker to cigarettes, you can’t get enough of his kiss. you want to inhale the fumes of his breath, of him, deep into your lungs. he tugs at your shirt and you pull away enough for him to get it off.

you grunt in complaint when he pulled away from you, only to swallow it back as his lips attached to the skin of your chest, licking and nibbling as it slowly made it way down.

“oh,” you breathe out as he lips attached to your breast, your fingers tugging at his curls as his tongue circled your nipple.

you should have stopped him the moment his hand unbuttoned your shorts but as he bent you over and his hand slipped between your folds and he trapped your moans with his mouth, you were far too gone. god be damned, morality be damned. you’d crawl through hell for this.

but eventually, reality comes knocking and morning comes and your bliss ends. you woke up from your phone ringing, cocooned in daniel’s arms.

“don’t answer it,” he mutters but sleepily, you grab your phone from the nightstand, seeing james’ name on your screen.

and that snaps you out of it, being reminded of what happened the night before and what you did and you all but jumped out of his arms as though his touch burned you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you hurriedly put on your clothes, daniel watching you still naked from his place on the bed. you turned to him, “this never happened.”

you watched as anger slowly filled his eyes. “are you being serious right now?”

“i’m getting married, daniel!” you’re panicking now, screaming as your phone rings again.

“then why the fuck were you knocking on my door at two in the morning?”

you ignore him, gathering your things. “it was a mistake.”

he’s glaring at you now, looking like he wanted to start screaming. but he remains silent, only glaring as you gather your things and put on your clothes.

you look at him again, apologies and sorrow in your eyes. “i’m sorry but this isn’t me. this can’t be me.”

and then you left, not allowing yourself to look back as you ran to your car. maybe in a parallel universe or a different world, you sit next to each other at the kitchen table and go over the grocery list, but for all the universes and worlds there are, this one was not enough, not for now and not for you and daniel.

when you finally arrive home, your father is in the kitchen, eyeing you up as you walk past him. “where were you? james was looking for you.”

you grimace. there’s a knowing look in christian’s eyes as though whatever you reason he already knows will be a lie. and unfortunately, he’d be right. “i was out with friends.”

“at seven in the morning?” he narrowed his eyes and you hated his timing. of all times, did he have to question you now?

“breakfast.”

you all but run to your room before he can question you further, thanking all the gods that james isn’t there. for a moment, you stood stunned, reeling from the past twenty four hours as the guilt settles in your chest. you need to get as far away from daniel as you possibly can. you can’t be the type of woman who cheats on her fiance. you refuse to be. you refuse to break a good man’s heart like that.

and yet as you finally calm down enough to try and fix yourself, your phone buzzes, his name appearing on your screen saying he sent you a text message.

daniel i’ve loved you in every way i can. i loved you selfishly and so i tried loving you distantly, i tried loving you selflessly, i tried loving you correctly but i just want to love you now. if i could do it all over again, i would love you better but i can’t love you more than i do now.

this love came back to me

the wind is chilly as you step foot in hungary and the dress you wore is definitely not meant for it but still, you persevere, finding your way to the red bull motorhome and greeting your father. the last time you attended a grand prix was abu dhabi 2021 and yet it still feels like home.

“there’s my biggest fan!” max cheered the moment he saw you, immediately wrapping his arms around you. he hasn’t seen you for nearly a year and he missed his best friend. to be fair, no one has seen you for nearly a year, disappearing from the face of the earth after your failed engagement.

after the night of your engagement party, the guilt ate you alive as you realized that you were exactly the kind of girl you didn’t want to be and so you came clean to james. he screamed and cried and said you could work it out but you were exhausted from lying to yourself. as long as there was daniel, you can never be happy with anyone else and no man deserve to be someone you simply settled with.

you realized then that you’d lost yourself. you don’t know who you are, don’t know who you’ve become and so you left everything you know, ignoring everyone’s calls as you attempt to find yourself.

“actually, i’m supporting ferrari,” you joke once max finally lets you go.

“i’ll disown you!” your father screamed from across the garage, making you and max laugh.

“have you seen him?” max asked, whispering as though he’s telling you a secret.

you shake your head. coincidentally enough, or ironically, the first gp you attend in a while, daniel is announced to race in. and max, quite frankly, is far too excited for the two of you to see each other again. he’s had enough watching you both be stupid.

after catching up with max and the mechanics you still know, you find yourself in a cafe with your father, talking about everything and nothing at all. christian watched your every move and you can see the worry in his eyes. he’s part of the people you ran from and you know that it was a cruel thing to do to your father.

and then he was there and you’re all too familiar with the feeling of your world freezing the moment your eyes meet. he looks better, happier and you’re sure you look different too, hopefully more grown.

“you’re here,” he says, unbelieving.

you smile, genuine and free this time. “i’m here.”

and this time around, you were both tired of fighting it. it’s him. it’s always been him. there was no point denying it. he’s the only person you’ll ever want. you are totally and irrevocably in love with him – the kind of love that’s so intense it feels like an explosion of fireworks throughout your whole body. the love that leaves you sleepless but exhilarated, speechless but poetic, lost but exactly where you're meant to be.

and in that moment, your lives flashed before your eyes – marriage, children, growing old together.

daniel ricciardo is the defining moment, the collision of stars that slammed into you so hard it tore your heart in pieces and only he can put it back together again.

he smiles at you and you smile back.

hello, love, welcome home.

and finally, finally, it felt like the world isn’t burning anymore.

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#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #max verstappen

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seattlesellie · 11 months

Note

Can you write an ellie fic where she's getting off to photos of reader and moaning readers name and reader walks in on her

million times yes <3 ☁️🤍🐚🌫️

warnings: mdni!, masturbation, ellie’s a little bit of a weirdo, ellie gets caught.

Oops ♡

For you, being Ellie’s roommate was... hard. Unwashed dishes, the occasional sight of her boxer briefs messily laying around on the living room floor (“They fell from the laundry basket” she told), old crumpled yellow papers on the fuzzy carpet, an unwashed ashtray and a shit-ton of disorganized cards and pins adorning every single corner of the apartment.

But for for Ellie, oh, for Ellie it was even harder.

She always had a soft spot for things she’d never get. Your empty shampoo bottles never bothered her, neither did your habit of constantly forgetting to blow out the vanilla scented candles you lit once in a while, even after she told you they could be a fire hazard every. single. time.

What bothered Ellie, weren’t your complains, and neither were the repeating sounds and buzzes of your alarm clock followed by exactly eight hits on the snooze button (she counts, the walls are pretty thin).

What bothered Ellie, is that you didn’t give a single fuck about her. Or at least, that’s what she had convinced herself of.

When you’d lounge pretty on the couch, nestled within a cozy woolen blanket, your fingers tirelessly swiping and swiping and swiping through every single dating app known to man, she’d watch you intently, and stare.

It wasn’t because she was judging you, god knows she had a tinder phase herself (Amanda was her last straw. she said Ellie talked about her roommate “too much”, that she “needed to figure that shit out”, and then added a huff and a sigh followed by a “fucking lesbians, man”)

It was because she didn’t fucking get it. Could you not see what’s right in front of you? you didn't seem to... grasp the obvious. Don’t get it wrong, Ellie was not overconfident, and neither was she cocky. She just… noticed. She was observant by nature, and she knew, she was convinced shed never heard you laugh the way you do with her, with anybody else in the world. When your best friends were over for a girls night— even then, she would hear muted laughter and the occasional screech (barely audible over the backdrop of "The Smiths" blaring through her headphones) but never, ever, did that breathy, real, borderline on wheezing sound escape your mouth when you were with them. It was idly saved for her.

She’d take her earphones out— because perhaps she’d missed it, maybe she was delusional, maybe you did laugh like that— and then, plug them back in when she was met with silence or the gentle symphony of peaceful snores, and return to the solace of her music. She’d hollow in deep slumber, and have incredibly bizarre dreams of her pretty roommate roaming and floating around the apartment only in her underwear— and for some reason, a horn on her head. Dreams were fucking weird, man.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

“The Truman Show” played on tv. Jim Carey just made a funny face, and Ellie shoved another slice of greasy, brooklyn pizza in her mouth. She chewed, loudly (you sighed) and wiped her lips on her shoulder.

“I’d literally lose it if I found out my life was a tv show” you remarked, your eyes shifting from the remaining pizza to the flickering television screen.

“Meh” Ellie shrugged.

“I’d lose it if it was a video game though. Imagine if like— someone controlled every single movement you made… scary, man”

She huffed, and threw the pizza crust on the table. It fell on the floor. These fucking ants would come again, you knew they would! you gave her a stern look.

“Sorry” she softly sighed, and bent down to pick the crust off the pavement. Her boxers poked through her sweats, you looked across the room, and then you looked again. God.

“Plug you on their PS5, and go… ham and stuff” you giggled.

“Wild shit…” she shrugged. “Wild shit”

Jim Carey’s character just met the deepest corner of its own little world.

Ellie’s eyes were glued to the screen, even though she’d seen that flick about a million times.

You scrolled through your phone mindlessly. You know she hated when you did that while watching something with her— but you did it anyways. Something about the way her eyebrows scrunched together when she peaked at the screen through the corner of her eye always made your heart flutter. She pouted, and you tried to hide the way your lips curled upwards into a small smile.

“Should I post this on insta?” you questioned, handing ellie your phone. She took it in her hands, and the brightness was so high her eyes twinkled.

She bit her bottom lip, and then her top one.

“You’re like… half naked in that” she huffed. She wasn’t wrong, the bikini was so so tiny and the salt water covering your body, making it practically glisten in the sun, didn’t help the sensual undertones of said picture.

“I know” you stated.

She looked at you, and then looked at the screen again. Don’t look too long, she thought to herself. She handed the phone back to you, and stared at the television. Great, she just missed the best part!

“Is that a no?” you quipped.

“That’s a… who are you posting that for?” she tried asking casually, and mask her jealousy with curiosity.

There must be someone. there just must. Perhaps it’s for that girl you talked to on Bumble… shit, maybe its for that blonde from work or the one with the long braids that waved to you for too long who Ellie had made her arch enemy. Or maybe it was for that fucking ex girl—

“Why would you think I’m posting it… for someone?”

Ellie sighed, and rolled her eyes.

“Cause you look good in it.”

She gulped, and moved a hair strand from her face. it itched, all of a sudden.

“Or like— you look naked or something.”

You rolled your eyes back, and yawned.

“Is that a no?” you questioned.

“No what?” she snickered.

“Is that a no i shouldn’t post?” you removed a microscopic piece of lint that landed on her hoodie, it made her shiver.

She let out a shaky breath, and toyed with the string that hung loose from her black nike socks.

“Why are you askin’ if you’re gonna post it anyways?”

You smirked. For some reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on, sometimes, conversations with her weren’t exactly easy.

“Who said i’ll post? I asked you because I needed your advice”

“Sure” she stated, and slid off the couch.

“Post it” she crossed her arms.

You nodded. post!

You already had one like. Oh, it’s that blonde girl from work. fire emoji, winky face emoji, red heart emoji. Nice!

“M’going to bed” she groaned, and shoved a tiny mushroom in her mouth.

“Ugh. gooey”

You looked up from your phone, and shut it off with a click.

“But you’ll miss the best part!” you pouted.

“Tired” she shrugged. Her face scrunched together. how is she so fucking adorable.

“M’kay… night!”

Ellie dragged her body across the dim lit living-room, and almost slipped on one of her socks.

“Mmmmight” she mumbled.

“Say it nicely!” you yelled across the room, it echoed.

“Good nightttt”

The door slammed shut. Ellie sat down on the bed, and stared at the wall. She cracked her knuckles, one by one, and threw her head back on the mattress, wrapped up by green flannel sheets. Her head landed on the pillow with a soft thud, and she took a long, deep breath. She wasn’t even tired, why did she lie?

That image just took over her brain again. She had only glimpsed it briefly, not truly absorbing its details, before reluctantly handing the device back to you. If she stared any longer— her cheeks would burn a bright pink.

The screen of her Android glowed in the darkness, so she grabbed it. Always on silent mode.

A message from Joel; “Got Maria to iron some of your clothes. remember Janet from across the street? She passed away last week, LOL (lots of love).”

Ellie scratched her eyes, chuckled, and took a screenshot. no fucking way.

A message from Dina; “can u send me some lives on candy crush?”

Followed by another one;

“send them right now or die”

So she scrolled some more.

Instagram; “dinawoodward, jessethekinggglol, courtneycameron and others liked this post!”

She tapped, and thats when her eyes popped out of her head. she suddenly felt parched. She looked around the room— that water-bottle she kept from two weeks ago after a trip to the local bodega must be around there somewhere.

It was not, so there you stood, almost half-naked, a playful smile gracing your lips, the sun-kissed sand partially covering your stomach, and the gentle touch of saltwater caressing your chest. A pair of brown sunglasses adorned your face, with the serene sea standing still in the background.

Ellie blinked once. And then once more, and then she zoomed in.

Her face twitched, and her breath hitched inside her throat. It felt as though her breath had been captured and confined, held hostage within her, struggling to find its release.

She double tapped, and began typing;

“If I could, I’d fuck the shit out of you”

She stared at her keyboard, and breathed deeply. What would happen if she, actually pressed send. Would you come barging inside her room and throw something at her? the green colored vase, maybe? or would you delete her comment, pretend it never happened and move on? perhaps you’d think she was just fucking around, and scold her for typing something like that where everyone could see. “You’re such a creep, el!” she could almost hear you say it. And she could almost feel the way your palm would slam right into her shoulder and nudge it her the side. It made her ears feel warm.

She zoomed in on your tits. Ellie’s face flushed a pretty, dusty pink.

Then, she zoomed in on your stomach, and her nipples perked up inside her hoodie. They grazed the material softly, and she let out a shaky breath.

When she zoomed in on your smile, she smirked at the screen. it made her feel warm and fuzzy and happy and she hated every minute of it. “Never gonna get it” echoed in her ears, a reminder of the "truth" tugged at her heart.

When she zoomed in on your covered cunt, she nearly went cross eyed. She could almost see the outline of your lips— or was she tripping?

Her cunt clenched around absolute nothingness inside her boxers. Was she… getting fucking wet over this?

She gulped, as waves of guilt washed over her. and then, she zoomed in on your tits again, and she felt so turned on she couldn’t even remember what the word guilt even meant.

She heard the echo of your giggle reverberating through the corridor, filling the space with a sound that made her stomach turn. the rhythm of your footsteps grew louder, gradually approaching your room situated just across from hers.

Perhaps you chuckled at something amusing one of your fucking bumble buddies had to say. She lightly bumped her forehead against the screen of her phone, her lips pressed together, forming a thin line.

Your door slammed shut, and a tune began.

“you’re so gorgeous… i cant say anything to your face, cause look at your face…”

How fucking ironic.

“Shut up alexa!” you groaned at the device, causing ellie to stifle a giggle, before she felt the pool flow down her boxers.

The apartment descended into a profound silence, save for the sound of Ellie’s labored breaths echoing in the stillness. she leaned in closer, scrutinizing the image on the screen, alternating between zooming in and zooming out, and crosser her legs together.

When the imagination of your bare tits popped up in her mind, your nipple poking through as you held them together on the screen, it ached inside of her.

Would it really be so wrong if she…?

There was no real harm in it, she thought. It was either this, or close her eyes and rub one off in the darkness, and even then— she had a nagging intuition that you would somehow find your way into her thoughts.

Woudl it really make her that much of a fucking pervert?

Ellie groaned, and brought her knees up to her stomach. Her phone was still in her hand, and that picture teased, and teased, and teased till she couldn’t handle it anymore.

Fuck it. if she did this, she was going to do it right. And she needed to see it close up— and not through her cracked fucking screen she wasn’t bothered fixing for two whole weeks now.

She opened the screen of her laptop, and when she sat on the black leather rolling chair, It felt fucking uncomfortable down there. It was sleek, and she could feel her cunt slide off on the fabric of her boxers.

“Fuuuuck me” she hissed under her breath.

www.instagram.com

Right click.

Your profile, right click. Her hand held a tremor.

You were the focal point, the star of the show, illuminating her old, black HP laptop. The screen, adorned with a thin layer of dust, caught her attention. She leaned in and blew gently, causing the particles to disperse and float away.

She swallowed hard, her throat constricting as she continued to gaze intently. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to steady herself, but the inhalation felt jagged and uneven.

She brought a veiny hand to graze the fabric of her grey colored sweats, just above her clothed cunt, and she felt so fucking relieved.

And it still wouldn’t stop fucking pulsing.

she stared at the bikini, and rubbed her finger up and down slowly, cupped her cunt forcefully, slapped it and whimpered.

“Goddamn” she huffed.

She began tracing big, deliberate circles, her touch slow and steady, causing the fabric of her boxers to cling to her wet cunt.

She had to take them off.

Swiftly, she inserted her thumbs into the edges of her boxers, right at the level of her hipbones, and pulled them down in one fluid motion. The fabric gathered messily around her ankles. She felt so fucking nasty.

Ellie spread her legs, and gasped as the cool air hit her most sensitive place. She waited for a minute, mouth agape, teasing her cunt before she touched it. She swore she could cum with just squeezing in and out while staring at your face.

However, she could not tease herself anymore when those thoughts began forming clearer and clearer.

She brought a long finger and caressed her slit slowly from her hole to her puffy little clit. "Oh fuck yes" she hissed.

It started with thinking about your tits. Her mind wandered, and her hole leaked into the leather chair, forming a small droplet to lay down on it. She breathed heavily.

The thought of you, taking off that bikini top in front of her went through her mind. Slow, deliberate process of undoing its strings, so so agonizingly slow. When they spilled out, ellie let out a high pitched moan.

“Touch them, Ellie” you whispered in her ear.

“Please touch me…” you whined.

She gasped, took two fingers, her middle and her ring, and formed tiny, slow circles on her wet clit. Ellie spread her legs wide, and placed them on the table.

It looked absolutely obscene.

In reality, Ellie was touching herself to a picture on a slightly dusty old screen. In her imagination, you stood pretty begging her for more. Your fucking whines did it for her, and she didn’t even know what they sounded like for real.

You circled your nipples, pinched them and spat a glob of saliva, letting it streamline down your tits, teasing ellie so bad she was already panting. They glistened, and ellie latched on to them, sucking and spitting and whimpering groaning.

“So good Ellie...” you moaned, holding the back of her hand and pushing her deeper.

“I want you so fucking bad”

“Holy fucking shit” she hissed, and slapped her clit. one slap! two slaps! she was desperate.

“Fuuuck yes” she whimpered, and plunged a finger inside her aching hole. It sucked her completely in, clenching around her fingers. She gasped, and slid off the chair.

She was staring at your fucking cunt with her eyes half shut. she swore she could see those fucking lips.

Now, Ellie’s mind took a turn. You laid pretty on her bed, chest heaving up and down, legs spread completely open with a pink vibrator buzzing on your clit.

“Ellie!” you moaned.

“Fuck me... please please please"

She plunged a second finger, and bucked her hips inwards and backwards. She whimpered, and a shaky breath followed by the sound of your name escaped her quivering lips.

“Need you in my pussy… p—pretty please”

She swore she could hear you say it.

Ellie pounced on her bed and savored you whole. she bit your clit, sucked on it and got her entire face wet with your juices.

“God yes” she groaned, wet, squelching sounds filling the room. She pumped them in and out, and in and out again, whilst the other hand was circling itself fast on her needy, pulsating clit. Every few seconds, she’d slap it again, open wider and wider, bucking and riding them so hard she could almost see a supernova right in front of her.

The dull ache in her pussy grew bigger and bigger.

“You need me? fucking whore” she whispered under her breath.

Thin, shiny, sticky drool flowed from the corner of her mouth, it landed on the top of her hoodie.

“Yes Ellie… please Ellie need you in my pussy” She pumped them profusely, feeling your walls take her in like she needed to. When she pumped them inside of herself— That’s what she liked to imagine. It was you, who took her in. They were your walls, your wet cunt begging and screaming for more.

She felt it coming in the pits of her stomach. It grew bigger and bigger, like a wave, or a volcano, threatening to erupt and make her cream all over her chair.

“Ellie yesyesyesyes!” you moaned.

She circled faster and faster, her perky tits bouncing up and down with every movement of her hips. The chair squeaked, but she couldn't be bother to take it slow.

“Ellie?” your voice echoed through the corridor.

“Yeah baby s— say my fucking name, fuck” she hissed, her eyes completely shut.

“Ellie?”

God, it felt so fucking real. Almost there. She bit her lip, and it drew blood.

The door collided with the wall, hitting it with a loud thud.

“Ellie?”

“N— fuNgh”

She almost screamed so loud the gods could hear. she shut her laptop off before even pulling her fingers out.

She was going to fucking faint.

Her face flushed a deep shade of crimson, intense embarrassment radiating from her form, hands trembling uncontrollably, and the expression on her face was one of sheer horror— wide eyed.

She got caught.

"What..." you uttered, your voice trailing off as you stood frozen in place, your mouth agape. Your knees threatened to give way beneath you.

You shut the door.

Ellie, her chest heaving, struggled to catch her breath.

“Oh my—“

“God”

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #the last of us #ellie tlou2 #wlw #ellie williams x female reader

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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

Text

Licence to Thrill || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: You give Charles the ride of his life when he’s running late to an important event. Warnings: 18+ only, illegal driving, sexual innuendos, fluff WC: 2.7k

F1 Masterlist || Based on this request

“No, no, no, shit.” Charles’ curses woke you up and you rubbed your bleary eyes as he tossed the blankets back, cold air rushing over your skin. You immediately missed the warmth of his body where he had been spooning you all night and grabbed your phone to see the time.

“Fuck!” Charles growled as his little toe caught the corner of the bedpost, again, and you leapt up to get dressed too. “We are so late, mon amour.”

He had been looking forward to the charity football game all week and the prospect of missing the kick off made him clumsy in his rush. While you pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt he struggled to get one leg into his team’s black football shorts, falling twice as he lost his balance.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you curled an arm around his waist to steady him. “I shouldn’t have kept you up so late.”

He grabbed a shirt before sparing a moment to press his lips to your forehead. “Don’t be, I enjoyed myself very much.”

“Oh, I know, and I’m pretty sure my neighbours know it too,” you teased as you took your shirt from his hands and tossed him the correct shirt with his name and driver number on the back. “Come on, get that sexy ass moving.”

He laughed as you squeezed his butt when he bent down to tie his shoes. “Hands off the goods, honey, I’m not a piece of meat.”

“Keep telling yourself that, handsome,” you shot back as he made for the stairs and you locked the house behind you.

“Shit,” Charles groaned as he hit his head on the steering wheel. “I am stupid.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning over to see the dashboard. “You forgot to put petrol in again, didn’t you?”

“I was in a rush to get here last night,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’ll call Arthur to come get us.”

“I can take us.” You opened your handbag and found your keys as well as the remote for the garage door.

“Wait, you drive?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed as you climbed out of the Pista.

He quickly hopped out his side to follow. “I didn’t even know you had a licence. Why am I only just learning this now?”

“You never asked,” you said with a shrug, “and you always offer to pick me up.”

“Because I thought you didn’t drive.”

You giggled as you hit the remote and the door lifted up. “What did you think was in the garage?”

“Storage? Chérie,” he sighed as he followed you down the driveway that passed by the front door that he had a key for and he pointed to it. “I’ve never come in your backdoor, how should I know?” You cocked an eyebrow up with a smirk and he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, just so you know, the garage is where I park my car.” You waved a hand to the opened door and Charles whistled as he saw the gleaming black hood catch the morning sun. He automatically started walking to the drivers side and you tutted at him. “Don’t even think about it, love. That’s my baby.”

“But-“

“No buts, if you want to make it to the match on time you ride shotgun.” You grabbed his shoulders and turned him in the direction of the other door and he grumbled as he started to walk around. “If it’s any consolation, you can pick the music.”

The door creaked open and slammed shut behind him before he groaned and you laughed as you climbed in to see him holding his phone, the Spotify app useless with the old radio. “Forgot to mention, she only takes cassette tapes.”

“You know you can update the stereo,” he pointed out as he opened the glove compartment and rifled through the stacks of old cassettes. “Fleetwood Mac. Michael Jackson. There’s nothing from this century.”

“Hey, don’t hate on them. They are classics and this is a classic car.” You turned the key and grinned as he dropped the tape at the sudden roar that was deafening in the small garage. “You might want to buckle up, baby.”

“Why are there racing harnesses in here?” he asked as he pulled the five point harness over his shoulders and bucked it in.

“You probably shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” you admitted as you shoved a random mixtape into the radio and turned the volume dial up.

The kick drum intro to Ram Jam’s Black Betty thumped from the speakers as you pushed down the clutch and put the ‘70 Dodge Charger into gear. The full force of the V8 engine drove your body back into the seat as the car hurtled forward and burst into the sunlight. Charles latched onto the handle above his door and while the other hand pressed against the dash and his knees tucked up like he was preparing for impact.

“I’m trying not to be insulted here,” you huffed as you pushed his knee down between shifting gears. “I may not have a super licence like some people, but I have never crashed.”

A terrified scream erupted as you burst out of the driveway and pulled the handbrake, kicking the back wheels out as you drifted into the quiet suburban street and took off with a trail of burnt rubber. Your neighbours wouldn’t be too happy but you didn’t care as long as you got Charles to where he needed to be on time.

You spared a glance over to your boyfriend and saw the whites of his eyes as they stared at the road ahead and his knuckles turned white from the tight gripe he held. “Chérie, road, road, cars, look, traffic, look at the road. The road!”

He turned to you wide eyed as you approached the busy intersection at full speed before hitting the brake. You held his eye contact as you shifted down the gears before coming to a gentle stop at the lines in front of the traffic light and he exhaled in relief.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he said but the words were warm and his smile was one amazement as the adrenaline hit him. His hands tugged the harness until it was snug and he settled into the seat as you waited for the light to turn green. “I’m ready this time.”

“Good, because we won’t make it if I stop for every red light.”

“Wait, what?” The light changed and you put your foot to the floor as Charles chuckled nervously. “You’re joking right?”

“If it helps, sure,” you shrugged, weaving in and out of the cars and ignoring the angry honks of their horns. “Do you think I could take your car for a spin?”

“Absolutely…not.”

You narrowed your eyes as he got your hopes up and almost missed the turn that would shave a few seconds off the travel time. Any normal person would have struggled to stay upright in their seat but Charles’ line of work made it easy for him to tense his abdominals and neck so he barely moved as the mass shifted and the back wheels drifted behind the turn.

“What if I let you drive this?” you bartered as the road straightened out and you reached speeds high enough to instantly lose your licence and the car.

“Oh, mon amour,” he murmured as he chewed his bottom lip and he debated the offer before looking at his watch. “If you get me there before kick off you have a deal.”

He should have known you wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity very few people got and the smile you gave him gave him pause as he wondered what he had just got himself into.

“It’s going to be tight,” you muttered as you saw the time, just catching the hint of a smile on his face. “But doable.”

Charles watched with fascination. He saw your eyes scanning the road far ahead, making plans and contingency plans for the hazards that you might face. All the while you blindly shifted up the gears with your feet working in tandem, releasing the accelerator as you double clutched for a smoother transition.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” he chuckled in disbelief as you took a corner with enough speed that he knew there had to be some g-force working against you, but you didn’t even notice as you gripped the wheel tight and exited the apex without slowing down.

“I’m pretty sure if you were dreaming we would be doing something else, not driving.”

“I’m not sure now, I’m finding this extremely hot. You could pull over and make that dream come true?”

“And miss out on driving your baby? No way.” You shook your head with a laugh before biting your lip. “It is tempting, but I have to think of the children. They would be very disappointed if you didn’t show up for the match.”

“And Pierre, I don’t think he would forgive me.”

“I said children didn’t I. Oh, shit.” You ripped the handbrake and did a 180 as you missed the street you needed. “Stop distracting me.”

The stadium was just up ahead and you could see the parking lot on the other side of the overpass but there was only one road to get there. Unless you wanted to drive the long way around but then you would be late.

“Amour, that’s a one way street,” Charles pointed out as you headed to the underground pass. “You’re going the wrong way. There’s traffic cameras here too.”

“You’re right,” you huffed before twisting the wheel a little to the left then all the way to the right. The suspension would not like the pressure you were putting it under but she spun around and you shoved the car in reverse and draped your arm across Charles’ chair as you looked over your shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to get a fine.”

The engine roared inside the tunnel as you pushed the limits of the gear and you swerved through the lanes. You were grateful that it wasn’t rush hour traffic so there were only a few drivers angry with your recklessness before you burst out of the tunnel, through the intersection and into the parking lot.

The stadium was quiet since the event was only televised but there were still lots of media crews at the entrance and they all turned your way as the back of your car careened towards them. You reached the last row of empty parking spaces and pulled the handbrake, whipping the front around and coming to a stop beside the gate entrance.

“Twelve seconds to spare,” you laughed as you drummed your fingers on the steering wheel. “That will be twenty euros and a five star rating, s’il vous plaît.”

“Just enough time to change my shorts,” he joked as he pushed his door open.

“Good thing they are black this year,” you retorted with a laugh as you tossed him his boots he would have forgotten. “Go, I’ll meet you inside.”

He blew a kiss as he took off at a jog and waved to the stunned reporters who were still recording.

“Is that Y/N?” A female presenter asked her male colleague.

“Leclerc’s girlfriend?” He laughed and shook his head. “No way. This has to be some stunt.”

You drove more sedately to a spot a few spaces away where you spotted Pierre’s car and parked beside it before killing the engine and letting the silence settle. Adjusting your mirror, you saw everyone still watching, waiting to see who it was being the wheel.

“I told you,” the woman gasped as she elbowed the man. “It was her! Do you have a moment?”

“Sorry, games about to kick off,” you apologised as you rushed past and into the stadium just in time to see Charles faceplant. “Ohh,” you gasped along with the others watching before cupping your hands around your mouth. “Yellow card ref!”

“He tripped over himself,” Kika whispered as she joined you.

“Oh I know, I just thought he could use a little 15 minute rest.” You grinned as you gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He’s had a rough morning.”

“What happened?”

“He stubbed his toe.” Your phone started vibrating and you pulled it out of your pocket to see your twitter notifications blowing up. “Huh, that was quick. The devil works hard but F1 fans work harder.”

You showed her the thread which started with a short clip of your car thrashing it down the street, Charles holding on for dear life. You chuckled as you saved it to show him later, knowing he would get a kick out of it too.

“Yeah, I don’t think that was the stubbed toe, hun…” she hummed.

“Meh,” you shrugged, pocketing the device so you could concentrate on the game.

Charles and Pierre’s team won the match and you climbed over the baluster to jump down to the grass as the pair jogged over. Charles swept you up with a proud grin as he spun around.

“Well played, handsome,” you praised as you brushed his sweaty hair back into place before helping yourself to a quick kiss.

“Wouldn’t have made it without you, chérie.”

Pierre clapped him on the shoulder and nodded his head to the reporters waiting for a post match interview and he reluctantly placed your feet back on the ground.

“Well, this should be interesting,” you muttered to Kika as you waved to the camera that remained pointed at you until Charles said something.

“Just how bad was your driving?” she asked curiously.

“Bad? Oh it wasn’t bad,” you chuckled. “My driving is actually very good, if I do say so myself. It was just a little faster than he was expecting.”

She curled an eyebrow up. “He goes 200 mph for a living.”

“Yeah, funny right.”

Charles was still catching his breath when the microphone was held in front of him and could see videos of his entrance playing on the big screens around the stadium. Pierre’s eyebrows disappeared under his hair in surprise as he saw the black Charger spinning to a stop and his friend climbing out.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed as he looked back at you laughing with his girlfriend. “That’s awesome.”

“I know right,” Charles said with a proud smile. “You should have seen it, she was going full on sideways through these corners, it was insane.”

“So, Charles, I'm sure this comes as no surprise,” the reported began, “but we have some questions about your girlfriend, after the entrance she made.”

“You have some questions?” He threw his head back and laughed. “I have some questions! I had no idea she could drive like that.”

“Her father is a rally driver. Did you really never suspect anything?”

“My mother is a hairdresser, doesn’t mean I am good at cutting hair. Why do you think I wore a bandana during lockdown? I butchered it that’s why.” He brushed his hair back that had thankfully grown back after his terrible attempt and laughed to himself. “So no, I didn’t assume she could drive because her father can.”

The interview finally turned to the football match and then a little bit about the upcoming race before Charles was able to escape. He held up a finger and mouthed one minute as he made a detour to the few fans that had been invited. He talked with some of them, shaking hands and signing autographs.

You wolf whistled loudly as Charles took his shirt off and he grinned without even having to check who it came from before he gave it to a fan and waved goodbye. You knew you were staring as he jogged back and you knew you weren’t the only one, but he only had eyes for you as he gave you a wink and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“How cool is that shot,” he said as he looked up at the screens still playing a rotation of highlights from the game and your arrival. “There’s just one way to make it better.”

“Excuse me?” you dared him to criticise your driving but his charming smile only grew wider.

“Do it in a Ferrari.”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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01zfan · 3 months

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rotten valentine | p. wb

fwb!wonbin x fem. reader | 4.5k words

contains: red flag wonbin, he’s kinda toxic, this is like the evil version of necklace

happy (late) valentines day!

the fourteenth day in the month of february came and went for you each year. it wasn’t always a normal day in your life—it used to be an event. writing every single one of your classmates names on a note with candy attached and receiving what seemed like thousands back. the excitement and magic of the day devolved from elementary school, turning into the occasional candy gram you would get from your friends in junior high. by the time you got to college, valentine’s day had just become another day.

you were well into adult life now, and your life was drained of all romance. you forgot what it was like to kiss someone you were dating and your last serious relationship felt like a distant memory. it felt like romance was make believe, something manufactured in movie studios to make profit. you had suitors and you had the dating apps, but nothing sparked that same feeling you found yourself chasing late at night.

wonbin was someone you yearned for. he came into your life like a meteor, crashing on the surface of your mind and killing all potential thoughts you had of finding someone else.

you saw him first at a party, the dimly lit room failed to hide the way he looked at you. his gaze pierced through the sea of people and you found yourself thinking about the scenes in the movies. this was the part where wonbin came up to you and cracked jokes with you all night, woo’ing you and calling you pretty. you rationalized that wonbin didn’t have his script when he unceremoniously came up to you, pulling your attention way from your friends. you followed him like a moth to a flame deeper to the dance floor, where the music was so loud you could barely hear him. he took a sip from his cup, letting it rest in his hand. you barely had wonbin’s attention as he leaned over to request a song to the dj.

after making the request wonbin leaned against the wall and continued to drink. the previously muted yellow light that made you feel like the party was shot on film turned to a deep red. it felt almost choreographed as as wonbin’s eyes raked down your body. in any other instance you would’ve been disgusted by a man looking at you with so much lust. but you felt proud that you had piqued his interest. you didn’t want to lose him.

the music changed to the song wonbin requested and he smirked. you found that he donned that look anytime someone did what he wanted, so smug like he knew no one could deny him. it was the same smugness that made his eyes stay on your chest as he took another sip of his drink.

“did you come alone?” wonbin asked.

you looked behind to your friends that kept a careful eye on you. you’re shocked wonbin didn’t notice them. maybe he was too caught up in you to notice.

“i came with my friends.” you said.

the lights started flashing red, making the party around you feel like a nightclub. people started dancing to the song more frantically than before, moving from gentle sways to jumping on the makeshift dance floor. some people bumped into you, making the drink in your cup raise over the rim and splash on your hand. wonbin remained untouched on the wall a look of amusement on his face as he looked at the partygoers have fun because of his song suggestion. the dj gave him a nod of acknowledgement and you could see it go directly to his head. the confidence made you dizzy just like his perfume did when he beckoned you to come to his corner. you placed a hand on the wall to steady yourself and wonbin brought a hand to your hip. his hand was comforting just like the smell of aged spice that flooded your nose. wonbin looked at you for a moment before leaning to your ear.

“wanna ditch your friends?” he asked.

his amusing smile didn’t waiver, his curled up lips so close to your face you felt it on the shell of your ear. you knew he knew your answer. you didn’t even have to nod as you turned around to get through the dancing crowd. your mind was buzzing with alcohol as the beautiful man followed behind you. your friends had joined the cluster of partygoers as you walked up the stairs. they couldn’t even see you through the haze of smoke clouds and flashing lights. if you were in your right mind you would’ve joined them, squeezing your sweaty body through everyone till you made it to your group. but nothing else mattered to you except for getting wonbin alone, and wonbin’s hand on your ass was guiding you there.

wonbin’s collision with you that night wiped away all common sense you had in regards to him. if you had half a mind you would’ve told him you don’t fuck strangers at parties or fuck on beds that aren’t your own. but any rational thought was out the window when it came to wonbin. anything to feel the euphoria of being pressed into the sheets and hearing him moan because of you. his sloppy passion from his tipsy state paired with his precise thrusts made your throat raw from your cries. you had never felt that way in your life. that’s why each time he hit you with his late night messages you responded. it always started with a text, so non assuming and casual it made your head hurt.

you up?

you hated that your life had come to this, chasing after someone so bad for you. it had gotten to the point that you couldn’t bring wonbin up anymore in your friend’s presence, visible aggravation showing on their faces. you vividly remember when your friend gave you a wake up call. you should’ve listened, she wasn’t wrong when she told you about wonbin. he was hot and cold, only reached out to you when he needed to feel something wrapped around him, and took advantage of your lonliness. you nodded your head and felt the sting of tears as she comforted you through acceptance.

the intervention was no use; you went back to him that night. you held strong for an hour, until wonbin attached an i need u to the end of his initial text. you couldn’t resist going back to wonbin when he said he needed you. you had gotten so used to seeing people kiss in movies that you started thinking kisses tasted like stale popcorn and artificial sweetener. but wonbin’s kisses tasted like vanilla and his lips felt like clouds. how could you not go back to him?

it didn’t help that wonbin knew it was wrong to play with your emotions. he wasn’t a bad person by any means, just someone who needed constant temporary company. he did all he could for the girls he had sex with and communicated what he was looking for before the arrangements started. but you were different. you were innocent and naive, still believing that the romance in movies was something obtainable. wonbin liked that about you, he believed the fact that you were a hopeless romantic made you better in bed. it made you ride him even if your legs were burning and it made you relax your throat and let your tongue go limp so you could take all of him. it also made you come back to him over and over again. it was almost too easy getting you to make the late night drive to his apartment.

wonbin tried to ween himself off of you for your own sake, but you didn’t let it last long. it was usually wonbin to text you first, and he thought that you would just move on with your life if he never reached out to you again. so when the time came around that wonbin would send the infamous text, he just masturbated to get sex off his mind and went to bed. but while he was sleeping soundly you were tossing and turning, checking your phone every ten minutes waiting for your bat signal.

you hated to admit it felt like you were at your lowest those three days you had no contact with wonbin. holding out and not texting him was the last bit of power you had in your dynamic with him. your mind rationalized that as long as it was wonbin texting you, you had some semblance of control. but you willingly tipped the scale on day three, telling wonbin you wanted to see him. the way he read your message immediately made your heart swell, the three bubbles in the gray text made you regret everything. it was like you were taking the biggest risk of your life waiting for a response from him.

you were lucky that your risk played out well for you that night. you relinquished the last authority you had to wonbin by telling you that you needed him, but he made it up to you when you showed up at his door. the way he moaned your name and marked your neck made you truly believe that you were his. wonbin fucking you into the mattress made you believe that romance movies and couples holding hands had nothing on this.

when you woke up next to wonbin the next morning, nothing had changed. he was still uninterested in getting involved romantically, only offering you a tired goodbye as you got up from his bed.

after that, you knew you had nothing else to gain from your relationship with wonbin. it never stopped you from putting on your coat and driving over to him, or knocking on his door. but that didn’t stop you from opening your phone when he sent you his text.

sorry for going ghost

busy week at work.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes like you didn’t miss him. atleast he had the decency to try and explain the situation. you knew that it was the truth—wonbin didn’t care enough to lie to you.

couldn’t stop thinking about my favorite girl though

you just wish wonbin wasn’t so fucking awful. you wish he didn’t know it either. he knew how awful he was for calling you his favorite girl even though you were on his backburner all the time. he knew how awful he was for hitting all your spots just right, for knowing your body so well within a few minutes. and he was so fucking rotten for knowing how to get you to show up at his door late at night.

you walked up the stairs to his apartment after he buzzed you in. you wish you could say you weren’t tingling with excitement going up the stairs. knowing that wonbin wanted to spend time with you regardless of the circumstance made you happy. it was hard to not believe you weren’t the most important person in wonbin’s life when he looked at you that way when he answered the door.

the view before you was shocking—wonbin stopped trying to be sweet about your hookups a long time ago. he had ditched the casual clothes and started answering in just his boxers and a white tee to let you know what his intentions were. he stopped leading you to the couch to uselessly chat you up and ask questions he didn’t care to hear the answers to. now all wonbin did was answer the door and immediately lead you to the bedroom, expecting you to ditch your clothes on the way. but this wonbin answered with a gummy smile and kissed you passionately in the hallway of closed apartment doors.

”i missed you.” wonbin said sweetly when he pulled away.

you were too busy staring at him with wide eyes to answer. he pulled you into his small apartment, closing the door and locking it. wonbin took in. your shocked expression and laughed—he was so fucking awful.

you hated that wonbin’s apartment was tidy. you believed that if you could find just one disgusting thing about him you would be able to take off the rose tinted glasses, but his apartment was even cleaner than yours. it was always dimly lit but you could make out the decorations and see the color palette he was trying to achieve. you could tell a musician lived here, from the edited sheet music that laid on the coffee table and his guitar resting on the couch. you had dreams of him leading you to the living room and playing you a song that made him think of you. but you had to settle for wonbin leading you to his bedroom.

wonbin walked to the edge of his bed while you took off your shoes and jacket. usually guests take them off at the front door, but you weren’t given the privilege to put your things on the coat rack or your shoes by the front door. you had to settle for throwing your jacket on the back of his chair and your shoes by the door. you don’t know wonbin was like that, but you’re sure finding out would’ve only made you feel awful.

after taking off your coat and shoes, you walked around wonbin’s bed to him. his head followed you all the way from his door, watching you with careful eyes.

you stood in front of him, playing with the ends of his hair. wonbin wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your stomach. it was hard to not feel somber in these moments, with him being so touchy. you had seen wonbin in the mornings when you’d sneak away, hair splayed out on the pillow as the sun caught on his eyelashes. he looked so pure in those moments, nothing like the man that put you through emotional hell. his lips were soft even in the morning. even though wonbin was the devil in some aspects you couldn’t deny he wasn’t an angel, especially in the morning when his face was the first thing you woke up to. he was rotten but also so sweet, awful but so good. he was an enigma in your life, and it was a shame he didn’t want to be yours. but maybe if you sucked his dick good enough you’d change his mind.

wonbin continued to look at you as you got on your knees before him, slotting yourself between his legs. wonbin lifted his hips off the bed to take off his boxers, letting them pool at his ankles. his dick was hard and heavy in your hand. you rested your head on his thigh, bringing his tip to touch your tongue. wonbin propped himself up on his arms after taking a look at you, he knew you knew what to do. he ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh when you took in as much as you could, using your hand to occupy the space you couldn’t reach.

you head still rests on his thigh when he brings himself upright again to look at you. you want to make sure he’s watching when you relax your throat and touch your nose to his stomach. wonbin grunts now, bucking his hips up in the slightest way to make you gag.

you take wonbin from your mouth to try and regain your composure. the hold he has on your hair tilts your head up. wonbin looks at your teary eyes and swollen lips. his dick pulses in your hand as he looks at how ruined you are. inside and out, all because of him.

“you’re so fucking pretty.” wonbin says.

you whimper at his compliment and take him back into your mouth after licking a long strip down the shaft that makes wonbin hiss. he’s cruel and enjoyes withholding the sounds he truly wants to make. he believes it makes you work harder. when he hits the back of your throat he lets you hear a whimper and when your throat vibrates as you gag on him he moans.

“so good,” wonbin whispers. “almost there.”

and you are so good. wonbin has hands in your hair is just for show. he doesn’t have to push your head or buck into your mouth to get what he needs to cum down your throat. you just do it because you like him more than you should. the premise of being close also gives you the vigor to continue, ignoring the pain in your knees from kneeling on the ground and the soreness of your jaw. it makes you flick your tongue over wonbin’s tip, and when his hand suddenly tightens in your hair he cums without warning. wonbin’s legs stiffen under your palms, and he lifts his hips up slightly to meet your lips.

the only time your defiant is when it comes to swallowing wonbin’s cum. you never turn down eating it but each time your eyes switch from lust to disgust. you take it all because wonbin wants you to, but each time you stick out your tongue and make a bleugh sound.

“you need to drink some fucking water,” you grimace. “your cum tastes like toxic waste.”

that’s the only peak of your strong personality that wonbin gets to see. any other time you are so docile and pliant, saying your yes’s and please’s and thank you’s. you are more mysterious than him sometimes, the way you successfully hide so much of your personality from wonbin. maybe he just doesn’t care enough to pick more at your surface to find out. but maybe if you knew how to use the mysteriousness to your advantage wonbin would be more intrigued by you. regardless, you always go back to the same docile fuck buddy when wonbin lifts your chin up to look at him.

“you like eating it though, don’t you?” wonbin says simply.

you mindlessly nod you head and your eyes are filled with the same look of adoration before he came in your mouth. it makes wonbin equal parts turned on and smug, his limp dick already working back up to a semi.

wonbin moves back on the bed and you get up from the floor to follow him. you stumble onto the sheets, doing everything in your power to not show how stiff your knees are. you crawl towards wonbin sitting against the headboard with that stupid smirk on his face. he looks down at your chest. the way your breasts hang freely makes him want to put them in his mouth, or hold them tightly until you squirm.

when you’re leaning against the headboard wonbin hands you a water bottle resting on his bedside table. the bottle has collapsed in on itself slightly and had condensation inside. you thank him anyway for the room temperature water—it’s just what you need because wonbin is the one who gave it to you. you finish the bottle, but the taste of him still remains on your tongue.

“thank you.” you say

wonbin still looks at you as you place the water on the other bedside table. he smiles at how shy you suddenly are, waiting for him to initiate the next part of the night. something about you makes his libido increase tenfold. his dick is already hard and straining against his lower stomach.

“how do you want it? want me to be romantic?” wonbin said sarcastically.

you looked at him in confusion, not sure where the second comment came from. did you let something slip again in the heat of the moment? did he pay attention to your instagram story that was indirecting him?

whatever wonbin meant, it was long forgotten when he leaned into you to kiss you again. it was sick how good he was at kissing, even more sick that passionate kisses meant nothing to him. someone should only kiss their lovers the way wonbin was kissing you. he was so gentle pressing his open mouth against yours, pressing his tongue against yours so gently. you have never been kissed this way you’re entire life, it was twisted that wonbin expected you to not catch feelings by the way he carefully touched your face and didn’t pull away from you until you lost your breath.

he was rotten for treating you like glass. when you had sex with other men, they would tear off your clothes impatiently to fuck you as soon as possible, but wonbin always took his time. he would pull down the waistband of your sweatpants while still kissing you, all you had to do was lift your hips. he never took off your panties with your pants either, always giving your under garments extra care. he knew how to take off your bra with one hand and shimmy you out of your panties with the other, pulling away from your lips to sigh contently when you were completely naked for him.

“so gorgeous.” wonbin said, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

wonbin guided your body to straddle his hips, letting your pussy rest on his hard dick. he enjoyed this part the most, being able to feel how wet you were without being inside. he liked how shy you got sitting on top of him, swiveling your hips to spread your slick on his shaft. wonbin liked that you were just as dirty as he was and that you were able to adapt to what he wanted so quickly. he looked down to where you two were almost connected then looked up to you. wonbin liked the glint you had in your eyes, like you were waiting for him to say something.

“wanna ride me?” wonbin asked.

you nodded and lifted your hips up. wonbin maintained eye contact as he grabbed his tip and used the knuckle of his finger to rub down your folds, until he found your entrance. he let go of his dick and his hands found your hips. wonbin looked to you, waiting for you to give him permission to slowly pull you down to him. but you took matters into your own hands, sliding your body down his shaft slowly.

wonbin couldn’t stop his moan from coming out, and you could only look down at his face for a moment before feeling heat creep on your face. you let out a tiny moan and collapsed your body down to tuck your face into wonbin’s neck. you also gave up trying to ride him, making him thurst up into you.

“so cute.” wonbin said breathlessly.

he pressed your lips to his absentmindedly while he continued to fuck up into you. you don’t know why wonbin kept craning his neck awkwardly to see your face that rested on his shoulder. you don’t know why he was making himself uncomfortable just to see your face contort in pleasure. you had spent so many other times having sex with wonbin while your face stayed buried in his neck. this was to personal, especially when he used his hand that was holding your ass down to tilt your head up. it felt like wonbin’s blown out eyes were looking straight into your soul, watching you be consumed by him completely.

seeing wonbin so enthralled by you was what brought you to your peak. your moans pierced through your throat, and wonbin finally let you go to your safe place in his neck. while your body went stiff from pleasure, his slow speed increased significantly. the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and your hands on his shoulder dug into his skin for stability. he was awful for letting the pain from your nails only spur him on. he didn’t stop while you clenched around him uncontrollably, or when your moans turned into babbles and cries. wonbin wrapped an arm around you and held you close, still thrusting up into you.

“take it baby—fuckkkkk.” wonbin groaned.

you could feel the sudden heat inside of you and wonbin pulling you even closer. his hips stilled and you milked him, both of you basking in the heat and electricity of the moment. it was you pulling away from wonbin now, looking into his face that he pressed against the pillows. you raised your hips up before gliding back down, feeling white molten lava seeping out of you. wonbin got whiny almost immediately, wincing from the overstimulation and the feeling of you still seizing around him. you loved this part the most, seeing him completely at your mercy. you basked in the thought of his other girls walking in and seeing you two like this. like you were the dominant one, the one cooing at him that it’s okay. but you were reminded who called the shots when wonbin used his strength to still your hips and pull himself of of you.

you rolled off of him and caught your breath, wonbin did the same but took significantly longer than usual. the next time you inevitably end up on top of him you’ll have to do the same thing again.

while wonbin composed himself you walked to the bathroom and peed, cleaning up the wet patch on your thighs when wonbin pulled out. the worst part was after everything when you were in the bathroom alone, contemplating if your relationship with wonbin had changed. fuck buddies didn’t fuck like that you would always think to yourself. but then wonbin would come in and have that same smug look from the party. you were reminded who you were and who wonbin was and what your relationship was. it was painful, but it was necessary. you got up from the toilet wordlessly and flushed so wonbin could do the same.

you go back to his room to put your clothes on and head for the door. you’re sure wonbin would come out of the bathroom and not spare a second thought about the empty space on his bed. it was for the better. you decided in that moment you would leave his apartment and never come back—this time you were serious. maybe you would make something of your day tomorrow to celebrate your freedom. you thought that rotting in your bed and regretting your decision about wonbin seemed way more appealing than going on a walk or watching a movie. when you turned the doorknob to get out you heard wonbin’s sink turn off and the sound of him speed walking through his apartment.

you looked at the wonbin, eyes flitting to his marked neck and bed head. he still had sleep in his eyes when he took your head in his hands. you gave into him completely as he bent your head down. he pressed his warm lips to your forehead. it caught you by surprise the sudden affection. it kept you frozen in place as he pinched your cheeks, smiling as he opened the door.

“happy valentines day.” wonbin said while opening the door fully.

you are frozen at his door as he kisses your knuckles. you had forgotten what day it was and that the fourteenth of february was supposed to mean something. you wordlessly walk out his door and wonbin closes it behind you, walking back to his bedroom to go back to sleep.

#requestz #01zfan: wonbin #wonbin smut #riize smut

363 notes · View notes

rosewaterandivy · 25 days

Text

tightrope across the table

Summary: Abandoned at the bar and left to your own devices, what's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: e.m. x fem! reader

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: NSFW 18+, drinking, cursing, & the perils of dating in the 21st century

A/N: For my beloved Luna, @abibliophobiaa - I love you and I hope this brings a smile to your beautiful face! Reblogs, likes & feedback are appreciated - reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

What had begun as a promising New Year's Eve out with your best girl was quickly devolving. Nursing your now lukewarm beer, you watched as your friend laughed with the latest acquisition to her horde. She really was the worst kind of fag hag. Sipping the last dregs of beer from the glass, you tap through your phone and open the app that’s been taunting you all evening.

It’s not that you enjoyed being on the apps, because who in their right mind would? It was, unfortunately, a necessity now because meeting someone at a bookstore or your local coffee joint just didn’t happen anymore, not with everyone’s nose buried in their phone.

Much like yours was now.

The messages were the exact same as the last time you’d checked— nothing new. You sighed and tried to push back the swell of disappointment. This guy you’d been chatting with seemed decent but not eager to continue the line of conversation. You forced yourself to close out of the app, but before you could, a notification popped up: ‘New Message.’

Looking around to see where your friend had gotten to, you let out a sigh of relief finding her at the bar ordering another round. She sends you a wink and mouths something unintelligible. You shrug back with a smile and glace back down to your phone.

Not to be *that guy* but you wouldn’t happen to be at the bar right now, would you?

Heart kicking up and pulse racing, you calmly scan the immediate area trying not to draw attention to yourself. Finding nothing of concern, you prop your elbow on the table and hold the phone aloft in an attempt to stay alert to your surroundings.

Meant that in a totally not creepy way, fyi!

Despite yourself, you were smiling. You’d had a few conversations with this guy before and always found yourself grinning and laughing in equal measure. It was you who’d initially asked him to a movie a week or so ago, deeming the chemistry enough to warrant an in-person meeting. But he’d regretfully had to decline because of work or some other bullshit excuse, you couldn’t recall.

Things had understandably cooled off since then.

It wasn’t as if he’d stood you up or anything, he’d given ample notice, but it hurt all the same. And there was no shortage of hurt in your life at present.

If it wasn’t an engagement or bachelorette party, it was a wedding or christening. All your friends had apparently gotten the memo and paired up accordingly, while your invite to the Grown-Ups party was apparently lost in the mail.

Why is it that they were all married or already parents and you couldn’t even get a second date? Was something wrong with you? How had you become the designated single friend?

You were happy for your friends, of course you were, it’s exciting moving through the high points of life! But you could still be overjoyed for them and throw a pity party for yourself, the two weren’t mutually exclusive. And sure, people tried to get you out of the house with trivia nights and dinner dates with the girls but it inevitably wound up with them talking about their spouses or babies, cooing over pictures as phones were passed around.

And sure, they celebrated your milestones too. But was a graduate degree going to keep you warm at night? Was a promotion going to cuddle with you on the couch as you fell asleep to Gilmore Girls for the millionth time?

But things were fine, things were good even, if you could just forget the apps and failed first dates. Besides, you had your Emily Henry books and pints of Ben & Jerry’s— things could be worse.

Okay, so I def creeped you out. Just gonna go back to my cave, pls forget this ever happened.

He then sends a gif of Harry from Harry and the Hendersons sadly sulking off. Again, you find yourself smiling.

Mayybeeee a little creeped. You type back, Just caught me off guard is all.

There’s a minute or two before he responds.

You sure? I can totally fuck off, just say the word.

Crossing your feet beneath your chair, you weigh your options. It was you who asked him out after all, so clearly some part of you was interested. And he’s still talking to you now, even while he’s apparently out at a bar.

Potentially the same bar you’re at now…

Okay, fuck it.

After sending a quick text to your friend explaining the situation and asking her to standby, you toss your hair behind your shoulder and take another look around.

The bar is pretty packed, the weather is decent so the picnic tables outside are quickly filling up too. It’s loud but not deafening and from your current location, you’re within sight of the door for a getaway if needed.

You hoped you wouldn’t need it.

Sparkly boots.

And with that, you lock your phone and set it to the side. You figure, if this guy is worth his salt he’ll figure it out and find you. If not, oh well, at least you tried.

The waiting is torturous. Minutes trickle by and you’re about to pack it in for the night when there’s the jangle of a chain against the metal chair and a man swathed in black denim and leather all but pours himself into it.

“Fucking christ, d’you know how many people are wearing boots tonight?”

For a moment there, you’re speechless— eyes wide and pretty lips opening to say:

“Okay, but how many were wearing sparkly boots.”

His lips, pink and full, pull into a winning smile.

“Just you sugar, but I think you already knew that.” He leans back in the chair, fingers locked behind his head as he stretches back.

His shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of skin at his hip. You try not to lick your lips.

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” He says offering you his hand to shake, fingers bejeweled with silver rings.

He’s warm to the touch as you palm slots against his. His lips part to in a soft gasp as your thumb grazes a knuckle and shake his hand, introducing yourself. His brown eyes flit from your hand to your face and back again, as if he can hardly believe you’re real.

Reluctantly, you pull your hand from his grasp.

His fingers trail after yours, drumming along the tabletop. Your hand rests mere inches from his, close enough to reach out and touch.

You cock your head to the side assessing him. Eddie’s not all that different from his pictures on the app— scruffy in that attractive masculine way. Long hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, a few errant curls falling to frame his face.

A vibration to your left breaks the moment.

You mutter an apology and check to your messages:

How we feelin?

This from your friend by the bar who's standing steadfast with her retinue, keys swinging from her fingers if you need her.

Another swoosh sound signalling a response. You glance down once more, this time it’s a photo of you and Eddie taken just after his arrival. You’re looking down, lips rolled between your teeth even though it’s clear as day you’d rather be smiling and he’s looking at you like… Well, like you hung the moon.

“So, uh,” He ducks his head to cough and clear his throat. “Have I passed the test?”

“What’s that?”

“Y’know, the test verifying that I’m not gonna abscond with you to an undisclosed location or whatever.”

“How did you—”

“Your friend’s not very subtle.” He nods in her direction and follows it up with a wave.

“Well, Edward, if you must know—”

“It’s Eddie.”

“Shut up, you know it all!”

His laugh and your retort takes him by surprise, it’s loud and probably the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“As I was saying, that all depends.”

Eddie leans across the table, all loose limbs and big doe eyes.

“Depends on what, sugar?”

You give a subtle nod to your friend at the bar who flags down the bartender and places an order.

“If you’ll let me buy you a drink.”

He smiles and the rest of the world could drop dead for all you care. For a night that was beginning to look a bit disastrous, with the arrival of Eddie it was starting to have some possibilities.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #fic: ml #Spotify

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navstuffs · 7 months

Text

The Visitor

Pairing: Incubus!Leon Kennedy x GNSupernaturalHunter!Reader

Summary: Your mom always told you to find allies between your enemies - but your incubus consultant, Leon Kennedy, wants to be more than that.

Warning tags: SMUT with gn!reader so MINORS DNI,frenemies to lovers, sexual tension, masturbation, oral sex, penetration, excessive cum (its my headcanon for incubus so), jealousy sex (sorta)

Author's tags: we are the end of my halloween challenge! thank you so much for everyone who supported me. i am so freaking proud and happy with myself that i finally got to finish ONE thing that i commited! last one has to be smut. happy halloween!! enjoy your reading!

my halloween's masterlist

Rain starts as you drive to your home. It has been one heck of a night. The streets are empty as they should be at 2 a.m., but your senses are on high alert. You blame your genetics: coming from a legendary lineage of supernatural hunters, you were expected to become one from your early age, liking or not. It was in your blood. The problem? To be able to sniff other supernatural beings with that same skill prompts your social and love life to be awkward sometimes.

Take tonight as an example: first date with a nice fellow you met on a dating app. When you arrived, your sixth sense instantly picked a creature nearby; you shouldn't be surprised, but obviously, it came from your date. The man, a recently transformed werewolf, ended up reacting to your dangerous smell. And what was supposed to be an excellent night with you fucking your brains out ended up with an awkward goodbye, together with the silent promise of never seeing each other again.

As you park your car in front of your house, you rest your head on your wheel. It had been like this for a while: you met a nice person until you found out they were friends with a vampire or a family member who was a banshee. Your romantic life was nonexistent, which your mom would approve of: "We must remain sharp. No time for this romance bs." Says the woman who almost ran away with a vampire as a teenager.

You are so focused on your thoughts you don't pick up the familiar sensation stinging in your chest as you should. You had been around him so long that your body had started not to react in alert when you were near him. It's almost as if you are getting comfortable.

You exit your car, covering your eyes against the rain, which is getting stronger. You notice the familiar figure sitting on the steps of your porch. He has his hood on, his face partially obscured by the darkness, but you would know him from anywhere: Leon Kennedy. The incubus, you sometimes have the displeasure to work with him. You sigh, wondering what he was doing there so late.

As you approach the entrance, Leon raises his head, and you are met with a pair of enchanted blue eyes. You can feel your stomach twist in a way you are used to by now. It is not technically his fault: Leon needs to have this effect on people if he wants to feed. His eyes start from your head to your well-dressed figure, then your legs, and return to your face. You decide to ignore that and the way your body has warmed up.

"What is it? This better be important." You scoff, and Leon finally gets up, opening a small smile.

"Am I not always important?" Leon chuckles, crossing his arms, a smug smile on his lips. Attractive bastard, you think.

"Yeah, sure, sure. What is it, Kennedy?"

"And where did you come from? A date?"

"Kennedy, I really don't have time for that." You answer, impatient. Your body is telling you to get away from the "monster," and you have to trust your instincts. You search for your house key, walking past Leon and ignoring how inviting he looks tonight.

"Werewolf this time? At least it wasn't a ghoul like last time," Leon teases you, walking up behind you. You look back at him, furious, after opening the door of your house, and Leon raises his arms in a sign of defeat. "I am kidding."

"No, you are wasting my time. Goodnight, Kennedy." As you try to close the door on his face, Leon stops it. You look at him like he has gone crazy, caught off guard by the look you are met back: hungry as a hunter staring at his defenseless prey.

The rational part of you wants to tell Leon to fuck off and close the door on his face. Advising you to remain unaffected if Leon is trying to seduce you now. But you are so tired tonight that you let the irrational one speak. The one that is needy for some sort of human contact tonight. Even if it's from a freaking demon, who pisses the crap out of you.

And to not help, the next time Leon speaks is in a much more vulnerable tone.

"Can I come in?"

Your mom's biggest piece of advice? That you should always find allies between your enemies. They were always traitor among their kind. You and Leon met by accident three years ago. Like most sex demons, he would prey on his victims in places with a strong sexual desire, like strip clubs, bars, or regular clubs.

You were there trying to find another sex demon who was killing his victims after sex, instead finding yourself in the middle of a fight between two very hungry incubus. You should have had an easy time, but a bigger fight started amongst the humans present as well. It was a mess.

Leon helped you, to your surprise. You realized he was an incubus as soon as he grabbed your hand to get you out of the middle of the mess. Your body reacted as it should to his presence: you pulled your hand away, disgusted, but simultaneously, you were affected (and you knew it). Usually, you shouldn't remain unaffected by their extreme sexual energy (they were created for that), but with Leon, it was different. You didn't know why. Leon offered to help find this killer incubus, which proved to be an easier task with him at your side.

And now you could consider him your partner. A very annoying, sexy, good-looking sex demon partner who always looked at your body with interest when he thought you weren't looking.

Like right now. You ignore again your rational part as you bend over to find a bottle of water by the fridge. If Leon's eyes are on your ass or not, you don't really care. It is your fault for letting him inside your house anyway.

"Again, what do you need, Kennedy?" You ask as you close the fridge door with a bump. Leon is resting against the kitchen counter, the hood down. His dirty blonde hair is by his shoulders now, much longer than you first met.

"Decided to go for a bike ride late at night. Couldn't sleep."

"Oh? And you are telling me that because? Are we friends or something?" Leon ignores the irony in your voice, a small smile on his lips. You wait.

"No, we are not."

"Good, because-"

"I don't want to be your friend, anyway." Leon declares a somber tone in his voice. It's that same feeling you have had many times near Leon: he is trying to take down your defense walls, one by one. Wanting for you to feel anything other than danger.

"I see. The feeling is mutual." You whisper back, clearly affected this time. Leon starts approaching you slowly. When he stops before you, your back against the cold fridge. There is nowhere to run from his blue eyes. You can't move or don't want to move.

"What do you truly want?" You murmur again, afraid of the answer. Leon places each arm to your sides, caging your body with his. You have never felt so scared before, but not in the wrong way. Never felt so small. So powerless. Passing control to someone else shouldn't feel so easy.

"What do you think I want?" He tilts his head to one side, tempting you to answer. You bite your lips, wanting to close your eyes but keeping them locked on his. You can still pull him away, your rational part suggests. Pull him away and never see Leon Kennedy again. But do you truly want that?

"This is a trick." You place your hands on Leon's chest. Either stopping or grabbing it, you don't know. You close your eyes, shaking your head, refusing to see, to feel what is right in front of you: Leon Kennedy wants you.

You were doomed from the start as soon as you let him in. Not here, not today, but from the club. From accepting his hand, reaching out to you.

You know that getting too close to the sun could eventually burn. You have known since the first meeting that allowing Leon Kennedy into your life would be trouble. The wet dreams about him, the fact you would get jealous every time he went out for "a meal." You tried to deny for a long time, ignore, and kill those feelings that only grew stronger. Because who would be stupid enough to fall in love with an incubus?

"Open your eyes." Leon's smooth voice commands, and you still fight again, your body urging you to obey him. Tired of resisting, you open to find him just inches away from your face, his lips close enough so you can finally kiss them. "I can give you what you want. You wouldn't have to go scoping around searching for it. I can leave you breathless. I can give you all the pleasure you deserve and much more."

Leon's voice sounds like butter. This is it: you are into the incubus enchantment. You are melting inside, your hands now grabbing his hoodie.

What actually breaks you is that Leon seems to be asking for your permission. Deep down, Leon could seduce you, could make you kneel and beg for him. Instead, the silent please in his eyes, the desperation in his voice, his hand trembling against your cheek. You close your hands around his hoodie, bringing his lips into yours. It surprises you how ferocious you are kissing him, surprises you how you moan into the kiss.

Finally, your body aches relieved. Finally.

The feeling is mutual to Leon. What he never has told you is that since he met you, he knew he had to have you: he didn't know what it was about you. He had never heard of anyone of his kind falling in love (they are supposed to be the embodiment of sexual desire, anyway). The time bonding together (for more, you tried to not call that), fighting other creatures, and saving each other's asses made Leon just desire you even more. And for some strange reason, you seemed to reciprocate his feelings, too stubborn to admit.

His feelings for you made him stop feeding as much, as Leon didn't find much fun and interest in other people. Everything tasted bland and boring compared to you. It didn't help with the dreams, the horny thoughts about you getting worse and worse. Usually, jerking off would be like a small snack for Leon, but thinking about you never left him completely satisfied. He needed to have you.

And tonight, especially tonight, after another sleepless night and having another dream about you sucking him off, Leon decided to, as numerous past nights, bike around town to cool off. He would need to get home and maybe jerk off again, imagining you squirming under him, begging for him to move when he noticed your smell. His attention turned into jealousy when he saw you hugging a werewolf who clearly had sexual intentions towards you.

After seeing this, Leon turned his motorcycle around with one destination: your house. He needed to try. He needed to show you what he felt for you. And if you sent him away, well, at least he would have tried.

Your bodies are entirely in sync. You are surprised to notice Leon knows precisely where and how you desire to be touched and how you like to be kissed. You "blame" the incubus side: he is supposed to seduce you, so you give him what you want.

You fall back into your mattress, and Leon pulls away from you momentarily. You are only in your underwear, bare chest, a complete mess with your lips swollen with the kisses. Your body is vibrating for him: Leon needs to admire that. Or else he would never believe his dreams turned into reality.

"You look so beautiful." He whispers with reverence, taking his hoodie off. You are surprised to see him with no shirt on. Leon pulls his pants down, and you gulp, watching his cock spring free.

"No underwear?" You wonder, your eyes locked into his hard-on. Were all incubus supposed to be this thick and big?

"Easier that way," Leon answers, shrugging his shoulder. He kisses you again, and his hands take off the last piece of your underwear. He doesn't even know where to touch you first: your hard nipples or your sex? He is eager and somehow nervous. Leon is probably the first case of a nervous incubus in history.

"Leon?" You call his name, confused. He raises his head to meet your eyes, an emotional expression on his face. It is the first time you have called him by his name.

Leon starts paying attention to your nipples. He watches for your reaction, twisting and pinching the way that makes you moan more. You are clay under his hands; if Leon told you to run around naked, you would. At this moment time, you are no one else except his.

"Spread your legs for me."

You obey his command, feeling his hard-on against your thigh. His hands go down your belly to your sex, more wet than usual. Leon smiles, rubbing you with a fingertip to get a taste of your juice. He chuckles as you tremble, your face embarrassed.

"I have never been so wet like this," You confess.

"You never heard? Incubus charm can do that. Especially if the other one desires us back, really, really bad." You ignore the way he probably would have said meal. You can feel his breath between your tights, and your hands go into his shoulders to warn him.

"I won't last long if you do this."

"Exactly my point."

By the first touch of Leon's tongue on your needy sex, you can feel close to the orgasm. Your body is so warm, and one of your hands grabs his golden locks, keeping his head there. That only seems to thrill Leon more: He explores with his tongue up and down your sex, and you can't hold back your moans, your other hand grabbing the sheets under you. Leon hums, satisfied as he continues to savor you.

It doesn't take long for you to cum in Leon's mouth. There is a sound of approval coming from his chest as your entire body shakes under him, your eyes rolling. It had never been this strong with your past partners, you had never come this fast. You would never tell Leon that. You need a moment to relax as Leon raises his head, licking his lips.

"Delicious. Even better, what I imagined." You try to not look embarrassed as he compliments you, the warm feeling in your chest happy to hear that.

"Leon?" You call him worried.

You finally realize his eyes remain the same blue eye color. You might not know a lot about incubus sex, but one thing you know is that their eyes turn a different color when they are feeding. You had heard about red, deep red, orange, orange red-ish.

"You okay? Need more moments?"

"Why didn't you feed?" The worried tone of your voice doesn't go unnoticed by him. Leon smiles, attempting to ease your worries.

"I didn't ask for your consent. Didn't think it would be fair."

"You don't ask for consent for the others." You argue, the tone of jealousy making him chuckle. Leon lays on top of you, his arms caging you again.

"You are not like the others. You are special." Before the weight of his confession would make you run away scared, screaming for your life. Now, it makes you lock your legs around his hips, purring content.

"I am sure you say that to all others."

"No, I don't." His tone is serious. Leon starts to rub against your still-sensitive sex. He lowers down to kiss you, slowly and this time more patiently. You can taste yourself in Leon's mouth, making you wonder what Leon's taste is. When you break away, you confess in a hushed whisper you want him to feed.

You want him satisfied with you. Only you.

When Leon penetrates you slowly, to not hurt you, for more wet that your entrance is with his magic, you watch fascinated his eyes turn into a weak red. He probably had been hungry for a long time, and something inside of you told Leon that he would need much more to be fed entirely. Leon pushes all his dick inside of you, giving both a moment to calm yourself. You feel delicious wrapped around him like that: tight and warm. There would be really no one else for him after this.

"You can move now." You whisper, rubbing his face. His first thrust is gentle but still drags a sob out of you. How come Leon has found your pleasure spot so quick? It had to be luck.

Your body had never been in such sync with someone else like that before: Leon knew precisely how to move his hips, how exactly would you make you moan the loudest. It doesn't take long for you to cum again, his thrusts still gentle, hitting that specific pleasure spot you love so much repeatedly. After you cum, Leon stops, worried you might say this is over, but you lift yourself from the bed with one hand, the other holding Leon's neck so he can look at you. You demand more from him, harder, faster. That makes you scream. That the whole town knows who you belong from now.

Your consent is probably what drives him over the edge. Leon doesn't stop now, and if it wasn't for his arm holding around your shoulder to keep you in the bed, you would have fallen out with the strength of his thrusts. You sound incoherent by now, pleading for something, someone, watching Leon's eyes flicker into a stronger red. His eyes never entirely leave your face, his hips hitting against yours with a supernatural strength. You thank mentally for your genetics, or else Leon could have actually hurt you.

You both are close now, you to your third orgasm, Leon on his first one after weeks. Or months. He remembers how many times he has fapped to this vision before, your eyes rolling with your mouth parted as you begged him to not stop, to fuck you insane, never enough to completely satisfy him. But tonight, Leon is giving you all that he has gotten.

When you both come at the same time, your back arches against the bed, and your vision goes white. You scream, your body trembling under Leon's arm, holding onto his shoulders as if you are drowning in the water. Leon is your anchor now, keeping you remotely sane.

As Leon fills you up with a strangled moan of your name, Leon feels his starvation to subdue. He is still hungry as he always would be for you, but this time he is sated. Different from all the other times he had feed: different from the simple fucks he had when he was hungry. As the closest thing from an incubus could feel from love.

It takes you a few minutes to come back to reality. You blink, Leon at your side this time, his arm around you and his head resting against your shoulder. He has his eyes closed, but he isn't sleeping.

"You okay?" He asks, finally opening his eyes. They are back to their normal blue eyes, even looking more vivid.

"Yeah, I guess?" You can feel his cum in your tights leaking from your entrance. "What have you done to me?"

"I told you I would have given you what you deserved." Leon chuckles, and you hit in the arm lightly. Convinced bastard.

You sit down, wincing at the soreness in the middle of your legs. You wonder if you were entirely human if you could walk the following day. There is a small puddle of white cum in the bed, and you look at him, surprised.

"Didn't know you guys could make this much mess…"

"Only when we are entirely satisfied."

Leon lays on his back, arms lifted with his head resting against his hands, a satisfied smile on his lips like he just had the biggest meal of his entire life. And he did: you look a mess, and Leon loves being the reason for that.

"So, do you have to leave now or…?"

"Not if you don't want me," Leon answers softly.

"I don't." You confess, and Leon smiles, happy. The confused feelings in your thoughts and heart could stay for tomorrow. Now, you need a shower and change your sheets. Then cuddle with the man next to you.

"Do you guys cuddle?" You ask, sounding like an idiot, and Leon giggles again.

"I think we can. You will be my first one anyway."

First one? Before you can ask what that means, Leon gets up from the bed. You watch as the light of the night illuminates his body, marked with your love. He raises his hand.

"I can see you are overthinking. Let's worry about tomorrow when tomorrow arrives, okay?"

You nod. Sounds like the perfect plan.

taglist: @90sbee, @scar-crossedlvrs, @roseglazedlens, @sarahs-secrets2

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #AND IM DONEEEEEE #never again im doing this lol

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anashins · 4 months

Note

hii, can I request a jealous jaehyun when his gf agrees to catching up w her guy friend who swiped up on her story & did not tell Jaehyun, causing him to find out when she posts something? Hehe :)

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff, romance, a bit suggestive in the end

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Jaehyun tries to record a new song in the studio. But how is he supposed to sing a passionate love ballad while thinking about the girl he loves, when she is currently out there, enjoying herself with another guy?

A/N: Thank you for requesting! Are we all living the same life at the moment? This is real conversation I had just yesterday!

“That was shit.”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes as he heard Taeyong’s voice over the headphones. His leader was standing next to their voice coach at the other side of the studio’s glass front, observing him recording his part for a song on their new album.

“It’s been going on for an hour already,” Taeyong commented sharply and wanted to lock eyes with Jaehyun, but the latter looked away, partially in anger, partially in shame. “You were so close to where we wanted to have you in the beginning, but ever since the break, you’re getting worse. Why can’t you concentrate?”

Perhaps because his girlfriend hadn’t replied to him since last night and then perhaps because during the break, he had found out through an instagram story of hers that she was meeting up with some guy he had never heard about before.

Jaehyun was fuming inwardly since his messages on their texting app still showed the little “1” next to them, indicating that his girlfriend hadn’t even read anything he had written yet. Instead, she was having a great time with a tall guy she hadn’t even linked in the story, so Jaehyun wasn’t able to stalk his profile.

From what she had posted though, standing close to him at a popular street in their city, he had his hand on her shoulder and his hat pulled deep into his face. Without even knowing his looks, Jaehyun could sense that he was very good looking. Though, at this point, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact fact that made him so mad.

Was it because his girlfriend seemingly ignored him? The fact that she met up with a random guy without telling him beforehand? Because they seemed so close?

“I can’t’, I’m sorry.”

How could he sing a passionate love ballad when there was a storm going on inside of him?

Jaehyun took off the headphones and stormed out of the recording room. By the time he had reached the outside, he could finally tell what was bothering him so much:

He always told her what he was doing, where he was going, and asked her about her day despite having little to no time sometimes. And she couldn’t even clear ten seconds off her time schedule to do the same? On the commute? During a walk?

With shaky hands, Jaehyun pulled his phone out of his pocket and wanted to try something one last time.

He called her.

After twenty seconds, his call declined and his stomach dropped simultaneously.

Jaehyun thought hard about whether he should pick up the phone when his girlfriend called later that evening. But he was only hurt, not an ass and wanted to hurt his girl back.

She had already answered to his texts, something along the lines of “Hey, sorry, I was busy, I randomly met my friend” and was quick to call an hour later when she saw that he hadn’t opened the messages yet, inviting herself over since she was close and he had finished recording earlier.

“Hey,” he said when he let her in.

“Hey, how is it going? How was your day?”

She sounded so happy as she followed him into his room, and he gulped, a bit of regret over his feelings already starting to seep in. “My day was fine. And yours?”

Jaehyun was trying really hard to sound casual as usual, but his voice never betrayed him. His girlfriend already sensed that something was entirely wrong, she knew him so very well. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

There was no reason to conceal or downplay the truth. “You didn’t write to me the entire day and instead were out with some guy I never saw before. It didn’t sit right with me.”

She furrowed, but quickly understood. “Jaehyun, are you jealous? You know there is nothing to be jealous about. It was an old friend from my hometown who spent a few days here, and he hit me up randomly on Instagram when he realized that I live here too from a posting earlier. I wanted to tell you tonight, there was just not much time before. He asked if I can show him a good place to buy souvenirs today. It was very spontaneous as I saw his messages directly after waking up and he’s leaving again this evening, so I hurried. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to contact you earlier.”

“Jealous…? That’s not it.”

Jaehyun, too, had thought that he was jealous. But he, in fact, wasn’t. He had actually never been. It wasn’t about whether he was scared if she was cheating. He trusted her fully and didn’t have a bad feeling, not even once for the entire time they had been together. The unsettling feeling still lingered though.

So what was it that truly bothered him?

With a nod, he signed that she should seat herself on his bed, and he eventually did the same.

“Sometimes, it feels like we’re living two different lives.”

His girlfriend tilted her head in confusion when he paused. “Can you elaborate that?”

“When we’re working, meeting with friends or doing other stuff, separately from each other, I always try to include you, send you pictures, tell you where I go and with whom. Not because I’m afraid you could be jealous or demand it from me, but because I want you to be there with me, even though you’re physically not.”

She nodded. “I understand that.”

“And most of the time, for you, I see what you’re up to only when you upload a story or someone else I also follow. I understand that you’re rather a person living in the moment and not focussing on the phone while with others. That’s a great quality. But at times like these… I always feel like I’m not included in your life. I don’t want to complain, I just want to convey my feelings. We already have so little time together due to my occupation, so that makes me feel even more… excluded, I think.“

Jaehyun could almost physically feel how a huge burden got lifted off his shoulders. It dawned on him how long he had been carrying this feeling around that his heart felt so much lighter after telling his girlfriend.

“Do you think I’m not feeling the same?” she asked and took his hand into hers. “Because I do! Whenever we have a time like this in which we can see each other only seldomly, I try meeting friends often, because I feel lonely and sad without you. And trust me when I say that whatever I do and whomever I do it with, I always think it would be much more fun with you by my side. I try to only concentrate on that moment and activity to not feel as sad. I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun blinked in disbelief. “I… didn’t know. Don’t be sorry about that!”

“Did you think I don’t care? That you’re not on my mind all the time?” She arose and placed her palms on each side of his face. “Because you are. The amount of times I text and call you cannot compare to the times I think of you. Even though I might not be able to convey this feeling whenever you feel abandoned, trust me in that. I carry them all in my heart. Please believe me.”

Jaehyun’s features softened along with his heart. “I believe you.”

If it was like this, then it was fine for him.

If the anxiety got the better of him again though, he would directly call her, and she promised to call him back immediately when she could. She couldn’t fully promise to always inform him about her plans beforehand, because sometimes, there was such a mess and so much hectic going on in her head. But she promised to do whenever she thought about it and asked him to please not take it to his heart too much.

In addition, they promised to never miss leaving the other some loving words by the end of each day.

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s waist when she climbed into his lab. With a smirk, he asked, “How can you fully convince me how much you always miss and love me? I think I still have doubts…”

“How much time do you have?” she chuckled before letting herself fall on top of him and they both landed on the mattress.

“The entire night.”

“That’s enough, hopefully.”

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun fanfiction #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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asapeveryday · 3 days

Text

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You’re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #rpf #rivals to lovers #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #f/f #series

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rbbrbikerthorp · 8 months

Text

A New Neighbour Moves In

[Please note: all characters are 18 plus and any reference to boy or girl is purely descriptive or used in dialogue between the characters.]

Mitchell was living the life much like any typical 23 year old male would. He’d graduated university, he had started his career in recruitment for legal and financial services and was starting to earn good monthly commissions on top of his basic salary. He’d used all the money inherited from his grandparents to buy a 1-bedroom flat in a new development, just on the edge of the city centre. Mitchell didn’t have a steady girlfriend – he wasn’t in a long-term relationship place. As he told his mates at the gym, he was a ‘date them and ditch them’ once he’d managed to ‘get them in the sack’ kind of bloke.

It was a Monday morning and Mitchell needed to get to work. First, he had to navigate his way carefully out of the flat where he’d been invited to spend the night. The girl he’d met in the club the previous evening had taken a shine to his blue eyes, rugby toned body and wavy blonde hair. “Another notch on the bedpost,” Mitchell thought as he tiptoed his way out of the girl’s bedroom. Mitchell made it a policy to only meet women in person and he would never exchange contact details. It meant that none of his ‘conquests’ had any idea of how to find him and, as he was enjoying his ‘tom cat’ life so much, he sure didn’t want to be found. He went on his Uber app and requested a taxi. In less than two minutes one had pulled up in front of him. He took one last look up at the window to check the curtains were still closed and the car pulled away from the curb.

He arrived back at his flat in plenty of time to get ready for the day ahead. He shaved his weekend beard growth and then turned on the shower. Whilst the water warmed up, he took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. He loved how beefy his legs looked from the years of playing rugby first in secondary school and then in the university’s first team. His regular attendance at the gym meant he had a well-defined chest and arms. Women loved his bum as it stood out, firm and muscular. Yes, at that moment as he entered the shower cubicle Mitchell was very content with his life, but on this day, things were about to change.

As Mitchell locked his front door, he noticed piles of boxes outside the flat next door. As he turned towards the lifts, he ran into a large man. He barely stopped as he fell into him. Stepping backwards he said, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.” As the guy regained his balance, Mitchell noticed the man’s shaved head, jeans with bleach marks with tall black boots with white laces tucked into them. Even though he thought of himself as a tough, well-built guy, he stuttered feeling inadequate and intimidated by this stranger. “I…I…I’m Mitchell,” holding out his hand, “n... n… nice to meet you. So, you’re moving in next door? I… I… always wondered who my new neighbour would be? It’s been vacant for ages.

The man smiled, “I’m John and yes, it was quite a steal really. Apparently last owner had been shacked up with his fiancé for the last few months and they were about to get married. I made an offer a bit less than what they were asking for, but, because he needed to put money down as a deposit on a new house, he had no choice but to accept.”

“Well,” Mitchell replied being polite, “I… I… I’ve got to get my bus.”

“Yes, I can see you’re dressed for an office. As you can probably see I’m not a suit person myself.”

Mitchell laughed nervously. Why was he feeling so unsettled by this guy?

“Look, why don’t you drop by when you get home from work. I always like to get to know my new neighbours.”

On the spur of the moment, Mitchell couldn’t think of an excuse not to accept the invitation, so he said, “why not? Must go!” As he walked away, he could sense the man was staring at him. He shouted, “good luck unpacking” and then lowered his voice a little, “weirdo.”

John couldn’t help admiring his good-looking young neighbour’s physique, and he shook his head hearing Mitchell mumbling that last word. He began to create a mental picture of what Mitchell might look like wearing less formal clothing. Tattoos were common on young men of a similar age these days, so John wondered if he had acquired any ink yet. He was sure to find out later when Mitchell would drop in for a chat and John would explain was his lifestyle was all about. John set about unpacking so that he could prepare for his young neighbour’s visit.

It was around 7:30 in the evening when John heard a knock on the door. He opened it to find Mitchell had changed out of his work suit into a t-shirt and sports shorts. “Come in.” It felt more like an order to Mitchell than a pleasantry.

“You got everything unpacked I see.” Mitchell said trying not to stare at the many pairs of tall lace-up boots all lined up by the door; taking in the various bomber jackets hanging on the coat rack and the skinhead themed pictures and posters on the walls.

John noticed Mitchell’s “That’s nothing lad, I’ve got way more kit in the bedroom.”

Mitchell really didn’t want to know any more about what might be in John’s bedroom, “takes all kinds I guess,” he thought as John handed him a beer. The two men chatted, but as Mitchell sipped away at the beer, “wow”, he thought, “this stuff has a real kick.” He found himself becoming more relaxed and more willing give direct answers to John’s questions; about his job, his personal life, his family and friends. Mitchell was hoping that by dressing as though he was going to the gym and John would bring their chat to an end and let him go on his way. Mitchell was starting to fidget as you do when you’re about to stand up. However, John had different ideas, “stay right there lad, and I’ll get us another beer.” Mitchell suddenly found himself wanting to stay and slumped back into the sofa.

“So wh… wh… what do you for a living?” Mitchell asked with a slight stutter and slur as John handed him another glass of beer.

John smiled, “I’m glad you asked. To put it simply I change people.”

“Change people?” Mitchell asked thoroughly bemused.

“Yes, I change people. I take ordinary people, with very traditional upbringings and boring lives and I change them into whatever takes my fancy.” You, young Mitchell are just the sort of person I look for to mould into something more, hmm, you know ‘out-there’.”

Mitchell had downed half the glass of beer at this point.

John continued, “maybe I’ll slowly take them from the lives they are currently leading and over a few hours, a few days, maybe a few weeks transform them. They might end up as a…”

John could sense Mitchell’s fear about what might happen to him but continued, “The next person I change may end up as filthy mohawked punk, a dirty greaser biker, a Leatherman, a goth, a rubber slave. Who knows? It’s whatever takes my fancy at that moment. After a time, I get bored and need a new challenge, so I sell them on to people into the lifestyle and I move on to my next…”

Mitchell couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to challenge what John was saying but he discovered it wouldn’t move. His heart was pounding, his anxiety levels were on the rise – no matter how hard he tried he was unable to form any words.

“Mitchell, I want you to calm down! Mitchell is such as pompous name, so from now on you’re gonna be called Mike. Now, I will carry on. John pulled out an amber charm which he swung from side to side, glowing eerily in front of Mike’ glazed eyes. When I combine this fine-looking stone with a special ingredient I have – oh you know I added a few drops into your beer, my victims become more… open to the changes I want to make to them. More compliant.” Mike’ eyes were affixed on the stone. “That’s right, just follow the stone, from side-to-side, follow the stone, transfixed by its glowing beauty/” John was comfortable in the knowledge that Mike would soon be his personal boy toy. “Isn’t that the most striking, bright and coloured stone you’ve ever seen Mike?”

He tried to open his mouth in one solitary second of defiance, but all he could managed was a barely audible squeak. His independence, his free will, his ability to fight and think freely had departed. There was no resistance left in Mike. His mind was now mush, the lad could only obey and conform.

John pulled Mike to his feet and dragged him to the bathroom. Once there, he placed him in a chair. “Right Mike, I’ve been thinking all-day about the life I want to give you. How do you fancy being my skinhead son? I’ve always wanted someone I could call a son, but being gay it was never going to happen, and I think you will make the perfect skinhead.” John didn’t wait for Mike to reply - he couldn’t; he did however see the confusion and distress in Mike’ eyes. He chuckled to himself.

John walked over to the bathroom cabinet and took out several items: some electric clippers, scissors, a pack of Mach 3 razors and a can of shaving cream. Turning his head to look at the boy, he smiled, “Only real men have hair. So, yours needs to go Mike. I’ll start on your legs and then your chest, all of that lovely blonde hair on your head and not forgetting the parts in-between. I’m going to enjoy getting rid of that wavy blonde hair. When I’m done, you’ll have a perfectly smooth bonehead.” John cut through the lad’s t-shirt revealing a well-defined torso. Staring at the blank canvas and thinking what he would do to it, he couldn’t help but squeeze one of Mike’ nipples. John detected the tiniest of yelps, so he squeezed the other nipple. There was no reaction this time, Mike’ mind was lost. He continued to stare into the amber jewel that was hanging in front of his face.

John turned on the clippers, starting with the boy’s left leg. Hair started falling in clumps on the floor. Once the left leg was done, he moved on to the right one. Soon John was wiping them down with a cloth, applying a astringent lotion so that the smooth skin shone in the bathroom lights and after a few more applications, regrowth would never be a problem. Then it was onto the chest. Although Mike was only in his early twenties, he’d already got quite a covering of fur, which John’s clippers made quick work of. Mike’s arms were also denuded of hair. John turned off the clippers and, with the same cloth, applied more of the special lotion to the recently clipped areas.

John stood up and smiled. He paused for a second, “this is the last time there will be any hair growing on your head.” He pressed the on switch, and after hearing the familiar ‘clack’ he began ploughing all the way through the boy’s golden locks. In no time at all Mike was motionless sitting in the chair with a zero-grade cut. John picked up the can of shaving cream, squirted it into his hands and rubbed it copiously all over Mike’ head. He took the necessary time to ensure all the fuzz was removed and Mike’ head felt like a cue-ball. In no time at all there was a shiny hairless skinhead son sitting in front of him.

Looking down, John smiled as Mike’ identity lay on the floor in clumps. He looked up at Mike who was sitting perfectly still, with the same glazed eyes and dazed expression on his face, oblivious to the changes being made without his consent. He took the cloth, poured some more lotion into it and rubbed it into his son’s head.

“Stand,” John ordered. Mike complied, happily obeying his skinhead master. The sports shorts were pulled down over the now smooth legs and John stood back as he grabbed the clippers. “Now boy, I need you to get nice ‘n’ hard so I can make sure I get all your hair… down there...” He watched as slowly but surely there was movement in Mike’ groin. John grinned as in no time at all full mast was achieved. “Very nice boy,” John said out loud, “I bet you were popular with the women. Is that six, possibly seven inches? Good and think as well. Unfortunately for you, you’re not going to have much use of it as my son, but it will look amazing with a thick gauge PA, and a Jacob’s ladder.”

‘Clack’, John turned on the clippers and began the removal of the last remaining hairs on Mike’ body. He had to hold himself back as he rubbed the special lotion into the skin around the groin and on the mounds that had once been covered in thick hair. When he was satisfied the boy was as smooth as the day he was born, John left the bathroom to get something from his bedroom. When he returned Mike hadn’t moved, he was still lost in the stone “Now here I have the perfect thing to complete you. Now stay perfectly still.”

Later, John walked into the main room of the flat dressed in full skinhead gear. As he gazed at his newly denuded skinhead son, he felt his manhood straining inside a pair of skin-tight bleachers, which were turned-up and touching the top of a pair of 30-hole red ranger style boots. He was looking lustfully at the 23-year-old standing to attention, still wearing the expression, he had when the amber jewel turned him into the compliant vessel he now was. “It’s time for the next stage in your transformation lad.” With that John walked over to a cupboard an opened the doors.

The cupboard contained piles of skinhead gear from boots to bleachers to braces to bomber jackets. First, he instructed Mike to put on a yellow jockstrap. “You’ll be wearing this non-stop for a few days – it needs to get in nice ‘n’ ripe.” Then he passed the boy a t-shirt, which Mike willingly slipped over his head. “These are your bleachers; they’ve got two zips – front and rear – you’ll soon find out why,” he grinned, “slip them on.” Mike pulled up the tight-fitting jeans that had been liberally splashed with bleach. Mike didn’t take any notice of the fact that they’d been cut off just below the knee and turned up so that they would show the full extent of the boots he would almost always be wearing when he wasn’t in his work gear. John walked across to Mike carrying a pair of red braces which he attached to the bleachers, pulling them right up his bum crack – so much so that Mike let out a little groan. To finish this stage of the transformation, John handed Mike the left boot. It was black with 20 eyelets and partly laced. John talked Mike through how to ladder lace the boot tightly and perfectly. John fitted a padlock at the very top of the boot before handing over the right one. When John was happy with the way that one was laced, he fitted another padlock. “Stand!” Mike stood up. “Turn to look in the mirror, see the Skinhead son I’ve created. This is what you are now a proud skinhead and my skinhead son.

“Now, we can begin your training. Kneel!” Mike complied. “I know your tongue will still be a bit tender, so I’ll be gentle. Open!” John commanded, and with that he slid his cock into Mike’ open mouth. “Move your tongue slowly, showing how much your love the bottom of your skinhead dad’s cock. Make sure you keep your lips tightly closed as I don’t want you to spill anything.”

He sat back as his cock was held between Mike’ virgin lips and soon found himself about to cum as the hard stud, he had introduced to the lad’s tongue work its magic. The combination of it all and the sensitivity soon had John unloading his massive load. “Swallow!” Mike swallowed quickly trying not to “spill’ as he had been instructed. John soon slid from the lips of his new son and quickly zipped up his own bleachers. “Yes,” John thought, studying the boy who, in addition to the tongue piercing also had a stud in each lobe and four more studs all the way up each of his ears. Mike would serve him well as his skinhead son, but first he needed to complete the lad’s transformation. “Right son, let’s go – I need you to see a friend of mine.”

With that John grabbed a green bomber jacket with orange lining and threw it to Mike, “put it on,” he instructed. Mike slipped on what he would get to know as an MA1 and followed John out of the flat. Right away he found it strange walking in heavy soled, tightly laced boots, but he didn’t complain – he couldn’t.

The skinhead and son waited a few minutes at the bus stop before one came along heading in the direction of the city centre. They alighted just before the main shopping area. It was an area that would be unfamiliar to Mitchell, but Mike was oblivious to everything now. He obeyed his skinhead dad, just as any good son would do. The two skinheads walked side by side into a small industrial estate. One of the units had a sign saying, ‘Anaconda Tattoo Studio and Piercing’. John walked ahead of Mike, as they got to the door, John walked in but for a second Mike hesitated. John knew this sometimes happened, especially with all the distractions of the outdoors. He pulled the amber stone out of his pocket and held it in front of Mike. “This way boy,” he ordered. Mike complied; his eyes once again completely transfixed on the glow of the jewel.

Once inside the tattoo studio, John turned to Mike, “stand here son. I need to talk to the owner.” Mike waited as instructed. Despite tattoos being made popular by the countless athletes and celebrities who adorned their bodies with intricate permanent markings, the old Mitchell would have never crossed the threshold foot into a tattoo studio. But here was Mike waiting to submit to whatever his skinhead dad was discussing with the owner.

John came out of the back office followed by a hulk of a man who was wearing tight leather trousers, a black vest, which exposed his muscular arms covered in tattoos, shaved head with long unkempt beard and on his feet were heavy biker boots. “Son this is Griff, he’s going to give you some more piercings and your tattoos. But first, you are to strip down to your jockstrap. When you’ve done that, go over there and sit in the chair. From now on you will do exactly what Griff tells you to do. He’s going to give you your first marks to show the world that you’re a proud skinhead. After you’ve got your first ink, he’s going to give you some more metal. I’m going to leave you for a bit, but I’ll be back to see the finished work.” Turning to Griff, John said, “he’s all yours.”

Griff walked over to Mike wearing only his jockstrap sitting obediently in the chair. Since John had already removed all the boy’s hair, Griff simply wiped clean the areas to be tattooed and then laid the first outline template on the skin. His machine was then started up, some ink was added, and the needle started to buzz.

He then began applying the needle over the site of the first tattoo, Mike felt a dull pain but didn’t flinch. Once the first tattoo on the boy’s left arm was completed, Griff went on to add the other tattoos as instructed by John. He started work on a full sleeve on Mike’s right arm, which would take four or five visits to complete. Then he added a bulldog to the rear of the lad’s right calf. Finally, two swallows were added to the back of the each of the lad’s hands. Griff whispered into Mike’s ear, “that’s all I’m doing now lad. John has booked half a dozen more sessions, so you’ll be coming back to get your neck, back and chest inked, and I can finish off the full sleeve. Now stay still. There’s a couple more things to do. Griff pushed away his tattoo cart and returned with another.

Griff looked at the docile boy in the chair. I think we will start with the nipples. Griff played, stroked and flicked them for a few moments until they were firm. He then slipped a needle through the left nipple, at which point Mike squealed. He then installed a barbell through the hole left by the needle and screwed a ball onto either end. He repeated the process for the right nipple. “No touching lad.” Griff then turned his attention to the lad’s groin and applied a topical cream to the so-called policeman’s helmet (bell-end to others). “Right, we’ll give that a little while to take effect and, in the meantime, we can sort out your nose piercing. This will hurt, but only for a second.” Griff then picked up a clean needle from his trolley and quickly passed it through the front part of the septum. Mike’s eyes began watering, so he knew the boy was feeling the pain from the intrusion of the needle. Carefully he inserted a ring into the boy’s septum, and then said out loud, “That will take six weeks or so to heal, then John wants it swapped for a bigger ring.” Now, the cream should have dulled your senses on your knob so let’s add the final bit of metal you’re getting today. He wiped the area to be pierced with an antiseptic skin cleanser, put a mark where the piercing was to be made, and begin the piercing process. The most painful moment for Mike in the piercing process was when the piercing needle punctured his urethra. One the needle was through, Griff inserted a circular barbell and spoke again, “don’t worry if you feel a bit of discomfort – a dull, throbbing pain that’s to be expected.

At that moment the door opened, and John walked in carrying a large shopping bag. “He’s all done, just as you instructed John. Don’t forget to leave the starter jewellery in for six weeks – no less, and make sure you use the aftercare solution. After that we can do a bit of stretching to your liking.”

As the days turned into weeks. John had started his son on the path to being a smoker. First, he gave him a gum to chew to introduce nicotine into the body, then he encouraged him to vape. When he felt there was an addiction starting, he told the boy to smoke cigarettes, starting him on five a day, and quickly moving onto ten, then fifteen. Within a couple of weeks, he was getting through a pack a day.

Mike also kept up his weekly visits to Griff, as more of his skin was covered with ink. Over the period, the full sleeve was completed, the Union flag was tattooed on the back of Mike’s next, the word skinhead was tattooed in script of his back and the letters that made up the word skinhead were inked on his knuckles and finally a Celtic cross was inked on the left pectoral. On the most recent visit Griff replaced the rings in his septum and PA with heavier gauges. As per John’s instructions, he also replaced the studs in his ears with rings and the ones in the lobes with spreaders. Mike joined his skinhead dad in a new gym, one that was run by an ex-boxer friend of John’s. John made sure to get Mike in the boxing ring so that his pretty boy face could get roughed up a bit. John wanted his son to look a bit freakier.

Mike didn’t look like the sort of person who would work in an office anymore, so he was signed up to work in the city council’s recycling centre – they were always in need of people to sort through other people’s waste. Five days a week he stood by a conveyor belt dressed in dirty Hi-Viz gear, and safety boots separating glass, metal, plastic, paper and cardboard into different bins.

After work, the boy would return to his skinhead dad’s flat, which was much bigger now that the wall had been knocked through joining what was Mitchell’s flat and John’s flat together. This night was special because as soon as he got home, Mike got out of his stinking workie gear he’d be in since just after dawn and into the skinhead gear his dad left out for him. Tonight, skinhead dad would be introducing his skinhead son to the lads in the pub. Mike dressed in his bleachers, a black Fred Perry, yellow socks and red 20-hole boots. Mike was ready in time for his dad to return home. John walked through the door and saw the perfect skinhead son standing there. “C’mon son. You’re gonna meet your skin bruders.”

#ranger boots #tattoos #bleachers #conversion #skinhead #workie

369 notes · View notes

soobnny · 11 months

Text

summer strike — hwang hyunjin.

trope. strangers to lovers. found family. comfort fic. heavily inspired by the kdrama

synopsis. having had enough of your life in the big city, you head to a small town where you meet a local librarian who feels a lot like love

word count. 23k words

warnings. drinking alcohol, curse words, mentions of loneliness

note. it’s out it’s out! this kdrama might be my favorite and means a lot to me so i just had to write something inspired by it. it’s basically the written form but condensed with a few changes so credits to the kdrama. i’d rly appreciate any feedback :)

one.

It happened without warning.

As you stand behind the glass doors of the building you work at, rain splits before your eyes. Drip by drip, and then a downpour. You suppose you should’ve checked the Weathers app before deciding to work overtime tonight.

You ponder over waiting it out, but there is no place to go but the train station before it takes its last trip. It’s urgent to get back to your empty apartment where it isn’t rainy and it isn’t windy and the world isn’t ending. So, you run towards the only direction you know in this city, even as rain pours over the streets.

Your soles feel heavy by the time you arrive, but you don’t allow yourself the moment to rest as you swerve through the crowds of people to get to the train doors before it closes. You wish to see a time when silence ghosts the usually busy station, but you don’t have the time. You never do. Always rushing. Always tired.

The watch on your wrist reads 8:21, and it’ll only be a few minutes before a wave of office workers litter the narrow space of the train. When they finally do, the first thing you discern is their terrible body odor—dried up sweat with a tinge of alcohol. It no longer surprises you, so used to the fuckery that is your life.

Instead, you plug in your earphones to drown out their voices, listening to the kind of music that drags you back to a childhood memory. It sounds like popsicles, like wind blowing through your hair as you’re being pushed from the swing, like running on concrete barefooted, like the laughter of someone you love.

Now, you live in a city of strangers.

On the next stop, an old woman walks in. No one makes a move to give up their seat—too tired, too selfish, looking anywhere but the old woman. You think of how small humanity really is as you get up and gesture for her to take your seat instead. She has gone through too many years of her life to stand stuck between the terrible stench of office workers.

She holds a sweet smile as she thanks you. You don’t remember the last time someone smiled at you like that. Silver linings.

When you finally make it home, it’s nearly 9pm. This is what working 9-6 is like in the city. You live off your co-workers taking advantage of your work ethic, your boss’s bad breath yelling into your ear, and never coming home on time.

This has happened yesterday. It will happen again tomorrow.

It’s always the same. The same routine, over and over without progress. You feel like you’ve messed up somewhere. You used to have ambitions, but now you’re just a fragment of the person you used to be. The city was supposed to lead somewhere. It was supposed to be promising. But, the same tired eyes walk down the same path everyday in a dead end.

You don’t know where you went wrong.

You lay in your bed, still soaking wet, with a painful cry waiting to erupt from your throat. You hate that there’s no longer time to create happiness. It’s too late, and minutes from now, you will be asleep.

You stare at the ceiling, as you do every night before you fall asleep, and the only sounds that accompany you are the loud honks of the cars outside and your stomach grumbling. No one calls you to dinner. No one holds you to keep you warm.

It’s so lonely here.

The feeling of a hug is something you don’t see yourself remembering so you press your back further against your bed to mimic the feeling of an embrace. It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the closest thing you can get after the mistake you made of thinking you were made for the city.

Though, as you keep staring at the ceiling, you start to feel sick. You don’t think you can handle this rotting anymore. You refuse to believe this fate is by design, not when you feel like this. With tears you didn’t even notice dried up on your cheeks, you make a decision. There is nothing else you can do here, and this will be your last night in the city. So, you do something you have not done in years, you pull your backpack that’s been collecting dust and throw in as much clothes as you can.

You feel you’ve been cruel to yourself for allowing this to happen for years. The next day, you don’t wake up at the usual time. You spend the night in, and you quit your job once they call. They don’t deserve you there.

As for your belongings, you decided to only keep what could fit in your backpack. Cleaning up the house, you realized that you bought a lot of things; mugs you bought on a whim just because they were pretty, dishes that you only used once to host a house welcoming party, clothes you forgot even existed. The selection process was much more difficult than any job interview. Useless items got sold as soon as you posted them online.

You let go of your apartment and jump on the first train out, leaving behind the bustles and the buildings of the city. Seoul is too much for an unemployed person like you.

The sound of the train pollutes your ears as you step in, the voice of the intercom telling passengers to let people out first before walking into the train. And as the train moves away, you watch the city grow smaller and smaller. You don’t bother looking back.

The little town you're heading to is unfamiliar, but the path before is even more so.

There’s a heartbeat.

two.

Nobody ever visits.

In the city, you learned early on that it was a dog eat dog world. Your kindness can only go so far until it becomes the perfect tool to take advantage of you. They liked to call it survival of the fittest, the Darwinian evolutionary theory. It’s something that’s taught early in high school, often forgotten the year after, yet it’s a theory you continue to use long after everyone else has moved on to other things in life. You’d always found it interesting how it flawlessly captured Seoul’s mechanism of natural selection—the one most adaptable to change is the one that survives.

Nobody knocks on your door to greet you there. Nobody wishes you well. For as long as you can remember, you’d always had to fight, always aboard a ship on rough waters that you’d almost forgotten how a quiet shore sounds like.

You suppose this is why there was no warning when a knock sounds on your door. You hadn’t expected anyone at your door.

The morning was spent carving out a new life for yourself in Angok, running away from the sounds of the city and exploring the place you’d soon call home. There aren’t many establishments here, most of them run by families who have been here far longer than you ever have. You take note of the small convenience store just where you live in case you were feeling too lazy to run to the farmer’s market just by the town center. Small things first, afraid to hear the bustle of buildings follow their way to where you are.

By 2 in the afternoon, you had retreated back to the small apartment you’d rented out. Outside, the wind was getting stronger, making the waves collide harshly with the shore. You think you’d have stayed out longer if the gust of wind hadn’t flapped your clothes around violently. Two in the afternoon, with nothing left to do, when the door knocks.

Knock, knock.

Your heart rate speeds up at the sound. Could the city have followed you all the way here?

With heavy feet, you fight against the voice in your head to greet whoever is at your door. By best case, they’d probably mistaken your quaint apartment for someone else’s.

You twist the doorknob carefully, door creaking when it opens and you’re met with the sight of someone with the most peaceful face and the most perfect set of teeth. His eyes are welcoming as he waves at you in greeting, hair messily swept back with a few strands falling on his forehead almost as if they were designed to be.

“Hi!” You squeak out, eyes nervously wandering back and forth between the man and what you could only assume was his parked truck just by the front of your apartment. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”

“Oh! My apologies. Is this not where (Name) lives?” Your heartbeat picks up its pace again, and your hand around the doorknob starts to feel a little clammy for the fear of his intentions.

“It is actually. Um, how do you know my name?” You try to mask the fear in your tone, but the man easily picks up on it. And if it wasn’t for the situation, you think you would’ve laughed when he comically takes long strides to back up a little bit. He looks silly with his widened eyes and parted lips.

“I’m sorry, that must’ve sounded really creepy. I’m Chan! I live just around here, and my mom just rented you this house? The previous owner ran away with all the furniture, so I brought some so it doesn’t feel so empty.”

Chan flashes you a bright smile, angling himself a little so his truck is in full view.

It solicits a sigh of relief out of you, gripping hand on the doorknob dropping as you feel a little safer. You’d been ready to shut the door. Almost defensive. Almost letting his words fall into mumbles.

“I apologize again. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His tone is soft, genuine even as he scratches the back of his head and bows a little. It’s a strange sight the man with the kind smile. Strange that it only occurs to you now how long you’d gone without seeing a smile so soft in a long time. After all your years in the city, you had almost forgotten the sight of genuineness being directed at you.

“It’s alright. I’m just… a little…” The words fall on your mouth. Frankly speaking, you don’t know how to explain your own behavior. Nervous? Afraid? Defensive? You don’t really know. You feel like a stranger in your own body.

Chan is quick to dismiss it when it seems that you don’t have the intention to finish your sentence. There is no pressure to come up with an excuse here. “Come in. The wind must’ve been harsh on you.”

Pulling the door back a little wider, you invite Chan into your empty apartment, and after asking you twice if it was okay, he finally obliges. As he makes his way inside, he takes the furniture he had brought with him—back and forth, and back and forth from the truck until everything was inside.

He doesn’t even let you lift a finger.

“Sit anywhere.” You make your way to your kitchen to grab him a glass of water, emptying the bottle you had just bought down to its last few drops. You try to take as long as you can in the kitchen in nerve of the small talk that was bound to happen when meeting strangers. Though, your walls start to look at you reproachfully, and you realize you’d been gone far too long to be called disrespectful.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” You hand him the glass, sitting adjacent to him. He simply shakes his head, thanking you instead as he takes the glass from you with both his hands, careful not to touch you in case it makes you uncomfortable.

“I hope this is enough.” Chan motions over towards the pieces of furniture he had brought with him—a couch, a few chairs, and a table for now. “I have some more, but it didn’t really fit in my truck.”

You allow yourself to smile at him, though your eyes fail to meet his for more than five seconds. You don’t know what to say, and something akin to an itch starts to eat at your brain the way a caterpillar does with leaves, one bite then another, pressuring you to say something to satiate the silence.

Chan saves your brain from being chewed away.

“I hope you don’t have a hard time settling in.” He finishes the water you’d offered him before he continues, “I live just 2 apartments away if you need anything. I’ll see you around?”

You nod your head, following him out of the door, and you can only hope you hadn’t scared him away already. You manage to meet his eyes one last time as you move to shut the door, polite smile on your face as he turns back one last time.

“Ah, before I forget… I noticed you had a lot of books with you. There’s a library just a few blocks away in case you were interested.”

“Oh. Thank you. I’ll be sure to check it out.” With one last bow, you gingerly close the door behind you as he finally drives off.

Chan. He feels comfortable despite only knowing him for a few minutes, almost like a caring older brother you never had. You hope to know him more.

As you turn back around, you look at your apartment a little more closely this time, inspecting how the pieces of furniture look, decorating what once was an empty space. It looks more like a home now. You should’ve thanked the man more, you fear you didn’t say it enough.

You brush the thought off and spend the rest of the day cleaning.

three.

It takes you almost a week to go to the library Chan had suggested.

You had promised yourself to finish the book you brought with you first, before committing to new stories and new horizons. Though, it proved difficult as you have always been the type to take more than you can bargain for—purchasing books after books only to leave them behind on a dusty shelf.

But, new places call for new habits, and you vowed to leave that inclination behind.

When you step outside, a wispy curtain of clouds cover the skies. It’s a lovely weather to be outside in, with the summer breeze floating about. Not too cold. Not too sticky.

The air in the city has always been tangled with some form of pollution. Dirty and suffocating. It’s nice to have a change in pace. Being kind to nature, you find, has you reaping the benefits of basking in its beauty. They don’t litter her land with buildings here.

On the way to the public library, you pass by the market where a multitude of people line up, selling more than you can name—fruits and vegetables, homegrown plants, fish, textiles of clothing, brooms, almost everything.

The old and young gather alike, children running around to help their parents, office workers taking a break from their job to buy street food from the vendors. It’s colorful and vibrant, almost fiesta-like that only the people of Angok can radiate.

“(Name)?” A familiar voice has you ripping your eyes from an array of freshly baked cookies, turning towards the origin of the sound to find Chan waving at you.

“Chan, hi!” You reply shyly, yet a little less reserved than when you had first met him.

He looks the way he did a few days ago when he showed up on your door, though more sweaty as he puts down the final box of fruits they had loaded up on his truck. He’s dressed in a loose tank top, you assume to be more efficient in his job, and the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead are more visible the closer he gets to where you’re standing.

Chan definitely stands out with his height, and the way he smiles so easily.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, hands wiping at the side of the shorts he’s wearing.

“I’m actually going to the library… the one you talked about. Though, I’m not quite sure I’m headed the right way?” You try to mask your embarrassment with a short laugh, and his eyes brighten at the way you had taken his suggestion.

His stature lights up in the same manner, clasping both his hands together and replying, “Ah, if you can wait a minute, I can walk you there. I have to deliver a box of oranges there, anyway.”

“Really? I’d really appreciate that actually. Thank you.” You smile politely, and he gestures for you to follow him back to his truck where a man is waiting for him.

The stranger is carrying way more than he should be, about to jokingly boast about his strength to Chan when he takes an abrupt step. An earthquake rumbles in the way a box falls from his shoulders, hitting the pavement and bursting open—almost in slow motion as apples and oranges roll out.

“Shit!” He exclaims with his whole chest, and he immediately bows in apology at the elders around him who look disapprovingly at his choice of language.

“Ah, Jisung.” Chan mumbles, jogging forward to grab the fallen fruits that are still rolling on the pavement. A few onlookers help, much to the embarrassed boy’s dismay, and you quickly bend down to grab at the ones nearest to you.

“Sorry.” His tone is abashed, loading fruits back in the box and setting it aside. Chan simply pats him on the back in fondness.

“Wait, who’s this?” It’s only now he notices you, standing behind Chan with a few fruits in your arms which you hand to him. “Wait, wait, wait. I know, wait give a second.” He continues.

You can hear a faint chuckle from Chan.

“You’re (Name)! Right? You recently moved here?” The sheepish grin on his face is quickly replaced with a look of interest tangled with excitement, forgetting about his ordeal with the fruits in favor of greeting you.

You wonder if news travels as fast as his expression changes in this little town.

“Woah, easy Ji. You’re gonna scare her.” Jisung takes a step back, suddenly aware of how much personal space he’s taking away from you.

“I’m Jisung, Chan’s super handsome and cool friend.” His enthusiasm makes up for his clumsiness, waving at you before suddenly grabbing a plastic container from a big blue cellophane sitting by the side of the box he had dropped. “Here, my mom’s taking up an interest in baking lately. She’s not very good, but please have it as a welcoming gift from me.”

You take the container from his hands, bowing in thanks before meeting his crinkled eyes. Does this boy ever stop smiling?

“Thank you, really. I’d introduce myself but, it seems… you already know my name.”

His unwavering kindness takes you by surprise, just like everyone else in this village. And you’re about to thank him again when he excuses himself to help who you assume to be his mother, who is grumpily carrying a new batch of her baked concoctions.

“So, the library?” And then it’s Chan’s smile again. This time, he has with him a small box of the oranges he told you he’d deliver. You snap out of your far-away look to follow him through the streets.

It’s a short walk, brisker than you thought, and Chan sets the box down on a wooden table just outside of the public library where a young man waits for him—impatience clear on his face.

“Finally. Took you long enough, old man.” The boy opens the box, grabbing an orange from the pile and inspecting it before letting out a satisfied hum when it seems to have met his criterion.

“What do you even need all these oranges for, anyway?” Chan inquires, looking down at the crouched figure of the boy.

“Oranges have vitamin C, which plays a major role in preventing age-related mental decline.” He states matter-of-factly, standing up from his previous position. “Something you can’t relate to, obviously.”

The older boy doesn’t take anything to heart. Instead, you find the same fondness on his face, the one he wore when Jisung had dropped that box earlier.

“Well, I’ll get going then. Will you be okay here?” Chan looks back at you, a huge question mark of an expression decorating his features to ask if it was alright for him to get back now and leave you there.

The younger boy is long gone now, having retreated back into the library with his oranges.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course, sorry. Thank you again.” You smile, and he continues to wave goodbye until he’s no more than a distant figure.

The building is three stories tall, and you have to walk a flight of stairs to get to the library on the second floor. But it’s quiet, and you liked the change of pace from the vibrancy outside to the sudden tranquility inside.

It provides a safe barrier for when you want to be alone with your thoughts, something you never had in the city.

The inside of the library is cold, but the sun reflects through the panels of the windows just right so that it isn’t freezing. It’s as inviting as it is outside, and you’d go as far as saying the friendliness of the library was similar to that of Chan’s warm welcome for you. It isn’t the biggest room, and its run-down nature was particularly striking, but it isn’t something you mind. The cheap furniture and the slight discoloration of wood gave the place a character of its own—like this library has stood for generations and has protected centuries worth of knowledge from the books it holds.

It reminds you of a scene from Avatar the Last Airbender, when they find a lost library with all the knowledge in the world. And the boy with the obsession for oranges can be Wan Shi Tong, the giant owl spirit who’s tasked with collecting information and protecting the Spirit Library.

The door sounds and the floor beneath you creaks as you walk through the room. Though, it isn’t loud enough to catch the attention of the boy you had seen earlier, or as you liked to call him, Wan Shi Tong. He simply calls out an obligatory “welcome”, before going back to the book he’s reading.

The closer you got to the shelves, the more it smelt of books. It’s a nice addition to the ambiance, the scent of pages roaming around and escaping past the ventilation.

You go through the bookshelves, hand moving along their spines. So many books and every single one you wanted to read, even those in foreign languages.

You like this place, you decide. It’s filled with a quiet that allows breathing space, not simply an absence of noise, but a comforting stillness that isn’t easy to replicate. You might come here more often, make it part of a new routine you’re crafting for yourself.

Back in Seoul, you woke up at 6am like clockwork. You shower, eat when you can, go to work, overtime, and go home. Repeat. It’s to the point of exhaustion that the first time you slept in felt like your body was catching up on all the rest it’s been denied, and now it’s being given a space to breathe.

Reaching the end of the shelves, you’re subjected to the sight of broad shoulders and long black hair, standing still as the figure moves to return some books into their slots. They must work here. Should you inquire about how to make a library card? They already seem way friendlier than Wan Shi Tong.

“Excuse me miss?” They give no sign of having heard you. “Miss?”

When he turns around, you’re thinking of all possible ways to move out at this very instant. The boy, whom you had mistaken for a woman, looks at you with slightly widened eyes as if not having expected you to have spoken to him. While that isn’t reason enough to warrant your sudden thoughts of running away, his beauty surely is.

He’s hypnotizing, a beauty that Aphrodite must’ve blessed upon him, the kind that leaves a lasting impression. You’ll meet him once and never forget about him. His hair falls perfectly just above his shoulders, and a mole sits on his face like it was always designed to be there.

You’re embarrassed—if calling him miss wasn’t enough, you’re unsure if the staring did anything to help. Without another glance, you bow and mutter a quick apology before turning to walk away from where he’s stood.

“I’m sorry.” You say, for extra measure even when your back’s already turned from him.

Wan Shi Tong it is.

“Hello.” You speak quietly, and the boy once again looks up from his book. He looks like he’s studying for something.

“How can I help you?” He doesn’t have that false customer service voice, the one that’s overused and far from genuine. Instead, he speaks to you with a sort of passive tone—but it’s not too much that it sounds condescending.

“How do I make a library card here?”

He puts down his pen. “You need an address in Angok for that.”

“Ah, I do have one.” You smile, a little shy, yet relieved that your sudden intrusion of their village hasn’t spread to the entirety of the population yet.

“Did you move here?” He inquires, to which you nod your head in response. “Hm, alright. Hyunjin will help you make one. I’m Seungmin, by the way.”

“(Name).” You introduce yourself back, thanking him for his help as you turn around to only be greeted by Aphrodite’s son, though, you suppose you now know him as Hyunjin.

You can do this.

Hyunjin quickly makes his way behind the desk on the seat next to Seungmin’s so he can hand you a piece of paper you assume you have to fill out for the library card. Though, he still doesn’t say a word. He only points at the parts you need to fill in before going back to another one of his tasks behind the computer screen.

It’s hard not to look at him, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t feel anything when he looked back at you. Though, the feeling is overpowered by the embarrassment of possibly causing him any form of discomfort. You don’t want it to eat away at you until you’re avoiding the library.

You don’t want to avoid the library.

“By the way…” You start suddenly, keeping your voice down. “I’m sorry again for… earlier.”

Silence greets you, as he panics to grab the tiny camera for your library card. “And thank you for helping me right now.”

You seem to only be digging deeper and deeper into your own grave when he still doesn’t respond to you, simply stares as he bows his head slightly to acknowledge you. And it seems that awkwardness spreads like a virus when Seungmin’s head peeks from his book to witness the funny exchange before him. He looks like he’s trying his best to not laugh at whatever the hell is happening.

Then a shutter sounds as you’re filling up your paperwork, unaware he’d already taken your picture. You can only let out a nervous laugh to try and mask the silence that suddenly feels a little suffocating under the prying eyes of Seungmin.

“Here you go.” You hand over the piece of paper, and Hyunjin gives you a printed out library card in return. “Thank you.”

You suppose you can come back the next day to actually start reading. Meeting four new people and embarrassing yourself on top of everything is a little taxing, and you know the weather outside and the pretty cherry blossom trees will help put your mind away enough that you’ll feel better by tomorrow.

The bell rings as you leave, just as it did when you entered and you find yourself smiling at the breeze and the possibility of new friendships.

You told yourself to live a life you won’t regret.

You can do it.

There is excitement when you think of what will happen from now on. Time is all you have now.

As you walk outside, you map out where Chan had led you earlier to make it back to your rented home. If you were gonna come to the library on most days, you might as well have the path memorized until you can guide yourself there blindfolded.

You feel something fluffy just by your legs before you see it, eyes too focused ahead to only now realize you’re being followed by a long-haired Chihuahua. A chuckle escapes your mouth as you bend down to greet the dog. “Hello there, who are you?”

A bark follows, but not a threatening one.

“Come here.” He follows, little paws jumping up to rest on your bent knees with a wagging tail. Almost immediately, you coo at the sight, supplying him with all the head rubs he could possibly ask for.

“Where did you come from, hm? Why are you all alone?” The pitch of your voice is definitely higher, speaking to the dog with a tone similar to one you’d use when talking to a baby. “So cute.”

“I’ll get going now, okay? Go back home too!”

Four padded steps continue to follow you, and the culprit is exactly who you think it is.

“You can’t follow me around. You have to stay here!” Phony scolding, to try and get the dog to stop following you. You don’t want their owner to worry.

“Hey, stop following!” You laugh, starting to jog away from the chihuahua, but he refuses to listen. Instead, he starts running to keep up with you. “Stop it!”

Turns out, it’s hard to convince a dog to stop following you. Especially when he’s made his way into your own home, walking with you for the entirety of your path. The little dog doesn’t have a tag, no owner to contact, and it’s nearing night that you don’t feel safe letting him sleep outside in the inky dark. So, you invite the dog inside who walks around like he owns the place.

You sigh, though never one of indignation, as you sit down on the couch Chan had lended you, and the chihuahua quickly follows to lay himself on your lap. Curled up. Safe.

“What should I call you? Hm? You’re pretty stubborn.” You look down at the dog who’s looking back at you as if having understood anything that you’re saying. “Berry? No?”

It takes you a couple more tries before deciding on Kkami—when the chihuahua’s tail starts wagging aggressively and he attempts to lick your face at the mention.

“Okay, Kkami then. You like that? Hm?”

Your night routine doesn’t change much, there’s just an addition of a curled up Kkami sleeping beside you on your bed. But, you find that you don’t mind it one bit. It’s less lonely like this, and it’s nice to have some company.

four.

You return to the library’s stillness the next day after finishing up some chores—the laundry, the cleaning, everything. Washing your clothes was something unfamiliar to you, as you’d always just sent them to the laundry services near the place you stayed at. There was never time to do them yourself.

It’s a totally new experience when all you have is time now. You keep burning the food you make, but eat it the same. And hanging up your wet clothes outside took forever, but you manage. You just have to remind yourself there’s a book waiting for you in the public library.

The walk to the library is easier now, but the commotion you’d caused yesterday still echoes in your head. It engraves itself even as you make it to the door, hand hovering over the handle. But, there’s no point in delaying. You’ll be here most days so it’s best not to avoid anyone. So, without another thought, you open the door and step into the quiet of the library.

The bell rings as it always does.

“Welcome,” is what Seungmin says, just as he did yesterday. You greet him back, smiling politely as you make your way to the shelves. The room is almost empty. There’s only one other person in the library, a book with black hair on his own table, and he seems to be in his own world.

Hyunjin is also seated at a table, books and paper plastered on the wooden surface as he repairs torn pages. An uninterrupted routine he’s probably grown accustomed to.

“Hello.” You decide to greet the boy as you pass by the table he’s occupying. His hair is swept back today, and it looked like it smelt good.

His eyes light up when he sees you.

“You’re hello again.” He tilts his body so he can look at you, bowing a little. Though, his words come out croaked, and you’re unsure if you heard him right.

“Sorry?” Hyunjin doesn’t repeat himself. Instead, his face grimaces at how he had failed to utter the phrase he had practiced—hello, you’re here again.

But it isn’t his choice of words that surprises you, it’s that he spoke to you at all. His tone is soft, and completely unexpected after the silence you had received the day before. It’s the first words he ever tells you, and you find yourself smiling at the small progress.

A voice in your head tells you that you want to know him more.

So, after a few days of fleeting eye contact and small smiles from afar, you decide to come back to the library.

The afternoon air outside is beautiful, as it always has been when you walk outside, and there’s a mental checklist you go through in your head. Forgetting is so easy, so you try not to.

Buying Kkami dog food was first on the list of things you have to do on your way home from the library. The little chihuahua doesn’t seem to mind being left behind. In fact, Kkami loved his little space on the couch. Though, you still promise to be back as soon as possible, wanting to walk him outside while the sun is still up.

Hyunjin is seated at the same table as he did when he first talked to you, books and pages neatly plastered again when you walk into the library.

Today, you’ll try your second attempt at talking to him.

“Do you… repair all the books yourself?” You ask, looking down at the multitude of pages he’s tending to and the stack of books waiting to be repaired in a trolley parked at the side of his table.

“Yes.” He smiles upon answering, and it’s one that radiates pride in the work he does.

Your lips quaver slightly, trying to find words to say to him. You wonder if it’d be okay with him if you wanted to help out. The work looks interesting, and a little soothing. Would that make him uncomfortable?

Fiddling with the ends of your shirt, you stab your hesitance straight in the chest. “Can I try too?”

His mouth falls agape, and then he’s nodding his head, gesturing for you to take the seat adjacent to him. Hyunjin grabs an extra spatula, passing it to you before smiling shyly down at the books and pages.

“You take the spatula, and spread the glue evenly.” Hyunjin looks up at you before grabbing a page and his own spatula so you can mimic his gestures. “Then, you place the page at its original location.”

He closes up the book he’s working on, patting down at the spine so the glue sticks well. “That’s it.”

“Oh.” You look at his work with fascination, smiling as he sets the book aside. “You’re kind of like a doctor. It’s like you’re applying medicine to the books.”

He grins at your words, eyes averting from your eye contact as he shyly grins. You know he has pure love for what he does, and it warms your heart. It’s a sentiment you wish you had for your job back then.

“I think…” You fix your gaze to your hands that are propped on the table, intertwining your fingers together. “I’m in love.”

Hyunjin’s inability to look you in the eyes seems to falter the moment you speak. His mouth falls back into an ‘o’, and the tip of his ears are awfully red.

“Wait, sorry. What I mean is… I think I’m in love with the process of fixing up old things.” With slightly widened eyes, you gesture at the book he had just fixed cartoonishly, chewing on your lips a little embarrassedly.

The boy in front of you nods, fingers pausing over his task; you turn to look at him, and you’re relieved to see his smile returning.

“I see.” He chuckles, grabbing onto the pages that still need to be glued and grouping them together, tapping them lightly on the table so they align.

“Let me help you.” You reach out to the remaining pages, and Hyunjin looks at you with an expression you don’t quite recognize, but you know has no ill-intent. He always looks this way. Always natural, never forced.

As you quietly work on the task, Hyunjin can’t stop himself from looking at you from time to time. He thinks it’s to monitor your work, but does that excuse the way he stares at the small smile tugging on your lips?

“Has anyone told you how you resemble Aphrodite?”

“Me?” He asks, eyes darting you and the book he’s working on. You grin at him, nodding your head.

“Yes. Goddess of Beauty in Greek Mythology. You know her, right?”

“I do.” He smiles back easily, willing the blush that’s obviously creeping on his cheeks away.

“When I first met you, that character came to mind.” You mumble as you stare at the page in your hands, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to match it to its proper book. You pause, catching yourself before you can misplace the page, and Hyunjin looks up at the sudden silence.

“Which one was this again?” Sheepish. You think you’ve embarrassed yourself more times than not in this library.

You don’t notice Hyunjin leaving his seat, sauntering over to where you’re seated so he can peer at the page and at the books in front of you. “May I?”

His tone is kind, and it didn’t seem as if he were upset that you didn’t know where to put the page. On the contrary, he made you feel as if it was okay that you didn’t know. Quick to reassure.

“I don’t memorize all of these either. I only remember the names and places in the books, and I like drawing to keep an image of them in my head too.” He’s arranging the pages now, putting the corresponding paper atop the book they belong to. “Why don’t you try this one?” The way he says it is so full of expectation, leaning down to hand you a page and you can only smile up at him.

“I’ll give it a try.” You sputter out for words to say, taking the page from him gratefully.

Seungmin watches from a distance, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity as he observes his usually quiet friend speak more words than usual. Though, the observation makes his heartstrings contract.

It goes on like this for a while, silence engulfing the pair of you as you work to repair the books together. Hyunjin showed no signs of you being a bother to him, even reaching out to help most of the time—appreciative of your time. No sound follows, just the beating of your hearts and the rustling of paper.

Until a loud bang rumbles in the sky, interrupting the four of you in the room (even the freckled boy at the corner table who is at the library again today).

Your reaction is instantaneous, jumping back in surprise at the sudden interruption of silence, but a smile replaces the initial shock when you see the gentle pitter patter of rain from the windows.

Hyunjin slips himself out of his seat, rushing to close them so the books don’t get wet as Seungmin goes to help, all while you stare at the drizzle.

You’re reminded of the last day you stepped foot in the city.

“Oh!” You suddenly exclaim when the sound of the rain increases in volume. The burst of rain as the sky splits open reminds you of your laundry and how the initial heat they absorbed must’ve been washed off by the rain.

“I have to go.” You quickly excuse yourself from the boy who has just returned from closing the windows, smiling for the last time before rushing down the stairs to start heading home. Though, you falter in your step. You don’t have an umbrella with you. Should you just make a run for it? You think the jacket you’re wearing can help at least a little bit.

You sigh, about to step into the rain when a hand reaches for your shoulder. Warm and gentle, almost feather-like even. You spin around, only to be met with Hyunjin’s goddess-like features.

“Hyunjin?”

He clears his throat, pulling out his umbrella before handing it to you. “Use this. You’ll get sick.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I can just use my jacket!” Hyunjin doesn’t seem to budge at your rejection, simply smiling as he places the umbrella in your grasp.

“I think an umbrella will do a better job than your jacket.” You laugh a little, not knowing he was capable of teasing. It was cute. He was cute.

“Thank you! I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.” You don’t know why your heart is thumping so fast at the small gesture, but you reason it’s because you’re worried about your laundry. Though, a voice in your head is telling you that’s not quite the answer.

He disappears back into the library, and you shield yourself with his umbrella as you sprint back home to tend to your now wet clothes. The rain smelt acidic as you put away your clothes, setting them aside as the sun seems still so far away in the distance. You’ll hang them back outside when the heat returns.

“Did the thunder scare you?” You pick up Kkami in your arms, cradling him as you try to shield him away from the sudden loudness of thunder and lightning. “I’m sorry I couldn’t walk you out in the sun today.”

The rain is louder in your house, and it’s only when your own stomach grumbles do you remember you were supposed to buy Kkami dog food on your way back home.

Forgetting is so easy.

“I’ll go buy you some food, okay? You must be starving.” You rub the back of his ears, setting him down on the couch before grabbing the umbrella Hyunjin had lent you once again. Though, thankfully, the downpour stops just as quickly as it had started. You’re already inside the family-run convenience store near you when the sky clears out and the sun starts to peek behind the clouds again.

“What can I get you?” You turn to find a shorter man emerge from the back of the store, warm smile etched on his face as he pads his way to where you’re standing.

“I hope the rain wasn’t too hard on you.” He continues. His tone is kind as he waits for you to reply.

“Ah, it was okay.” Though initially caught off guard at the sudden presence, you return the smile gently. “I was wondering if you had any dog food?”

“We do!” He heads to a corner, and the way he grabs the bag of dog food punctuates his arms that you can only now see how big they are. His jawline is sharp too, noticing it the moment he turns that his side profile is visible to you.

He leans down to scoop up the bag in his arms, before heading back to you. “You’re the one who recently moved here, right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You hand him your payment before taking the bag in your arms, hugging it so the weight isn’t as heavy.

“Chan mentioned. I’m Changbin.” Changbin takes your payment, returning to you the change. “I hope we can be good friends.”

“(Name). It’s nice to meet you. I’ll… get going now!” You motion at the dog food in your hands, to tell him you still had a pup to feed at home before waving goodbye as you hurry back to your house.

There’s almost no rain now, the only sign that it had even drizzled was the acidic smell, the puddles that had formed on the concrete overtime, and the gentle trickle of water from one leaf onto the next.

Kkami is waiting for you at home. No one used to wait for you before.

five.

You come back to the library the next day, just like you said you would. This time, Kkami walks with you to make up for not being able to take him out under the sun yesterday. Though, you don’t expect the handwritten “temporarily closed” sign to be the first thing that greets you as you head for the door.

You place Hyunjin’s umbrella just by the handle, almost in an awkward manner as you continue to peer at the piece of paper taped on the door.

“They both went to Seoul for Seungmin’s test.” A voice behind you averts your attention to the same freckled boy from yesterday.

“Ohh…” You respond, nodding your head in understanding as you walk over to where he’s seated just outside the public library. “I was just gonna return Hyunjin’s umbrella.”

Felix seems surprised, but it only triggers his smile to grow wider than it already is.

“I’m Felix.” You blink slowly, shaking his hand when he stretches it out for you to take. When your hand meets his, he pulls you down to sit next to him. “And who’s this little boy?”

“This is Kkami.”

Felix is a nice guy, pulling Kkami up to cradle him in his arms. The first thing that catches your attention is his freckles—like constellations in the night, littering his face like stars do the sky. You love the stars, though, you don’t see much of them in the city because of the polluted air and the abundance of lights from the buildings that line up.

The boy resembles the very comfort you find in the cluster of stars, a calming quality in him as he smiles down at your dog.

But, just as much as he resembles the stars, he smiles like the sun. Perhaps it's the way his eyes form crescents and the way his lips curve that trigger the sight of the sun. But he’s blinding in the most calming way possible.

“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?” He asks, shots of espresso in the way he speaks. Deep and reverberating. How fitting the way his voice wakes you up like the sun.

“I think I’m just gonna walk Kkami around.”

“Do you mind if I walk with you a bit?” Felix puts your dog down, tilting his head to look at you that radiates so much friendliness. “I don’t really know what to do with the library closed.”

He offers like he’s already your friend.

You knew it was an exaggeration to call him a friend right away, but for you it was just that. Especially when he walks by your side, laughing and talking to you as if he’d known you forever.

“You know, it’s nice to hear Hyunjin talk more.” His lips curl into a lovely smile as he continues to accompany you and Kkami in your walk.

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyes trailing down to Kkami who’s padding ahead of the two of you.

“He doesn’t do too well with strangers, doesn’t even talk a lot with me. I think he’s only ever truly warmed up to Seungmin, so it’s nice to just hear him more.”

You blink in surprise at his words before lifting your hand to where it was staring at Kkami in favor of looking at Felix instead.

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say or how to respond to the sudden revelation he’s laying down on you, and he throws his head back in laughter at your speechlessness.

“Don’t worry, I just felt the need to tell you. You don’t have to say anything.”

It goes on like this more—Felix initiating conversation and talking about almost everything until he has to go home. You end your walk with an exchange of numbers and a promise of ice cream the next time you come to the library together.

When you get home, it’s already 6pm. Kkami falls asleep almost right away, and you’re left to do the little chores you have left for the day. You wonder what you’ll have for dinner.

You’re in the middle of preparing a meal when your phone buzzes where you left it.

Ring, ring.

Your brother never calls anymore. So when you receive a call, you weren’t expecting to find his caller ID on the screen. You thought it was gonna be Felix who forgot to tell you something.

“Hello?” You’re the one who speaks first.

You're a ball of nerves wondering why he’s calling you right now.

“Hey (Name). Are you doing okay?”

“Hey, is something wrong?”

“Hm? Can’t an older brother call his sister to check on her?” There’s a scuffle in the background of his end.

“You never call.” You say quietly, picking at the ends of your shirt as you stare at nothing in particular.

“Oh, hah. Well, the thing is… can you lend us some money? You can sell the ring mom gave you. Itt’s just… our son, all his friends are studying abroad every vacation, but he never went.”

Your brother sounds shameless in his request, as if your mother hadn’t given him everything when she passed. All you have left of her are pictures in your head and the ring she had gifted you. You’ve never worn it, but you kept her going-away present. It’s the only thing you have left of her, and it hurts that your brother even thought of selling it just so his son could go on a trip abroad.

This ring meant something to you. Something more than a trip to him.

“Is this your wife’s idea? Does she want me to sell the ring mom gave me?”

“That’s not it.” He sighs exasperatedly, and you know he’s running a hand down his face at how this conversation is going. “Don’t you feel bad that your nephew is losing confidence because he’s never been abroad before?”

“Hey…” A lump forms in your throat, the familiar hands of pain wrapping around your neck to strangle you into tears. “Do you even… know how I’m living right now?”

Your voice cracks, choking on your own words to know that your brother only calls when he needs something. He doesn’t care. He never has. A sob is brewing in your throat.

“I do! But…” He’s getting defensive now, voice raising so he can try to get his non-existent point across. “My family is short on money right now.”

Family. The word is unfamiliar. It left you the moment your mother passed, replacing itself with loneliness. With emptiness. The unfamiliarity makes your face scrunch in the way it does before a hideous sob leaves your mouth, but you will yourself to get yourself together. Just for another minute, while you’re still on the call with him.

“Am I not family?” You mumble almost incoherently.

You don’t think you can handle talking to him any longer, not when he treats you like a bank account he can solicit money from anytime. Not when the first call you receive from him in years is that of asking you to sell your mother’s ring, not even to ask if you were alright, how you were doing.

The strangers in Angok treat you far better than your own brother.

You hang up before he can say anything else.

He has already caused you unbearable pain, and the reminder of how alone you’ve been. You want the pain to go away, you’ve worked too hard only to let it come back in full force. And there is only one way you know that can take it all away, even just temporarily.

It’s how you find yourself at Minho’s small restaurant, two bottles of Soju empty, and a disoriented haze of the place around you.

Minho doesn’t make it a habit to stick his nose in anyone’s business, but when your wobbly legs attempt to grab a third bottle of Soju, he’s hurrying by your table to stop you. “I’ve just made up a non-existent rule that you can only have two bottles.”

He takes it away from you, and you immediately pout when he does, a whine brewing in your throat. You try to imitate the way Puss in Boots looks, when he widens his eyes to get what he wants, but to Minho—you just look absolutely ridiculous.

“I’ve never heard of that rule before.” You mumble dejectedly, staring at the Soju bottle that Minho’s whisking away and putting back.

“It exists now because you’re piss drunk, and I don’t know how you’ll be getting home.” He says, tone softer than it was when you had first walked in ordering your first bottle, as if not wanting to startle you.

“I’m not drunk!” You blink rapidly, abruptly getting up to which Minho sits you back down so you don’t topple over your own clumsy feet. He mumbles something about getting you water.

“Everything just looks funny right now.” Your words come out in a slur as you look at your surroundings with a curious eye. “But I’m not drunk.”

When he returns, you have your head rested on the table, cheek mushed against the surface as your eyes droop a little in sleepiness. Though, there’s an addition of someone new in his shop. Hyunjin looks at you confused, before he fixes his gaze on Minho as if asking him why you were moping around at one of his tables.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t even know who this is.” Minho says in mock surrender, though, it doesn’t take long before his features mimic that of a Cheshire Cat. “You’ll take her home safely, right?”

Minho quickly ushers the pair of you out, waking you up and pushing you in the direction of Hyunjin who holds out his arms in case your feet decide not to cooperate with you. He needs to close his shop.

“Are you okay?” His arms are still hovering around you, not quite touching you, but prepared to if you ever fall forward.

“Hyunjin? How did you come to find me from so far away?” Your eyebrows furrow together as you stare at the boy beside you, as if there was no way he was real and with you right now.

“I’ll walk you home, okay?”

“I’m a bit drunk. I’m a little bit drunk right now.” You mumble, head still hazy as your eyes blink blearily, feeling the need to inform him. Your legs feel extra wobbly.

“Right. Are you okay?” He pulls you back to his side when you stumble a little too far away, soft tone never changing. He looks at your puffy eyes in curiosity, frowning as he thinks of all the possibilities as to why you had been crying.

“Goodness.” You exclaim in your half-conscious state when you almost trip on something, immediately reaching to what’s nearest to you—Hyunjin’s arm.

“Hyunjinnieee…” You start to sway where you’re walking, clearing your throat as Hyunjin is left predicting what your next move is going to be (on top of wondering why your eyes are red and stingy).

Though, he most definitely doesn’t expect you to start singing.

“Why do you appear before my eyes whenever I’m drunk?” It’s loud, uncharacteristic of the you he’s met, and your arms are flailing around as if to act like a conductor in your own orchestra of sounds.

“You’re going home now, okay?” Your smile is loopy as you nod at his words, continuing to sing the same one line over and over again while skipping in your step.

Hyunjin is attentive to where you’re walking, scooping up a potted plant and setting it aside when you’re about to walk into it. “Careful.”

You tell him all sorts of stories as you head home—how you fell in love with the library, how you never thought you’d own a dog, how you’re glad you’re far away from the city.

He listens. To every single one of your stories, all while making sure you get home safely. He looks both sides before crossing the street, hand outstretched to an incoming car to slow it down as you carelessly walk across without so much as a glance.

“Hyunjin.” You suddenly stop in your tracks.

“Hm?” Hyunjin ushers you to keep moving, hand hovering on the small of your back as you start giggling in your dazed state.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay if I ask right now?”

“Sure.” He replies, arms dropping back to his sides.

“Do you think you can like me? I don’t think anyone likes me.”

A silence settles between the two of you right after you get the question out. Hyunjin pauses in his actions, staring at you as you keep marching forward to where you live.

He allows himself to ponder over your sudden question. He couldn’t quite explain how he felt about you, but he knows it’s good. He has surprised himself time and time again for willingly continuing conversation with a stranger, but Seungmin has stressed it was good for him.

You emit a type of radiance, one of comfort. Maybe it was the way you smile at him, so softly when people look at him strangely for not being able to speak to them right away. He has only spoken to you once, but he knows he wants to talk to you more.

He wants to get to know you more.

He gives you a fond smile as he catches up with you once more. Hyunjin doesn’t know the connotation behind your question, and he doesn’t know what premise his answer falls under either.

Still, he says, “I already do.”

“Oh, we’re here!” You yell out and immediately quiet down when you realize everyone around you must be asleep right now. “Sorry.” Now in a whisper as you look around sheepishly.

“Can you get in safely?” He questions, worry still eminent in the way he speaks, even as you nod your head to answer his question.

“Don’t worry about me. Bye bye!” When you slip into your home, you immediately fall face first on your mattress and fall asleep. Drinking can be so draining when the world around you spins.

You don’t think about the splitting headache waiting for you the next day.

six.

You're fucked.

This much is clear as you finally finish vomiting in your toilet, images from the night before flashing in your mind— the giggling, the stumbling, and poor Hyunjin. You can still hear his voice in your head, telling you to get in safely. You can still feel the way his hand hovered over your back to make sure you don’t fall over.

Well, shit. This is way beyond anything you’ve ever done, moving up to the number one spot of the list you liked to label ‘embarrassment’. Calling Hyunjin miss and forgetting which pages go to which book moves down a spot at the sudden entry of your drunk ass.

“Kkami, what do I do?” You groan, head falling back against the wall of your bathroom as you stare at the ceiling. Will a letter of apology suffice for the way he had to take you home last night despite his exhaustion of driving to the city?

“This is so embarrassing.” Kkami consoles you by curling up by your side, paw resting on your thigh before his whole head drops to lay atop your leg.

Hyunjin is so pretty too. He’s enchanting in the way he speaks, and the way his eyes sparkle naturally when he does the things he loves. He’s unstinting with his kindness too, never losing patience even as you took a long time to repair the books you had offered to help with. You don’t even know if you helped much, but he never made a move to stop you even as time passed and you were making little progress.

It’s easy to fall into your embarrassment, which is how you find yourself with a notebook in hand, thinking of how the hell you were going to apologize to him. You don’t think you have it in you to go up to him face-to-face and have to recall the events of the night.

You might as well write something.

“About what happened last night…” You look at your notebook with critical eyes, immediately scratching it out to think of a better way to start your note.

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know how to say this.”

The second candidate is just as bad as the first one.

With your chin on the palm of your hands, you rack your brain for every possible way to say sorry. It’s not like apologizing was anything new to you, it’s even become a habit in your work life for the past few years. Always doing something wrong. Always apologizing. Even if it was never your fault to begin with. Though, this time, you want it to be genuine. You don’t want to imitate the phony way you’ve said sorry before.

Your eyes are glazed as you stare at the piece of paper.

Hyunjin has a routine fixed, so you make it a point to reach the library at noon when he’s busy pushing a trolley full of books to return them to where they belong on the bookshelves. He only hears the bell ring when you walk into the library, like you always do.

Peering over the shelves, he finds himself smiling to himself when you wander inside the library. He peels his gaze away for a few seconds to return a few books to their spots, though, apparently that’s also the time it takes for him to hear the bell ringing again, to indicate that you had left just as quickly as you had walked in.

Tilting his head, Hyunjin backs away from his work to check his desk where a small note sits.

“I’m sorry…” with a small drawing underneath.

It looks like the work of a child, but Hyunjin could tell instantly that it was a portrait of you and him from the night before. It prompts a smile on his face, eyes flicking from the note to the door. He keeps the piece of paper in his drawer to think about later.

Hyunjin has never had the courage to strike while the iron was hot, but he finds himself walking out the public library in hopes of catching you before you’ve left.

He finds you seated on the bench outside, eyes trained on the screen of your phone with your legs outstretched.

“Excuse me.”

You almost drop your phone when you hear him, immediately standing up to greet him. He looks good, as he always does. His complexion shines even prettier under the sun. The natural lighting highlights his hair in that it looks more dark brown than black. And his smile. It’s a little less shy now, and more open.

“Thank you for the note… and the drawing.”

He sounds like an angel too. You’ve always found his voice pretty, in a different way from Felix’s deep ocean voice. His was gentle, soft, and way nicer than you remember it being.

You try to think of the right words to say, sputtering over whether you should bring back what had happened last night or simply accept his thanks.

Taking a deep breath, you nod your head. “You’re welcome.”

Hyunjin has his hands clasped together in front of him as you speak, rocking himself back and forth on the heel and soles of his feet.

“You must’ve come in safely, then.” You laugh a little at what he says, and it only makes his smile brighter.

“Yeah. I’m sorry again.” It makes you cringe when you think of your behavior, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind at all when he puts his hand up as a motion for you to stop apologizing.

“Not at all. I’m just glad to know you’re okay.”

The statement has your cheeks warming up, staring at him and the bag of ice cream you had initially brought for you and Felix. He had texted you earlier saying he couldn’t make it, and promised that he’d be the one to buy the ice cream next time.

Ice cream can be a good peace offering.

Grabbing the bag, you lift it up and smile coyly at the boy. “Do you want some ice cream?”

Hyunjin’s eyes form into crescents at your offer, lips curling up into an easy smile as he makes his way to sit adjacent to you. It feels nice like this, sitting outside in the breeze with only the two of you as you hand him the ice cream flavor of his liking, the tree just behind you doing a great job at shielding you enough that the sun’s heat isn’t too hot, but is still there.

“You know, I prefer cone ice creams over popsicles.” You mention suddenly, looking down at your cone and peering at the popsicle he had chosen for himself. He hums at the information, eyes softening when you ask him the same thing, like his opinions matter to you. Like you want to get to know him too. “What about you?”

“I’m not a big…” He catches himself before he can continue. Hyunjin isn’t the biggest fan of ice cream, but he finds himself unable to reject your offer. It’s an opportunity to sit in this moment with you.

He’d eat ice cream over and over again if it meant being able to stay in this moment.

“Well, ice cream does taste good, but the apple flavor…” He finds that he has a hard time answering your question, pausing to ponder over his words. It has you giggling. He looks cute thinking his options over.

“You don’t have to answer me.”

“But this one is good.” He lifts the popsicle in his hand, taking a bite out of it to show that he was being truthful with his words.

You laugh this time.

“You know, I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing when I first got here. But, I found myself falling in love with the library.” Hyunjin looks at you when you speak, unlike his previous inability to maintain eye contact with you.

“You’ve actually told me that already.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “I have? When?”

“Back then.” He’s gesturing something with his hands, and you continue to stare at him to try and decipher what he was acting out. Though, it’s pretty quick to figure out once he pretends to drink out of a shot glass, and your eyes widen at the realization of when he was referring to.

“Back then?” You repeat, and he chuckles at the way you roll your head back in embarrassment.

He hums in confirmation.

“What else did I say? When I… you know…” You trail off, looking at him for answers, but not quite wanting to repeat the words. He takes the hint well.

He laughs, before shaking his head. “It wasn’t so much talking, but rather singing.”

“I sang?” You stare at him dumbfounded as you try and recall what exactly happened. “I actually sang?” You laugh out loud this time, and you fail to notice the way his entire face lights up at the sound.

“What did I sing?” You look shocked and confused, yet there’s a smile of amusement on your features when Hyunjin actually starts singing the melody you had the night before.

“Why…” He clears his throat. “Why do you appear before my eyes whenever I’m drunk?”

“Wait, stop! Oh my god. Please stop.” You reach forward, resting a hand on the table and leaning forward to get him to stop singing.

“Can you please forget about that entire night?” You bring your hands together almost begging, and he can only laugh in amusement at the way you’re reacting.

“I don’t really think about it that often—“

“You even sang the song!” You interrupt.

“That’s because you asked.” He lifts a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck, bashfully smiling.

“This is so embarrassing.” You hang your head, a wince of an apology soliciting itself from your throat as you swing your feet back and forth to physically cringe at yourself.

Seungmin arrives at that very moment, his own complaints spilling out and drowning yours out. He pauses when he finds Hyunjin outside with you, squinting his eyes suspiciously before letting it go in favor of complaining once again.

“They’re so annoying! They think they’re so high and mighty.” He drops at the seat next to Hyunjin, and you offer him the only ice cream you have left in your bag. You have no idea what he’s talking about, but it seems Hyunjin knows all about it.

“They won’t do it?” Hyunjin asks, and Seungmin all but sighs as he starts peeling the wrapper off the ice cream.

“I mean, I guess it’s not easy to come down here to listen to old people talk.” Seungmin takes an annoyed bite, throwing his head back. “They might make me write the article, too. And I have to do it tomorrow. Can’t someone else do it?”

An idea forms in his head.

Hyunjin looks at you gingerly, and Seungmin visibly perks up when he follows the boy’s line of sight. You clear your throat, suddenly breaking eye contact and looking anywhere but the two boys.

“Will you please do it?” He grins wickedly, whole body tilted to face you as he reaches out to grab your attention.

“Well, you see…” You mumble. “I only proofread when I was working at a publishing company.” You point out sheepishly between each bite at your ice cream, doing your best to not look at Seungmin.

“The fact that you proofread means you’re familiar with writing.”

"Still…” You trail off with your words, not knowing how to defend yourself any further when Seungmin is clasping his hands and begging you to help them do the work. “I’m just not very confident.”

“(Name).” Hyunjin calls, and you look at him in hopes that he has a plan in mind to save you from Seungmin’s request.

“Why do you appear before my eyes…”

Your mouth drops at his words.

“What did you say?” Seungmin questions, and you look back at the boy to subtly shake your head, as if trying to get him to stop. Instead, he smiles a little mischievously.

“Whenever I’m…” You wince, immediately putting a hand up to stop him. Fortunately for Hyunjin, you’ve been begging him to forget about the night before, so you feel as though you owe him something.

With your head hung lightly and a look of defeat on your face, you finally agree to Seungmin’s request.

seven.

When you arrive, Hyunjin is already waiting for you with a camera slung around his neck. He looks so pretty with his hair falling messily over his shoulder. He’s wearing a white shirt and some jeans, though, what catches your eye the most is the huge knitted sweater he’s wearing.

“Hello, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.”

You fail to notice his own reaction, too busy admiring his beauty to realize he’s doing the same. Opposite you, Hyunjin’s jaw-dropping reaction to what you’re wearing is staring at your face with a small smile playing on his lips. He’s fiddling with his camera now, eyes traveling from the clip you’re wearing on your hair to the cherry lip balm you’d applied just before leaving.

What colors was he using painting you in his head? Pastel hues with a tinge of vibrancy.

“Shall we go then?” Suddenly, he can’t look at you, eyes trained just behind you as he asks.

“Okay.”

It doesn’t feel like a far walk with Hyunjin next to you. In fact, it barely takes 15 minutes before you reach the house of the person you’re supposed to be interviewing.

The outside of her home is beautiful, and an older woman you don’t recognize greets you and helps you both inside. Her home is surrounded by a wide expanse of grass, the view of the sea beautiful from a distance. The house itself is built with wood, and the row of vegetable plants lining up behind the low-standing table outside provides a breath of fresh air.

“Good afternoon. We’re here for an interview.” You inform politely, and she nods her head as if finally remembering why she’s letting two strangers into her home.

“Sit down, sit down.” Her tone is welcoming as she urges you to sit down, allowing Hyunjin to set up the camera on the camera stand he brought with him. Never imposing as she asks if you need anything else.

“You’re dressed so nicely.” You smile, the full view of her garden behind her accentuating her features. You’re sure she was quite the heartbreaker when she was younger.

“Just relax, and imagine you’re having a chat with your daughter.”

The interview goes smoothly. You ask her of things big and small—her age, her family, her history with Angok, anything you can think of. Seungmin didn’t give you any specifics to ask, just that you would write about her life. In this way, you’d be getting to know her.

She speaks of her children and grandchildren with so much love, that it almost makes you envious that you don’t have a grandmother figure to lean on. You’re all you really have left.

When you look over at Hyunjin, he gives you a toothless grin, as if to assure you you’re doing a great job. It lasts around an hour, and you’re just about ready to go home when she stops you and Hyunjin from fixing up.

“Oh, goodness.” She doesn’t need to ask for Hyunjin to hurry his way to her, grabbing the huge platter of food she grabbed from inside her house, settling it where you had sat earlier.

“I had no idea it was time for food. You guys must be hungry. Come on, let’s eat.”

“Thank you for the food.” You both say, and she only smiles as she admires the young couple in front of her.

The food is cooked with care, having just the right amount of seasoning. There’s a variety of vegetables which you assume to have been freshly picked from the garden she has. Hyunjin seems to mirror your thoughts, immediately praising her for the food.

“The food is delicious.”

“Really?” She finds pleasure in the way you’re enjoying your food. Perhaps, she was trying to catch a glimpse of her children in the two of you.

“Are you two married?” You and Hyunjin pause from eating, staring at each other before looking back at the older woman.

“No, we’re not.” You answer for him, laughing a little at the accusation she had just made. “We’re not married.”

“Oh, too bad. You guys would make a great couple if you were to marry.” She says light-heartedly, staring directly at the boy who’s refusing to make any eye contact at the sudden topic change. Hyunjin nearly chokes on the lettuce he’s eating, coughing a little as he mutters a string of apologies. She only smiles knowingly, offering up some water to the poor boy.

He swallows down his food, putting on a cordial smile directed at the old woman.

The rest of the time plays out without any more questions as to what the relationship is between the two of you, which Hyunjin is more than grateful for. He’s afraid of tripping over his own feet when you’re mentioned as his girlfriend one more time, as if choking on his food wasn’t enough already.

At some point, while you’d been talking, the sun had started to set which prompts the older woman to send in a flurry of farewells as she ushers the pair of you to get home safely.

Looking at you now, while the orange hues of the sun falls on your face, Hyunjin concludes that he feels something for you, evident in the way his heart starts beating a little faster and his palms start to sweat when you’re around. The awkward atmosphere between the two of you is long gone, and he finds himself hearing the gentle undertone of your voice in his head before he falls asleep.

He’s even more floored after today, after having seen first hand how you treat people with so much kindness—even Seungmin, who’s the number one enemy on everyone’s list in this small village. He admires the way you smile at strangers, and your eloquence in conversations even with the little words you say.

It’s only been a while of knowing you, yet he finds himself thinking about you all the time. From the first day you met that muggy afternoon, to how you helped him with repairing the books, even that drunken night where you had sang for him, and the morning after when you shared ice cream with him. He finds himself repeating these moments with you over and over in his head, like sifted sand, until they’re properly engraved in his mind.

“You know… all I really did today was listen to her stories, but my heart feels at ease because of it.”

Hyunjin looks at you as you walk side by side each other, the sunset’s glow falling on everything around you.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

When the wind blows, leaves from the trees lined up near you float around you. From time to time, you’d hear the crunch of crushed leaves as you step on them. All the while, Hyunjin is walking close to you, watching you and listening to you.

“Thank you for working with me on this.” Hyunjin suddenly says, words softer than expected as he locks eyes with you. He wants you to know he’s genuine in his gratitude.

“I hope you’ll like my writing once you get to read it.” You smile nervously, keeping eye contact with him, and you don’t know how pivotal this moment is for the boy. How your kindness is pulling him deeper and deeper into you, everything about you—your sweet smile and your bright eyes.

“I will.”

Talking to you feels easy and natural.

“You will?” A small smile creeps onto your face at his response, and he nods his head in confirmation.

Silence passes.

“I hope we can keep working on this together.” Hyunjin surprises himself with how straightforward he can be with you, with how easy it is to tell you he wants to keep spending time with you.

“If you buy me dinner tomorrow, I’ll think about it.”

The whole world stops in this pocket of time. While everyone goes about their evening, Hyunjin is stuck on your words. Your eyes glisten with a certain type of glow no one can replicate, and he thinks he’ll always remember your face right now, smiling fondly at him, lit by the setting sun.

“Okay. Dinner tomorrow.”

Heat continuously rises to his face the more you look at him, but Hyunjin supposes he can blame it on the sun for now.

eight.

It is exactly 6:36 in the evening when you meet Hyunjin at the library to grab dinner with him.

When the bell rings, he can’t help the smile on his face when he realizes it’s you that’s walking into the library. He never used to smile this much before. But it can’t be helped, not when it’s you.

“Hello.” He’s the one who speaks first.

“Hi.” You reply, mimicking the smile on his face. His eyes are glossy when you meet them.

“Shall we go to dinner?” He lets out a small breath, hovering just in front of you.

Hyunjin looks like a bundle of nerves. You don’t know that, in his head, this feels akin to a first date. One he hasn’t gone on in a long time. So, on the outside, he’s perfectly composed, eyes dropping on the wooden ground. On the inside, however, he’s sweating and twisting and turning and screaming that he’s about to have dinner with you.

“What? Are you buying dinner?” Seungmin’s nosy ears perks up at the mention of dinner, immediately moving from his place behind the desk to join the two of you. “I was just starting to get hungry. Come on, let’s go.”

While Hyunjin wants to be upset at the sudden third wheeling of Kim Seungmin, he finds that he isn’t.

As funny as it sounds, he’s kind of grateful for the sudden interruption. He’s too afraid that if you were to have dinner together, alone, and his fried brain was convincing him it was a first date—his feelings would become too real. He knows he likes you, but he doesn’t want to act on it too soon. He doesn’t want to scare you off, doesn’t want to scare himself off.

Hyunjin has way too much of a feeble heart, that even walking beside you right now, with your hands slightly brushing against the other, he can already hear his heart beating in his ears.

He has always thought of himself as patient, so he doesn’t understand why there’s a growing irritation at the back of his head for the inability to hold your hand in his. It’s even more confusing as he knows he’s never been the type to crave for skinship, never eager for physical touch. So, what’s changed?

“Yah, Lee Minho!” Seungmin’s voice is loud as he walks into the restaurant, though, a much younger boy greets him.

“Innie, where’s Minho?” Jeongin gestures at the kitchen, immediately setting off to find the older boy at the request of Seungmin.

You hide behind Hyunjin the moment Minho appears from the kitchen. You’re sure the memories from that night are still fresh in his mind, and he’d been the first to witness your drunken, hazy state. When he sees you, his lips tug into a lazy smirk, but he chooses not to say anything.

“We went to interview that old lady yesterday.” Hyunjin feels the need to inform Seungmin who’s smiling, pleased with his ability to coerce you into helping them out.

Everyone finally settles down into their seats, Hyunjin cooking the meat silently as conversation starts. Jeongin joins you not long after, asking if it was alright. Your food sizzles behind the chatter around your table.

“What interview?” Jeongin asks.

“A writer didn’t show up, so (Name) did the interview instead.” Seungmin informs the table, and Jeongin nods in pretense of understanding the situation.

“How did you know how to do that? Where did you work in Seoul?” Minho’s the one to ask this time as he refills your meat, setting down a plate of raw pork just by Hyunjin’s arm.

“She worked at a publishing company.” Seungmin says with a mouth full of food.

“I see. Then you must’ve had a lot of boyfriends.”

You tilt your head at Jeongin’s sudden proposition, like he’s trying to fit two completely different puzzle pieces. There’s absolutely no correlation between working at a publishing company and having multiple boyfriends. It seems Seungmin is wondering the same thing, cogs turning in his brain at Jeongin’s stupid question.

“How are those two related?” He deadpans.

“I’ve always found well-read girls charming and attractive.” Jeongin simply shrugs, shoving down another piece of cut-up meat in his mouth before chewing. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

You fail to notice the way Hyunjin suddenly leans closer to the table, suddenly finding interest in the topic when he had been absent for most of the conversation.

“Oh, I used to have one. But we broke up.” You laugh a little nervously, quietly thanking Hyunjin who sets a few cooked pieces of pork on your plate so you don’t run out while eating.

“Why? How long did it last?”

Jeongin and Seungmin seem to have a lot of questions, and you can see Hyunjin sending them a side eye from your peripheral vision at their rather invasive question.

“Quite a long—“

Hyunjin concludes he doesn’t need to know anything about your ex-boyfriend. He smoothly interrupts the conversation by stuffing food in Seungmin’s mouth. “This is about to burn, you should eat it.”

He glares at the boy viciously, but even the scowl on Seungmin’s face couldn't crack Hyunjin’s persistence in cutting the conversation short. He doesn’t know if it's jealousy, never having felt it before, but he knows he doesn’t want the image of you kissing another boy imprinted in his mind.

Thankfully, Jeongin moves on to another topic, speaking about how he’s in the last year of college and how much he hates it. All the while, you and Hyunjin share small smiles from across the table.

You both let Jeongin and Seungmin carry the conversation. You were never good at keeping the flow of one going anyways. So, instead, you play the listening role. The one you’ve always been good at.

Throughout dinner, Hyunjin does little things for you. He refills your empty glass of water, he puts meat on your plate so you don’t run out, and he constantly checks up on you—to see whether you were overwhelmed with the loudness of the two boys.

He does so by looking at you with an endearing smile, light dimples on his cheeks as he chuckles when you smile back at him. It’s a quiet conversation between the two of you, even if it’s just communication between smiles. Hyunjin is like a breath of fresh air from the crackling volume surrounding you.

He offers to walk you home after the four of you finish up with dinner, telling you that he couldn’t allow himself to simply let you walk alone in the dark. You respond with the crinkling of your eyes and a soft ‘thank you’.

Being with Hyunjin, alone, is quite possibly the purest form of comfort you will ever know. He’s tender and gentle and attentive, like he knows what it’s like to have the peace you value being breached constantly. Though, lately, you find that the quiet you crave for isn’t necessarily complete silence. It’s the comfortable and uninterrupted calm you feel when you’re with Hyunjin—whether at the library or walking home together from dinner. When he’s with you, warmth always makes an appearance.

There is no demand to make conversation.

You let your gaze veer off to the sea and how the waves crash along the shore. There's a breeze softly wafting through your hair, and you smile at just being able to view the ocean anytime you want. A pleasure you’ve always been denied off back in the city.

As your simple house comes into view, your shoulders fall at knowing he would have to leave now. You stop in your tracks, biting at your lips, and Hyunjin waits for you to say something. Never demanding. Always patient.

“Do you wanna meet my dog?”

His mouth opens in response, before a toothless smile forms in his features. “I’d like that.”

Kkami’s wiggling body with his wagging tail is the first to greet you when you open the door. You crouch down, arms open so he can jump onto you just the way he likes. “I’m back. I’m sorry to keep you waiting all this time.”

“Come in, come in.” You urge Hyunjin to get in, resuming your standing position so you can close the door behind him. “You can keep your shoes on if you’d like.”

He refuses, immediately taking them off before crouching down to greet the long-haired Chihuahua. They get along right away, Kkami constantly tapping his paw on Hyunjin’s knees to get his attention.

“I’ll get you something to drink.” You disappear into the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water before hurriedly returning.

His hand brushes against yours when he reaches to take the glass from you, and you hate how fumbly the simple gesture gets you. It makes you feel like you’re back in high school, helplessly crushing on the boy who’s way out of your league.

“I think he likes you more than me now.” You crouch back down, looking at the way Kkami nudges his head on the side of Hyunjin’s thigh.

“I think he’s just a friendly dog.” He reassures you, though, he can’t help but feel a little pride that your dog immediately warms up to him. He’s always wanted a dog too.

When Kkami starts to give his attention back to you, Hyunjin calls him back. “Come here. There’s food here, can’t you see?”

His false bribery has you laughing.

“Now you’re just lying to my dog.”

He’s unfazed, continuing to lie to your poor dog about the invisible food he has in hand. “I have food for you, come here.”

“Wow, my dog left me and chose you because of your fake food.” You pout when Kkami successfully sits himself on Hyunjin’s lap, barking in glee when the boy rubs the back of his ears.

He sets the empty glass on a table nearby, careful not to drop it with Kkami still on him, gaze falling on the ring around your finger when you take it so it’s safe in your kitchen sink.

“Your ring is really pretty.” His compliment is genuine, and you can’t help but smile as you look down at the metal band your mother had given you, the one you started wearing since your brother called.

“My mom gave it to me. It has the number 220 engraved on it, apparently for bravery.”

“Suits you very well then.”

“I was really afraid when I first moved here, you know. I had no idea what I was doing. I thought I’d fallen into defeat.”

You recall your uncertainty when you had left everything you’d ever known in the city, following the heartbeat in the town of Angok.

“Men are not created with defeat in mind. We may fall at times, but we’re never defeated.”

“That’s a good line.”

“I stole it from a book.” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Wanna know something cool?”

You nodded your head, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor in front of him.

“Your ring has the number 220, right? Well, back in college, I used to play sports. My jersey number was 284.” You don’t know where he’s going with this, but you listen anyway.

“They’re both amicable numbers. The sum of factors of 220 is 284, and the sum of the facts of 284 is 220.” He says with a smile, hands smoothing down your chihuahua’s fur. “These numbers are linked together by some fate, like your ring and my jersey.”

Hyunjin is a quiet surprise, sputtering about amicable numbers and mathematics to you. It’s almost endearing, how he had found something between the two of you and connected it to something he knows.

Your ring and his jersey. Amicable numbers.

There is so much to Hyunjin, so much you still don’t know and want to learn.

“That is pretty cool.” You think back about it in your head, how rare these numbers are, and how they found themselves to the both of you. Maybe knowing Hyunjin has always been written in the stars, and maybe you’ll know him in every lifetime after this one.

At the same time, Hyunjin is grinning to himself. He’d always thought love was far off, but it looks like it’s been in front of him this whole time, smiling back at him. He knows what he’s feeling, this overwhelming warmth, and he knows it’s real now more than ever.

In this moment, there is nothing else but you, him and Kkami and the knowledge that he’s falling in love with you. Right here, right now, all he sees are your eyes and your smile and the way your hands are brushing as you lean down to scratch Kkami’s ears.

Hyunjin feels like his heart is about to burst, and he has to clear his throat and put Kkami down in some poor excuse of needing to get home. He has to before he does something he might regret. The tides of the waves are pulling at him to make a move on you, and he’s afraid he might never make it to shore at the sheer overwhelmingness of his feelings for you. Could it be possible that you made a move instead?

“I think I have to get going now.” He whispers, and you nod your head, moving to stand up when he does. “Thanks for coming to meet Kkami. You should say goodbye to Hyunjin. Say thank you for visiting! Goodbye!”

You move Kkami’s paw to imitate waving.

“Goodbye!” His smile is wide as he bends down to wave back at your dog, taking small steps backwards until he’s by your door.

“I’ll write up a story about the lady we interviewed and send it to you.” You mention, fumbling with the knob to open it for him.

“Sure.” When you don’t make a move to say anything else, he turns his back to start walking away.

“By the way…” Hyunjin immediately turns back around, both hopeful and hesitant at what you have to say to him. His eyes hold yours, waiting for you to continue. “Are you free—“

“Good evening!” Chan’s booming voice interrupts what you were able to say. “Sorry it took me so long. I’m here to help you with the water leakage?”

You’d almost forgotten. You had called Chan earlier this morning to ask if he could help you fix up the issue with your sink.

“No, it’s okay. Hi, good evening.”

“Weren’t you about to say something?” He asks, and you suddenly feel too shy to ask if he wanted to hangout with you soon. The Little Mermaid live action was coming out soon, and you’d been excited to check it out. You thought, maybe it would be fun to watch it with him.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” An unidentifiable emotion flickers in Hyunjin’s features when you suddenly double back on what you were supposed to say—of dejection? You can’t say for sure, especially when a small smile returns to his face and he’s waving goodbye at you one last time.

“Chan, come in.” In your head, you’re still bruising yourself over cowardly backing down from asking Hyunjin to eat dinner with you tomorrow, hopefully with just you two this time.

Your water leakage problem doesn’t take too many steps, but it does need a few tools that only Chan has. When he finishes, you tell him to sit down a little, finding something to offer him for fixing up what had been broken under your sink.

“What’s going on between you and Hyunjin?” It catches you off guard, the unfiltered way he suddenly asks the question with obvious teasing dripping down his tone.

“Nothing.” You say too quickly, shaking your head.

“I was kidding. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Aren’t you gonna pry?” You’re not used to anyone not prying. Back in the city, you barely could keep anything a secret. Always forced. Always fidgety with the way they ask you questions, only to use that information against you later.

“No. As long as you’re happy, and both of you don’t get yourself hurt.”

His considerateness is breathtaking, and it almost has you tearing up the way he treats you better than your own brother. Chan doesn’t need to hug you for you to feel safe, he just has to smile and look at you with his eyes round of warmth.

He feels familiar, like… family. You think this is what family should feel like.

“Thank you, Chan.” You breathe, and he breathes with you. He reminds you he’s only one call away, and your heart feels like it’s being stripped until it’s bare.

This is family. Chan is family.

And Hyunjin quite possibly is love.

nine.

The epiphany you had posed to yourself the night before proved to be almost as difficult as the one you had when you had left the city. Inevitable, but that doesn’t mean it scared you less. Uncertainties often make you feel vulnerable, and what is love but a thread of uncertainties waiting to be untangled?

You can’t focus in your little rented space, the four corners tend to look smaller and smaller when you’ve trapped yourself long enough in your head. It’s terrifying, to feel the walls closing in on you. So, you might as well take Kkami out on a walk where you aren’t encased in liminal space.

The breeze outside is the kind that takes all the weight off your chest, leaving you to start anew in your train of thoughts. When you try to find the beginning of when you had started to see Hyunjin differently, you lose the thread and find yourself empty-handed. No one has told you how difficult it is to tend to the knotted spool of love.

Was it in his kindness which he showed in the smallest ways, barely noticeable but there when you look close enough? He doesn’t smile in large amplified ways, but the way he looks at you with intention leaves such an impact.

Everything he does—on purpose and by choice and intentionally. From the way he constantly checks on you, and the umbrella he had offered, and the patience that never seems to run thin. He smiles and talks to you by choice, and he gets to know your dog intentionally. You’re enamored with the entirety of Hyunjin, with the way he’s passionate about his job, and the gentle way in which he helps those around him whether that’s driving Seungmin to Seoul or treating Jeongin to dinner. He’s beautiful as he listens, as he shows that he will always listen.

It’s a lot to handle, and it’s a huge epiphany to admit to yourself, so you walk without destination. Nature and the beauties of Angok, you find, can take your mind off of anything. Just like that day you had escaped the city.

There are birds singing from the trees, accompanying the wind with their tunes as they whistle. The breeze carries it everywhere, the sound of their whistling, the crashing of the waves bathing the seashore. Had you really existed in a time before you’d known the salt of the ocean breeze and the sun shining the entire village with a glow?

Everything is beautiful here. There’s nothing that isn’t with the flurry of color bursting in the town of Angok, with the gentle chatter of generations of people who live there, with Hyunjin’s back walking a little ahead of you.

“Hyunjin?”

Maybe you don’t really care about the multitude of ways you can unravel the knotted spool. Maybe the only thing that matters is this moment with him, and every other moment with him.

He turns around immediately at the recognition of your voice, lifting a hand up to wave at you before greeting Kkami. You shoot him a smile, speeding up a little to catch up with him as he stands planted on his spot. Kkami runs faster than you do, already barking by Hyunjin’s feet and jumping up to get the boy’s attention.

There is no overthinking in the way he smiles back at you so easily. No thread to think about.

“Hi.” His gaze never falters from yours, even as noises stir around from a distance.

“Hello. I was just walking Kkami.”

“If we’re going the same way, why don’t we walk together?” He offers.

“Okay.”

A heartbeat passes.

“By the way, what are you doing out here? You know… instead of being in the library.” You ask inquisitively, not used to seeing him outside so early in the day.

“Seungmin’s been a bit anxious over the next part of his exams, so I went to buy him some food. It always calms him down.”

It’s only then you realize the bag of food he’s holding, and the sight only melts your heart further.

“You’re a really good friend.”

“I just do good upon others as I wish the same for myself.” How lovely, how he wants to make the world so painfully beautiful that people want to live in it.

“Well, the world isn't as cold and gloomy because of you.” You smile, and Hyunjin can’t help the way his words jumble up in his mouth at the kindness you utter. He’s wordless, all tangled in longing and flustered-ness.

You make him feel like he can hold sunlight in his hands.

“I’ll be going this way now.” A point in the opposite, and Hyunjin can only frown in disappointment of your time cut short.

“Take care.” He says, standing his ground as he watches you and Kkami start to walk away from him.

Static is zipping through the air, louder than ever. Hyunjin’s fiddling with the straps of his pants, contemplating and contemplating and contemplating—

“(Name)!” The sound of your name on Hyunjin’s lips makes your head instantly turn back.

“Yes?”

Hyunjin’s fumbling with everything he’s ever known, eyes falling to his own hands before back to yours.

“By any chance, are you going to have dinner—“ Hyunjin pauses. No, that doesn’t sound right. “I mean, are you busy tonight?”

“I’m not.”

A knowing smile on both your faces.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

The thread is long gone.

ten.

Hyunjin has a profound ability of surprising you every time. He’s almost unpredictable in his kindness—showing up when you’re drunk, refilling your plate with meat, and now handing you a bag of dog toys for Kkami.

“I thought he might like this.”

“Oh, thank you.” You take the bag gratefully, smiling at the selection of chew toys inside before looking back up at the boy. “I haven’t gotten him anything nice, so thank you, really.”

“I also have this for you.” He brings out more shyly this time—a necklace beaded in shells. You look down at it, the necklace. No one’s given you anything in a long time. “You always have this look on your face when you look at the beach. So, it just… reminded me of you.”

You lift it up carefully, almost feather-like as you stare at the simple necklace.

“Hyunjin.” The way he’s looking at you is so powerful, yet so vulnerable at the same time, eyes tinging in hope that you’d like the little present he had gotten you. It’s a look you can feel inside. “Thank you.”

He helps you wear it when you attempt to wrap it around your neck yourself. Wordless, you don’t have to say anything as he gently closes it to encase it around your neck.

“Do you like it?” There it is again. That vulnerability.

“I love it.” You smile, hand lifting to fiddle with the necklace. “I’m never taking it off.”

Hyunjin’s eyes soften, features glowing under the streetlights as you finally resume your walk to where you’ll be eating dinner together.

He had called himself out multiple times as he was pondering over whether to buy it for you or not the moment he sees it, telling himself he was too obvious with the way he feels for you, and yet the thought of the sincerity in your face when you receive it overpowers the voice in his head. He finds himself getting it for you. He was always gonna get it for you the moment he saw the necklace.

“Then, do you want some chicken and beer?” Hyunjin asks as you reach a crossroad, multiple intersections splitting the road into separate parts of the village.

“Chicken and beer?”

“Mhm. Last night, I was actually gonna ask if you wanted chicken and beef before Seungmin tagged along.”

“Oh?” You smile at the thought. “That sounds good actually. Wait, let me search a place up.”

You barely even unlock your phone when Hyunjin starts speaking again.

“Well, if we go that way,” he motions to the first intersection. “There’s a really old place that sells amazing fried chicken. And there’s a place down that way where the interior is nice and spacious, but the chicken doesn’t taste as good.”

“And down that way,” he continues, pointing towards the other intersection. “There’s a place with outdoor tables known for its refreshing beer.”

“You’ve really done your research.” You grin, fiddling with the phone in your hands as you look at Hyunjin who has his shyly behind his back after he has finished speaking.

“Yeah.” He exhales, smile still on his face. “Just in case.

Just in case he got enough courage to ask you out is the continuation of his sentence, though he chooses to omit it for now.

“I…” You ponder, recounting the options in your head before forming a number 3 with your fingers. “Choose number three. Beer tends to vary more in taste than chicken.”

“I see.” He nods his head, taking your words in as he thinks about the numerous times fried chicken had tasted the same to him. “Well then, let’s go that way?”

A silver of the moon shines on the two of you as you settle down the table, arriving 10 minutes after you had pondered over your choices at the intersection. The night breeze is pleasant, blowing in between the two of you until your stomachs are full from the food.

“This is so refreshing.” You praise after having taken a chug out of your beer, leaning your head back to savor the taste longer. “Whoever thought of eating chicken and beer together is a genius.”

He listens, hanging on to every single word you say as he takes a bite out of his own piece. The sight has him wondering if you were free tomorrow too.

Similarly, you’re thinking if you should try to invite him to watch Little Mermaid with you again.

“Are you also busy tomorrow?” His sudden question has your cheeks heating up despite the cold of the breeze and the beer.

“Why? Do you wanna see a movie?” It comes out fast, blurted, speeding from your mouth.

“A movie?”

Oh, shit. You didn’t even realize how you’d suddenly sprung up the topic on him without so much as an introduction.

“What I meant was… there’s just this movie I really wanted to see, and I think it’s out in theaters already.” You laugh a little at your own slip up, hoping to have clarified it better.

The sound makes Hyunjin’s smile widen.

“I see.” He takes a sip out of his own beer.

It’s silent for a while. A second blending into a minute, until you decide you can’t take it any longer.”

“Do you want to come with—“

“Should we watch—“

You make eye contact the moment you speak over one another, and it’s enough to trigger the laughter that’s bubbling in your throats at the sheer coincidence of asking each other out at the same time.

“Only if it’s okay with you.” He says once the pair of you stop giggling, tone significantly softer..

Always putting your comfort at the top priority.

“I’d actually really like that.”

It’s all smiles as you pay for your meal, and you don’t quite notice the slow pace in which the two of you are walking home, as if never wanting the moment to end. As if the great sense of contentment is too much to let go of right away.

Your footsteps fall in with Hyunjin’s, and your smiles never leave your faces on the rest of your way home.

eleven.

Hyunjin spends two days in Seoul to accompany Seungmin as he finishes up the final stages of his Civil Licensure exam.

The first day away from the library is spent just at home, cleaning and finishing up on chores you’ve been meaning to do—putting away your clothes after doing laundry, feeding Kkami, sweeping the floors, and even dusting some shelves because of the abundance of free time. It’s therapeutic, the way you’re able to hold your own time and decide what you want to do for the day. In the afternoon, you walk your chihuahua outside, exploring more of Angok than you could’ve dreamed. It’s a beautiful village, and you find you don’t mind the lengthy walk. If it means you get to be with nature leisurely, you don’t have anything to complain about.

There’s so much time for happiness here, unlike the dark of your room in the city.

When you pass by the library the next day to continue mapping out Angok, you’re surprised to see the hunched over figure of Felix by the benches. You wonder what he’s doing here.

“Felix?” You speak cautiously, tentative even as you walk to his side.

The closer you get, the more you hear his sniffles. An alarm sounds in your head, and you immediately reach a hand over to rub his back as gently as possible. “What’s wrong?”

The words he mumbles are unclear, incoherent as they come out jumbled and stuttered. When he finally lifts his head up, the sight physically hurts you. Who could dare hurt the sun?

You move some of his hair out of his face, sitting down next to him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Instead of answering, he lunges forward, jumping in your arms to seek comfort in your hug. It catches you by surprise, not because you’re uncomfortable, but because it’s only now you realize how long you’ve gone without a hug. You didn’t grow up from an affectionate family, and your time in the city knew of no comfort. This feels far better than pressing your back against your bed.

Snapping from the initial shock, you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer which only seems to let him release a louder sob. It seems he really needed this.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.” His words are deep and choked, head still buried on your shoulder as he soaks up the shirt you’re wearing.

“You could never disappoint anyone.” You run a hand through his hair, the other hand running smooth circles on his back.

You don’t know how long you hold him like this, but after a while, his tears finally subside and he moves to pull away from the embrace. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Reaching out, you swipe away the tears on his wet cheeks, smiling softly. You’re relieved when you see him return the gesture. It seems he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, but you find that it’s okay. He likes that you just listen without demanding him to tell you everything.

“Wanna go eat something at Minho’s? My treat.” You whisper, afraid to startle the poor boy, and his eyes seem to brighten at the suggestion.

“Would that really be okay?”

“Of course. Come on.” You walk with him to Minho’s little restaurant, making small conversation about anything he wants to talk about. If it means he’ll forget about whatever hurt him, you appease any topic that spills from his mouth.

“Ah, good afternoon (Name), Felix.” Minho waves when you enter his space, and you wave back at the boy.

He finally knows your name.

The ten minutes it takes to wait for the food is apparently the same time it takes for Jisung and Chan to stumble into the restaurant and greet the two of you loudly. They drop at where you’re seated, adjacent from you and Felix as they ask you questions of how you’re doing and what you two were up to.

You’re keen to stay as Felix’s emotional support, looking at him first before answering the two boys. It seems he feels way better now, in the presence of people he considers home.

“Look what I have.” Jisung brings out another tupperware from his bag, opening it up to reveal some cupcakes his mom had probably baked again. He excitedly takes one for each of you, babbling about how he can’t finish it all himself or else he’ll suffer from high blood pressure. “I’m glad I bumped into you guys. My mom’s been going crazy with the baking.”

“Felix likes baking too, right?” You turn to the boy next to you, and he nods his head as he recalls the conversation you had earlier on the way here.

“I’ve been trying to make some brownies.” He’s proud as he speaks, hands moving animatedly as he explains to them the process. The three of you listen carefully, immediately demanding him to bake some for you guys to which Felix says he will in his free time.

“Jeongin’s on his way.” Chan nudges Jisung who suddenly stands from his seat. He grabs a cupcake from the container, and you think he’s about to give it to the younger boy when suddenly, the icing crashes on the unsuspecting Jeongin’s nose.

“Are you nuts, Jisung?!” He exclaims, peeling the cupcake away from his icing-stained face.

“That’s what you get for rejecting my kisses.” Jisung smirks mischievously, though it’s quickly wiped off when Jeongin swiftly grabs a chunk of the icing and slaps it on the older boy’s cheek.

Minho’s voice is booming as he says, “Hey, don’t get the floors dirty!”, though there seems to be a hint of fondness on his features as he watches everything unfold before him.

“Oh my god.” With a hand covering your mouth, you can’t help the giggles from spewing it as Felix snorts from beside you.

“Come here, let’s wipe it off.” You get up from your seat, guiding Jeongin to the seat next to yours as you grab a pack of tissues from your bag, moving to wipe the smeared icing from his nose, cheeks, and eyes.

“What about me?” Jisung pouts, and Chan all but laughs as he pulls the boy down to start doing the same thing.

“Are you guys okay?” Felix’s voice is way steadier now, more than it was earlier, and it even holds laughter in it. Your heartbeat calms down at knowing he must feel better. At least this moment can take away what pained him, even for a few hours.

“You have a death wish, Han Jisung.”

“Not the government name.”

Though, Jisung only laughs at the threats spilling from Jeongin’s lips, proud of his work.

When Minho brings the food, Jisung successfully pulls him down to eat with all of you. It’s polarizing how you used to hate meal times, used to hate thinking about what to eat, or the fact that you’d be eating alone. Now, with laughter roaring from your table, you find yourself excited.

People are calling out for you to eat.

You spend hours there, listening to their stories. Before you know it, night dawns upon you, and Felix offers to walk you home.

“(Name)?”

“Hm?” You turn your head to look at Felix who’s already looking at you with a smile on his face.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything, though.” You laugh, and Felix shakes his head as he maintains unwavering eye contact.

“Thanks to you, I feel happier now.” There’s a toothless grin on his face, though, it’s threatening to grow even wider by the second.

He genuinely looks happy.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Felix’s words stay stuck in your mind even as you lay down to sleep. For a brief moment, you were able to make him happier. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more accomplished than this very moment. There are no words to describe how beautiful the feeling is of being the cause of someone’s smile.

The rest of the night is spent thinking, and it’s only when your phone buzzes is it interrupted.

hyunjin (10:48pm): hi, are you asleep? i hope i’m not bothering you

yn (10:49pm): hello! not asleep yet :) you’re not bothering me at all

hyunjin (10:51pm): seungmin’s exams ran longer than i thought

yn (10:51pm): tell him i said hi !!

hyunjin (10:52pm): is texting a bother? do your wrists hurt when you type?

yn (10:52pm): just a little

He calls you suddenly, and it’s enough for your heart to jump straight out of your chest. Pressing the phone to your ear, you finally speak. “Hello?”

“I hope your wrists don’t hurt anymore.” You can hear the mumble of cars honking in the background, but his words tune them out.

“I guess this will do.”

Hyunjin pauses for a moment, allowing himself the moment to soak up the warmth of your voice and how two days is far too long to be away from your sweet voice.

“It’s nice to hear your voice.”

You swallow hard, shutting your eyes as you bring the phone away a little to let out a suppressed scream. You feel like a schoolgirl, kicking your feet and giggling over his words.

Calming yourself down, you reply, “But, don’t you have to sleep now?”

“Hmm, not yet.“

“Well, what do you wanna talk about?”

“Everything. I wanna know everything about you.” He breathes from his end of the line, running a hand through his hair.

You can hear the sincerity from his voice even if you can’t see him.

“Oh.” You murmur. There’s a blush playing on your cheeks. How is he able to make you feel everything all at once?

The conversation lasts almost 2 hours, until he has to let you go so you can sleep before the clock strikes one in the morning. He feels slightly terrible for keeping you up, but he’s selfish in that it doesn’t bother him that much. Hyunjin missed you, missed the lull of your voice, and he’s happy to have heard it before going to sleep.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? For the movie?”

“Okay. See you.”

You can almost see him, open-mouthed smiles as he speaks. It’s always so evident in his voice when he does.

“Goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

Hyunjin drifts off to sleep, and it’s the best one he’s had since yesterday.

twelve.

You tug at the dress you’re wearing as you wait outside the theater building. It’s a simple sleeveless white dress that goes down just above your knees, yet you’re still a little nervous whether you’re underdressed or overdressed. Your hair is down as it always is, a little messed up from the wind, and you had worn lip gloss after Kkami had barked once when you’d asked him.

It’s a simple theater for a simple date. You’re not even sure if you could call it a date, yet you were both ecstatic to finally watch the movie and to watch it with Hyunjin.

Smoothening down the creases of your dress that aren’t even there, you finally catch sight of Hyunjin from afar. He looks so handsome with his white sweater and denim pants, hair tucked behind his ears as he wears a pretty-boy-but-is-unaware smile.

Aphrodite’s son.

He’s waving at you, cheeks flushed in a warmth you fail to see as you try to suppress your own grin.

His knee-jerking reaction to you is open-mouthed staring, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips to your hair to your dress all in the span of a second.

Hyunjin isn’t as relaxed as he thought he was. He had prepared himself to see you again after two days, prepared to watch a movie with you and possibly brush hands as you reach for the popcorn, though he wasn’t quite prepared for the white dress you’re wearing. His brain short circuits, and he’s malfunctioning.

“Shall we head inside?”

He’s not able to respond right away. You’re pretty, and he’s nervous, and you’re pretty, and his palms are sweating, and you’re pretty, and words are failing him, and you’re pretty, and you’re shifting your weight back and forth, and you’re so pretty.

“(Name).” Hyunjin’s finally able to say. “You look beautiful."

You look up at him and he looks away. You can only blush in response as you thank him, fiddling with the necklace you’re wearing.

“I’m wearing this by the way.” If Hyunjin thought he couldn’t smile even more, he was wrong, especially peering down at the necklace he had gifted you. The one you’re wearing.

It was nearly seven o'clock when you finished watching the movie. You’re still excited over seeing one of your favorite Disney princess’s on the big screen, but you’re starting to feel a little tired.

The crowded bus was too much for the both of you, so you decide to walk back together. Thirty minutes might sound like a long walk, but Hyunjin begs to differ if it meant being separated from you at the end of it.

Thirty minutes is way too short to walk with you.

“The movie was fun.” He breaks the silence, and you nod your head in agreement with a huge smile on your face. You can still picture Ariel in your head, yet what stuck out most to you was the panicked way Hyunjin had been when he first walked in before completely relaxing when he was seated next to you.

“Hyunjin.”

“Yes?”

“You seemed like you’ve never been to a theater before.”

“It is my first time.” He looks down at his feet, a small grin tugging on his lips at how he’ll forever be able to hold the memory of watching a movie for the first time in theaters.

Especially when it was with you.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing.” It comes out as a whisper, genuinely shocked that Hyunjin hadn’t bothered coming into theaters at all. There’s so much to him, and you want to learn them all.

“Why don’t we kill some time by playing 21 questions?”

“Okay.” He replies a little too quickly for his liking. He can’t hide his eagerness at getting to know you and everything about you. Like that phone call last night.

“Okay.” You repeat, smiling while nodding your head as you think of a question to ask. “Hmm, what’s your favorite fruit?”

“Apples are my favorite.”

“Wow, you answered so quickly.” A quiet chuckle escapes his lips at the realization. Though, you should’ve made the connection when he had mentioned apples back when you had offered him some ice cream.

“Mine are strawberries!” You point excitedly at the black crochet bag you always carry with you, a big strawberry in the middle.

“Strawberries.” He keeps in mind, looking back at you as you keep talking, asking him one question after the other.

You are so lovely, Hyunjin thinks. The sort of person puts a smile on everyone’s face when you walk into the room. The way you quietly speak and the humble way in which you treat everyone has Hyunjin thinking that you must be unaware of how much of an impact you actually have on the people around you.

Seungmin is thankful for you, admiring your hard work. Hyunjin has caught him rereading the article you had written multiple times, praise leaving his lips when he thinks no one can hear.

Chan sees you as a little sister, so fond of you in such a short amount of time. He thinks he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face.

Felix thinks of flowers when he sees you.

“Oh, the moon looks so pretty tonight.” You suddenly mention, staring wondrously at the bright moon and the way the stars litter the sky.

“Do you wanna sit down for a moment?”

“Can we?” The excitement in your voice is hard to miss as Hyunjin guides you over to sit on a block situated at the side of the street. It’s the perfect spot, offering you a view of the sea and the pretty night sky.

You close your eyes to listen to the waves crashing clearer, to feel the breeze better, to smell the salty scent of the sea.

Your thoughts drift everywhere; to your escape from the city to the first time you met Hyunjin and the way he hadn’t spoken a single word to you. It’s always been at the back of your head, but you never so much as spared it any time to resurface. Though, now was probably the perfect time to ask him about it.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“Of course.”

“When we first met, why did you not talk to me?”

Hyunjin thinks back at the time, almost letting out a small laugh in embarrassment when he remembers the way he had greeted you with nothing but silence. It was only a matter of time before you’d ask him.

“Actually…” He looks down at his hands, carefully folded on his lap. “I have trouble talking to strangers.”

“Does that mean you feel comfortable around me now?” Oh, his stomach doesn’t feel so great at the way you’re looking at him right now. He has never felt such violent butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah.” Blink and you miss it, the way his eyes flicker to your lips before frisking them away to stare at the moon instead.

You stretch your legs out, swaying them back and forth as you lull your head back to stare at the vastness of the sky. The waves and your subtle breathing are the only sounds that accompany the stillness with Hyunjin.

How long had that same peace transferred from the library to the boy seated beside you?

This moment feels nice, though, it seems to only be a catalyst at making you realize how real your feelings are. Hyunjin really is starting to feel like love.

He looks at you as you’re too busy staring at the little things nature had sent to keep you two company.

“When I’m with you, it’s nice that I don’t have to talk so much.” You say suddenly.

His eyes never once leave you as you speak, and it only has his heart beating faster when he realizes that the look in your eyes is something so similar to the way he looks at you. It’s the same one he gives you when you don’t notice him looking at you. The stripped back and bare softness he shows even when he doesn’t try to.

“It’s the opposite for me.” He speaks with a smile that he doesn’t even notice has grown brighter and brighter. “When I’m with you, I tend to talk more.”

Lovestruck is the only word to describe the way his words slip out of his mouth, and no level of words can possibly describe the softness in his eyes.

“Ever since I was young, talking to someone… always felt like a burden to me. It’s never felt that way with you.”

The way you’re looking at him only encourages him to speak more—your naturally dusted cheeks, gentleness swimming in your eyes, and the wind blowing through your hair. How can you sit there and be so unaware of how beautiful you are?

“This is a little selfish of me but…” Midway through his sentence, he breathes out a little. As if to help him in saying what’s burning on the tip of his tongue. “I hope you don’t leave.”

You lean forward to hear him better.

“When you first came to the library to make a membership card, when we spent the afternoon repairing books, when I took you home when you were completely wasted… when we had ice cream together on the library bench, when we went to interview the old lady together, and when you let me meet Kkami the night we had dinner together…”

What was happiness before he knew what your smile looked like and what your voice sounds like? Hyunjin’s voice gradually softens with each memory he recounts.

“I was happy. I’m truly happy that you came to Angok.”

There's a stifling silence on the other end, as you process his words.

You never stood a chance. You were gone the moment you had set eyes on him, when you had accidentally caused a small commotion in Angok’s public library. You had signed over your heart the second he had uttered his first words to you—“you’re hello again.”

His eyes flicker from yours down to your lips, and there’s a hitch in your breath as you breathe in. It feels as though your heart could explode at any moment.

Hyunjin reaches out to brush a hand against your cheek, tentative as he draws himself closer to you. His hand is warm against the night breeze, and you find yourself leaning against him unconsciously.

“So I really hope you don’t leave.” He whispers, and you breathe at the overwhelming sincerity.

His eyes drop back down to your lips, face hovering over yours. Almost hesitant. It’s like he’s waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to show you won’t leave. You push your lips in his, and he’s still for a second, as if unable to believe you’re kissing him at this very moment.

When he’s finally able to recover, he keeps a hand cupped on your cheek while the other travels around your waist. He holds you against him tightly, but his lips couldn’t be any more gentle as they move against yours. It’s soft, unmoving even. Your heart flutters when his lips chase after yours after you pull away for a second to catch your breath, and you’re kissing again.

Again and again and again until all you can think about is him. You had always been afraid of seeing the city in his eyes and feeling it in his lips, but you never did.

His eyes struggle to stay open when you push your foreheads together, finally breaking away from the kiss. There’s a small smile on his mouth, the one he always wears with you, and the look of fondness in his eyes.

“I’m not gonna leave.”

A shooting star spears through the dark. You both wish to stay like this forever.

thirteen.

A few days after your silent confession, Seungmin passes the Civil Licensure exam.

The boy had apparently been trying to hide his success from Hyunjin, yet was unsuccessful when he forgot he had given Hyunjin the log-in credentials to the site when he thought he’d be too nervous to view it himself.

So, you and Hyunjin plan a surprise celebration.

If Seungmin hadn’t been so caught up in trying to hide the secret you had already known about, maybe he would’ve noticed the way Hyunjin disappears from the library sometimes only to reappear, and the way you’ve been on your phone way more often than you normally are.

Getting Seungmin to the rooftop of Chan’s home was easier than you had expected. For someone who asks a lot of questions, Seungmin had simply stared at Hyunjin suspiciously when he had suddenly expressed the urge to watch the night’s constellations at Chan’s roof. Yet, feeling like he owed the boy for driving and staying with him in Seoul, he complies.

The surprise had taken a while to plan, yet everyone was willing to help after hearing the news. Everyone sits on the roof to wait, antsy when they hear Seungmin’s blabbermouth complain about accompanying Seungmin as he gets on the stairs. You all see Hyunjin first, who’s subtly pointing at his back to signal that Seungmin was coming in hot.

When he finally emerges from the steps, all of you jump in a chorus of “Surprise!”

There’s a small tarpaulin with Seungmin’s name and a congratulations tied between two makeshift posts, and the boy hides his face in embarrassment when he spots a poorly photoshopped picture of him on the side of the printed paper.

“It’s nice to celebrate this good news with everyone.” Hyunjin says, and while Seungmin’s continuing to blabber about in mock irritation, all of you know he’s grateful by the way he looks at how the rooftop is decorated in awe. Fairy lights are hung around like additional stars, and everyone has bright smiles on their faces as they all go in to wish the boy their individual congratulations.

“Congratulations on making it to Seoul!” Chan’s voice is booming as he hugs the boy. While Seungmin naturally recoils from any form of skinship, he finds himself returning most of the hugs given to him.

“Make sure you eat a lot.” Minho smiles as he looks proudly at the food he had brought, all set on the table as he prepares to cook some beef to serve as all of you eat.

“Thank you for the food!”

“Is it good?” Minho’s grilling meat on the side, continuing to prepare food as everyone around him eats satisfyingly. Sometimes, Jeongin would get up from his seat to feed Minho a piece to make sure he was eating too.

“It’s so juicy.” Changbin exclaims in pure ecstasy, and Chan can only laugh at his exaggerated response. “Your beef always tastes good, Minho.”

Jeongin’s walking around with a platter of cooked beef to serve for everyone, like he does at Minho’s restaurant. Lovely chatter echoes from the roof, laughter prominent as Jisung is on fire with his jokes. All the while, Seungmin is roasting the poor boy.

“This is the good stuff. Look at the marbling on this meat.” Minho boasts as he sets down the final platter on the table, taking a seat next to Jisung as he finally starts digging in. “Jeongin, come and eat.”

“This is so good.” Your mouth drops after you swallow the piece of beef you had grabbed. Minho just laughs fondly at the praise as he keeps eating.

As your eyes travel around everyone on the table, you can’t help but think of something your mom used to tell you — a home isn't always the house we live in. it's also in the people we choose to surround ourselves with.

Home is the gleeful playing of instruments from Jisung and Changbin, it’s baked in an oven and served fresh as brownies from Felix, it’s grateful smiles from Seungmin, it’s Chan trampled with fondness, it’s the grilled beef Minho is cooking, it’s Kkami barking in happiness as Jeongin plays with him, it’s the hand holding yours and the gentle smile on Hyunjin’s lips as he urges you to eat more.

“Oh, before I forget. I have something for you.” Said boy brings you back to reality, and he pulls out a magazine in his hand, smiling widely as he looks down at it then at you expectantly.

“What is it?” You take it from him, flipping through the pages.

“Youth of Angok. It was released yesterday.”

“No way!” You look for the article you wrote, skimming through the pages before smiling at the photo of the old lady you had taken. “Wait, hold on. Don’t tell me you read it already.”

“No, I haven’t read it yet.” Hyunjin has a fair share of tells when he lies. One of them is in the way he can’t look at you, like the way he’s avoiding your eyes right now. “It was great by the way. You write so well.”

You laugh, giggles blending with Jisung’s music. “Thank you.”

Changbin’s booming voice interrupts all the ongoing conversations, abruptly getting up as he grabs a box he had hidden to the side. “I have a surprise now that we’re all full. Sponsored by Seo’s convenience store, you’re welcome.”

He hands each one of you with sparklers, and it’s absolutely beautiful when he lights them up and pushes everyone to get up and dance to Jisung’s guitar accompaniment as the fireworks glow from everyone’s hold. Like everyone is capable of holding fire in their hands.

Music from your childhood plays in your head, the same one you never thought you’d hear again as Hyunjin tugs on your hand to pull you to where everyone is dancing, a sparkler on the hand that isn’t intertwined together.

“This is so pretty!” Felix exclaims, waving it around as the lights spring out of the stick in his hand. Jeongin’s carrying Kkami now, dancing with him in his arms.

“I’ve never done this before.” Felix looks to you with so much happiness radiating off of him, dancing around as he stares at his sparkler fireworks.

“Me neither.” You reply with the same excitement, looking to see Hyunjin already looking at you with a smile on his face. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

You thought about what happiness is.

You’ve looked it up in a dictionary once—it is a state of being pleased, fulfilled, and content in life. You think that definition is too long.

Happiness. The state of being sufficient.

Happiness. This moment right now.

Hyunjin’s arm snakes around you, pulling you closer to him as the wind flows between all of you, whisking your hair and ruffling your clothes up as happy singing falls in your ears.

“Hi.” He whispers, caressing your waist. It makes goosebumps erupt, and you know what he’s about to do as he presses a short kiss on your lips.

Sometimes, there doesn’t have to be thunderstorms. There’s no need for the sticky swarm of office workers, or the silence of dinners. You don’t have to think of the city. Sometimes, love is tucked away in a little town you least expect to find it. Sometimes, there is time to make happiness. And sometimes, family can be regained.

Your life is sufficient.

You’ll live this life.

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messedupfan · 1 month

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Chapter 17

Summary: Wanda looks over her plans for her future after standing up to Vision. You discover something shocking about your friend on a night out. And the kids join you for a special haircut as Wanda collects her prize.

A/n: Hello! I didn't plan on posting this so soon but eh what the hell. Hope y'all don't kill me. Enjoy!

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Wanda stands in the middle of the large empty property that she now owns. She walks around the area as she visualizes a house. She sees the walls and the windows. She thinks about where the kitchen would be and the kitchen table for breakfasts and intimate family meals. Then she walks into a dining room where she’ll host holidays and birthdays. She pretends to climb a beautiful staircase as she envisions the separate rooms for her boys. A couple more rooms, maybe one of them is a guest room and the other is an office space. Then she sees a master bedroom. The image of climbing into bed after a long day has her heart racing as she pictures collapsing into your arms.

Her phone ringing breaks her away from her fantasy world and back to the land with overgrown grass. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and sighs. “Hello Vision,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “What can I help you with?”

“Mom?” Tommy's voice has Wanda softening her tone almost instantly.

“Tommy, hi, why are you calling me with your dad's phone? Is everything okay?” She asks as she starts to fill with worry.

“Dad says he has to go out of town for something… for work! I mean um… I mean he has to go out of town for work. Can you come pick us up?” Wanda sighs when she can hear Vision correcting their son. She doesn't understand the man. He is constantly making a big racket about being in Tommy and Billy’s life but this is the third time in the last couple of months that he has had her pick up the boys halfway through the week.

“I'll be there soon,” Wanda says in a soft tone. She does her best to not let her frustrations with his father affect her tone. Vision is being harsh enough as it is. “I love you, sweetheart. Let your brother know that I love him too, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tommy says. “Bye, mom.”

Wanda hangs up the phone. She takes one last glance around the empty land and sighs. One day, she will be able to fulfill her dream. But that is years away.

“Vision, you can't keep doing this to them,” she says quietly once the boys are in her car.

“It's my work, Wanda. It's what pays the bills,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh I'm very familiar with your work,” Wanda retorts. “Who is she this time? Another TA? No, that pairing has to bore you by now. Besides, you don't need a dating profile in order to date a student.”

“You've been stalking me?” He asks, he's more intrigued than anything.

Wanda makes a face, “Gross. No. That would mean I gave a shit about your personal life. I have friends that use dating apps. And you weren't exactly discrete about it on your profile.”

Vision’s face starts to get red and Wanda knows that she has struck a nerve. Not only did she reveal that she knows he isn't being faithful in his current marriage, she revealed how she found out. She is almost certain that the mention of her friends being involved has painted a mental picture of her having a laugh about him with them. She’d put good money on Vision picturing you as the friend, causing him to grow even more upset.

“Vis, I don't care what you do in your free time. I care that it affects my kids,” she states firmly. “Either end the affair or give me full custody. Because I will not allow you to keep hurting them with this deadbeat father act you have going on.” She starts to walk towards her car expecting him to slam the door shut but instead, he follows her.

“Oh you'd love to have me out of the picture, wouldn't you? So that you can live happily ever after with, Y/n! That's it, isn't it?” He shouts behind her. Wanda stops and spins as she lets out a malicious laugh.

“What is with your obsession with Y/n? They have been nothing but kind to our boys when you fail them time and time again. They are always there for the twins when you've abandoned our boys. Y/n has covered for your ass over and over,” she takes steps towards Vision as she defends her friend to him. “They do nothing but try to make you look better to those boys. You should be thanking them instead of threatening them! You have no idea the kind of person they are. And it's not their fault that you are such a sorry excuse for a father. Gosh, your own family finds it difficult to be related to you.”

Vision shakes his head, “You are a vindictive cunt.”

“Call me all of the names you want. You can't hurt me anymore,” Wanda glares at her former husband defiantly. She scoffs. “You're a pitiful man. I hope karma gets you one day.” She walks away and doesn't turn back once as he continues to shout profanities at her. She does, however, raise her middle finger at him.

“Mom, are you okay?” Billy asks from the backseat once Wanda has joined her boys in the car. She turns back and reaches out to hold his hand. She smiles at him and squeezes his hand.

“Mommy is more than okay,” she says confidently. She doesn't recognize herself at this moment and it's a fantastic feeling. “Are you boys ready to go? You didn't leave behind any important homework or school books right?”

“Right,” the boys say at the same time.

“Okay, let's go home then,” she smiles at each of her kids before starting her car and driving away from Vision’s house. When she pulls into the driveway of her current home she can feel the ghost of the person she used to be. The woman that once believed living a life on eggshells was normal. That she was always meant to be careful around her husband. That her children were to be completely obedient and quiet. That woman and that life haunt every corner of the house. They start to hide when the boys laugh loudly at something that happens in the movie they’re watching. But when you stop by to return the tupperware, the ghosts seem to disappear instantly. As if they were never there.

“You know, Y/n,” Wanda starts as she closes the door behind you. “We are friends, you don't need an excuse to see me.”

“Okay, you caught me but we never really got a chance to ourselves last week and I thought since,” you are cut off when the boys come running towards you and wrap their arms around you as they crash into your body. “Oh! Hi guys! What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with your dad this week?” You keep your tone light, you would hate to ever make them feel unwanted. You hug them back just as tight.

“Dad had a work thing,” Billy answers with a smile. “What are you doing here? Rachel isn't here.”

You look at Wanda, not sure how to answer. “That’s right, Rachel is not here. But Y/n had my container and I asked them to bring it back,” Wanda answers for you. “Come on boys, I'm sure Y/n has to get back home and you two need to get ready for bed.”

“Can you stay and read us a bedtime story?” Tommy asks with wide eyes filled with excitement as he steps back.

“Yeah? Can you?” Billy asks as he jumps back, just as excited.

You hesitate and that causes the two kids to start begging. “Please? You and mom tell the stories really well together!” You look at Wanda as you reminisce about the couple of times the two of you read bedtime stories for the three kids when you and Rachel were staying here.

“I thought you said bedtime stories were for babies?” Wanda says as she messes with her son's hair.

“They are but not when you and Y/n tell them,” Tommy defends. Wanda gives you a look that says ‘I tried,’ and it makes you laugh.

“Okay boys, go finish getting ready for bed and I'll join your mom for story time,” you agree and the kids cheer as they run up the stairs.

“Thank you for that. You know, you don't have to stay,” Wanda says as she tests the waters and puts her hand on your bicep. You shrug as your arm warms up from her touch.

“They think we're good together,” you say with slight innuendo. “Besides, it won't be long before they despise my presence. I'm sure their dad will poison them against me as soon as puberty hits. I have to enjoy their praises while I still can.” You smile at her as you maintain eye contact and stand a little closer to her.

Wanda bites her lower lip as her eyes travel to your lips. It's been a week and a half since the two of you kissed. You had been by every day since but neither of you have had a moment alone long enough to discuss anything. She had so much that she wanted to tell you that she couldn't. Not when the kids are so close. She would hate it if the kids got excited about something that may or may not happen. “I wish their father thought about the fact that we only have a few precious years left with them before they become moody teenagers. But,” Wanda shrugs. “I guess that's my fault for falling for a selfish man before my frontal lobe developed.” Wanda’s eyes meet yours again as she flashes you a sad smile.

You reach out and hold her shoulder. You open your mouth to say something but you're interrupted by a loud screech of, “We're ready!” from Tommy and Billy. You laugh.

“I guess that's our cue,” you say as you drop your hand from her shoulder.

“You go first, I have to put this away,” she holds up the tupperware and you nod then you climb the stairs and warn the boys that you are on your way. Wanda takes a deep breath as her body craves your touch. It was an innocent touch but it made her mind wander to not so innocent thoughts and she needed a second. She serves herself a cold glass of water and chugs half of it.

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” She hears you chanting with the boys and hearing you call her that almost makes her spit out her water from laughter.

“Okay! I'm coming!” She shouts as she gets to the bottom of the staircase. The chants don't stop until she walks through the door. You and the boys clap and cheer as she comes in. Wanda stops for a moment and poses. You start whistling as the boys cheer louder. “Alright, settle down. Settle down. What story are we reading tonight?”

The boys fall asleep halfway through the story. You were so engrossed in the storytelling that Wanda had to stop you in order for you to notice that they had fallen asleep. You shut the book and the two of you carefully snuck out of the room. You waited for her in the hallway as she shut off the lights and closed the door.

When the door was shut she turned to face you. The two of you stand there, both wanting to embrace each other. Maybe even share another sober kiss that would intoxicate each of you. Wanda wants to thank you for helping her find her strength. You want to thank her for always being there for you and your daughter. You want to tell her the deep feelings you've developed for her over the months. You want to hold her in your arms and never let go.

“Can I show you something before you go?” Wanda whispers.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you answer, feeling a little awkward. You clear your throat and gesture for her to lead the way. Wanda takes your hand and laces her finger through yours as she guides you to her office. You were a little surprised that she led you here but you were more surprised with yourself that part of you anticipated her taking you to any other room. Especially with her kids here.

Wanda lets go of you and walks around her desk to shuffle through her files in the drawer. When she finds what she's looking for she looks up at you with a grin. “Close the door and come closer. It's a secret,” she says with a playfulness to her voice. You smile and shut the door to her office before joining her side. “So I have a plot of land,” she starts as she opens the folder. “And I want to build my dream house on it. These are some of the ideas that I have so far.” She shows you printed-out mood boards and detailed sketches along with images and measurements of the land.

“Wow, I think this is great,” you say as you flip through the pages. You look at her with a curious glance. “What inspired this?”

Wanda shrugs, “I'm tired of living under someone else's guidelines of what my house is supposed to have or not have. I'm a very overqualified architect, I know what I can and cannot do.” Her confidence makes you smile. “Besides, this is Vision-free land. He's never owned it. He's never lived on it. He's never traumatized me or the kids here. It's a land that is free to have an unlimited amount of good memories and none of them have to be tarnished by him.” Her grin widens and her shoulders relax at the thought.

“That's wonderful,” you tell her softly. “So, why are you sharing this with me?”

A blush appears on Wanda's cheeks and your heart picks up speed in anticipation for her answer. “I um, I could use your expertise in building it. Not anytime soon. I still have to get the money to fund the project but, there isn't anyone I'd rather have build it for me than you,” she smiles up at you.

You lick your lips as you consider kissing her. But you think better of it. Billy or Tommy could walk in at any moment and catch the two of you. It's enough to make you stand up straighter instead of hovering close to her. “I'd be honored to build your dream house for you, Wanda.”

Wanda rises from her chair and pulls you in for a warm embrace. “Thank you,” she says against your chest.

“Of course,” you respond quietly as you wrap your arms around her. You close your eyes as you embrace the moment. “I should get going. It's pretty late,” you state without letting her go. Wanda hums in agreement as she also makes no motion to break away.

Eventually, the two of you do break away and she offers to walk you to your car. You feel giddy as you remember the night of the kiss. Wanda’s mind is thinking about the same thing as she walks with you arm in arm.

“I don't know if this is weird to mention but we did make a bet on it so I feel as though I kind of have to tell you about this,” you ramble nervously as the two of you get close to the car. “Uh, you win the bet. That volunteer texted me the other day.” Wanda's smile drops and her demeanor shifts a little.

“Oh? And what did she have to say?” Wanda asks as she starts to feel her positive energy waiver.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” you say in an attempt to let her know that you're not interested in Nebula as you reach your truck. “Anyway, I'm thinking about getting my haircut on Sunday after I pick up Rachel. Should I give you a call?” You lean against the door as you watch Wanda. She gives you a tight smile and you know that whatever you thought might happen isn't going to.

“Yeah, I um, I think I have a few ideas ready. Just let me know where to be on Sunday,” she doesn't look at you as she speaks and you want to slap yourself for even mentioning another woman.

“Okay, I'll make the appointment and text you the details,” you fiddle with your keys awkwardly. “I'll see you on Sunday,” you say as you climb into your truck. Disappointed in yourself. This was not at all how this was supposed to go. It was starting to feel like there are forces out there trying to keep the two of you apart.

On Friday night, you stare at the message from Nebula as you consider responding while you sit at a booth with Darcy. It's becoming a common occurrence, hanging out with Darcy, Steve, and Bucky. Your coworker is typically the one inviting everyone out. You're surprised that he doesn't invite his girlfriend. In fact, you don't think you've seen Natasha since Wanda's New Years Eve party. And Steve hasn’t talked about Peggy in some time either. But you don't think about it too much.

“I know that face,” Darcy says as she steals a couple of fries from your plate.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you put your phone in your pocket.

“You have many faces, Y/n. That face is one of regret and frustration,” Darcy continues to steal your fries. You shake your head and look around the bar to avoid looking at your friend. “Come on, lay it on me. Is Wanda seeing someone finally? Did your former child-bride reach out to you?”

“Daisy wasn't that much younger than me,” you defend as you take a sip from the beer bottle. “Besides, you never got to meet her. You don't get to judge.”

Darcy leans in closer with wide eyes, “She dumped you when your kid was in the hospital! What more do I need to know about her?” You shake your head. Then your eyes widen as they land on Steve and Bucky kissing. Your eyebrows knit together from the shock. “What?” Darcy spins around to search for what you could be seeing. Then she sees them. “Oh, yeah. That,” she turns back to you with a shrug. “I've known about that. Now back to you.” Darcy snaps her fingers in your face and waves until you look back to her. “Hello? What's going on with you?”

“What do you mean you knew about them?” You ask instead. “They both have girlfriends! They're cheaters! I didn't know I was friends with cheaters!”

Darcy sighs and rolls her eyes. “Calm down. The way I understand it, Steve and Peggy broke up sometime after that party at Wanda’s place. And Bucky and Natasha have an understanding. I don't know if it's an open relationship situation or a throuple or what. I don't ask them questions because I don't care. What I do care about is you. So, what's wrong?”

You shake your head before running your fingers through your hair and sigh. “I fucked up,” you go on to explain the bet you made with Wanda about Nebula. “Then we kissed and before I could get a chance to talk to her about the kiss, I mentioned that she won the bet and she completely pulled away. I haven't been able to get a hold of her since. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just, she likes to win. I thought she'd like to know that she won and she gets to choose my next haircut.” You shrug then shake your head and then rub your face.

Darcy reaches across the table and holds your wrist as a way to provide some sort of comfort. The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Darcy hasn't gotten to know Wanda enough to be able to explain her behavior. But she's known you for some time now and she knows that sometimes all you need is support. No encouraging words. No solutions to your problems. Just someone's presence.

Steve and Bucky rejoin the two of you. Steve sits next to you and Bucky sits across the table next to Darcy. “What’d we miss?” Steve asks as he throws his arm around your shoulders. You shrug in response.

“I'm an idiot,” you mutter.

“Oh come on, I asked what I missed. Not what I already know,” he teases and with her free hand, Darcy throws some fries at him. “Ow, hey!” She snaps her fingers and points to you and you start to feel a little ridiculous. “Oh, I'm sorry Y/n,” he says once he is paying attention. You shake your head and stand up muttering something about leaving. “Hey, no, come on. It was a bad joke. Stay, Y/n,” he tries to call you back to the table.

“You're so full of yourself, Steve!” Darcy says before she catches up with you. “Hey, lets-”

“No, it’s fine. I'm fine. It wasn’t about Steve. He's always like that. I’m just…” you shake your head. “I need to go home.” You tell her calmly. “I won't do anything stupid, I promise.”

Darcy sighs then nods, “Yeah, okay. I'll see you soon. Oh! That reminds me, I will be moving to Germany to join a research team for a year. I leave in three months.”

“Oh my goodness! Way to bury the lead!” You pull her into a quick hug. “Congratulations! That sounds like an amazing opportunity!” You pull away and admire her for a second. “You are possibly the coolest person I know.”

Darcy closes her eyes, tilts her head, and smiles. “I know I am,” she says happily. She opens her eyes and pats your arm. “Get out of here. And tell Wanda I said hi.”

You make a face, “Why would I tell Wanda-”

“Oh please, you think I actually believe that you're going to your apartment? She is your home. And I better be receiving an invitation to the wedding by the time I come home from Germany.”

You shake your head as you give her a final hug goodbye. You get in your car and consider driving to Wanda’s house. Her boys are with her so you try to not think about it. But as you're driving, you suddenly realize that you're close to her neighborhood. You sigh as you think about what Darcy said. Wanda is your home. You take the turn into her neighborhood and start to think about what you're going to tell her when you see her.

As you pull up, you notice the time and frown as you see that the house is dark. You put the car in park and stare at her house. It was pretty late. You shouldn't have expected that she would be awake just because it was a Friday night. You don't even let Rachel stay up past eleven at night. But you know that sometimes Wanda likes to enjoy a glass of wine and catch up on her favorite reality show before going to bed.

So you take your chances and call her. The phone rings a couple of times before you finally hear her voice. “Hey you,” she is speaking softly. You wonder if her boys are near her. Awake or asleep, there's a reason she is so quiet.

“Hey, did I wake you?” You ask as you start to regret being here.

“No, no,” Wanda says, her voice still low. “I’m catching up on my show. But um Billy had a nightmare. He’s sleeping next to me and I'm trying to not wake him.” Your eyes travel up to her window as you see the faint glow of the television through the blinds. “Are you okay? Do you need something?”

You don’t respond right away. You just think about her. “No, I'm okay. I just,” you sigh. “I never responded to that volunteer. I want you to know that. I’m sorry if I-”

“Y/n I don’t think now is a good time,” she interrupts.

“I’m parked in the driveway. If you don't want Billy to hear,” you tell her quickly. You watch the shadows of the curtains move and the blinds open after a couple of minutes. Her silhouette stands in the middle of the window. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Wanda is quiet as she stands still. You hope that she accepts your invitation. “Go home, Y/n. It's late and,” she trails off as she closes the blinds. “We don't have anything to talk about.” Your heart breaks at her words.

“Wanda please,” you beg, “let's talk about this. Maybe not tonight but soon.”

“Y/n, I,” her words seem to fail her as she goes quiet. You sit in your truck patiently waiting for her to continue. To say something. Anything. After a while you wonder if she hung up so you lift the phone off of your face and are slightly relieved to see that the call is still going. Then you watch the call end. Your eyes travel to the front door as it opens.

Wanda walks out and you step out of the truck to meet her halfway but she holds her hands up to stop you. You stay close to the truck. “Wanda, can you explain to me what I did wrong? Because I don't feel like I-”

Wanda waves her hand to cut you off, “Stop, you didn't do anything wrong. It's me. I'm… I wanted our friendship… I want us to…” she closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I practiced this speech to myself since Wednesday but,” she sighs as she runs her fingers through her hair. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “When we kissed, I did want us to explore the possibility of more between us. Hell, I deleted all of the dating apps I was on and blocked every person I hooked up with that night. I thought I was ready. But I'm not. And it's not because of you. You are great. You're great to me, you're great to my kids, to my entire family actually.” She opens her eyes and you can see the tears building up. “I'm in a better place than I was when we first met but I’m not ready for anything more than your friendship. At least not right now.”

You cast your eyes down to the ground for a moment to allow your heart to break. You bite your lips to keep from letting the emotions show on your face. Then, when you feel ready, you swallow your feelings and you nod. “Okay, yeah,” you look at her as you try to hide your sadness. “I can do that. I can be your friend. It’s okay, I understand that you still have a lot of healing or whatever to work through. It's okay, Wanda. I lo-”

“Don't,” Wanda cuts you off and you nod with your mouth shut. “I know that you care about me. A lot. I care about you too. A lot. But I… I don't expect you to wait for me to be ready. No. Let me rephrase,” she steps closer and holds your hands. “Don't wait for me. Don’t put your life on hold for me.”

You want to argue and fight for her but if this is what she wants then there isn't much else that you can do. You look her in the eye and ask, “Are you sure this is what you want?” Wanda nods. “Okay. I won't um I won't wait and I won't bring this up again. Not until you do. I understand.”

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“Will I still see you on Sunday?” You ask as you think about the bet again. “You still have a prize to collect,” you remind her playfully.

“Yeah, I'll be there,” she flashes you a small smile that drops as fast as it appears. You drop her hand and shove your hand into your pockets.

“Darcy wanted me to tell you that she said hi. I was hanging out with her before this,” you tell her.

“That's nice, how is she doing?” Wanda crosses her arms over her chest to keep her body warm as a cool breeze comes by.

“She's good, she'll be gone for a year. She got a big opportunity in Germany. But she's got three more months of being stuck here,” you inform her conversationally. Trying to move past the emotionally heightened moment.

“Wow, that sounds fascinating. I'll have to reach out to her. I liked meeting her,” Wanda says.

“I'm sure she'd love that,” you nod then you look at your watch. “I'll let you go back inside. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-”

“No, I'm glad you did. I'll see you on Sunday,” Wanda kisses your cheek before she walks away. “Goodnight, drive safe,” she shouts over her shoulder as she continues walking to her front door. You climb back into your car and drive to your apartment.

You allow yourself to cry and feel the heartbreak. You don't drink alcohol to forget it or make it easier. You don't smoke from the pack of cigarettes that you purchased on the way home. You just lie on your bed and clutch a pillow to your chest.

On Sunday you pick up Rachel from her mom's house and tell her that you lost a bet to Wanda and that she is going to pick out your new haircut. Rachel giggles with excitement.

“A mullet? Really?” You look at Wanda like she is crazy. “Are you trying to sabotage my dating life?”

Wanda laughs with a shrug, “It's not my fault your hair is long enough for it. Besides, I hear it's a very popular style for the They/Thems of the world.” You shake your head as she plays with your hair. The hairdresser laughs at the request as well before promising that the style is coming back. You tell him to just get it over with.

In the end, you don't completely hate it but you still don't feel like it's your style. However, Wanda's boys love it. “Mom, I want my hair like Y/n's! Mom, can we get our haircut too?”

“Oh, I'm sure that the schedule is busy and we didn't make an appointment for you two,” Wanda tried to tell them.

“Oh we have a couple hours free, I don't mind giving them a cut. The kids want to match their parent,” Clint says.

“Oh I'm not,” you stutter.

“We’re just friends,” Wanda corrects.

Clint nods as he eyes the two of you with a knowing smirk. “So am I cutting the kids' hair or not?” he asks a little loud, drawing the attention of the boys. The twins begin to beg over and over until Wanda caves. They cheer as they each hop into a chair. Clint disappears into the back to collect his wife to cut Billy's hair while he works on Tommy.

You sit next to your daughter and Wanda sits on the other side of her. “What about you? Do you want to get a haircut?” Wanda asks.

Rachel shakes her head with a scrunched-up face. “No, I'm okay.”

“Her hair doesn't grow back fast. It took a while for it to get this long,” you explain. “That's her mom's genetics,” you say lightly as you mess with Rachel's hair. She swats her hand away and goes back to playing games on your phone.

When the boys are done with their haircuts the group of you decide to grab some ice cream together and enjoy the treats at a nearby park.

Wanda is messing with your hair as you watch the kids play on the playground. “Why are you suddenly so obsessed with my hair?” You ask with a laugh.

“I don't know, I've never seen a mullet in person. It looks so… touchable. I don't know. I can't explain it,” Wanda replies as she continues to move her fingers through your hair. “Business in the front,” she touches the front of your hair and then moves her hand down to the back, “party in the back!”

You shake your head slightly, “You're insufferable, you know that right?”

“I know,” she says. As much as you are giving off the impression that you don't want her to touch your hair, you're happy that she is.

“I'm starting to rethink this whole friendship thing,” you grouch with a playfulness to your tone.

“Whatever, Uncle Jesse,” she pulls her hand out of your hair and holds her phone up. “Say cheese!” You roll your eyes as she takes candid pictures of you. Then she calls her boys over to pose with you. The three of you show off your new haircuts.

After going to a fast food restaurant for dinner, you and Wanda decide it's best to split from each other so that the kids can get ready for school on Monday. Everyone hugs each other goodbye.

“Baba?” Rachel asks for your attention as you're driving home. You hum to let her know that she has your attention. “When you do fall in love again. I hope it's with someone like Wanda.” You don't say anything as you keep your eyes on the road.

Chapter 18

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