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sohnric · 6 months

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paris – l. juyeon

pairing: lee juyeon x fem! reader

genre: exchange student! juyeon in paris (ft. his erasmus friends). friends to ???, angst, fluff. actually, the genre is longing. halloween party au but the halloween part plays like,, 0 part in the fic, basically. idk the paris pics did something to me he is so european coded. paris by the 1975 without the drugs in a fic, essentially

warnings: cheating from yn's side, swearing, alcohol, smoking. the reader is canonically french im sorry 💀

word count: 6k

There’s quite a few reasons why Juyeon never told his friends from home about you- the girl he met on his student exchange trip. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making Juyeon’s whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder. But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it– oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

a/n: do NOT cancel me for being a casual matty healy enjoyer i am a 2014 tumblr girlie at heart

“And where are my gifts? Where are the souvenirs?” Hyunjae calls after the boy that’s still kind of jet lagged from the flight (even though it’s been 3 days since his landing and he slept the whole day after his brother picked him up from the airport), the latter looking at him with tired eyes.

“That’s all you want from me after not seeing me for 6 months?”

“Yes. Where’s my baguette?” Hyunjae glares, making the younger boy whine at the request.

“I didn’t know you wanted a hard rock baguette from me. If I had known, I would’ve taken one with me and smashed it against your head the moment I arrived here.”

“Well, if it’s authentic,” Hyunjae shrugs, laughing. “I’m just joking… I know we’ve been calling and texting like, every other day, but let me ask again. How was it?”

Juyeon finally smiles at his friend’s question. This is what one expects after coming home from studying abroad for 10 months– not a souvenir request. And trust me, Juyeon did bring gifts, out of the warmth of his own heart, but after being asked for them, he kind of doesn’t want to play Santa anymore. Kind of like when you decide to wash the dishes, but your mum tells you to do it at the same time of your decision– the motivation fades away the mere second you’re requested to do the thing.

“Well, it was good,” he shrugs, “it was… something,” Juyeon says– because how does one fit 10 months of their life into a few sentences without stammering– and before he gets a chance to say anything, Hyunjae catches him off guard with another inquiry.

“Is it true, by the way? Are European girls really prettier?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy as if to suggest something– but all it does is make Juyeon shrug, acting not really bothered with the question.

“Dunno,” he hums, “I think it’s equal to here.”

“So you’re telling me you went 10 months without getting laid in France?” Hyunjae gasps, making Juyeon furrow his brows in utter disbelief.

“When did I say that? Or anything that would even suggest that?”

Now, this was a trap. Juyeon is too gullible. See, Juyeon was pretty transparent with everything during his calls with Hyunjae back when he was in Paris. He told his friends back home all about the European food, the rock-hard french baguettes, the weird looks and annoyed sighs he got when speaking English to the clarks in the shops, the cold showers in his accommodation and the pretty park in front of his university building. They also know all about his friends from Paris– the international students he met in his course like Shotaro from Japan, Bence from Hungary and Marco from Italy– but when the question of girls came around, specifically in the romantic light of things, Juyeon went awfully quiet. You can’t blame Hyunjae for getting into suspicions.

“So you did?” Hyunjae gasps, grasping at the straws.

Juyeon sighs, reaching for his bag. His awfully big hand slips inside of the black backpack, fingers touching various things before he brings out a bunch of gifts: a keychain with the Eiffel tower, some magnets, postcards, a fashionable beret he found in one of the souvenir stores but never saw anyone actually wear in the whole 10 months in the streets of Paris, some perfume and high quality chocolate. Hyunjae’s eyes go wide, making satisfaction swim through Juyeon’s veins at the sight– he managed to deflect the attack.

Sometimes, having materialistic friends is a plus.

As he watches Hyunjae touch all the things on the table, fingers trailing over metal and the shiny wrapping of the dark chocolate with an acknowledging nod, Juyeon takes out another thing out of his bag– his digital camera that he brought along for the ride. He sent his friends a lot of pictures when he was in Paris, and he also posted quite a few on Instagram for everyone to see, but the camera held more memories and more moments than anyone’s ever seen before– it’s a source of treasure for himself as well, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to share a glimpse with his best friend.

“Wanna see? I took tons of pictures, but you can look through only the interesting ones, if you want to,” Juyeon hums, offering the camera to the male, the display already shining at him from the gallery, small icons of all pictures on the SD card in a 3x3 row on the small thing.

A few pictures of the town are on preview right now, but if you scroll through the gallery, moments of his friend Marco’s birthday party that his friends threw for him, or the snapshots of his friend’s faces come into sight– Juyeon’s sure Hyunjae’s eager to see how all of the people he’s been talking to him about look like.

Hyunjae nods, taking the camera from him and squinting at the little icons. His fingers move along the touch screen and scroll through the gallery, eyes zooming on the interesting ones and grinning as he shows them to Juyeon, awaiting the backstory of a certain image.

Everything goes well, until Hyunjae gets to the latest pictures on the SD card– well, apart from the ones Juyeon took from the window on his flight home. And Juyeon really doesn’t know what he was thinking, but hey– sometimes he doesn’t think things through as much as he should– and that’s why when a particular photo comes into his best friend’s sight, turning the camera towards Juyeon with a shiteating grin on his face, the question ‘Who’s that?’ makes the poor boy a bit shaken.

His tall figure, standing alongside someone shorter– you, in your vampire costume, fake blood running down the side of your mouth, a hand thrown over his shoulders and your side pressed into his a bit too close as he stares down onto you with an obviously star-struck face, suit covering his body in a poor attempt at Joker’s costume– the moment stares back at him like a haunted memory.

He clears his throat. “That’s… that’s just Y/N.”

Hyunjae hums, having a staring contest with the picture on the screen. The date on the bottom reads 31/10/23, the last day of Juyeon’s stay before he had to go home. “How come I’ve never heard about Y/N?”

“There wasn’t much to say, I guess,” Juyeon shrugs, taking a sip from the bottle of beer on the table.

“Sure…” Hyunjae doubtingly nods, scrunching up his nose in disbelief.

“I’m serious. She’s just a friend I met there,” Juyeon offers, licking his lips in nerves.

And it’s the truth– you were just a friend and there really wasn’t much to say about you two– so why does Juyeon’s heart hurt a bit as he recognizes the events of the night as if it happened yesterday? Why does he feel nostalgic, maybe a little bitter about the way you two left off?

Hyunjae doesn’t know, but there’s quite a few reasons why he never heard about you in the first place. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making the whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder.

But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it–

oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

31/10/2023

The buzzing of the room makes Juyeon’s already thumping head ache in its crevices, the smell of alcohol in the breath of everyone talking to him only making his stomach twist and turn with acid. He’s had his fair amount of drinks himself, but there is a very faint line between the amount that’s just enough to keep him going through the night and the amount that makes him puke and have a two-week hangover, and with the flight home he has to take tomorrow afternoon, he doesn’t think drinking more would be a good idea.

“Don’t break it!” Juyeon tiredly hurries out as he sees his friend Marco handle his camera, the device almost falling out of the foreign friend’s hands.

“I won’t! Hold on, let me just–” the Italian mutters, the coating of vodka shots and the cheap red wine (made to look like blood to keep things festive) making his words slur together as he speaks.

Juyeon reaches towards his drunk friend (while also questioning how he’s going to take a plane back to Italy tomorrow in a very hungover state) and tries to pray the prized possession out of his hands, but comes to a fail as the tall man waves him off with a theatral arm wave, shoving the poor boy towards the white wall and putting the camera up against his own face. “I’ll take your picture! So you can– you only take pictures of us, Juyo,” he rambles on, “I’ll take your picture so you can show it at home to your friends!” Marco grins, having Juyeon aimlessly sigh and stretch out his lips into a fake smile, waiting for his friend to take the picture so he can get his camera back to safety.

“Me too! Me too!” he suddenly hears from somewhere to his right, and before he has the chance to decipher the owner of the female voice, a weight on his shoulder tells him you just jumped at his side– almost topping him over and into the spooky decorations to his right– as you giggle into his ear. “Have it?”

“Aaaalmost!” Marco stretches out as he squints at the camera– and in the spare few seconds before the shutter goes off, Juyeon allows himself to stare down at your figure glued to his side. You’re wearing a dark lipstick on your smile, a drip of fake blood rolling down the side of your mouth. There’s a corset top enveloping your middle and a flowy black skirt only pulling the whole look together even with the absence of fangs– and while you don’t suck out his blood, Lee Juyeon can physically feel how you sucked out all oxygen out of his lungs in your sexy vampire costume.

He’s seen you around tonight, but he never got the courage to walk up to you. Something about this being his last night in Paris might be the reason why.

He was simply too bummed out about how things between you and him never went further than fits of laughter in class as you helped him with his French, or friendly hugs when you bid him goodbye at the corner of his street. Maybe it was his own fault for falling for someone so out of his reach. He always knew his stay in France was temporary– hell, he was an exchange student, he was aware of what he was getting himself into– but still, he couldn’t help but recognize the familiar warmth in his stomach whenever you were around and the strange racing of his heart whenever you were close enough for him to smell your shampoo for what it was. He was completely, utterly smitten with you– a french local that would be erased out of his lifestyle as soon as he lands back home in Korea.

The shutter of the camera is all it takes to break his train of thought, making him snap his head back to his Italian friend. A sigh of relief is heard in the room as Juyeon finally reunites with his digital camera (he was surprised to see Marco let go of it so easily), and before he has the chance to think of a conversation topic to indulge in with you, you have his words catching in his throat at your own pace of speech.

“Have you been here for long?” you ask, flattering your eyelashes at him. Juyeon gasps before he presses his lips together into a tight line, shrugging.

“A bit.”

“Why haven’t you said hi?” you frown. “You said it’s your last night! You wouldn’t leave without a goodbye, would you?” you shake your head at him, playfully poking his shoulder with your pointer finger.

He was going to. Not anymore, he guesses.

“No,” he disagrees instead, “I was gonna look for you when it was my turn to leave,” he quickly comes up with an explanation, having your features relax as a warm smile overtakes your pretty features again.

Even with your face all bloody and your eyes having dark circles under them from eyeshadow (and mascara that weared off a little, which you were completely unaware of), Juyeon finds you absolutely, utterly and fascinatingly beautiful. He’s glad no one is able to read his inner monologue– or else he’d be the one with blood running down the side of his face. If the punch to seal the cut would be coming from you or your boyfriend, he’s not quite sure.

Maybe both. The main thing is, you’re taken and his feelings aren’t reciprocated.

Which is why his silly crush on you that maybe, just maybe, turned into something more meaningful was that much damaging to his poor soul.

Because Juyeon swears he never loved anyone before, but after spending the night with you drinking cheap wine in his empty dorm room on his birthday completely alone– since it fell on a Sunday this year and he didn’t have that many friends yet to celebrate with, only having spending 2 weeks in Paris at the time– during which you taught him French swear words and kissed his cheek goodbye (which he thought may be a cultural thing, although he wasn’t sure); after all of this, he felt like you’re the person he’ll think of when someone asks him about his first love when he's old.

And even if he had the balls to do anything about it (which he didn’t), he simply couldn’t. You were out of reach.

“You’d better,” you hum, “or else I’d hitchhike a plane and come over to Korea just to kick your ass.”

“You can’t hitchhike a plane, you weirdo.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Of course I can. Watch me.”

Juyeon finds himself grinning at the adorable determination in your voice. It makes him feel a certain type of way that he knows he shouldn’t– but after spending 10 months with the feelings (5 of which you were single, 5 of which you’ve spent dating your boyfriend) and absorbing the idea of leaving you and everything behind tomorrow, Juyeon no longer feels as guilty about the act of loving you. Not anymore– not tonight.

“I like your costume,” Juyeon comments, pointing to the attire you’ve dressed yourself in.

“Really?” your eyes light up. “Look, I even wore the bow my idiot of a boyfriend said looks tacky,” you say, making a little twirl for the man. Your skirt flows nicely in the air and you stumble a bit due to the alcohol in your system, but when Juyeon catches you by your forearms and steadies you, there’s a content smile sitting on your lips despite your previous sentence.

“It looks pretty on you,” Juyeon hums, nodding. “It’s not tacky at all.”

“I always knew you had more taste than him,” you sigh dramatically, making Juyeon question your actions.

Oh?

“Anyways, I like your costume as well,” you comment.

“Thanks,” he says, although his half-assed attempt at a Joker’s costume wasn’t anywhere near your level of preciseness, “Shotaro was supposed to go as Harley to match with me, but he pulled out of it at the last minute,” Juyeon pouts.

“Gosh! That would’ve been fucking amazing,” you laugh, swatting your friend in the arm playfully– the way you always do when you laugh– but as you come down from it, there’s a bitter tone in your voice. “I asked my boyfriend to wear a couple’s costume too, but he said all my costume ideas were lame.”

“Y/N–” Juyeon starts, wanting to speak up about the matter very obviously present in the conversation, wanting to console you, say anything, but you cut him off again– your courtesy– with a shrug and a grin on your face made to mask your true emotions (didn't work. Juyeon knows you too well).

“It’s okay. That’s why I dressed up as a slutty vampire just to spite him,” you say.

“What’s his costume?” Juyeon asks.

“Not sure. I think he just bought the Scream mask, or something,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the male.

And now, Juyeon was never big on gossip. But if gossiping meant poking fun at your boyfriend, the last night before his plane back home takes off is not the time he’s passing on a snarky comment. “Lame.”

“I’m so glad we are on the same page, Juyo.”

His heart leaps at the nickname– a lot of people call him that, but the tone you say it in, the sweet melody of your voice as you throw it at him like a promise (of everything and nothing at all– you’re fond of him, but never fond enough), only you have this effect on him when you call him that. He wishes he had you saying his name recorded, documented somewhere on his phone, your accent and all, so he could hear you say it when he foolishly misses you in the middle of the night, like he knows he will when he lays awake at home, in his tiny, silent room.

“Do you want to get out for a bit? It’s getting too hot in here,” you say as you wave yourself, hoping to cool off, but failing miserably with the heat created from the bodies swimming through the house, and Juyeon finds himself nodding at your question.

Your feet drag you outside of the house, the cold breeze instantly cooling down your sweaty bodies. You two stand on the front porch together, watching the world around you revolve in a fast, yet slow manner– there are couples making out in the corner of the yard, one of them pressed up against the tree, and friends chasing each other down in zombie costumes, passing by bottles of alcohol between each other.

Juyeon hears you hum, making him turn his head towards you and see you offering a cigarette to him. He'd never been much of a smoker before, but Europe taught him to never turn down a cigarette when offered, and so he only takes out one out of the pack, watching you mirror his movements. You fish for your lighter in your bra (and Juyeon finds himself too mesmerized to look away during the action), clicking it and putting the flame against the cigarette trapped between his lips.

He doesn’t know what it is about the action that makes his eyes hooded as he watches you– noticing the forgotten speck of glitter from some step of your makeup routine under your eye, making him want to swipe his thumb over it and take it off for you– but he can’t get his gaze off you as he breaths in the smoke, his head going more fuzzy than it has been only a few minutes prior.

When Juyeon’s cigarette is lit, you move to light your own, all while the male watches you with almost a dreamy look on his face. Somehow, he’s glad no one’s watching you. He doesn’t think he would be able to conceal his feelings for you tonight.

“Are you gonna miss this?” you suddenly ask, looking up at him from his right.

You? Absolutely.

“I think so,” he nods, “it’s a lot different to home, but I made a lot of memories here.”

He watches a hint of smile spreading over your features. “Do you remember when you accidentally told our professor you were horny instead of excited?” you laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” Juyeon laughs at the memory. His French never really got to a perfect level– that’s why most of you settled on speaking English between each other– but the first few weeks were a living hell of a language barrier for Lee Juyeon. “The more concerning part is that this is what made you approach me,” he notes.

“Well, I recognised that you needed help, and I was willing to provide it,” you say, taking a drag out of the cigarette and blowing the smoke into his face.

Juyeon looks at you through the smoke cloud, snickering. “I’m kinda grateful, though. You were the first friend I made here.”

You look at him with a tender look– something so full of care Juyeon swears he feels his stomach doing somersaults– before you press your lips into a solemn smile. “Well, I’m honored, Juyeon Lee,” you drag out in a posh accent, making the boy break out into a laugh.

He takes another drag off the cigarette, inviting the nicotine into his system. Mixed with the alcohol in his veins and your aura surrounding him, he almost feels on cloud 9, like he’s flowing in space and he can’t get down. He watches as you lean over the railing of the porch, forearms meeting with the metal in a set of goosebumps. Breeze flies through the air, making your barely-clothed figure shiver.

He knows he probably shouldn’t. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside, and although you two are seemingly in a weird sort of fight, it’s not his place to act as a gentleman.

Still, Juyeon finds he has nothing to lose. He shrugs off the suit jacket he’s been wearing and drapes it over your shoulders wordlessly, noticing the way you look back at him over your shoulder with a soft smile on your lips.

A comforting silence overtakes you two. Juyeon takes the last drag off the cigarette and puts it out on the iron railing, enjoying the effect your sheer presence has on him. The music coming out of inside is only a mere background noise now, providing him an occasional distraction to the buzzing of his own thoughts.

“Say, Juyo,” you start, “do you know where Dorothy lives?” you ask.

Juyeon hums in disagreement. “Don’t think I do. Why?”

“I’m sleeping over at hers tonight,” you mumble, mentioning your best friend– the girl Juyeon’s met plenty of times in the 10 months of knowing you. “I was supposed to stay at Andre’s, but I’m not talking to him right now.”

“Oh,” is all Juyeon says. The mention of your boyfriend always throws him off the track a little.

“I dunno where Dorothy went, but I’m getting kind of sleepy.”

“Why can’t you just go home?” he asks.

“Juyo,” you laugh, “my parents would kill me if I got home tipsy and smelling like cigarette smoke. Don’t you know how they are?” you joke, shaking your head in disbelief.

He doesn’t. He kind of wishes he had the chance to know, though– because if he knew your parents, maybe it would imply something. Signify something more.

“Do you want me to walk you to Dorothy’s?”

“Yeah,” you nod, lids heavy. Juyeon doesn’t know what time it is, but the last time he checked, it was well past midnight– he doesn’t think he’d stay around much longer himself.

“Okay,” he nods, watching as you slowly peel yourself off the railing and wear his suit jacket properly, the fabric drowning you, but keeping you warm. The sight, the sentiment of it, makes Juyeon’s hands shake and his throat go dry. You’re so close, yet so out of his reach.

Your feet are slow as you march towards the direction of your best friend’s house. Juyeon doesn’t know how far it is, but he wishes for you to take the long way home– if those are the last moments he has with you, he wants to drag the evening out the best he can.

The night is quiet. The only thing ringing in your ears is the sound of your own footsteps, when Juyeon surprises himself with the question that noisily cuts out of his throat.

“Why don’t you break up with him?” he asks.

He expects you to go mad at the question– you were known to have quite the fierce temper. You and Andre have had a few problems in the past: he was known to be reckless with his snarky comments that somehow hurt your pride, his nasty behavior when he got drunk, and the not-so-happy opinion your parents had of him. You were known to blow things out of proportion, screaming, crying and making a scene whenever you could if you thought it was appropriate, known to talk about your conflicts with your friends and digging out opinions out of them on the matter.

Juyeon always made sure to give you lukewarm arguments whenever you asked him about your boyfriend. Never too heated to make himself seem suspicious. Your relationship was none of his business.

Again– tonight, though, he has nothing to lose.

“I dunno,” you shrug, your steps a little uneven on the pavement, “it’s… a matter of habit, maybe? It’s weird,” you say.

The explanation gives Juyeon just about nothing. A matter of habit? Is it a habit to stay with someone? Was there not more needed for a relationship?

Juyeon doesn’t find it in him to reply. Instead, he lets you talk.

“I think I might love him, or something. I’m not really sure…” you mumble, the sentences breaking Juyeon’s heart a little by little, shattering it right in front of you on the pavement, “because if I didn’t, why else would I put up with all of this?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“All the shaming, the spiteful remarks. The pettiness, the silent treatment… tell me, Juyo, do I have any dignity?” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Y/N…”

The snicker that escapes out of you quickly turns bitter. Your body grows impossibly closer to his, your hands sneaking around his bicep. You walk with linked arms, your head falling to his shoulder. “I don’t think I really love him, though,” you suddenly rebuttal, “‘cause like… I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t tell my grandkids about Andre, y’know? I think that’s the way you know. If you can imagine thinking so fondly about someone that you… that you’d mention them even in 50 years, ‘cause the memories still feel fresh and you’re delighted you once knew them, then…” you trail off, voice fading.

“Do you know what I mean?” you hum, pouting.

He does know.

“Sorry, I’m rambling–”

“No, I get you,” he reassures you, nodding to himself.

“You always do,” you sigh, breaking Juyeon’s heart into a million pieces, “anyways, with that being said… I think I’m with him only because breaking up is too much of a hassle. And, I think I like the attention,” you splutter, laughing at yourself, “that’s… so desperate of me, I know. I’m starting to doubt if it’s even worth it.”

“He’s not,” Juyeon finds himself saying as you two cross the corner.

“You’re only saying that as my friend.”

“No, I’m saying that as your– as someone who cares…?” he stutters, mentally kicking himself for sounding so readable. Surely, you must’ve already noticed. If not from his current statement, then from the way he looked at you the whole night. You are a smart girl– you were always quick to point out the men that would soon hit on you when you were at the club. You have a good eye when it comes to others.

You only laugh, though. Oh, how Juyeon loves the sound.

“Thank you,” you hum.

You two fall silent for a while. Juyeon finds himself enjoying it. It feels comfortable– to walk with you through the emptied Paris, accompanied by the yellow lampposts and soulless streets. Only you two, your linked arms and his suit jacket around your shoulders.

“We’re at Dorothy’s,” you muse when your steps come to a halt, gesturing towards the silent, dark house on the other side of the street, “I think she’s not home yet, though. Her light would be on.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Juyeon looks from the house and back at you, then back at the seemingly empty house again. “And now what?”

“I have to wait for her,” you shrug, “will you… keep me company?”

You don’t even have to ask. He’d always keep you company.

“Well, I’m not just gonna let you stand alone in the street in the middle of the night, am I?” he playfully shakes his head in disbelief, but secretly enjoys the fact that he has more time with you before you have to pay each other goodbye.

“Always knew you were a gentleman.”

“Pretty sure that was my middle name,” he notes.

“I thought you said that was ‘handsome’ once?”

“I have two,” he laughs.

“Is that possible?” you tease.

“Of course! Look it up,” he says, turning to you as he talks. “My name’s actually Lee Handsome Gentleman Juyeon, it’s on my ID and everything,” he jokes, watching as your eyes turn into moon crescents and your throat lets out a fit of amused giggles.

Another playful punch to his shoulder. A happy sigh. A shake of your head, full of disbelief.

“Damn, Juyo. I’ll miss you like crazy, you know?” you suddenly utter, making the boy’s heart fall down into his stomach. The implication of your words sounds a lot like a goodbye, and although he was aware of the fact that he was leaving before, he doesn’t think he really let the reality down on him until now.

This time tomorrow, there will be no Paris. No Marco. No Shotaro. No Bence. No French locals, no bagels for breakfast, no shitty ass dorm room.

No you.

“I’ll miss you more,” he says. He thinks he’s right.

You’ll miss him like a friend. He’ll miss you like his first love.

You stare at him for a heartbeat. One, two– before you latch onto him, much like when you first met tonight. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close, head resting on his shoulder only when you notice his hands wrapping around your middle. Breathing in your scent, Juyeon focuses very hard to keep his heart rate in check– it’s hard to not falter under your touch when your nose buries itself into his neck, cold skin nuzzling into his hot one, hands squeezing him tighter.

Juyeon doesn’t think you’ve ever hugged him like this before.

And now, you won’t ever again.

You break away from him only enough to still be in his hold, your forehead resting against his. The new intimacy between the two of you makes him gulp, eyes focused into yours– watching the silver and gold swirl around your irises, counting your eyelashes. Noticing the faint mole on the top of your nose bridge.

Foolishly letting his eyes dip lower. Memorizing the shape of your lips with his gaze. Taking in a shaky breath when he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape.

“Will you tell your grandkids about Paris?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. Juyeon would almost think you’re suggesting something with your question, but when you speak up again, the suspicion is proved correct. “Will you tell them about me?”

The boy drags his eyes up back to yours. He examines the intention. He finalizes that he has nothing left to lose.

Tomorrow, this will all be a memory. A moment out of his reach– much like you, all this time. A moment of time he experienced and won’t ever get back.

“I will,” he nods, swallowing. “Will you?”

You smile at the boy, the curve of your lips capturing his attention again. If anyone asked, he’d tell them it’s pure biology– the way his eyes zoomed in on your mouth the moment your expression changed. That’s how attention fluctuates– he learned about it in class somewhere, he’s fairly certain.

Why he’s unable to look back into your eyes after the question is a matter of something else, though.

“I think I might,” you breathe out.

There’s buzzing in his fingertips as he relishes the moment. The sentiment makes his knees weak, his brain fuzzy, his sight blurry and a little hazed. When he finally catches a glimpse of your gaze, he finds it glued to his mouth.

He could take it as an invitation.

He won’t, though.

“Kiss me?” you ask, whispering.

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t.”

Not when you’re taken. Not when he’s aware. Not when he knows you might regret this in the morning.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you ask.

That, however, is a whole other situation.

You asked to. You're making the first step. He doesn't have to feel guilty– who cares whether either of you might regret this decision tomorrow.

A simple nod–

that’s all it takes before you lock your lips with his. Your mouths move against each other with a passion he’s contained for his whole stay. You taste like vodka and orange juice, the slickness of your lip gloss making Juyeon’s lips slide against yours with more ease. He kisses you like you’d kiss your first love– with everything in him, with everything he is.

He kisses you in a way that shows he wants to remember this forever. In a way that makes you lean even closer, pressing up firmly against him as you angle your head to make the kiss deeper. One of your hands moves from behind his head to twist itself deeper into his hair, tugging a little at the root to make the boy gasp under your actions. That has you inviting your tongue into his mouth, eager to taste him, to explore.

Juyeon doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so vulnerable, so open while kissing someone. This is him with his heart on a plate, naked and ready to be stabbed, squished by the weight of circumstances breathing onto his back.

His cold fingers move along your sides. Your hands settle on his shoulders to steady yourself, head pulling away to gasp for oxygen.

You look so pretty when he opens his eyes. Lipstick smudged and eyes blown out, hair a little messy from the October wind. He’s like an addict presented with his favorite drug– he can’t get enough, he can’t resist as he chases after you, leaving kisses along your jaw and the corner of your mouth, where the blood is, slowly meeting your lips again in another lock.

Everything else disappears. In this moment, there’s just you, you, you…

No flights. No weight of his own conscience. No boyfriends, no unsaid feelings.

No regret.

And Juyeon thought he had nothing to lose, but suddenly, with you in his arms, he feels as if he’s being stripped of everything he never even had, only got the glimpse of last minute, a few hours before he’s gone.

You lean away again. Juyeon watches you with big eyes. A smile appears on your face as you move a finger up to his face, cleaning up the side of his mouth off the dark lipstick you’ve imprinted on him. He feels fragile under your touch. One bad move and he breaks, falls apart under you.

“You have to come back to visit one day,” you whisper, cradling the side of his face.

Juyeon nods. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance.

But as you stand on your tippy toes and press a kiss to his forehead, making a million different fireworks erupt in his stomach, he doesn’t let himself think of that (im)possibility. He watches as you smile at him, locking your eyes in a gaze tender and soft, yet electrifying, holding something special.

Before you take off to meet your best friend walking up the other side of the street, you hug him one last time and whisper into his ear.

“Goodbye, Juyo.”

Seeing as you lock your arms with Dorothy, walking up into the silent house and never looking back, Juyeon lets himself feel the last hint of longing for someone he always knew would never be his. And it’s strange, because he hasn’t even left yet,

but oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #juyeon #lee juyeon #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #juyeon x reader #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon angst #lee juyeon fluff #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #tbz angst #juyeon scenario #juyeon fic

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mioyeo · 7 months

Text

Watch your back : Chapter 9

Once you don’t value what you have someone else learns how to take care of what used to be yours

Synopsis : 8 men supposed to give her all the love they promised end up leaving her behind without a valid reason

Pairing : girlfriend Reader x PolyAteez !

Warning : this chapter contains mentions of Ateez being careless , lots of crying , jumping off a cliff etc Please reminding me if I forgot something

Tag list : @legbouk , @scarfac3 , @m4rsluv , @hcyaa , @jackinmyarea , @layzfeelit , @loverlele , @mulletjoonsupremacy , @veneziamadness , @belle643 , @gugggu6gvai , @atinytinaa , @voidcupidz , @atinyreads , @baguette-atiny , @parkthothwa8 , @hwadump , @owjohny , @miaatiny , @honeyymon @tunaasan , @riririyuhn , @vixensss

Word count: 1,5k

" Im so exhausted and my feet hurt "

Wooyoung sighed out as he plopped on the couch massaging his feet groaning

" It took a lot longer than expected "

Yeosang laughed and removed his suit

" I was scared your mom was not going to like me to be honest "

Rin sat beside Wooyoung who chuckled and held her softly planting a kiss on her temple

" My mom is cautious, but she'll grow to like you so don't worry about it "

Yunho who's hair was now messy scratched his chest as he came into the kitchen looking around

" Do we still have those mini crackers? "

He looked inside the cupboards humming

" Don't open them it's from Y/n "

Seonghwa came into the kitchen stressed

" Where is she even? wasn't she supposed to be with us earlier? "

" Yeah but you and Jongho forgot to add her "

" When was I even supposed to ? "

Yunho opened the crackers anyways eating them as Seonghwa looked at him in disbelief

" We clearly talked about this last week ? how could you forget? "

" Gosh Seonghwa chill can't someone forget stuff? And why didn't you add her ? "

The younger walked out the kitchen leaving the elder to himself

" Hwa just go to bed , she's a grown woman "

Mingi yawned coming into the kitchen

"I'm just worried a little since it's really late and her phone is going straight to voicemail "

" Maybe she's on her way home let's just go to sleep she's grown and capable of knowing her way home stop stressing over nothing "

Seonghwa looked at the younger as he sighed , he just couldn't go to sleep like that his heart told him something was wrong and it put a huge weight on him

But at the end he just locked the door and turned the lights off hoping for her to return home by the time he woke up

___

The cold water embracing her body slowly numbed every part of her making it unable to move even if she wanted too

The struggling with breathing wasn't kicking in yet much to her liking

All her thoughts ran out freely as she just let herself sink further into the water

Was this really the right choice?

Or stupid to give up everything she fought for to be here in the first place?

It felt like an eternity as Y/n continued to sink but what scared her was when something grabbed her making her struggle against whatever it was

The muffled underwater screams didn't seem to do anything against the mysterious thing that kept pulling her upwards towards the light coming from the surface

Y/n kept fighting against the mysterious thing that kept swimming upward

She gasped and coughed as she was held against something rock hard

" Are you insane ? You could've died ! "

The person yelled at her as he panted in fear looking at her

" Why didn't you let me sink ! Nobody would have cared if I disappeared for once "

She cried coughing

" Wait Y/n ? Why the heck would you do such a dangerous thing ?! do you know how much you scared me to death when I saw you jump ? "

It took her a good moment to notice that the person who basically saved her was one of Rowoons friends

" D-Dawon , I- "

" Look we'll talk about this later let's just get out of here before we get sick "

He sighed and started swimming towards the dry part with her on his back

" I'm sorry you had to save someone like me "

" Let's not do this now , I just want you to go home safely with me so we can talk "

He shook his head trying to get the water out his ears before he took her hand and walked up towards the place he dropped his bag when he jumped in

" I'm just glad you're safe "

The boy sighed out trying to calm down since he was still under shock

" I don't want to go home "

" Don't worry I'm not taking you there "

She stood there shivering as she looked at her bare feet while he fished into his gym bag For his towel

" Did you eat anything? "

Dawon dried her hair as she just stood there not responding

" It's ok if you don't want to talk , let's just call a taxi to our dorm since you don't want to go home and I won't force you "

He pulled out his phone called a taxi

" Yes we are near the Han river, yeah exactly there thank you "

She looked at him with tears extremely ashamed and feeling pathetic since she couldn't even succeed in this one thing

" Why did you jump in ? It would've been better if I was gone "

Dawon looked at her as he closed his eyes sighing before hugging her

" I'd never let someone die before my eyes, even if I didn't know you and I'm so glad I did because you're so young and you have so much to achieve, and Rowoon would be so devastated if I hadn't saved you and I'm sure other people as well would be broken "

“ I can’t do this anymore , I’m a failure I can’t even defend myself anymore ”

The girl cried on his wet shirt ,it was a lot of weight on her shoulders and how could she forget about that one person who cared about her the most , who was willing to love her like nobody else ever loved her

" I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did this in the first place I'm so ungrateful "

" Y/n please , it must have been hard if it drove you to do this "

He grabbed her face and wiped her tears away with his thumb before guiding her towards the taxi that just arrived

" Please don't tell Rowoon about this I don't want to worry him more than I have by ignoring his texts lately "

Dawon nodded and shut the taxi door as they drove in silence

———

Both of them entered the dorm quietly careful not to make any noise

" But I don't have any clothes "

Y/n shivered as she hugged herself as Dawon went into his room and came back with some clothes and a towel

" These are new boxers that I just bought recently you can wear them "

She took them and went to change after taking a hot shower , but most of the time found herself shedding tears or starring at herself at the mirror the boys had in their bathroom

Were did she fail ? , was it really a blessing to still be breathing after her selfish act ?

After drying herself and blow drying her hair she stepped out of the bathroom and ran into one of the boys that was waiting so they could go to the toilet

" Oh I didn't know you were here "

" I myself didn't expect it either but it's good to see you again Jaeyoon "

He smiled and rubbed her head before dismissing himself to go to the toilet

" Hey you finished? "

Y/n nodded and looked around before fiddling with her fingers nervously

" Can you tell me were Rowoon's room is ? "

" He's probably asleep but go ahead it's the second door down the hall "

He smiled and said good night leaving her to herself in the semi dark hallway

Walking towards her best friends room she carefully opened the door and went inside , the room smelled so good it made her feel like home but yet so distant from it

She carefully went unter the covers but held her distance, it's like she felt it kinda being inappropriate being so close to him even thought they had watched films together in her room as he cuddled her

The moon made his face look so perfect and adorable as he slept soundless

How could someone as handsome like him like her let alone love her more than the best friend stage ? It was still a mystery to her

" Y/n is that you ? "

He asked without opening his eyes

" No it's not Y/n "

She changed her voice on purpose stiffening her laugh with tears

" Don't lie to me , it's smells like you "

He pulled the girl closer to him opening his eyes yawning

"Do I smell that good to be recognized ? "

" You always smell good and even from miles away I could tell that it's you "

She smiled softly letting him hold her , her worries long forgotten

“ I’m not even gonna ask you why you’re in my room this late at night , I’m just glad you’re alright and by my presence again ”

He smiled and softly yawned once again

“ Rowoon? ”

The boy hummed and kept yawning

“ Do you still love me ? ”

Rowoon opened his eyes meeting her glossy ones that stared back at him

“I do love you , but why are you asking me this ? Is everything alright? ”

“ How can you love someone as broken and insecure as me ? ”

She looked at him with lips in between her teeth due to her nerves playing with her

“ Because you deserve more , and you stole my heart with how sweet and caring not to forget how beautiful you are ”

The boy took her by the waist and smiled softly kissing her forehead

“These fools don’t know what they are missing out by not appreciating you enough and I just want a chance to show you how much you can be happy and appreciated ”

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez atiny #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic

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timetoletmyimaginationfly · 16 days

Text

I Hate Baking, But You Love Bread

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song Inspiration: Still Into You by Paramore)

You hummed to the music happily as you kneaded the bread. You heard the door unlock and Gojo happily walked inside.

“Big brother has arrived!” Gojo exclaimed happily. He laughed when he saw flour all over the counter, arms, apron, and face. “What the hell?” You gave him a look of annoyance.

“Shut up,” you said.

“But you’re a legit mess,” Gojo said in between chuckles. “Aww man! I’m not gonna let you live it down.” Gojo started to take pictures on his phone that made you cover your face with some embarrassment.

“That’s fine,” you said, bottom lip jutted out into a pout. “At least Kento-kun will appreciate my nonexistent baking skills.”

“I knew you had a reason. How long have you two been together anyway?”

“Ten years. Eleven in two months,” you answered as you focused on kneading the dough.

“And you’re just baking bread?”

“He has recently developed a new obsession with bread. So I wanted to surprise him,” you said happily.

“But you hate baking.”

“But I also love Kento,” you said proudly. Gojo chuckled and ruffled your hair.

“How’s it like?” Gojo asked curiously when he took a seat at the island counter where you were kneading the bread. “How is it like to be with someone for that long? How do you know that you still love him?” You smiled.

“Kento-kun has never changed his chivalrous ways,” you said. “He makes sure that I don't get too worried when he's on missions. That was one of our bad fights before and he puts in so much effort on it. Kento-kun stays consistent and that is something that I love so much about him.” You separated and placed the dough in a baguette pan. You put it in the oven and started the timer.

“Does he still gives you butterflies?” You nodded happily, your cheeks turning a light pink color.

“Do you two still argue?”

“You know that we do. I call you when we do.” Gojo chuckled.

“Very true. When is lover boy coming back from his mission anyway?” On cue, the door opened and the two of you stared at the front door.

“Gojo-san, what are you doing here?” Nanami asked once he entered inside.

“Kento-kun!!” you exclaimed happily and ran over to hug him. Nanami lightly laughed and hugged you.

“You’re covered in flour,” he said surprisingly. He chuckled as he wiped the flour away from your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” You blushed. Your heart raced and the butterflies were fluttering around. Nanami softly kissed your lips before placing his hand on the small of your back and headed inside the kitchen.

“Yo, Nanamin,” Gojo greeted. Nanami nodded in response. “I see that my baby sister is in great care. How’s the mission?”

“Takuma-kun is improving,” Nanami said. “The mission was a success.” Nanami looked around the kitchen. Flour everywhere with bowls, measuring spoons, and measuring cups piled over the sink.

“I thought you hate baking, sweetheart,” Nanami said. You blushed.

“Well, you’ve been into bread lately. And I wanted to surprise you with homemade baguettes,” you answered cutely. Nanami chuckled. He kissed the top of your head.

“It smells really good, sweetheart,” he said. “How about you wash up and I’ll clean the kitchen. I can keep an eye on the bread.”

“No, no, no! You just came back and—“ Nanami kissed your lips. When he pulled away, he turned your body around so you were facing the direction to the bedroom.

“Go, sweetheart,” he said and lightly smacked your butt. Gojo laughed at the interaction while you walked away flustered. Nanami rolled his sleeves up before heading to the sink to clean up.

“Sooooooo,” Gojo started.

“Are you here to annoy me?” Nanami asked.

“Sort of. So, how is it like being with my sister for this long? How do you know that you still love her or she loves you?” Nanami raised an eyebrow at Gojo.

“She baked bread and she hates baking,” Nanami said. “That says a lot already.” Gojo sighed, knowing that he’s not going to get more of a response from Nanami. He stood up and patted Nanami’s shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“I was going to meet my students for dinner. Tell my sister that I’ll call her tomorrow,” he said before leaving. Nanami shook his head at your brother. By the time you returned back to the kitchen, Nanami had already cleaned it spotless. Your eyes widened.

“You’re fast,” you said. “Satoru left?” Nanami nodded.

“He’ll call you tomorrow,” he notified, leaving you to nod in reply. You walked over to the bread and smiled proudly. Nanami smiled and walked over to you. He hugged you from behind, his face resting in the crook of you neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said and caressed his hair. “Kento-kun, what makes you still love me? Do I still—Do you still—what I’m trying to ask is—“ Nanami squeezed you tightly before letting go and dragging you to the couch. He sat you on his lap and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You baked bread for me when I know you loathe baking,” Nanami said with a soft smile. “It taste good by the way. But I don’t just love you for that.” Nanami curled a strand of your hair behind your ear. His hand cupped the same side of your face. “I love coming home to you. You make my worries melt away, especially when I hear you singing in the background while you make dinner. You remind me how amazing of a sorcerer I am. You’re a sweetheart who always looks out for others. You haven’t changed a bit except for how confident you became over the years.”

“I think I can thank my nursing profession,” you said happily. Nanami smiled.

“You support me no matter what. If anything, my love for you keeps getting stronger.” You kissed him deeply. “What about you?”

“You’re consistent and I love that about you,” you said. “You’re patient and take care of me even when you don’t have to. No one gets me like you do, Kento-kun. You mean everything to me.” Nanami kissed you back in response.

“Even when I haven’t proposed yet?” You laughed and playfully hit his shoulder.

“Even then,” you said. “However I’m still waiting for that ring.”

“I know, sweetheart. Soon, I promise.”

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami #nanami jjk #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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sleepysnoots · 13 days

Note

Stone x reader who brings him food?

No Idea what gender u wanted reader so I’ll go with gender neutral! Also thanks for requesting

Not proofread :P

————————————————————————

You were walking to their usual alleyway a basket of various treats and snacks being carried in your hands. Stepping over the discarded bags of rubbish and litter scattered all over the floor, you looked up to see stone sat on a crate by himself, he was leaning against the wall a cigarette in his hand as he exhaled the smoke seeming unaware of your presence .

You smiled upon seeing him sat there before calling out to get his attention

“Hey stone!”

Stones head perked up from his slouched position looking over to your direction smiling softly as he saw u wave at him as you made your way over to where he was sat, dodging the muck and trash on the floor . He chuckled at ur antics before flicking the cigarette butt squashing it with his foot.

“ hey”

He hummed shifting over a bit on the crate making room for you as you came to sit next to him placing the basket on your lap

You looked around noticing how it was only the two of you

“Where are the others?”

You asked as stone turned his head to look at you

“Oh, they went out.”

He hummed turning his head back to look at… the wall. You raised a brow with a slight smirk,

“Did they say why?”

You chuckled as you watched him shrug

“Yeah probably but i wasn’t really listening”

You rolled your eyes at him. Unsurprisingly stone wasn’t paying attention to anything vinnie and skipp said. You guess you could just wait for them with stone till they got back. But in the meantime, you could give stone some food now he’d probably save some for the others anyway.

And with that you shifted the basket off your lap and into the space between you and stone. His face still faced the wall but his eyes glanced at the basket then you. You smiled nodding at the basket, signaling that he can have some now.

Almost immediately after you nodded he went straight to the basket pulling out a piece of bread. You both sat there silently as he ate.

After a few minutes he spoke up already have eaten half of the small baguette.

“Why do u even give us food? I mean i ain’t complaining, but its just weird to think that anyone would be this kind to well yknow scraps”

You smile softly before also turning to face the wall as you give him a reason

“Well to be honest”

You chuckle

“I guess I just like helping people yknow no matter what or who they are”

Stones looking up at you as you talk his back hunched as he munches on the bread

“I really wish i could give a huge interesting answer but thats just my main reason”

You sit there for a moment before shrugging

“And i just really like you guys”

Stone smiles softly

“Well thanks we really appreciate”

He say’s sitting up before continuing

“And if it wasnt for you we’d probably have died from starvation”

Stone mutters before making eye contact with you

The sound of the busy city outside the alleyway hides the silence between the two as you both sit there looking at each other with soft smiles

You break the silence as you look away

“Its no problem, really.”

You chuckle as his eyes widen at you he feels his heart flutter from your kindness and how your doing this not for recognition or pride but just out of your own time. He feels his face heat up as he turns to look at the wall aswell

“Yeah.”

He mutters as you turn your head at him realizing he’s blushing

“OH MY GOD ARE U BLUSHING?!”

You say shocked before grinning trying to hold back your laughter

“WHAT! NO!”

he says defensively his face turning even more red

————————————————————————

Yeah don’t know where i was headed at the end but bish bash bosh another request done!

#stone ramshackle x reader #stone ramshackle #ramshackle fics #stone x reader ramshackle #ramshackle #send requests #fluff #no smut

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thisblogisaboutabook · 4 months

Text

Cowboy Like Me - Part 3

Azriel x Reader

Part three of my fic inspired by the queens of my heart, Taylor Swift and Sarah J. Maas.

Warnings: Language, references to SA

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

“At least one of you has the agility of a spy.” The grey eyed beauty tsk’d.

A smug look of satisfaction flickered across my face. “I swear he wasn’t this clumsy when we danced on the pleasure barge.”

Nesta smirked, “He wasn’t this clumsy when we danced in the Court of Nightmares either.”

Azriel’s features contorted into that of mock offense. “I missed ONE step.”

My eyes rolled back. “Yeah, tell that to my poor foot that your one missed step landed on.”

Nesta and I both giggled before Azriel finally stated “Okay, we’re done here.” turning around leaving the two of us behind.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Don’t trip over your feet on your way out, Az!” to which I was greeted with a vulgar gesture.

Nesta and I once again burst into laughter. She placed a firm yet delicate hand on my shoulder as we both fought to catch our breath.

I hadn’t known what to expect when Rhysand informed me that I’d be brushing up on ballroom dancing with the fierce sister of the High Lady, the King Slayer herself, but it certainly wasn’t an afternoon of finding amusement at Azriel’s expense. I could get used to such lessons.

Before Rhysand came back to retrieve Nesta, we enjoyed a cup of lavender tea together. Aside from a brief walk-through the seating area where he swiped a biscuit off my plate, Azriel sulked elsewhere in the palace.

Poor Illyrian baby.

Nesta laughed so hard that she nearly spit out her tea when I informed her of my stealthy baguette attack on the Spymaster the night before. Though, despite all of the laughter, I could see in her eyes that she cared for the male and none of the humor at his expense was entirely malicious.

“This is good for him.” Nesta whispered. “He’s always been quiet but lately he’s been noticeably quieter - making himself scarce. He doesn’t even come to family dinners like he used to.”

“Oh.” I muttered. “Do you know why?”

Nesta started to speak but caught herself, shrugging. “I’m not sure.”

Very well, I was a spy after all. One that wasn’t from her court. I wouldn’t share too much with me either - not to mention that they were friends and it was his information to share.

We enjoyed the remainder of our tea in casual conversation with Nesta confirming that she’d return in two days to instruct Azriel and I further. She parted with what could have been a threat or just friendly words of advice, softly yet firmly put. “He’s a good male. Try not to be too hard on him.”

With a wink she walked out of the palace to meet Rhys.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a long soak in the bath, I indulged in another comfortable Night Court lounge set - this pair including a silken set of shorts falling just below the curve of my ass and wandered to the kitchen.

A meal was already placed on the table, set for two. I wandered over and loaded my plate. It felt silly to sit by myself at such a formal table but I wasn’t exactly sure of the “etiquette” surrounding dining alone in a castle - seating myself next to a fireplace would be optimal.

As I dug into the seasoned roast on my plate, I noticed a shadow make its way to my wrist. “Hello, Shadowsinger.” I stated without looking up from my plate. “Sending your friends to spy on me?”

Azriel stepped into view with a cocky grin. “Just didn’t want you falling out of your chair again.”

I scoffed. “Alright, I deserved that.”

We sat in silence for a few moments before he looked up to meet my eyes.

“You said earlier that you had trained with others,” his eyes swirled with something akin to rage before gently continuing, “others who were not so professional. Why?”

“Why did I train with them or why did I tell you?”

“No, I appreciate that you told me. It’s not easy to open up about past experiences like that.” His face turned empathetic. “but why did you train with them? What path led you there?”

I paused. Nobody had ever asked me such a question before. I barely knew this male and yet he looked at me like he cared. Perhaps it was all a part of the Spymasters rouse but… I bought it. He looked at me as if I was more than just an asset to be used for one form of gain or another - a pain in his ass, yes, but something more than that.

He gave me a moment before his deep voice broke through the silence. “You- you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I just,” suddenly my nails were very interesting. “Well, I-“

here goes nothing.

“Nobody has every asked me that before. The path has been a spool of memories unraveling within me, threading itself into the the very fibers of my being. I’ve just never… verbalized it.”

His fixed gaze remained patiently upon me, allowing time for my words to form.

“My parents were murdered when I was a child - barely twelve. Amarantha’s cronies ambushed my village, our house being one of the first that they broke into. Like a coward, I hid. My mother was skilled with glamours, using her last burst of power to put a glamour over the door to our underground cellar.”

My throat bobbed as I caught my breath. “Though my parents had instructed me to hide - it ate away at me. What if I could have done something? Anything? To help them - to help the others in my village.

By the time they were through, half of the houses were irreparably burnt, and most of my village had been murdered. They didn’t light the home aflame until after their brutal raid was over and I was fortunate enough that my home was one of the last lit aflame. Someone from the town winnowed to the Summer Court gathering a group of fae with water abilities to help put out the fires. My house was damaged but fortunately, livable enough to carry on with part of a roof over my head.

I spent the next several years there. I had hoped in time the village would rebuild but the remaining population dwindled over the years. The memories too unbearable and the homes far too damaged - the effort of repairing them not worth it.”

I paused, my trembling fingers wrapping around the glass of water before me as I took a sip. Setting the glass back down, I continued.

“When I was sixteen, and word spread that the remaining villagers were fleeing, I knew that the effort of surviving would be too much. I was skilled in hunting and even growing produce but I was one person. I couldn’t spend the remainder of my life in solitude, so I decided to take life back into my own hands.

Never again would I cower. I refused to be afraid. If danger found me again, I would defend myself. I traveled from court to court, taking up any apprenticeship that could aid in building my strengths, both mental and physical. I became adept in glamours, fighting with a range of weapons, stealth and agility, forging weapons, information extraction and so forth. In turn, I would assist my mentors with everything from household duties to their work.

The problem was, over time the males would become entitled. An ‘accidental’ slip of the hand that would reoccur until it became outright groping, there were multiple instances of males attempting to force themselves on me, some would bring in sleazy acquaintances in hopes that I would offer ‘services’ to them.

There were a couple of males who kept their hands to themselves but eventually their partners would become uncomfortable and send me away. I didn’t blame them, however. It was uncommon enough for a female to practice such trades. Townsfolk would gossip, rumors would spread, and they’d be forced to send me away or ruin their reputations - they couldn’t afford to lose business over salacious gossip.”

I took another swig of water and gestured around me, “and now, here I am.”

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw - an unreadable expression on his face.

“Who?” he asked, his voice as dark as night.

“Who, what?” I puzzled.

“Who touched you?”

I huffed a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow over my next sip of water. “Remember when I said I’d never cower again? Those males are either dead or missing their favorite appendages.”

His expression changed to one that could be read as… pride? Silence momentarily overtaking the room.

His deep voice finally cut through the silence as he spoke two words that sent a wave of heat through my body.

“Good girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~

I couldn’t sleep that night. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I stalked out to the seating area with a romance novel I’d found on one of the shelves in the palace. I was surprised to find Azriel seated in one of the chairs, a glass of whiskey in hand.

“You’re up late.” I whispered.

“As are you.” He stated plainly.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I replied.

He nodded his head in understanding adding a two finger pour of whiskey to a glass, holding it out for me.

I accepted, sitting in the seat opposite of his. We sat in companionable silence as I read and he laid his head back, staring at the ceiling.

An hour later I was jolted from my reading by a soft snore. I looked up to see Az had nodded off in his chair. I chuckled to myself at the sight, but couldn’t help reveling in the softness of those sharp features. He truly was the most beautiful male I’d ever seen - I wondered if he realized his own beauty.

I retrieved a blanket from a nearby settee and gently placed it on him. Azriel didn’t stir, only his shadows briefly circled around me before deeming that I wasn’t a threat - one playfully tickling my ear.

I didn’t have the heart to leave him in the room alone, so I laid myself on the settee and drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

AZRIEL

A tug pulled him from his rest.

“Look.” his shadows whispered.

“See her.”

He opened his bleary eyes, smiling as they adjusted to the sight before him.

Gods. She was beautiful. The soft glow of the fire illuminating her feminine features added a delicate warmth to her that felt almost intimate - how rarely did she allow others to see her in such a vulnerable state? In this moment, you’d never know the strife she’d been through in her life. He couldn’t help but appreciate it - this moment of trust she was gifting him - laying her guard down before him, that strength she carried herself with at rest. He couldn’t help the feeling of contentment stirring within him at the sight. So many feared him - and for good reason - yet she felt comfortable enough to not only bring him a blanket but to fall asleep in the same space as him.

He gazed at her for longer than he cared to admit before his shadows lulled him back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning came quickly. I awoke to Azriel tapping my shoulder gently. “Wake up” he whispered.

“What- what time is it?” I asked.

“Time to get up - we’ve got a big day today.”

I let out a groan as I stretched, “I thought we were taking the day off from training?”

“We are.” He stated. “Get ready and meet me back here in an hour.”

“It’s too early for your cryptic bullshit, Azriel.” I yawned. “What are we doing?”

He smirked, arms crossed in a warriors stance. “We’re going to Velaris.”

———————————

Tags: @fxckmiup

#acotar x taylor swift #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #Azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #fanfiction #cowboy like me #velaris #moonstone palace #nesta archeron

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sneakyblinders · 1 year

Text

All His

A/N: another installment of the tommy x bee series aka Tommy and his darling wife!au <3 inspired by a lovely anon and @skydisneylover's asks for something with jealous tommy & how they said i love you <3 warnings: sexual themes, 18+ only, minors DNI. Alluding to smut, but no smut. Tommy being jealous/possessive, language. I take no credit for the gif! 1.5k words.

Tommy and Bee had been courting for two months. He felt like he was floating. In a dream. Having an out of body experience. This cannot be my life, he constantly thought to himself about this woman, this angel who graced his life with her time and attention.

He began to bring her down to Birmingham on the weekends, sending a car for her up to London and having her brought to the Midland. He wanted her all to himself. Wanted to pleasure her, hold her, let her make all the noise she could manage without fear of his family overhearing and giving them both grief for it over breakfast. Wanted no one but himself to hear her mewls, her groans, whines, moans. The way she fucking moans makes him fall apart in her hands.

She was everything he was not. Kind, charming, elegant, classy. She matched him in intelligence and wit. He had not seen her get angry with anyone besides him but once–she was calm–always soothing.

In the back of his mind he knew she was too good for him. Out of his league. He knew she would one day discover his darkness, the depths of hell he had been through, and would deem him unredeemable. He was preparing for the day when his heart would be shattered, and his world would go from vibrant color back to shades of gray.

But he loved her. He knew he loved her from the first few times they had really spent time together. Knew he loved her definitely from the first time they’d made love. How nervous she was to tell him she’d never done anything like this with a man before. His heart ached to tell her that he loved her. That he desperately loved her–that she was all he thought of day and night. He couldn’t bear to be apart from her any longer. Needed her, wanted her in Birmingham, sharing his bed, his home, his life. But he was terrified of her rejection, or worse, of her acceptance, and later, her rejection and abandonment.

So in the meantime, he showered her with gifts. Perfumes, dresses, lingerie, flowers. He bought her a mother of pearl watch with a gold band after they had been courting for a month. The next week he made love to her for the first time and bought her a delicate diamond anklet, clasping it on, her legs still thrown over his shoulders, still shaking from the pleasure he had brought her to seconds before. He’d recently discovered an emerald baguette necklace and instantly thought it needed to adorn her neck.

He was walking faster than normal through Birmingham to get to the Midland, anxious to see her. Feel her. Touch her. Hear her voice. He walked through the doors and heard her giggle. Brow furrowed, he walked into the lounge, where she sat across from a young man who was flirting, telling her some ridiculous story.

“Oh, there he is,” she said, looking at Tommy, breathless from laughing. Jealousy pooled in Tommy’s gut, knowing the day of her finding a better man was approaching soon. “It was lovely to talk to you, Sam,” she said, standing up to walk towards Tommy. “Hello, handsome,” she said, reaching up to kiss him on the lips.

Far too distracted in his thoughts, he didn’t lean into her like he normally did, causing her to pull away far earlier than she would like. “Hello, darling,” he rasped, a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up to the room, I’m going to get some whiskey and I’ll be up, hm?” he said. She nodded before disappearing up the stairs to their room.

He thoughtlessly retrieved a bottle of Irish whiskey from the bar before slowly walking up to the room. He groaned when he pushed the door open and saw her lying in the middle of the giant bed in nothing but a baby pink silk babydoll slip he’d bought for her.

“Are you alright?” she asked as he kicked the door closed behind him and turned the lock.

“Just tired, Darling. S’all,” he mumbled, walking to the window and closing the curtains.

He set the bottle of whiskey down on the nightstand closest to the door–the side of the bed he always deemed as his. “Are you certain?” she asked as he loosened his tie and removed his jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Been a long week and I’ve been looking forward to this since we left last time,” he said, unclasping his cufflinks as she rubbed her thighs together, dying from the anticipation, growing needy at this show of undressing he was making.

“But,” she began as he removed his sleeve garters and braces from his shoulders. “You didn’t kiss me like you normally do,” she said, widening her eyes and batting her eyelashes at him as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Mm,” he threw his shirt and undershirt in the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. “And how do I normally kiss you, hm?” he asked, crawling on top of her on the bed.

“Like a starved man,” she said, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Mm, I see,” he kissed her neck. “If I am a starved man, then you are the meal I’ve waited my whole life for, eh?” he pressed his hips into hers, causing a whimper to leave her lips. Her hands moved down to unfasten his trousers and push them down his legs, along with his undershorts, leaving him bare atop her. His hand moved up to grip her jaw, causing her to gasp, eyes flying open. “Who was that man?” he asked, jaw clenched.

“What man?” she asked, eyes wide in fear.

“The man in the lounge,” he said, anger pouring from his words.

“I don’t know, some man who wanted to ask if I knew of any good pubs,” she swallowed. “I told him the Garrison,” she said, flinching at his grip. “Thomas, please, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered.

He loosened his grip immediately, breathing heavily. “If you want to run off with another man, just say it, Bee,” he said, sitting up and reaching for his bottle of whiskey, taking a long swig straight from the bottle.

She sat up, hurt and confusion running through her mind. “Thomas, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, fighting back tears.

He took another long pull on the bottle before setting it down with a thud and crawling back on top of her, laying her flat on her back. “Say it again,” he demanded, clasping her jaw in his hand again.

“What?” she asked.

“Say it again,” he demanded, pressing his hips into hers.

“I’m not going anywhere, Thomas,” she repeated.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he told her, dipping down to nip at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck that drove her wild.

“I’m all yours, Thomas,” she told him breathlessly, legs wrapping around his hips again.

“Again,” he breathed, slinking down her body.

“All yours!” she cried breathlessly.

By midnight he was drunk. He didn’t make a habit of being drunk, and he actually couldn’t remember the last time he was properly drunk. But between the pleasure high he was riding and being thoroughly intoxicated with this woman, he had lost track of how much he had drunk until the bottle was nearly half empty.

“Got something for ‘ya,” he said, walking over to his discarded jacket and fishing out the necklace he had bought her.

“Thomas,” she scolded as he held it out, clasping it for her around her neck. “It’s beautiful, thank you,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

They fell back onto the bed together, legs intertwined, her fingers drawing shapes on his chest while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t think I could deny you anything y’know?” he said.

“Why’s that?” she giggled.

“Those eyes,” he said, shaking his head. “Those fucking eyes could get me to do anything, I swear,” he said and she continued to giggle.

“Anything?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have something else to tell ‘ya, but I know you don’t feel the same fuckin’ way so don’t laugh at me, eh?” he said.

“Oh, Thomas, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What is it?” she asked, a hand over his heart.

“I love you, Bee,” he said gently, all the tenderness in his mind, heart, body poured into those words. “I have from the moment I saw ya, I think,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “There ya have it. Tommy Shelby–in love.”

She looked at him with an awestruck expression, all words escaping her. “Thomas,” she breathed.

“Ya don’t have to say it back, I know someone like you could never love someone like me,” he said, sitting up and reaching for his whiskey again.

“Thomas,” she said again as he tipped his head back, taking a long drink.

“Hm?”

She took his bottle and put it on her nightstand, before taking his head in her hands. “I love you too, Thomas,” a smile appeared on his face. “I didn’t think you were the kind of man to say I love you, that’s why I didn’t say it sooner,” she confessed.

“I’m not the kind of man to say it,” he admitted. “But if you want to hear it, I’ll say it every day for the rest of my life,” he told her, happiness overwhelming him.

“Are you happy, Thomas?” she asked.

“So fucking happy, Darling.” he breathed, kissing her. “All mine?” he asked, pulling away from her to look at her fully.

“All yours,” she said, smiling as he kissed her again.

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x ofc #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x ofc #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peakywomen #peaky blinder imagine #sneakyblinders #my au <3

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nonclassyparty · 1 year

Text

Starring Role - ACT XI (C.S; S.MG)

title; you know i’d rather walk alone than play a supporting role, if i can’t get the starring role

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader

warnings: angst! errrr idk what else, cursing??? drinking???

wc: almost 22k

taglist: @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse @hwamourr @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify @btshook @atzcoke @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale @raineadlr @ilikepalta @m4rsluv @smimingi @bubbleteakittyy @mingkiyoo @theactresstarringinurbadreams @mangishii @cryingaboutskz @pr1ncessm1ng1 @layzfeelit @khjssss @rdiamond2727 @adajoemaya @outrologist @smuchsmut @flaminghotcheetoos @dogsongy @seesaw-jk @seojonneh @hyukssunflower @haatohwa @wonwowzers @downbadreading @moonchele @leeknowsnothing @noone356097 @raspberryhong @xciiiomwliah @belle643 @doom-fics @cutesince2000 @ad0rechuu @miriamxsworld @plants-w0rld @lilactangerine @maru-matt @ateezourstars

buy me a coffee!

act x / masterlist /

a/n: well....here it is guys, this is the last chapter i never thought we’d make it here but look at us now..who would’ve thought!!!! but on a serious note, i want to thank everyone who stuck by my side while writing this and giving amazing feedback and contributing to the fun discussions we’ve been having, i had a blast! <3 i started this story a little less than a year ago and i wanted to write it for the longest time, so thank you truly and from the bottom of my heart for joining me on this ride!

“To by held above the earth and be brushed by the wind," she said, "it's like your heart has been kissed by beauty.” ― Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped

It's hard not to stare.

The conversation that goes around the table during the appetizers is vapid, the two businessmen are taking subtle jabs at each other's expenses, their bored wives are not so subtly ogling the two waiters that are assigned to your table and the younger men sitting at your table (him included). Shallow conversations served with the only purpose of showing off who has more of what and so on and so on.

Two years ago, this was your territory. The exaggerated delight when speaking about vacations you've been to, talking up your family like you don't all hate each other one way or another and pretending you actually enjoy the presence of your company. Now, you feel awfully out of place.

The times when you were at the top of the food chain are long gone because at this table right here; you are the lowest rank. The weakest player. The artist invited for their amusement because they don't take you seriously, not really. The jester.

You learn pretty quickly into the night that you were never brought here from your boss' good grace to help you sell your art, it's for her to be able to show off the new addition to her company even if it is temporary (after this, you know it will be). Look at this new shiny, pretty little thing I have everyone. Isn't she just the cutest?

That's why it's hard not to stare.

Choi San sits opposite of you, just a couple of seats down and looks like he's completely in his element and it's mindboggling because you don't think you've ever seen him like this.

You always found him charming, good looks paired with pretty words and a smooth voice but here...it's a completely different game. The other two younger guys whose names you didn't bother to remember, seem to wait for his every word with a bated breath, the men laugh at his jokes and the women swoon at the charming grin. He is charismatic and everybody seems to be under his spell. Even you find yourself pressing your lips together to stop from smiling at an occasional quip that comes from him.

It's infuriating.

You're the outsider despite growing up in these people's circles and running around fancy restaurants since you were a toddler but Choi San...well, he fit right in.

You don't miss the way he smiles that godforsaken smile at the wife of one of the younger businessmen here. She's gorgeous and on the younger side which isn't surprising since her husband seems barely forty. She seems to be in her mid-30s though and tries to hide her flustered smile by taking a sip of the red wine in front of her.

A breathless chuckle escapes you as your eyes fall from the obvious (and fucking shameless) flirting done by both of them all while her husband is sitting right next to her but is too busy to notice because he's currently in a dick measuring contest with the others.

All that time that San spent making jabs at your wealth and the rich people you were surrounded with, only for him to land in the middle of that same table that he judged you for not even two years later.

A fucking comedy is what this is.

"I need some fresh air." You mumble to particularly no-one but one of the younger guys that seem to have come here with San and has also been laying it on pretty thick to you the entire night, is the only one to notice. When he offers to go with you, you're quick to decline.

The terrace of the restaurant is gorgeous and you feel yourself sigh once you're presented with the wide view of the city in front of you and the cool evening air enveloping you. You figure you still have some time before the main course and it's almost tempting to just spend it all here.

Your heart can't stop rattling in your chest despite it being almost an hour and a half since the short introduction between you and San and you grip the banister tightly with your hands as you try to keep your thoughts in check.

It's not even a big deal that he's here. The introduction was the only exchange between the two of you and so far, the night has been going well. It will be a bust business wise but at least you will get a free fancy meal out of it.

And San...he was acting normal. Whatever the new normal was for him. So yeah, it's not even a big deal that he's here.

"So we have to introduce ourselves to each other now?" A voice quietly says and you freeze at the sound of footsteps until he's standing by your side and his elbow is brushing yours. "Is that what we are now, Y/N? Strangers?"

He's here. And it's a big fucking deal.

You're gripping the banister so tightly that your knuckles turn white but with the utmost grace, you utter; "I don't see what else we could be."

"That's..." He starts before giving you a nod, "Fair."

He pulls something from the pocket of his slacks and you don't give into the curiosity to check what it is until he leans over to you.

An opened pack of cigarettes is presented to you and you glance at it for a second in contemplation before sighing and reluctantly pulling one out before placing it between your lips. After the night you've had, might as well.

He's quick to offer you a light and you take a drag in and exhale as you turn to mirror his position so your back is leaning on the banister and you're observing the people inside the restaurant rather the view.

San takes a cigarette out for himself, lighting it up in similar fashion as he did for you and takes a drag, exhaling with a soft sigh.

"How have you been?"

You scoff out a short, barely there laugh, "What do you want?"

San's head turns to observe you and you will yourself to just keep staring forward.

"Nothing." He responds quietly and you roll your eyes. "I don't want anything. I'm just...just trying to make conversation."

A silence engulfs you as you both take a couple of drags from the cigarettes and watch it get turned into ashes. You watch your figures in the glass in front of you and can notice him glancing at you one too many times.

"Listen, I'm-"

"I don't want your sorry's." You're quick to interrupt him but he's quick to reply back.

"I wasn't gonna say I'm sorry." Your head whips to him for the first time, brows furrowed in insult. He sighs, eyes falling shut for a moment before the flutter open again and meet yours, "Well, okay, you got me there. There is something I was going to say I'm sorry for."

Your frown doesn't move but you don't say anything otherwise so he takes it as a chance to continue. "You told me something in confidence and I-..."

"San." You warn him and uttering his name out loud causes a shiver to run up your spine.

"No. And I couldn't keep my mouth shut because I'm an idiot that let my frustrations get the best of me. And I'm sorry, Y/N, it was a shitty thing to do and you didn't deserve that." He takes a deep breath, "I never promised you much, we both knew what it was between us from the start but I did promise to keep your secrets safe and I failed at that. I know an apology might not mean shit now and I'm not saying it because I expect forgiveness but because you deserve an apology. I'm really sorry."

You stare up at him, chest heaving up and down as you watch him. He's right, you're not going to forgive him...so what now? What do you do and what do you say?

"Kind of weird to apologize here of all places." You comment stoically.

"Don't know when I'll ever see you again." San says back in almost a whisper.

Almost angrily, at yourself and at him, you take another drag from the cigarette before your eyes fall back on your table inside the restaurant. The woman San was subtly flirting with is laughing with her husband now.

You respond back in the only way you know how when it comes to talking to San. Women.

"You've moved on from unsuspecting college girls to older women now?" You ask, flicking your cigarette and taking another drag.

At the look of confusion he gives you, you nudge your head to the direction of the table you both have shared for the majority of the night. He follows your gaze and the realization sets in.

"Oh," He chuckles, one dimple showing as he glances at you. "She's cute."

"She's also married." You grit out quietly, quickly looking around to make sure no-one else hears.

San's brows furrow and his lips are pressed to stop himself from smiling as he leans over to you as if to let you in on a little secret, "Not happily married."

You scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you look away from him. He chuckles again.

"It's them who make the first move, never me." San clarifies, smile dimming, "I may be a lot of things but not a homewrecker."

"That is still being a homewrecker, San."

"That home has been wrecked a long time ago, princess."

You shake your head, keeping your judgement to yourself but the curiosity is still there.

What has Choi San been up to these past two years? While you were in Paris shutting yourself off from anyone and everything to focus on your art, what was he doing?

"Them who make the first move?" You repeat in disbelief, turning to him again and you place your done cigarette in the ashtray before crossing your arms and now the judgement is very obvious, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who's chasing after older women now."

San presses his lips together.

"Seriously? Did you completely skip the co-worker phase?"

His brow quirks up in thought, "Hm, funnily enough I don't think I've ever slept with a co-worker." You shake your head at him again and are about to open your mouth to scold him but he continues deep in thought, "Does a boss' wife count as a co-worker?"

Your jaw drops at the genuine question and you have to turn your head to the side just so he won't notice the fact that you're holding back laughter, still a snort escapes you. "Jesus."

At that, San lets out a short, husky laugh as well, seemingly unbothered as he takes another drag from his cigarette.

Same old San.

There is still so much left unsaid between the two of you. So much pain and anger, pure rage, so much sadness that is kept bottled away and so many memories repressed but in that moment...well, you are fucking nosy! Sue you!

"You slept with your boss' wife?!" You whisper yell at him with wide eyes, horrified yet equally amused and if that makes you a horrible person then so be it.

"She-" He tries to explain but you're already shaking your head in judgement, "No, hey, listen listen. She came onto me-"

"And you just couldn't resist, could you?"

His brows furrow in defense, "Hey, my boss is a dick."

You both fall into a silence after that, a summer breeze coasting over and you watch the guy who's been flirting with you the entire night stand up and step away from the table.

"Hey, you know that guy?" You ask San, nodding towards the tall figure walking away.

"Jaehyun?" He responds back and at your nod, "We work together. Why?"

"Can you tell him to lay off? He keeps mentioning drinks at some bar after this and I'm not interested."

San frowns, jaw clenching, "He made you uncomfortable?"

You snort, "Please, he's harmless but I'm just not interested."

"Okay, I'll let him know." He nods before turning around, hands finally free of the cigarette and placed on the banister. He glances at you again after a moment of silence. "So...are you seeing...anyone?"

You tense a little at that. "Yeah."

His gaze is glued to the side of your face.

"Good." San nods, "That's good."

You shrug, not really wanting to talk about it. Not because it's San but because...you just don't want to think about your relationship with Mingi right now despite it being at the forefront of your mind at all times.

Noticing the waiters start walking to your tables with trays of food, you straighten out as well. "Looks like the food is here."

San looks over his shoulder with raised eyebrows and reluctantly straightens out his posture, as if he's not ready to go back inside. Hm. It's seems like San wasn't exactly in his element back there, just a good actor.

You're the first to move towards the glass door but he's quick to stop you.

"Uh," A hand wraps around your elbow and you turn to him in confusion, freeing yourself from his gentle hold. San clears his throat before handing you a small white card. "Here. Have it...for, I don't know...Just in case."

You stare at the business card, a fancy name of a firm that you'd probably know if you were in his field of work, printed at the top with San's contact info below.

With a nod, you simply take the card and tuck it into your handbag.

San motions for you to go first, holding the door open for you and you walk pass him without a word.

The moment you both shared outside, seemingly broken the moment you both join the same table again.

Dinner lasts close to another two hours and the moment one of the couples stands up to leave, bidding their goodbyes - you are quick to follow after them, hurriedly wishing everyone a good night while avoiding San's eyes and leaving the hall.

You don't even mind the five minutes you spend outside waiting for a cab.

Not telling anyone that you've seen San doesn't feel like a big deal this time. You're not on speaking terms with Wooyoung so he doesn't have the right to expect shit from you and Mingi...well, that's a whole other story.

You don't see Mingi through the week as much because you're busy with work that's piling on since your job at the book publishing company is soon coming to an end as your sketches start getting finalized and Mingi is sent out to some conference to Busan for three days.

On Thursday, when he texts you in the morning that he is back - you buy some take-out and walk to his place after work.

And yeah, you might kiss a little first. Okay, a lot.

But you haven't seen him in nearly a week and it's hard not to straddle him on his couch and lick into his mouth when he's so pliant and needy underneath you. Even if something tells you that the relationship with Mingi and you isn't exactly right, you still like him.

It's almost easy to forget it all when he kisses you, big warm hands trailing under your shirt and brushing across your lower back as you pull him closer by the back of his neck.

After a make-out session that lasts definitely longer that it almost turns into something else, you break apart and through giggles and hushed conversation, move over to the kitchen to prepare the food.

Mingi is such a guy sometimes. His glasses are all dusty in the cupboards since he mostly drinks everything out of bottles or mugs, so you take two and quickly foam them up to wash them so they can be used for your early dinner.

"I missed you," He sighs, leaned against the counter as he watches you with his arms crossed. "The conference was so fucking boring."

You laugh lightly, water splashing around, "I thought you'd take it as an opportunity to catch a break from me. I've been at your place more than I was at my own before you left."

Mingi shakes his head with a hum.

He walks over to the sink and wraps his arms around you. "If it didn't sound insane, I would tell you to move in."

Carefully setting the glasses in the dish strainer beside the sink, you tilt your head enough to kiss his jaw. "Is that something you want? Or is that something your dick suggested loudly enough for your ears to hear?"

He hums, slightly amused and turns his head so he can bite your chin. "Are you accusing me of thinking with my dick, pretty girl?" He murmurs playfully.

"Yes I am." You hum pleasantly at the nip and lean into his arms "Am I wrong?"

"Only partially." He kisses up your jaw and bites your ear next. "But there's also the fact that I want to spend time with you. All that I can. Two years to make up for."

He leans his forehead against your temple, swaying both of your bodies lightly to the tune coming from the radio set up in his kitchen and you want to smile, want to enjoy it but something isn't letting you.

Two years to make up for.

It's the first time he mentioned anything regarding that time, even if he wasn't doing so directly right now either.

Suddenly, standing in his arms feels suffocating. Any other day, you would want nothing more than to be like this with him but now, it's like there is a bag of rocks sitting in your chest and constricting your airways every time he gets too close.

You shuffle away, pretending like you're focusing on preparing the take-out you both bought and Mingi doesn't seem to notice your awkwardness as he simply starts pulling out plates and utensils from his cupboards.

Now might not be the best time but...you should tell him about San, shouldn't you? You've been weighing out the pros and cons all weekend, the white business card feeling like a thorn stuck in your hand every time you catch a glimpse of it laying on your drawing desk.

If you add another thing to the list of things you haven't spoken to Mingi about, it would only make matters worse.

You should tell him. He deserves to know and it's not like you have anything to hide.

"Hey, you remember that dinner party I had on Friday?" You ask, trying your best to seem nonchalant about it.

"Oh, yeah!" Mingi exclaims, "How did that go? You make any money?" He asks jokingly as he moves past you to get the drinks from the fridge.

"No, no, it kind of sucked actually." You reply with a chuckle and quickly jump in to explain once you notice him turn around to look at you with a frown. "They weren't really there for my art, I was just there to be my boss' accessory I guess but it's whatever."

"Wait, wha-"

You sigh, smiling at him. "It's not a big deal. I mean, selling a piece or two would've been nice but at least I got free food out of it," You turn your back to him to wash your hands, "but that's not why I brought it up."

"....okay." Mingi is properly confused now, leaning on the counter.

You take a deep breath.

"San was there."

It's almost funny how quickly the entire mood of the apartment changes.

Mingi stares at the counter with a stoic expression on his face as he drags his fingers slowly over the clean surface.

"San." He repeats with pursued lips and you swallow.

"Yeah." You continue lightly, trying to uplift the mood that you successfully brought down, "He-...well, we talked and he gave me his business card and-"

"You took his business card?" Mingi questions in faint disbelief and you stare at him, stopped mid sentence and with your mouth parted.

"Well, I didn't really think much about it-"

"Of course." He chuckles, tongue peeking out to lick the corner of his lip before he turns to you with crossed arms, leaning against the counter again. He has that almost sarcastic smile that reminds you of how he treated you when you first met him. "So what, are you going to be attending more dinner parties with him or will you just straight up start seeing him again? Like good old times, huh."

He's being passive aggressive in a way that only Song Mingi knows how to be. Because his thing is to never outright be an asshole. He instead tiptoes around it because he's too smart and too fucking noble but it doesn't change the end goal, which is to, without a doubt, be a condescending asshole no matter how much he's trying to lessen the blow.

"It's just a business card, Mingi." You explain quietly and he chuckles humorlessly with a shake of his head.

"It's never 'just' anything with you and San, Y/N." He easily says back and your mouth turns downwards as your brows furrow in slight hurt.

"If you're saying you think I slept with him or something, then I'm here to tell you right now that's not-"

"No, of course I don't think that." Mingi quickly defends before pausing with a quick glance thrown your way, "But usually when something like this happens, it's not far from it."

You take a step back at that, the linoleum cold under your bare feet. "Excuse me?"

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair as you silently stare at him with furrowed eyebrows.

You decide to speak because he didn't look like he was planning to.

"We just talked a little bit, y'know...he apologized and that was it. I took the card because...well, I already told you; I don't know. I just took it because he was offering it." You quietly explain trying to remain calm despite the storm brewing in your chest. "I didn't plan on using it or anything."

Mingi chews on his lower lip while staring at you before chuckling humorlessly.

"I don't believe you." He whispers with another head shake and you face falls in hurt, "I mean, is it that easy to forgive him? After everything he's done? It's that easy for him?"

And that's where your nerves start getting grated.

Certain words are at the tip of your tongue but you refrain yourself from using them, wanting to see how far will he go. Instead;

"Forgive him? Who said anything about forgiving him?" Your voice slightly raises, "I just said I don't plan on using his number. I don't plan on calling him, Mingi."

Something in your brain tells you that it's wrong to have to explain yourself to him like this.

"And I just told you that I don't believe you and you know why I don't believe you?" Mingi retaliates with an equally loud voice, "Because two years you went back to him! Even after seeing how he threw you away for Boyoung, the moment they broke up and he appeared with his tail between his legs, you allowed him back in. So I'm fucking sorry for assuming that it would be any different this time, seeing as you're accepting to talk to him. I don't plan on being anyone's second choice I'll tell you that, straight up, because I, as opposed to some people, have some respect for myself."

You freeze up at that.

San fucks you. He doesn't give a shit about you otherwise and he knows you have very little self-respect for yourself to ever call him out on it.

His voice is laced with sarcasm. Or maybe it's not even sarcasm but it's something aching to mocking and it makes you feel bad. It hurts you and it makes you equally angry.

Maybe you've had it wrong all this time. Maybe you underestimated yourself expeditiously and maybe only Wooyoung has some sort of safety net when it comes to your temper. Maybe you could always hurt Mingi.

Because he was really getting on your last fucking nerve.

You must stay silent for far too long because Mingi seems rigid as well, almost sensing that he pushed too far. Which he did.

His eyes stray away from your face as he furiously blinks around, rolling his tongue over his teeth.

You feel like you're back in the same spot you were in two years ago, only this time the hinges on your face aren't close to breaking. The rusty mechanisms and dirty, bent out of shape nails that lay beneath the surface stay hidden by the tightly screwed shut door. No, it won't be like two years ago.

Because maybe it's time to show Song Mingi just who Park Y/N really is.

"I don't like the way you speak to me when you're angry." You start off calmly, too calmly because Mingi seems perturbed at your tone and then even more so at your words.

He blinks, looking around with furrowed brows before his eyes settle on you, "What?"

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "I don't like how you treat me like I'm some dumb bitch who doesn't know left from right when you get all fired up. There. Is that better?"

"I don't-..." He starts, still blinking at you confusedly before his expression turns colder, "Don't turn this around on me, Y/N."

You let out a laugh which seems to annoy Mingi. Good. "Oh, I think I will, Mingi. I think I'll turn this around on you."

He goes silent at that, staring at you in slight hurt which in your opinion shouldn't even be there. What is he supposed to get hurt over?

"You wanna know what I think?" You ask, placing your hands on your hips as you stare him down, "I think you're so caught up in all this self-righteous bullshit that you don't even realize what kind of a hypocritical asshole you really are."

"What-"

"What? Huh?" You mimic childishly but you don't give a fuck. "All this talk about what San did two years ago, what I did two years ago but what about what you did two years ago? Huh? Wanna preach about that a little?"

It's almost comical how silent the room is.

"Come on. You had so much to say not even a minute ago, so talk." You glare at Mingi's crestfallen face and you would normally feel bad for bringing any of this up. But you're too far gone and you can't find it in yourself to care anymore. "Do you want me to remind you? Want me to remind you how you treated me like an idiot that day? How you choose her over me? Want me to remind you how you said I was trying to trap you into a relationship with me?"

Just saying it makes your eyes burn from the unshed tears that you suck in. You're too pretty to cry, Y/N.

"Y/N-" Mingi starts off calmly, definitely feeling like the argument is going in a completely uncharted territory that he doesn't look like he'll be able to handle.

Thankfully, you're an expert at verbal fights.

"You have a lot of balls to stand there in front of me and judge me for...what? Talking to San? Taking his number? Should that mean that I'm also an idiot that has no respect for myself for standing in this apartment with you at this very moment?" You ask loudly despite the tremble in your voice. "Because let me remind you Mingi, you didn't even apologize. You didn't even bring up what happened two years ago, instead you just went about it as if it never happened. Do you think you're better than San or something?"

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times as he blinks at you bewilderment before he recollects himself.

"First of all, I never called you an idiot." Mingi says quietly before his tone hardens, "And second of all, I am nothing like San."

"No, obviously not." You agree immediately, "But to think that you didn't hurt me would be ridiculous, don't you think? In fact, you hurt me more because you actually made me think that I stood a chance!"

"I never said that I didn't hurt you-"

"So what? You just didn't think I deserved an apology? Or to have at least addressed that between us?"

"Of course-" Mingi groans, rubbing his eyes before loudly exclaiming; "You're turning everything I say into something it's not!"

"Yeah, doesn't feel good does it? To be talked to like an idiot." You throw back meanly before looking away with an eye roll.

"Y/N." He says with a sigh, definitely fed up with the attitude which is too bad because he just scratched the surface.

There is a moment of silence in which you pace along the space of his kitchen as he just stands near the counter staring at you.

"Well, fucking talk!" You exclaim loudly, "Do I have to pull the words out of you with a pair of claw scissors, Jesus Christ. You had so much-"

"I was ashamed!" Mingi exclaims equally loud and you falter a bit with your pacing. He sighs, eyes falling shut as he runs a hand down his face before he's back to staring at you. "Of course, I think you deserve an apology. Don't you think I haven't felt guilty at the way I decided to approach this?"

He's speaking quietly now and you protectively cross your arms over your chest as you stop in one place, to carefully listen.

"I was ashamed. I've never spoken to anyone like that the way I spoke to you that day and...well, it was to you of all people." The words fall from his lips as his cheeks flush, "I've contemplated countless of times, back then, to call you and ask to meet up so we can...so I can talk to you and apologize but I never did and I fucked up, okay? I should've. And then I fucked up again when I just tried to brush it all off when we saw each other again this summer but you seemed like you were in a genuinely good place and...I didn't want to fucking bring it up. I was scared that would just push you away further."

Your eyes fall to the floor as you let his words, delivered in a honey-like voice, sink through your skin.

"I was an asshole that day and I was an asshole now and I am sorry for everything I said, I didn't mean it. Of course I'd go on a date with you, who in their right mind wouldn't want to go on a date with you?" Mingi chuckles weakly and when you look up, only then you notice his teary eyes. "But Y/N, you have to try and understand that I had no idea where we stood back then."

When your brows furrow, he is quick to explain.

"I know we were hooking up and spending a lot of time together and you asked me out on a date but in my head that was all just to get over San and with Boyoung...there were too many things at stake and I couldn't rely on a chance where there was a possibility I would get thrown away in exchange for him." He trails off and you nod.

"So you decided to throw me away instead."

Mingi observes you in silence, sad eyes staring into your teary ones but he doesn't say anything to correct you.

"Damn." You let out a shaky breath, "That...sucks."

The permanent feeling of being something so easily disposable, yeah, it fucking sucks.

"But Y/N, I mean, surely you understand where I'm coming from now, right? After everything with Wooyoung?" Your blood runs cold at his quiet admission, "I mean, being in Boyoung's place-"

"Don't." You whisper harshly, the sole comparison to Boyoung feeling like a dozen thorns stuck in your palm.

"But-"

"Don't mention Wooyoung." You say curtly and Mingi nods after a beat of contemplation.

"Alright, I-I'm sorry but...I'm trying to make it better. I want to be with you. I wanted to be with you then and I especially want to be with you now." He whispers and the first tears slide down your cheeks.

You stare at him with your mind jumbled and emotions at an all time high. Memories from two years ago resurfacing from good ones to bad ones and you find yourself at a crossroad, not knowing where to go.

"I don't think we should be together."

Mingi's face falls, "What?"

"Did you ever watch that movie 'Flipped'?" You whisper and Mingi stares at you flabbergasted, watery eyes and red cheeks.

"Y/N-...what? Flipped?"

"If you haven't, you should watch it, it's a good movie. I read the book too so I know many of the quotes from the top of my head." You talk, ignoring his questioning panicked stare because the easiest way to hold yourself together right now is to go on a tangent about a fucking movie you've been watching since you were a teenager. "I just remembered one of the quotes from it...It goes something like how sometimes a little discomfort in the beginning can save a whole lot of pain down the road."

Mingi is staring at you like you've grown three extra heads. Like you've completely lost your mind.

You laugh faintly, tears still falling. "We're both at fault now. We should have talked about all of this when we saw each other again, no matter how ashamed or hurt we were. We should've talked, cleared everything up, got closure and then went our separate ways...because look where we are now." You shrug motioning to the distance between the two of you, both seemingly heartbroken. "Ended up in the same place, only this will hurt about a hundred times worse."

"Wh-what will hurt, Y/N? What are you saying?" The desperation seeps into Mingi's voice as he takes a step closer to you, almost to reach out but he refrains himself from doing so.

"I'm saying that...right now, all of this...us...it feels wrong."

All this time, while convincing yourself to push it under the rug, you thought that talking about it would be the thing that fixes everything between Mingi and you. But weirdly enough, you feel only slightly better just because there is no longer a rock sitting in the middle of your chest but not in any way enough to say that all is well.

If anything, you feel like things are only worse.

"Wrong?" Mingi asks weakly, watching as you move to take your bag and you bite your trembling lip.

"Wrong." You confirm, trying to act tough despite knowing that you will cry a river once you're in the safety of your home. "And now I'm going to go."

"Go? You can't go!" Mingi exclaims in panic, staring at you with wide eyes and you sniffle a little, "Y/N, d-don't go! Please, don't go, let's just...let's sit down, yeah?"

You glance at him and his face fills with the saddest expression of hope. "Let's just sit down and talk, please. We...we were both upset so let's just-"

"This isn't about how the fight started and it most definitely isn't about San." You say firmly, making sure he knows that. "t's just now that we talked, I'm starting to see how out of place everything between us is."

"No, it's-" You cut him off and he turns his back to you in a hurry. Your heart aches when you see him run a hand under his eyes again.

"Mingi, I like you. So much. I could see myself loving you one day." Your voice cracks when he turns to face you again, "But I don't think I want to fall in love with someone who had to make a choice and that choice didn't include me. Like, really....you didn't even try."

Mingi's crestfallen face is the last thing you see before you turn around and head for the front door, quietly exiting as the guilt, the sadness, the hurt all settle in deep in your gut.

You don't remember the bus ride home. You think someone sat next to you because of rush hour but you're not sure.

You walk up the steps to your apartment and when you close the door shut behind yourself, is when you let the tears flow.

Wooyoung is sitting in the dinning area again, typing away on his laptop with a spreadsheet in front of him when you walk past him without a word.

"Y/N?" He calls after you but you don't grace him with a response, only slam the door to your bedroom shut.

Through your sniffles, you know the best thing to do right now is definitely not go to bed. You will only cry harder, possibly regret the decision, possibly go into a spiral of convincing yourself that you will never be truly loved. You can't do that.

So you slowly start unpacking your work bag, taking out the sketches and notepad and placing them carefully on your desk with your pencils following right after.

You can hear footsteps pacing in front of your door and it's only another reason for the heartache.

It's Wooyoung, probably wanting to come in and see what's wrong, but he doesn't know if he's allowed so now he's pacing in front of your room. You know him so well that you can imagine it and it causes a small watery smile to grow before it's dissolved by the tears again.

Your life is such a mess.

He disappears from the front of your door and you can hear him talking to someone quietly on the phone. You wonder if it's Yeosang.

"Shit." You mutter through the tears as you clumsily knock over the ceramic cup holding your brushes off the desk and sending it into bits and pieces to the floor. "Fuck." You whimper, bending down and trying to collect it, minimize the mess as Wooyoung keeps talking to someone.

"What?!" Is heard faintly from down the hall but you ignore it, too busy trying not to injure yourself.

You cry, crouching on the floor with a piece of the cup in your hand as you have no strength to clean up the mess you made. You never do.

Soft sobs that you try to muffle wreck through your body that you barely even register the bedroom door flinging open and seconds later, a figure is crouching by your side.

"Give me that." Wooyoung whispers, taking the shard from your hand and throwing it back to the floor before wrapping both of his arms tightly around you.

You try to push at him but it only causes his arms to tighten and he mutters; "You can hate me and be angry at me all you want but I'm not letting you cry alone."

A loud sob escapes you and Wooyoung moves both of you to the bed.

"T-the mess-" You try to free yourself from his hold but he doesn't budge.

"I'll clean it up, don't worry about it." He whispers, hand coming up to slowly pat you on your head and it all causes you to cry harder.

The loneliness, the destruction, the feeling of being disposable and always loving people more than they love you; it all comes crashing down on you today and you cry so much that you eventually tire yourself out and fall asleep against Wooyoung's side.

When you wake up, there is a headache cursing through you and a scratchy throat. You're alone in your room and when you move to the kitchen to see the empty coffee pot, you figure that it's still too early for Wooyoung to be up.

After showering and drying your hair half-heartedly, you pull on a long floral skirt and a white blouse, minimal make-up just to hide the dark eye circles and make it seem like you haven't been crying your eyes out the night before.

You make the coffee instead, leaving half of the pot on the counter after pouring yourself a cup which you drink staring at the surface of the dark wood of the dinning table before grabbing your bag for work and leaving.

There is a million thoughts running through your head and you're like a zombie for the entire day. Jihyo and Sana definitely notice so they keep their distance.

"You're finishing up in a week." Your boss stops by your desk and you nod with a fake smile at her. "I'd hope we get to keep working with you even after this book. Hyejeong really likes your illustrations, she feels like they fit her stories perfectly."

"Thank you." You say quietly with a bow, keeping the fact that you're probably not coming back to yourself. You kind of hold a grudge for the dinner party which immediately taints the image you've had of your boss but still, it's good money so you might change your mind. You're not sure.

You're not sure about anything these days.

Mingi texted so many times. Even called a couple but you've ignored all of it. Leaving your phone on silent and even tempted to turn it off completely.

The messages start all the same...'I'm sorry, can we-' and 'Please allow me to explain-' and well, that's all you can see on your phone without actually opening them.

Since it's Friday, you get to pack up your stuff and leave early. While you're at the market picking out some fresh fruit, you come to an idea...or more of a conclusion. You need a couple of days by yourself. You need to be on your own and figure yourself out.

But how do you do that when you have a roommate? The thought of kicking Wooyoung out isn't even a possibility even though Yeosang would definitely let him stay at his place but that's something you refuse to get into.

So the only thing that remains, is that you leave.

When you walk into your apartment, Wooyoung is already home. You can hear him shuffling around the kitchen as you take of your shoes in the small, narrow hallway and you sigh lowly before entering.

Your plan is just to leave the raspberries and plums you bought into the fridge and disappear into the bedroom but of course, Jung Wooyoung doesn't allow that.

"Hey, can...can we talk?" He asks cautiously, fully destroying your plan of just sneaking away in silence and you stop at the entrance of the hallway leading to your bedrooms and shared bathroom.

It would've happened sooner or later but you're real tired of 'talking' to anyone. "Yeah."

Wooyoung wrings his hands nervously, "I heard what happened with Mingi...and I know now might not be the right time... I want to be there for you. And in order for me to be able to be there for you, I need for you to be able to talk to me. So let me apologize...properly."

You just stare at him in silence and he takes it as his cue to continue.

"I'm sorry for lying to you and hiding stuff from you. I wanted to tell you at the beginning but things just kept escalating and I kept putting it off because I knew you would be upset. I wanted to do it on my own terms, sit you down and calmly explain everything to you and tell you about...Yeosang and when it happened so unexpectedly I lost control of the situation and I said stuff I didn't mean, I handled everything in the worst possible way and I'm sorry. But I'm not...I'm not going to break up with him, I...I really like him, love him I think and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." He finishes quietly and you run your tongue over your top row of teeth as you observe his taller figure, nervously fidgeting a couple of feet away from you.

"Okay." You give him a nod and turn to walk to your room again.

"O-Okay?" Wooyoung calls after you hesitantly, "That...that's it?"

You stop again, turning to him, "What do you want me to say?"

He huffs, "I don't know. Anything. More than this, that's for sure."

You know he feels awful. You know it. Because Wooyoung loves you. You two are more than friends, you're family and you love him too. He's the most important person in your life and maybe that's why you're so closed off now.

The most important person in your life hurt you immensely.

"Do you want me to tell you that I forgive you?" You start off, your voice raspy and low. "Because I don't but I'll say it if it will make you feel better."

He opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head furiously, "No. No, that's not what I want but I just want you to talk to me again. I'm not saying this to make myself feel better."

"We're talking, aren't we?" You shrug with a chuckle, avoiding his eyes as yours start to burn again. You're so tired of crying.

"Y/N, you know what I mean." Wooyoung groans, running a hand through his jet black hair that he's been growing out recently. "I hate that you're avoiding me and that-"

"Yeah, well I'm fucking hurt Wooyoung." You cut him off snippily and he immediately clamps his mouth shut. "I'm sorry that's an inconvenience for you but I'm hurt. You lied to me. You hid stuff from me and then you got angry that I got upset because of that and mind you, I have every fucking right to be upset because you know what happened between Yeosang and I. And then..." You pause swallowing down your tears, "And then you threw the thing with San in my face despite...despite knowing everything. You knew I wasn't like that anymore, you knew I never kept anything from you after that but you still said it because you wanted to hurt me."

Wooyoung presses his lips together, harshly blinking away the tears as you try to keep your own at bay.

"I just..." You pause, biting on your lower lip and focusing your gaze on the blank wall next to you so the tears don't fall and you don't get swept away by your emotions but all of that is always easier said than done. "I never want to hurt you."

You continue through a whisper, "Every time we fought and I'd get so angry that I wanted say so much shitty stuff just so I could come out as the winner but I never did because I never want to hurt you..." Trailing off, your face twisting as you swallow down the tears, "So why was it so easy for you to hurt me?"

Wooyoung seems heartbroken by your last admission, brows furrowed and bottom lip trembling as his jaw locks into place and teary eyes stare into your own. He shakes his head quickly, "It's not-...I wasn't-...."

He doesn't know what to say because really, what can you say to that?

You try to put yourself in Wooyoung's shoes, wondering what you would say and then you realize that you have no idea how to even apologize let alone do enough to be forgiven.

Apart from the time you woke up to a silent Seonghwa by your side in the hospital, you don't remember ever apologizing in your life to anyone. And you definitely had apologies to give.

Girls who wanted to be your friend in middle school so they were an easy target, boys who liked you in high school so they were fun to play with and drag along like puppies, people who tried to stand up against you and only got burnt in return, people who simply looked at you wrong sometimes...

Years of purposefully inflicting pain onto others because you were in pain yourself and having so many apologies to give that you don't even remember all the faces that you've been cruel to when you just wanted to feel more...or sometimes less.

It didn't mean that you never felt guilty over it but usually, it was a temporary type of guilt that would pass as days, hours, sometimes even minutes trickled by and then you would never think of the person you hurt again. You wonder did they think of you more? Did they remember?

You hope not. You hope they haven't thought about you once after they stopped hurting. You don't think you're someone worth remembering.

Do you even deserve to stand here and accept apologies? Did you have the right to ask Mingi for anything? To be chosen? Why?

You're not a good person.

The more you stand in front of a silent Wooyoung who is sniffling in the middle of your apartment, the harder you spiral and it becomes more difficult to be surrounded by anyone.

"I'm leaving for a couple of days." You break the silence looking straight ahead as Wooyoung's head snaps up, face falling.

"L-leaving where?" He asks, wiping away the tears under his eyes.

"Just somewhere."

"Y/N, you can't leave. Where the fuck will you go?" He asks, the previous fragile exterior quickly hardening up the more he sees how serious you are.

" Yes, I can and I'll figure it out." You respond back, already tracking back to your bedroom.

"Don't fucking leave. If you need to be alone then I'll leave for a couple of days but..."

"It's not about just you, Wooyoung." You say loudly, turning over your shoulder to level him with a look. "I just need to leave the apartment-"

"Then go for a fucking walk and then come back!" Wooyoung throws back equally loud and you groan, mussing up your hair as you fully turn to face him.

"It's just for the weekend."

"I don't give a fuck! You're not leaving all of a sudden to go God knows where-!"

"And I'm not asking you for permission!" You yell back. "We're both adults who do whatever the fuck we want, aren't we? So now, I'm going to pack a bag and leave and you're going to let me."

You slam the bedroom door in his face, tears burning once again at the corners of your eyes as you pull out your small duffel bag from where you placed it in your closet and throw in a couple of articles of clothes in it. The hallway is empty when you open the door, so you quickly shuffle into the bathroom and collect your skincare and toothbrush before weaseling into your room again.

You pack your sketchbook as well along with some pencils.

When everything is done, you stand in the middle of your bedroom and rub your eyes with a sigh, definitely smudging up your make-up in the process.

What are you doing, Y/N?

Not allowing yourself to start doubting, you make sure you have everything before you fling the door open and head straight for the front door.

"Don't leave." He weakly calls out and it's only then you notice that he retrieved to his own bedroom and only came out when he heard your door open.

You stop in your tracks at how vulnerable he sounds but you just want to be alone now.

"I'll be back on Sunday, Young-ah." You say equally as quiet, not having the bravado to even look at him before opening the front door and walking out.

There was a small hotel on the edge of the city that you've often admired because it was pale pink.

You've never stayed there for a couple of reasons. One being that you lived with your parents and had no reason to book yourself a room anywhere else in the city. Another being that it wasn't a fancy hotel but something considered below you back then.

It's why you decide to go there now.

They give you a single bed room with a balcony, a humble mini fridge and a dresser on which you place your duffle bag.

It's a three star hotel but it was clean. Clean sheets, clean bathroom, clean towels. And at the moment, you really didn't need anything more.

So you change from the clothes you went to work in and into a pair of white cotton pants and a T-Shirt that you suspect is Wooyoung's but you absentmindedly stuffed it into the bag when you were packing. Clipping your hair back in a low bun, you open the balcony door wide open and sit down behind the small table fixed in the corner, carrying the bottle of whiskey you found in the mini-fridge and a glass.

It was nearing 7 p.m. and the summer heat was slowly simmering down so you lean back, observing the view in front of you of the city and all it's modern beauty.

Your eyes fall to your handbag sitting on the dresser inside the room and you stand up with glass in hand, walking over it and pulling out your wallet.

The white business card sits tucked between the numerous pieces of paper, coupons and cards and you pull it out, throwing it onto the surface of the dresser.

Your phone is next to it.

After a long moment of contemplation, biting your lip in thought and eye flickering over the figures printed on it - you grab your phone.

He comes nearing sundown, two knocks on the hotel door which have you standing up and walking towards the door with a sigh before unlocking it.

San stands leaning on the doorframe, head cocked to the side and dark eyes immediately latching onto yours.

"Didn't peg you as the type to bring your lovers to hotel rooms. You're really a changed woman now, Y/N." He says, lips perking up.

"Get in." You with an eye roll before turning around and heading for the balcony again but not before picking up an extra glass from the tray.

"Okay, wow, you're in a mood." He comments, lips folded in a pout when he finds you back in your chair on the balcony and plops himself in the chair next to yours. "Bad day?"

You snort in response; one- because yeah, bad day is an understatement and two- it's San who is asking.

Silently, you pour him a drink before refilling your own glass.

You pull your legs up on the chair and lean your chin against your knee as you watch him take a sip. San grimaces at the taste, tipping the glass towards you in question.

You sigh. "It was in the mini-fridge."

The whiskey is no doubt cheap. You wouldn't know because it's not usually your drink of choice but it seems like it is San's who instantly recognizes the difference.

Snob.

"Ah."

You fall into an oddly comfortable silence, both staring at the view in front of you. The sun is almost set now, the sky painted the most beautiful mix of oranges and purples and pinks that you've seen in awhile.

"Okay, so since you don't seem like you have any intention of speaking even though you were the one who, y'know, called me up here...I'll start." San says popping his lips as he places his glass on the table, you feel him glance at you from the corner of your eyes. "It's a rather...delicate subject from what I could gather but I think it's best if I just ripped off the band-aid."

At that you turn to him slightly intrigued at whatever bullshit is about to spill from his mouth.

"You called me so I have your number now, right?" Your eyebrow furrow at the question before he continues, "I was wondering if...if I could give it to Seonghwa."

You don't know if your expression gives you away. You try to smooth out your features but your jaw is clenched so tight you think your teeth might break.

You observe San's expression, his eyes boring into yours from across the small garden table between the two of you, trying to gauge if he just somehow found out who your brother is and is just fucking with you.

But San, for all the times he was cruel, isn't that cruel.

"How the fuck do you know Seonghwa?" You whisper, voice coming out slightly hoarse and confusion only deepening when you see San grimace.

"It's a long story." He chuckles almost awkwardly and you clench your jaw again.

"Amuse me."

San sighs, head tipping forwards a bit in contemplation before he straightens out again. "When I got your letter, thanks for that by the way it was a real...whatever, he came to the frat and beat the shit out of me."

Your jaw drops at that in genuine surprise because it just doesn't sound like Seonghwa. At all.

Your brother did boxing occasionally for shits and giggles with his friends but physical altercation is so not him. He couldn't hurt a fly.

"Seonghwa did?"

San chuckles bitterly, almost pained by the question.

"Oh, he sure did. Broke my nose, busted my lip, black eye...yep, the whole package." He recollects with a sigh, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "But that's not...anyway, that's not the point."

You open your mouth ready to ask for more information but he is quick to derail the conversation.

He seems...embarrassed. "Um, a couple of days after that I stopped by your house thinking your mom or dad would be home so I could ask them for your number or e-mail or I don't know...something."

As the shock crosses your face, San is quick to explain.

"Don't overthink it!" He quickly defends himself then lets out a low groan, tipping back the rest of his glass. "I wasn't trying to do a romantic gesture or anything-"

"Oh, God forbid." You comment sarcastically. Of course Choi San would think being romantic is the worst thing in the world. He just shoots you a quick glare before continuing.

"I just wanted to...uh," His finger runs over the tip of the glass, eyes avoiding yours, "Wanted to apologize, I don't know."

You stay silent at that and he sighs again, licking his lips before looking up to you again.

"But they weren't there, instead Seonghwa opened the door and after the, y'know, initial urge to break my face...again, he, uh, let me in. I think it was because he was drinking so it made him all...sentimental and shit." Yeah, that sounds like your brother. "But anyway, he offered me a drink, we got to talking a little bit and yeah..."

You stare at him, gaping.

"So, wait, so...you're friends with my brother...?"

San grimaces at that again, "Well, I wouldn't really call us friends. I'm pretty sure Seonghwa hates me and," He scoffs with an eye roll, "It's not like I'm awfully fond of him either but we sometimes go to a bar and just be...bitter and miserable adults together."

"Oh, so you're fucking friends with my brother now." You conclude sharply, nodding as you run your tongue over the top row of your teeth while staring at the city lights in front of you.

"But can I? Give him your number?" He asks again, this time quieter, "I didn't mention seeing you again or anything and it's sort of making me feel like shit because I know he'd love to hear from you."

You swallow down all the emotion pilling up in your throat. You hadn't seen Seonghwa since the day you got disowned but you surely thought about him. Often. For better or for worse, you always will love Seonghwa.

He was your hero and it's hard to just will all of that away.

"I'll think about it." You say in the end, tipping the rest of your glass back and immediately going in for a refill before pouring into San's glass as well.

"That's all I ask." He nods in thanks when you slide his glass over to him. "So, now that we got that out of the way; Why did you call me here?"

Now it's your turn to avoid his gaze. You focus on the cars passing by below you and pursue your lips.

"I...I don't know." It's such a shitty answer. The last thing you wanted San to think was that you invited him so you could fuck him. Given your history, you can't exactly blame him for it but it's not why.

Since you've seen San again, the thought of sleeping with him hadn't crossed your mind.

Not because you don't find him sexually appealing anymore, no, you don't think that will ever happen. It's not possible with San.

But maybe, you just stopped chasing for relationships where the only goal is to get off. They leave you feeling empty, hollow. You want to be whole.

And there is something about San and everything you've been through with him that makes you want to talk to him.

"My life is kind of shitty right now and I feel like every single relationship I have is falling apart one way or another and I don't know what to do so I just..." You trail off shaking your head, not knowing where you're going with this.

"I understand." San responds quietly. You let out a bitter laugh.

"You do?" You ask meanly, cocking your head at him with a smirk.

He doesn't take it to heart. "Yeah, sometimes you need to spill your guts to someone who you don't like all that much just to hear what they'll say and who's better than the asshole you were hooking up with in college."

"Shit." You let out unintentionally because maybe he does get it. He lets out a laugh.

"Why do you think I have your brother for?" San asks jokingly and you let out a snort at that. He snickers, pushing your shoulder gently with his hand. "So tell me, princess, what's going on?"

So you do tell him. Everything.

You tell him about Mingi. About what happened two years, what happened at the beginning of summer, what happened yesterday.

Then you tell him about Wooyoung. About Yeosang. About everything. You notice how his eyes dim a bit at the mention of Yeosang's name.

The pain, the tears, the anger - you tell San all of it until he's staring at you silently when you finish.

"Well, shit." He chooses to be his opening words, "I can see what you're so fucked up about now."

"Yep." You take another gulp of the whiskey, the nasty overly strong and somehow sweet taste not even being that bad anymore.

"I know this might come off real fuckin' hypocritical but you have to give me more than that. Like, what's the actual issue here?" San asks, grabbing the half empty bottle by now and pouring himself another glass. You give him a confused look. "What I got from this is that they both apologized so what's the actual problem? Forgiving them?"

"It's not..." You start but pause, mulling over your next words. "I'll forgive both of them but...it's not...it doesn't feel enough."

You quickly fix your words, "It's enough with Wooyoung. I'll be mad and sad over it for awhile and then...things will go back to normal because he's Wooyoung. I have a feeling I'd forgive him if he killed someone."

"So, Mingi...?" He asks, taking another sip before pulling out his pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans. He offers you one and you take it with a sigh.

"Yeah, Mingi." You nod, leaning closer when he offers you a light before lighting up the stick between his own lips. "I don't know...I...It's going to sound stupid."

"It might but it doesn't matter." San shrugs blowing out the smoke. "I don't judge."

You stare at him, taking a drag from the cigarette silently. The alcohol makes you more loose-lipped so it's easier to talk even about the things that have been eating you up inside for so long.

"I don't like how he didn't choose me."

"Of course." San nods, flicking the cigarette in the small metal ashtray on the table.

"But he apologized...he feels bad about it...." You trail of weakly, not sure of your own defense.

"So what?" He shrugs, looking at you for a response as he takes another drag. "He apologized because it's the right thing to do but you don't owe him anything."

"But-"

"Y/N, do you wanna be with him?"

"Yeah," You nod before pursuing your lips, "But I don't want to be with someone who just...who just ditched me like that. It doesn't feel okay. It makes me...it feels wrong to me."

And that is the complete and honest truth. You want to be with Mingi. He makes you feel warm and fuzzy and everything you expect you should feel in a relationship with someone but the choice he made two years ago drove a wedge through you and now sits in your chest like a stake which you just can't pull out.

"Well there you have it." San says as if it's the easiest thing in the world. You scoff.

"It's not that simple."

"It feels pretty fuckin' simple to me." He shrugs and it makes you roll your eyes in annoyance. San bites on his lower lip before he decides to speak again. "You shouldn't lower your standards or force yourself to get over something that's obviously bothering you just because you want to be with someone."

"But," You chuckle humorlessly just to hide the tears brimming at your eyes as you turn forward again, to avoid his gaze. "Do I even deserve to have those standards?"

San looks at you in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I just think I'm asking for too much considering I'm not exactly a person that deserves all of that." You say quietly, taking another drag of the cigarette before exhaling. "I'm a bad person, San, do I even deserve to ask someone to pick me? Shouldn't I just be happy that he seems to want to be with me now?"

San stays silent next to you and you clench your jaw, fearing what his response may be. You might've asked him to come here to talk but that still doesn't mean you're not scared of getting hurt.

"That's bullshit."

"Wha-" You open your mouth in frustration but he interrupts with a shake of his head, eyebrows raised as if he's telling you the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's bullshit." He shrugs, taking a last drag from the cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray. "First of all, you're not a bad person, Y/N, I don't know who told you that but you're not. It takes more than saying a few mean words to be a bad person."

"Second of all, don't ever allow yourself to feel like you don't deserve something you want." San states with determination. You open your mouth but he holds his hand up, "No, listen, when you're shopping, right?"

You groan because of course. Of fucking course, San would still associate you with shopping.

"Listen, when you're shopping for, I don't fuckin' know, a bag or something do you buy a bag even though you're like, 'hm this one doesn't have enough pockets and I don't really like the color and it might be too small but it's okay I'll still buy it'...?" You stare at him. "No, you fuckin' don't. You're buying it. You've investing in it. So it should be perfect. It needs to be the best fucking bag in the entire mall."

"Mingi isn't an object, San. He isn't a thing I invest in so I don't see how-"

"Well, obviously he's not a thing but of course you invest in him. You invest your time, your feelings, yourself." He lists holding up his fingers, "So if you're investing all of that in him but still carry that burden of what he's done at the back of your mind then I don't really see the point? Why would you do that to yourself?"

"That's ridiculous." You let out a laugh. "Nobody is perfect, like, everybody will make mistakes. If everyone acted that way and just never got over shit, nobody would be in relationships or have friends or-"

"But we're not talking about everyone here, Y/N, we're talking about you." San remarks giving you a pointed stare. "Some other person would maybe accept Mingi's apology and get over it and I'm not saying that's wrong but you are obviously still bothered by it even after the apology because you said it yourself, it feels wrong to be with him to you."

"And that's fine." He discloses softly and you swallow, taking another sip from your glass. "There's nothing wrong with that either. Nobody can tell you how to feel, Y/N."

You mull over his words, surprised that San of all people is so good at understanding others around him so well. You always took the fact that he was closed off emotionally as a sign that he didn't understand or read emotions all that well or that he didn't care but now you're starting to realize that maybe he reads them a little too well but just keeps it all to himself.

"Wouldn't it be a bit hypocritical to go back to how things were with Wooyoung but leave Mingi?" You ask unsure, the cool air of the summer evening feeling comforting on your skin.

You've thought about it since yesterday. After you told Mingi it might've been better if you hadn't started anything at all, yet still allowed Wooyoung to hold you as you cried.

"Maybe." He shrugs, taking another sip of the golden liquid from his glass, "But who cares? Like, they're not comparable at all in my opinion but genuinely, it's your life. You decide who you want in it."

"That's...a bit selfish, no?" You scrunch up your nose and San laughs lightly.

"Selfish? Sure but everyone is selfish." He gives you an 'are you kidding?' look when you look at him ready to argue, "Everyone is selfish. Everyone around you is selfish and everyone around me is selfish. You and I, we're selfish as well."

"I don't...not everyone..." You mumble, pouring yourself another drink. The alcohol is starting to hit fully now, San seems fine despite drinking more than you though.

"You think your friend wasn't selfish? He started seeing Yeosang despite knowing you were on bad terms with him, that's selfish." San points a finger at you as if to prove a point, "And then he hid it from you despite knowing it would hurt you because he just wanted to keep you and your friendship the way it was. That's selfish as well."

"Mingi as well, he didn't bring anything up even though he knew it would be the right thing to do because it was easier to pretend like nothing happened because he wanted you and knew that bringing it up would make it fresh again for you and maybe drive you away further." He remarks with a shrug. "It's all selfishness but I don't see it as a bad thing necessarily, it all seems to prove their love and care for you. But it's still selfish."

You don't dare interrupt his little rant, probably drunken ramblings at this point but you're equally as drunk and you want to listen.

"You know people sometimes say they want the best for you and sure, that might be true to an extent but really I see it as a 'I don't think you should do this because you'll feel like shit and as someone who cares for you, it will be an inconvenience to me because I'll feel bad as well because I love you' like, they still put themselves first in a way even without realizing it so maybe that's not selfishness but it sure damn is close to it." He nods with his lips folded in a natural pout, "And it's not bad, it's inherently human to be selfish."

You store everything he says at the back of your mind, hoping you will remember it in the morning.

"You know," You start off quietly after a moment of silence, "You're really good at this for someone who hates dealing with their feelings."

San smiles at you over the rim of his glass before taking another sip. "Maybe that's why I hate it. Because I understand how fucking complicated and hard it is."

You really didn't want it to get to this point. Where you're given a chance to talk about San but the opportunity is still too good to pass up on. After all this time, it would still be pretty sweet to figure him out.

"Don't you want someone?" You ask curiously, laying your cheek on your knee as you stare at him while running your finger over the rim of your glass. "To love you? To love?"

San sighs lowly, leaning back in his chair again as he stares out to the city. He murmurs slowly, "I don't think that's in the cards for me."

"Why not?" You push, the one question that's been plaguing your mind for so long. Why not, San?

"Because..." He starts, gaze casted downwards, "Uh, I don't think I would be good to them."

Your brows raise at that, cheek sloshed against your cheek and he glances at you for a brief moment before turning his eyes to the city lights again.

"I'm not saying I'd treat them badly, no, I can do all the superficial shit if I really want to like, remembering dates and buying flowers and being a good boyfriend but..." He smacks his lips in thought, "At one point, that won't be enough. They'd want to know me, want to know more than I want to show and I'd get... I don't fuckin' know, it would start being suffocating. Like I genuinely think I'd feel sick to my stomach as dramatic as it sounds because...it's scary. To be vulnerable."

"You know," He angles his body towards you and he continues speaking almost through a whisper, "That's why I draw the lines. Like, 'we can do this and we can do that but no feelings, no relationship'. And sometimes they'd think they're in love with me," His eyes are on you when he says it before they fall to the table, "And I'd pretend I don't see it because I'm doing them a favor, really. Despite popular belief, Y/N, inflicting emotional pain on women isn't something I enjoy. But making them think they have a chance by starting a relationship, making their feelings more real only for it to fall through in the end when they realize that I can't give them all of me...now, that's cruel. I don't want to do that."

He reclines back in his seat again and you're completely silent, the traffic from the world below you is the only thing heard.

“Boyoung...she might’ve been the closest thing to love I’ve known and the moment she started to want more, to know more, to ask more...I couldn’t do it. It’s like I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe when I was with her when she’d start asking about my parents, my childhood...anything that I obviously avoid. I just couldn’t. I tried that one time and I don’t plan on trying again. I’m just not made for it...” He trails off in thought, "I don't want to hurt anyone more than I have to so it's just best to do what I've been doing until I can."

"And for how long do you think that will work?" You wonder out loud, picking your head up to take another sip from your glass.

"For as long as I can drag it out." San responds quickly with a chuckle, "I've been working for about two years now. Big company, rich people, a lot of money...I'll be moving up the ladder soon and I already think I know what the rest of my life will look like."

"And? What does it look like?"

He starts with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm on the way to becoming a workaholic so I'll mostly focus on that. Spend my twenties and thirties fucking around with different women because a relationship isn't an option and climbing up the company ladder. By the time I'm in my forties, I won't be as desirable to women anymore but I'll have money and probably a top position at the firm."

Listening carefully, you can't help but think what a miserable life that is.

"Then I'll marry someone younger because she'll make me look good but I won't love her. And that's okay because she won't love me either, she'll definitely marry me for the money and won't mind that I only gave her a small part of myself." San takes a sip of the whiskey, swallowing the drink with pursued lips, "And she'll cheat on me with the pool boy or some other younger guy because I'll always be working but that's also okay because I won't be faithful either. And I'll probably develop a drinking problem somewhere in between and we won't have kids because I don't want to bring innocent babies into such a fucked up marriage."

When he goes quiet, you can't help but watch him with furrowed brows and feeling awfully saddened.

"Why would you want to imagine your life like that?" You probe, strands of hair that were framing your face swaying in the cool breeze.

San shrugs, eyes focused on the city lights with his eyebrows pinched. "Just think that's how it's going to be...or at least something similar to it."

He turns to find you watching him and lets out a soft smile, "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" You give him a one sided shoulder shrug and he eyes you.

"Like you feel sorry for me. I don't need your pity." San shakes his head, looking away again. "If I wanted things to be differently I know what I'd have to do to change it but I simply don't see that happening anytime soon. Kind of a bummer, huh?" He glances at you, "How our futures depend solely on us and no-one else."

You give him a weak chuckle in return before both of you fall into another silence.

Another thought crosses your mind and you contemplate whether or not you should say it. You've already told San enough and he told you a little bit as well. But you're both silent now and there's nothing else to do so you decide to say it anyway. You're drunk so maybe you won't even remember it in the morning.

"I want to be in a relationship so badly." You start of shy, back to avoiding San's eyes when he turns to look at you, "I crave stability and I think that's why I started this...thing with Mingi again because he made me really happy back then so I thought...maybe it's not that important that he didn't choose me then if he's back now."

"Mhm," San nods in agreement, playing with the glass in his hand, "And I think you're worried that no-one will come after Mingi."

You scrunch up your face at that, "Well, that...that makes it sound like I'm settling for Mingi or something. It's not like that, he's not someone you settle for. He's great, anyone would be lucky to be with him."

San's expression twists up, "You need to stop putting everyone you're in a relationship with on such a high pedestal while downplaying yourself. You're making it seem like he's doing you a favor by being with you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you as well, Y/N."

"San." You warn him, shaking your head with a laugh.

"What?" He ponders, genuinely confused, "You know for someone who always seemed so confident and acted like they're better than everyone else, you are weirdly insecure."

Your jaw drops, "Uh, fuck you."

"I'm just saying," San groans, popping his lips again, " You have a lot going for you and you're always going to have options so even if things don't work out with him, someone else will eventually come along. If that's one of the things you worry about, I'm just telling you that you shouldn't."

That is one of the things that you worry about....a lot. If you decide not to pursue anything further with Mingi, what if everyone else that comes after him just doesn't treat you as good in comparison to him. And in the end, what if you regret letting him go?

Why couldn't you simply stomach what happened two years ago and just be with him?

"He's a good guy..." You trail off quietly, lips folding into a pout unintentionally.

"I'm sure he is but there are other good guys as well." He maintains eye contact with you, "If you want to be with him then it should be for the right reasons and if you're sure that you won't hold the past against him, not because you're scared of ending up alone or placing your own worries at the backburner for him."

You slump back on your knees as you let San's words sink in.

Forgiving Mingi is easy. You know he feels sorry, you know he didn't mean anything he said that day or yesterday, you know he cares about you in some way.

But letting go of the resentment you feel deep inside over not being worth the fight in his eyes and not holding that against him if you do decide to continue anything with him?

You are not sure you are capable of that.

So is it really fully forgiveness? If you can't let it go?

"This is such a mess." You sigh, pouring yourself another drink clumsily before handing the bottle to San.

"Tell me about it." He responds, speech slightly slurred.

"You really are good at giving advice though, maybe you should listen to yourself more often." You say teasingly, giving him a drunken smile.

San gives you a faint glare. "Shut up. You mention this to anyone and I'll deny every word."

You giggle. "Can't have people thinking you have a heart, yeah?"

"Exactly." He smiles before bringing the glass back up to his lips.

"So..." San starts, pulling you out of your thoughts after the moment of prolonged silence that enveloped you both as you stared at the city in front of you, "How is Yeosang?"

You glare at him. "Seriously?"

"Come on." He rubs the back of his neck, puppy eyes coming out the longer he stares. You sigh.

"He's working at the same IT company as Mingi and lives in a nice big apartment that he shares with a roommate I haven't met before." You list off from the top of your head, "He has a small poodle named Butter and he's also dating my best friend who just happens to be the best person in the world so...I'd say Yeosang won the life lottery out of all of us. Lucky motherfucker."

San goes quiet, rapidly blinking as he stares at the surface of the table but a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. "That's good, yeah."

"You want me to-..."

"No." He shakes his head immediately, already knowing what you were about to say. "I was shitty to him and after I apologized, he said he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. I have to respect that, reap what you sow."

You nod with a hum.

"Your friend is in good hands though, Yeosang is...great. Yeah, he's great." San adds and you nod your head absentmindedly, not really in the mood to talk about Yeosang.

"Why did you choose this hotel out of all places?" He asks suddenly, changing the subject as he turns his attention to you again. "Everything else was full?"

"No, uh," You glance at him, "It's pink."

There's a moment of silence and your cheeks warm up.

"Right." San smiles, dimples on display.

"Shut up." You grumble, grabbing your glass again and taking a sip as he laughs.

"No, it's cute." He adds when he's done laughing, "It's very on brand."

"Whatever."

You sit there for another hour, quietly murmuring drunken stupidities amongst yourselves as you keep drinking. When he mentions college days, it doesn't sting as much as you thought it would. It's so weird.

"I don't think I was ever in love with you." You murmur out of nowhere and San slows down his action of going after the bottle, eyes finding yours.

He smiles, "I know, Y/N."

Choi San was always an enigma. Something you desperately wanted to figure out and have because no-one else could. You mistook your ego getting wounded at the thought of not getting your way with him as love somehow but it was never love. You just didn't know it back then, too blinded by your pain and anger and Choi San's ability to be devastatingly irresistible.

He broke your heart multiple times but it was never a heartbreak that came from love, it was something else.

You smile as well and then sit up to snatch the bottle from his hand.

"Well, time to brotherly share this." You say swishing the small amount of whiskey left in the bottle which you divide as fair as you can between your two glasses.

"Cheers." San says quietly, clinking his glass against yours before you both take a sip.

After both of your glasses are drained and you are sufficiently drunk, San decides it's time to leave so you follow after to walk him out.

"The reception said your cab will be downstairs in two minutes." You tell him, waiting by the door as you watch him check if all his belongings are there and that he didn't leave anything behind on the balcony in drunken stupor.

"Okay." He nods, brushing past you and walking out.

"San," You call softly after him because it is the middle of the night now. He turns in question, just a step away from you. You pursue your lips, arms crossed over your chest as you stand leaned on the doorframe. "You can give Seonghwa my number."

His eyebrows perk up at that faintly but he nods in response.

"And..." You start, the words dying in your throat as you look at him, feeling oddly sad that he has to go.

"...and?" He insists turning to face you fully now, taller frame towering over you that you have to crane your neck a little to look at him.

"And after this, let's not see each other again." You tell him quietly, tears burning at the corner of your eyes but holding your head up high.

San smiles softly, surprising you when his hand reaches up and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before leaning closer and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

He steps back, soft smile, soft eyes, soft voice. Soft. "Okay. Let's not see each other again."

You give him a watery smile, "Good night."

"Take care, princess. Good night." He gives you one last smile, dimples and all, before turning his back to you and walking away.

Locking the door shut, you make sure the balcony door is closed as well before plopping down on the still neatly made bed with a groan. You're out like a light in minutes.

On Saturday, you nurse your hangover and take full advantage of room service by ordering greasy food that you would usually avoid. You draw a little, back on the balcony.

You think you can imagine Miguel The Skeleton owning a pink hotel just like this but it's kind of a busted job because no human wants to go to a hotel owned by a skeleton wearing a hula skirt and a 50s grandma hat. Miguel The Skeleton doesn't look as smug at that revelation.

Maybe if he ditched the ugly hat, you tell him...Would make him look far more approachable.

You don't check your phone at all on Saturday, just put it on silent and leave it to get charged.

On Sunday, you're ready to go home.

In the morning, you take a nice shower and pack up all your belongings. Dutifully make sure all your pencils and papers are in place and get dressed in a floral dress that feels light on you which is perfect for the God awful temperature rising outside even if it's barely noon.

After you check out, you take a cab to your neighborhood and stop by the local restaurant to get lunch from there. Given everything, you still feel bad for just leaving Wooyoung like that. The two of you haven't been separated this long in the last two years and you don't know if that's a bad or good thing.

You unlock the front door and walk in, leaving your duffle bag in the hallway while taking off your shoes and walking inside, carrying the food you got in the plastic bag hanging from your hand.

As you place it on the dinning table, you hear a door slam open and footsteps stomping up to the main area.

"I brought food." You quietly say, focused on taking out the containers without letting anything spill that you don't even notice Wooyoung staring at you.

"You b-bitch." You hear him say, more like whimper and it immediately has your head snapping towards him, brows furrowed in confusion that melts to worry when you notice his disheveled state.

Red, swollen eyes, messy hair and tear-stained blotchy face. Dressed in his pajamas and just standing there, looking at you as his bottom lip wobbles.

"Wooyoung, what-" You straighten out slowly but he glares at you.

"Are you going to move out?" He's trying to glare, seem angry but all it does is make him look so vulnerable as more tears slide down his cheeks and his face scrunches up.

You do a double take.

"What?" You question as you near him cautiously, brows furrowed as your confusion deepens. "Why would I move out? I live here."

"Were you out for the weekend looking for a new place? Be honest with me! Is that what you were doing?" He interrogates you loudly, before breaking out in another sob that immediately has you latching onto his arm to calm him down. "Are you g-going to leave me? Yeosang said you wouldn't leave no matter h-how angry you a-are but I'm n-not so sure now!"

You sigh, placing your hands on his shoulders gently as he stares at his feet, tears dripping down his face.

"Well, it's hard for me to say this but Yeosang is right." You start off quietly, calm and collected. "I'm not going anywhere, Young-ah."

He sniffles, wiping the tears away with his sleeve before bringing his gaze up to meet yours. You immediately soften once you see the fear and insecurity in his eyes and you hate yourself for leaving a little bit despite having the full right to do so.

You place your hand on his cheek before giving him a small smile, "Wooyoung, I would never leave. I just took a little weekend vacation to the city, that's it."

He breaks at that, hands going up to hide his eyes as he cries. "I'm sorry. I'-I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry. I'm-"

Your gaze softens and you start to realize that this took a toll on him more than you expected and on instinct, you grab him by the nape of his neck and pull him in for a hug as he latches onto the skirt of your dress while crying into your neck.

"It's okay." You whisper comfortingly to him but feel him shake his head against you.

"It's n-not okay! It's not. I h-hurt you and I-..every t-time I tried to talk to y-you I ended up m-making it worse and I'm s-so sorry-" Wooyoung rambles through his hears.

You push at his shoulder until he lets go of you and cup his face with your hands, your own tears threatening to fall.

Nobody can tell you how to feel, Y/N. San's words echo in your mind.

"Wooyoung, listen to me," You shush him gently, "I love you, Wooyoung and before we left for Paris, I made a promise to myself that I'd do my best for you to be happy, like you deserve and if Yeosang makes you happy then that's just something I'll have to get over, okay?" You wipe the tears under his eyes with your thumbs as he stares at you, face still crunched up, eyes glossed over with tears and lips wobbling as he tries to hold in his sobs, "So don't even think about that anymore. And the rest, well I'm hurt...and it might take awhile for us to go back to how things were but...but we'll get there. I swear, Young-ah, I'm not going anywhere and everything will be okay, hm?"

His face crumbles again as more tears fall but he nods shakily before burying his face in your neck. "I love you, too."

You sigh quietly, wrapping your arms around him again as your tears slowly get soaked up by his shirt.

You squeeze him lightly one more time before moving to untangle yourself from his hold and he steps back, wiping away his tears again. You smile faintly.

"Come on, I brought lunch from that place down the street." You tell him, heading to get the cutlery and plates from the kitchen cupboard as Wooyoung watches you for a second longer before following your lead and quietly grabbing the judge of juice from the fridge and a handful of napkins.

"There we go. Bon appétit!" You proclaim as you fill up your plate, trying to be as cheery as possible just to make him feel slightly better. Seeing him so down feels like a punch in the gut.

You both eat in silence, neither knowing what to exactly say so you just stick to keeping quiet until finally, Wooyoung starts.

"So...where did you go?" He asks hesitantly, voice hoarse and you perk up in your chair as you chew.

"Oh, I was in that pink hotel near the center." You say while chewing before you slow down, glancing to the side for a split second. "San came to see me there."

The revelation causes Wooyoung to start choking on the bite he was chewing and he quickly flails around, grabbing the napkin as he coughs into it. You take a sip of your juice and clear your throat before innocently taking a peak at him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, y-yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe." Wooyoung croaks out, loudly clearing his throat before looking up at you.

You know he has a plethora of words for you right now and it's almost fun to watch him try to hold himself back from say them.

"Just say it." You shrug, bringing the chopsticks up to your mouth again and chewing.

"No, no, no. I'm not going to say anything." Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to play cool and you raise an eyebrow watching as his fingers bounce off of the surface of the dinning table for a moment, obviously in distress and knee probably bouncing underneath it. "Okay, fine! I am going to say something!"

Your lips quirk up. You didn't expect anything less.

"Did you-...Why-....I mean, what-..." It's almost amusing to watch him scramble for words, hands going around in the air as if it's enough to explain anything. He sighs, hands resting on the table, "Did you fuck him?"

"No." Is your quick and simple response.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side, "You...didn't?"

"No." You confirm one more time, "I invited him over, we drank and we talked and then I told him I don't want to see him again and he left."

"...oh."

"Yeah."

"Hm."

"Mhm."

Wooyoung sighs, standing up from his chair. "I need something stronger than this fuckin' orange juice. Do you want some vodka with that?"

"Uh," You look around the room, "It's a Sunday noon."

Wooyoung blinks, bottle of vodka already in his hand as he stares at you besides the open fridge.

"Sure." You nod, pushing your glass towards him.

Wooyoung tips a generous amount of vodka in your glass before doing the same to his and then returns to his seat, taking a big gulp.

He sighs in content before giving you his full attention, eyes puffy and hair still a bird's nest. "Now. Tell me everything."

You get tipsy while you re-tell Wooyoung all about your night with San filled with deep, drunken musings that create a ridiculous image in your head as it's not something you ever expected to have to describe.

Wooyoung is shocked, then slightly peeved then confused but all in all, seems to be interested by the newly developed relationship that ended on the same night it started. He even says he's proud of you and you don't exactly know what to say to that.

"So, what about Mingi?" He asks, leaning back against the couch. It's been an hour since the two of you moved to the living room with the bottle of vodka and jug of orange juice accompanying you.

You give him a look.

"Right." Wooyoung nods with his bottom lip jutted out in understanding.

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair. "I'll ask him to meet up this week. To talk properly."

"That's good. Clear the air completely." He says in a supportive manner, stretching his arms above his head.

"...yeah." Is what you decide to respond with. It's not just that, neither is it that simple but you are also not ready to talk to Wooyoung about your current feelings just yet. You might've told him about San but you didn't describe in details what you talked about like you usually would, more so kept to the funny bits and stuff that wasn't all to serious or specific. Not because you're trying to punish him or anything but just...you just can't. And that's okay. It is.

"I'm gonna go to my room." You add after a moment of silence with just the two of you lounging on the couch. "I have to unpack and...get ready for work tomorrow."

Wooyoung's eyes dim a little at the obvious distancing, it's barely noticeable but you know him well enough to read him. Still he gives you a small smile and nods, moving his legs out of the way to let you pass.

After unpacking the little clothes you brought and placing everyone back to it's original place whether it's skincare or sketching supplies, you open the window of your bedroom to let the fresh air in since there seems to be a slight breeze today and plop down on your bed with laptop on your lap, ready to maybe watch a movie or just waste time online...it makes no difference.

A random movie starts playing, just something to fill out the silence as you change into a comfortable pair of shorts and an old shirt before return to bed and get lost in your own thoughts, blankly staring at the screen while thinking of what to say to Mingi if....when you see him this week.

The buzzing of your phone from the nightstand interrupts you and you frown slightly when you see 'unknown caller' on the screen. Only a handful of people here know your new number...

"Hello?" You say into the speaker, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as your frown only grows when you're met with silence from the other side. "Hellooooo?"

Your lips part as a thought crosses your mind. It's silly. It's fucking ridiculous but hope is always the saddest feeling in the world and if you don't try, you feel like it will eat you up from inside. You take a deep breath,

"Hwa?" You ask with a shaky voice, clutching the phone to your ear as you wait for something. Anything.

"H-hey. Hi." His voice cracks from the other side and your eyes burn almost on command.

"Hwa, hi." You chuckle shakily, watery smile growing on your face because it's your brother. It's your brother, it's your brother, it's your brother.

"How, uh, h-how are you?" He clears his throat, "How are you, Y/N-ie?"

You sniffle, tears streaming down your cheeks and getting soaked up by the collar of your shirt. "I'm g-good! I'm-...I got back in May with Wooyoung...I, uh, I....mm, how are you?"

"I'm good as well, yeah." Seonghwa says softly over the other line, "I, uh, I-...San gave me your number. H-He told me that you said it's okay but I didn't...really believe him." He chuckles awkwardly, nervously, "So I...that's why it took me this long to call but I still...I still wanted to hear from you even if...even if he lied or something I still..."

Your face breaks at that and you try to muffle the hiccups with your hand before forcefully clearing your throat, "I d-did! I did, I said it's...it's okay."

A moment of silence ensues.

"Can I see you?" You ask self-consciously, timid of hearing his response.

"Y-Yes! Yeah," Seonghwa laughs nervously again, "Sorry, yeah...definitely."

"So, when..."

"Well, does tomorrow...? I-I mean do you have a-....Would tomorrow work?"

"I finish with work at four." You offer quietly, anxiously waiting to hear his response.

"Okay, so...so would around eight work?...Dinner?"

"Yeah, yeah...okay."

"That...that Italian place near the fountain in the center?" Seonghwa offers and you nod quickly before almost face palming, remember he can't see you.

"That works..." You utter softly and hear him sigh from the other line.

"Okay, great. So...so I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah..."

You indulge in some small talk after that, nothing long or too important...mostly discussing the weather awkwardly if you were completely honest before biding him goodbye and placing your phone back on the nightstand before laying down in your bed, curled up but somehow with a heart that was starting to get halfway full.

The next day you're on autopilot for the majority of it, only being aware of the clock ticking away and every hour passing by while you giddily sit behind your desk at work and try to do some finishing touches to the illustrations.

As soon as the clock hits four, you are out of your seat like a skyrocket, packing up your bag in a rush and bidding the room a quick goodbye before heading for the stairs.

You're excited to see Seonghwa, you really are.

You can't even find it in yourself to be mad or hurt anymore because all you can feel is how much you've missed him. You've been missing him so long even before you left two years ago.

Maybe that's how siblings work. They hurt each other and hate each other but still nothing can break them apart in a way.

Blood is thicker than water after all.

Well, you have a couple of examples that have proven that to be wrong but still...Seonghwa is Seonghwa.

Wooyoung isn't home when you arrive so you take a quick shower and change into something more casual like a cute patterned mini skirt and white halter top, washing your face of any make-up you've had on before grabbing your bag and heading for the door again.

The Italian place Seonghwa mentioned as your meeting spot was a small restaurant where the two of you used to go to when you were younger, both sharing the same appetite when it came to cheese and pasta.

You worried that you might've arrived too early, almost half hour earlier than planned but you were nervous but excited, feeling too many things to just sit at home and wait as you watch the clock.

It seems like it wouldn't be too bold to assume that Seonghwa felt the same way because as you enter a little deeper into the restaurant, you spot a familiar figure sitting alone at the table in the corner and your heart jumps to your throat as you cautiously approach him, shy and unsure like he's not your own brother.

Seonghwa glances in your direction before doing a double take, immediately standing up from his seat, even from a couple of feet away you can see him fiddling with his fingers.

You clear your throat, gracing him with an awkward smile that probably resembles a grimace more than anything else because the longer you stare the more your eyes burn with unshed tears.

"Hey." He utters once you're close enough and you can't help yourself, you walk around the table and throw your arms around him like you're that kid once again who's only friend she had was her big brother.

His arms come around your frame, holding you tightly against him and you squeeze your eyes shut as you latch onto him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so...I'm so sorry, I-..." Seonghwa keeps repeating over and over again and you're not even sure what he is apologizing for but you forgive him. You don't know why or how but you forgive him.

You wish things were different, you wish you were never put into a situation where you didn't see him for two years and had to have him apologize like this but you forgive him. You will always forgive him.

"It's okay." You say quietly against his shoulder. He shakes his head.

"It's not okay. It's...it's not okay, I should've been there. I should've..." His voice cracks and you can tell he's holding back tears, "I should've done more, I should've done more to protect you, to help you, I should've..."

"It's okay." You interrupt him even firmer, pulling away to meet his eye as you step back slightly, "You're here now...right?"

It's never too late when it comes to your brother.

Seonghwa presses his lips together, face pinched as he blinks away the unshed tears before nodding decidedly. "Yes. Yes I am."

You nod as well with a small sad smile before clearing your throat again and pulling out a chair for yourself across from him.

It's awkward and neither of you know how to act, slipping into the siblings act proving to be more difficult than you expected but you don't mind. You missed him so, so much.

"I ordered, uh, press juice or something." He shakes his head with brows furrowed and a small smile on his lips, "So the waiter should be here soon, so you can order-"

"Yeah, yeah." You chuckle, not minding the wait as you lean your elbows on the table.

Seonghwa stays quiet and so do you, eyes coasting over the restaurant before settling back on him. His hair is shorter than it was before you left but still kept neat. He looks somewhat more mature, like a proper adult and it's odd. Does he think the same way about you?

Do you look like an adult?

You certainly don't feel like an adult. People often tell you to quit acting like a child. Parents told you that you weren't a kid no longer but you really can't remember when was the exact moment you grew up.

His eyes meet yours and his expression falters again.

"Y/N, I'm really...I'm..." Seonghwa starts but then pauses, probably searching for the right words to say.

Growing up, Seonghwa and you rarely fought but when you did, you never apologized to each other afterwards. You had no idea if that was how all siblings operated but the two of you would just act like nothing happened after you cooled off and then tried to butter each other up with being out of the ordinary nice to each other.

Maybe that's why you have trouble speaking now.

"I know." You assure him with honest eyes, "Me too."

Seonghwa seems thankful when he nods and then quickly jumps in to wave down a waiter that walks over to take your order.

Throughout the dinner, you indulge in small talk. Paris, work, Wooyoung, Seonghwa's new girlfriend. You both avoid the big elephant in the room but you can't go avoiding it forever, you have to ask even if it's just out of decency.

"How are mom and dad?" You ask before taking a bite of your pasta.

Seonghwa's chewing slows down and he glances at you before shrugging. "They're...same old mom and dad."

You both chuckle after that.

You haven't heard from your parents since that same night but your grandma, your mom's mom, called you one night while you were in Paris.

Apparently, to save face as always, your mother was telling everyone how Wooyoung and you escaped to France because the constant attention here was a bother to your relationship. More privacy where less people know you. So you both transferred schools to Paris to be a happy little couple away from the nosy upper circle and experience normalcy of the Average Joe.

What a load of bullshit that she was still trying to sell and his parents didn't seem to mind either. It was a quick explanation as to why neither of their kids were in touch with them that much when someone asks, even if it is a lie.

It caused your blood pressure to soar when you first heard it and almost made you not return to Seoul at all but in the end, Wooyoung managed to talk you into it thankfully.

The longer dinner stretches on, the easier it is to speak even if the subjects were still fairly superficial. But you really enjoy dinner.

"Will...Will I see you more often?" You ask quietly playing with the napkin on your half empty plate, timid of his response after so much time of getting brushed off and barked at by him.

Seonghwa's eyes soften as he stares at you, "Do you want to?"

"Yes...yeah." Is your immediate answer as you gulp down the happy tears.

Seonghwa seems to be doing the same thing, "Then yes. Whenever."

You wring your hands in front of your face as you look at him before nodding, "Okay."

"I'm really..." Seonghwa sighs before smiling again, glancing at you before looking away, "I'm glad we did this, kid. I'm really happy and you look...you look like you're doing very good, I'm proud."

"Thank you." You whisper, unusually shy to hear the praise but you always craved his approval.

"Would you like me to drive you home?" He asks, waving down the waiter again to get the check.

"Yeah," You sigh, draining your glass of juice, "It's getting kind of late."

Seonghwa snorts with eyebrows raised. "That is something I never thought I'd hear from you. It's barely past ten."

"Hey," You whine, "I'm a working woman now and I'm not so young anymore."

"So I take it you retired from the college parties and shitfests in general." He jokes and you scoff.

"Pfft, awhile back." He laughs again.

"Let's go." Once the check is paid, he gives you a ride to your apartment and you point out the window of your living room to him, you don't know why but it's just in case you guess. If he ever decides to stop by.

When you enter your apartment, you let out a sigh before tiredly taking off your sandals and walking inside.

Wooyoung is always doing something in your shared space. He makes the dinning table his work table on most nights so you're not all that surprised to see him sitting behind his laptop, glasses slipping down his nose as he types away, grumbling under his breath.

"Hey." You greet quietly and his head picks up in surprise.

"Oh, hey." You can hear the 'where-...' before he stops himself and your heart slightly aches. He's always so nosy but now keeps his distance as well until he figures out where exactly you two stand and when he's allowed to start butting in your business again.

You want to tell him about Seonghwa though. You're so happy to see your brother again and you want to share it with someone. Not just someone, your best friend. Your Wooyoung.

You leave your bag on the counter before turning around and leaning against it so you can look at Wooyoung.

You mull over your thoughts for a moment and when you glance at him, you already see Wooyoung staring at you in question.

Clearing your throat, you smile lightly. "I just had dinner with Seonghwa."

His eyes widen in surprise, "Seonghwa? You did?"

You nod, peering up at him and Wooyoung stands up from his seat and mirrors your position of leaning against the counter.

He nods, "That's really great, Y/N. Really...that's...I'm happy for you."

You don't know what to respond. You're happy too, heart full at 68% now and you smile lightly, staring at the floor.

You don't know what to say, so you just lean your head against Wooyoung's shoulder and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you to gently rub your shoulder.

You: hey...

You: can we meet today?

Mingi: Yes

Mingi: What time

Mingi: And where

When you get to the park in your neighborhood, Mingi is already waiting.

He's sitting on one of the empty benches staring at the sun that's slowly setting and you feel your heart pitter-patter with dread.

"Hi." You greet him, sitting down next to him but making sure there is some space between the two of you. Mingi gives you a small smile.

"Hey."

"Uh," You decide to start first, "I'm sorry for just leaving like that last week and then...not answering your texts and stuff, I needed some time to think about everything."

"...it's okay." He says quietly, still staring in front of himself before taking a deep sigh. "I want to tell you something before you say anything else."

"...okay." You abide, placing your small handbag in your lap as you basically straddle the bench so he can have your full attention. When Mingi notices your movement, he does the same thing.

He sighs again. "Remember two years ago, you asked me if I thought that you weren't worth the fight?" His eyes trail up to yours and you nod in confirmation in confusion. "Well, I definitely don't think that because I'm pretty sure I fought with Boyoung every single day for a whole year after you left."

You look at him in confusion and Mingi chuckles, "I might've not fought when it mattered but when I...turned you down...I was so angry and resented Boyoung so much for something that wasn't even her fault that I just nagged and snapped at her and..." He rubs his face with one hand, "I was so angry at myself for what I've done to you, what I said that day, that I took it all out on her until our friendship crumbled completely. She never even knew that the two of us had...a thing back then." He shrugs almost pitifully, "I ended up losing both of you in the end. I turned you down because I wanted to be a good friend I guess and then I wasn't a good friend because I liked you so much that I resented her until I chased her away."

"That's not my fa-"

"I'm not saying it's your fault." Mingi quickly interrupts you, voice soft and eyes reassuring, "It's my fault completely but I'm just telling you this in case you think I took what I did lightly. I realized I made it seem like that when I mentioned Wooyoung last time, like I was downplaying what I did but I always knew that I did wrong by you, I just never knew how to handle it properly."

He gently takes your hand, fingers starting to play with your own and he stares at your two intertwined hands while you stare at him, heart pitter-pattering again louder and louder.

"I'm sorry for what happened that day, for what I said and how I acted and for not...for being so fucking passive that I let you slip away without a fight because you are most certainly worth the fight, Y/N." Your eyes gloss over as you stare at him, "I'm sorry about last time as well, I had no right to attack you like that about San. I literally...I literally behaved the exact same as I did two years ago. Got insecure and took it out on you."

Mingi glances up at you, licking his lips nervously. "I'm really sorry. Whatever happens between us, I need you to know I'm sorry."

You nod after a moment of contemplation. "Thank you."

Now, it's your turn.

You've spent days tossing and turning in your bed at night, thinking if the choice you're about to make is the right one.

And you don't know. You may never know if it's the right choice or if it's something you will regret for the rest of your life but in this moment, it's your choice.

Only yours and no-one else's.

"Mingi, the reason why I asked you to meet me today is because I wanted to bring it all to an end in the right way..." His eyes falter a bit and you squeeze his hand, biting your lip before you continue, "I don't want you to...I guess that I don't want you to carry this burden with you anymore, what's done is done." You try to comb through your thoughts a bit better, jumbled mind making it hard to form sentences when he's staring at you and hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth, "What I'm trying to say is that I understand why you did what you did. I get it, objectively I can't blame you for it because I wish Wooyoung would've done the same for me." You chuckle and his mouth quirks up a bit.

"I forgive you...but I don't think we should be together." You continue and his eyes cast downwards again, your own start to burn as you try your hardest to blink away the tears, "I like you a lot, I already told you that but I can't get past it. I know myself, the first big fight we'd have when we'd be screaming at each other's faces and trying to take digs at each other, when I'd have nothing else to say, I would throw you not choosing me in your face because I'd know you wouldn't have anything else to say to that."

Mingi opens his mouth to refute you but you shake your head with a smile, "I would. I'm that kind of person. Even when I say that I forgive you, which I do, there is still a part of me that resents you and I don't think that will ever change."

You look down at your joined hands, "And you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to have to tip-toe around someone you're in a relationship with or be with someone that resents you in any way for something you've done two years ago and I...I deserve to be someone's first choice in that moment. I deserve to have someone choose me."

"I'm choosing you now." Mingi says, voice hoarse and you look away to stop the flood of tears from coming.

"There's nothing to choose from now." You say quietly. No decision to be made, only cheapened stakes that make the choice obvious.

You gently graze his cheek with your free hand and he picks up his eyes to look at you. He seems on the verge of tears as well.

"You're a good guy...you're a great guy. I'm not doing this out of pettiness or because I'm trying to punish you or something. You...you were the closest thing I ever had to love." His face crumbles a bit at that and you can't keep the influx of tears at bay anymore, "But I deserve to have someone choose me when things get hard and I don't want to continue this relationship that will become emotional torture for both of us sooner or later because it will, it's just how the two of us are it seems..."

"I still think we made a mistake by starting a relationship like this again but..." You trail off, thumb still running circles on his cheek as his eyes bore into yours and bigger hand squeezes yours, "But I don't regret a single second of it even if it ended. It was a really great summer, I enjoyed spending it with you." You give him a watery smile.

"I'm sorry." He whispers shakily and your smile falters, tears still streaming down your cheeks and collarbones, getting soaked up by your shirt.

"Me too." You whisper back, leaning over and pressing your lips to his. A small indulgence you allow yourself just this time before pulling away and burying your face in his neck.

Mingi's arms quickly wrap around you, as he pulls you deeper into his chest and his hand smooths your hair falling down your back.

You don't know how long you stay crying, wrapped up in each other but the sun sets, the night encapsulates you and with the utmost strength you part from him.

You bid Mingi one last goodbye with a smile and then turn around and walk away.

When you walk into your apartment, all the lights are off and you hear Wooyoung in his room probably watching something on his laptop. So you quietly strip and pull on your pajamas before washing your face squeaky clean and then your teeth, trying not to dwell on how red and puffy your eyes are as you stare into the mirror's reflection before tip-toeing to his side of the hall and into his room.

He's laying in bed with his laptop on his lap watching 'Succession' you believe and he turns to you, surprised.

"Hey-" You don't allow him to finish, you quietly climb into his bed and snuggle into his side.

Wooyoung is still faintly frozen in surprise but he lets out a small breath and moves his arm to wrap it around you, "You okay?"

You nod.

"I'm okay."

Time stops for no-one.

The days continue to trickle by. You see Seonghwa more often (usually for coffee or lunch) and each time you do it feels like it gets easier to talk to him.You know that one day, it will be like when you were thirteen again - when it was the two of you against the world.

(He never mentions San and you never ask.)

Only this time you have Wooyoung as well, with whom you go back to normal easily. Easier than you expected after the initial bump in the road, you never ask about Yeosang though and he never mentions him which you think is a bit unfair to Yeosang.

Now, you might not like the guy all that much but...obviously Wooyoung doesn't plan on letting him go any time soon.

So against your better judgement, you tell Wooyoung that he can invite Yeosang (and Butter) to hang out at your apartment. You invite Seonghwa as well.

It's been a couple of weeks since you stopped working at the publishing company and are back to being a freelancer and doing illustrations for smaller businesses while focusing on your own art in between.

On that God forsaken Friday, you invite Seonghwa and Yeosang back to your place after work and Wooyoung orders take-out and buys beers for everyone.

Yeosang and you don't talk much. You don't really have much to say besides the times it is polite to speak to him but hey, at least the animosity is gone.

He seems to be shy and timid towards you and it takes you by surprise as those were the words you never associated him with before but Wooyoung doesn't seem surprised at all, so you conclude that Yeosang may be a shy person in general only you never saw it because you two were constantly at each other's throats.

Wooyoung puts on Succession again which seems to be a new obsession of his and you don't mind, finding the character of Roman Roy to be quite amusing as you all sit in the living room with the food and drinks and watch the show, someone throwing in a comment or two once in awhile.

"Hey," Seonghwa calls out from the other side of the couch and you turn to him in question, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

You glance at Wooyoung and Yeosang who notice the conversation but don't pay it much thought. You nod at Seonghwa before you motion for him to follow you.

"Oh, cozy set-up you got here." He says, throwing himself on the chair by your desk, you chuckle sitting down on your bed.

"Thanks. So what's up?" You ask, leaning back on your palms.

"So," He drags out with a small grin, "I was thinking, I'm going to New York next month for work but nothing too much, it's more out of courtesy than anything."

You blink at him, "Okay?"

"How would you like to come with?" He asks, eyes gleaming with excitement.

You frown faintly, "Is this...does this have anything to do with mom or dad-"

"What? No! Fuck them!" Seonghwa interrupts you quickly, "So? You wanna go?"

You chuckle as you stare at him in disbelief, "To New York?"

"Yep. Three weeks."

"Three weeks? I can't go to New York for three weeks, Hwa." You scold him and he frowns at you.

"Why not? You work from home now, right? It might be good for some new inspiration, y'know, might meet some new connections there. I can set you up, I know people." He winks at you and you roll yours. Seonghwa barely knows any people. "We could spend time together, just the two of us. Autumn in New York is something else from what I hear."

"And I hear they have rats the size of skunks. Definitely something else." You deadpan and he laughs.

"That might be something new to see as well."

You sigh, "I have to think about it. Three weeks isn't that short of a time."

"Well, you can always return early or something." Your brother shrugs in response, already standing up from the chair.

"That's it?" You ask, wondering if that was all he wanted to talk about.

"Well, yeah. Just wanted to ask." He chuckles, moving towards the door.

"I'll think about it..."

"Okay."

When you both return to the living room, you notice Wooyoung not even hiding the way he eyes you while Yeosang glares at him.

"And what were you two whispering about that the rest of us can't hear, hm?" He asks nosily, crossing his arms over his chest as Yeosang facepalms.

"Nosy ass." You mutter, plopping down in the seat next to him on the couch.

"I was just asking Y/N if she wanted to come to New York with me next month." Seonghwa explains with an easy smile, being the ever people pleaser he was.

"New York?!" Wooyoung quickly passes the current episode as he turns to you with wide eyes. "You can't leave for New York, what if you don't come back?!" He cries out.

"You are so ridiculous, why wouldn't I come back?"

"So you're going?!"

"Well, I said I'll think about it but I'll definitely come back to Korea, Wooyoung, for the last time, I live here." You roll your eyes in humor as Seonghwa snorts from the other side of the couch.

"New York is nice during fall, the Central Park..." Yeosang trails off once all three of you turn to stare at him. Wooyoung is glaring at his boyfriend.

"Wooooow, Yeosang, don't be so happy. I bet you just can't wait to see me go." You drawl out with a stoic face and you see Yeosang pale, quickly glancing at Wooyoung and blinking rapidly. You almost feel bad when you think he might cry.

Wooyoung laughs, pulling his boyfriend closer by the neck, "She's fucking with you."

Yeosang turns to you again like a deer caught in headlights and you glance at him before turning to the screen again.

"Not you just wanting me to leave so you can..." You motion with your chin towards your best friend who sits between the two of you with a shit-eating grin, "Just so you can do things to my Wooyoung, Yeosang."

Yeosang gapes at you, cheeks flushing red and you press your lips to stop the grin from showing as you go back to watching the TV. Seonghwa snorts but Wooyoung goes all out, almost throwing himself in your lap from laughter.

The sound of it makes your facade break and you let a small smile show once you see the look of pure happiness on Wooyoung's face.

Poor Yeosang, completely red in the face, glances between all of you before pointing at himself, "Me-" Then points to Wooyoung, "-doing things to him?"

"Hey-" Wooyoung tries to defend himself but the laughter overtakes him again.

"Y/N, your best friend is the literal Spawn of Satan." Yeosang deadpans, smacking Wooyoung's thigh who tries to pull him closer but Yeosang smacks him away again lightly, "I am the innocent one here who somehow gets caught up in all of his debauchery."

Seonghwa laughs loudly at that and you let out a laugh as well because you can definitely see that to be true.

"Oh, somehow gets caught up!" Wooyoung rolls his eyes at Yeosang, voice sarcastic. "Oh, okay!"

Once the laughter and teasing has died down, Yeosang leans back on the couch with a small grin, throwing you a glance that you pretend not to notice.

Two days later, you text Seonghwa.

You: new york sounds nice.

(One year later)

One room is the bedroom while the smaller one across the hall is designated for the art supplies, a big wooden sketching desk with papers thrown across it pulled up to the window, painting aisles leaning up in every corner and blank or filled canvases stacked up against the wall. A huge book shelf stretches across the wall filled with pencils and brushes all divided into neat jars and other art supplies lining the shelves below it.

The kitchen is a pretty marble green color with cooking books that she doesn't really touch that often stacked up in an open cupboard and a small shelf for spices that her best friend set up, especially for her. The counter is filled with whatever newest hobby is occupying her time, currently it's building Lego sets. Magnets on the fridge that she started to collect over time along with a postcard from Tokyo.

There are fresh flowers in a see-through vase on the dinning table made out of dark wood (it is used for most Friday night dinners, as they say she has the prettiest apartment now).

In the living room, her favorite show plays on the TV and there is a row of waxed autumn leaves from Central Park hanging above the big screen.

A cozy couch with mismatched pillows and a soft duvet for rainy days along with a coffee table and a colorful rug she got from her grandma as a housewarming gift. And another bookshelf, this one filled with candles, knick-knacks and souvenirs, an old CD player and an array of framed photos that appear all over the apartment.

Some with her best friend, arms thrown around one another in front of the Eiffel Tower, another one of the two of them cheesing at the camera. Some with her brother from the trip to New York. Some of her best friend and his boyfriend with her wedged in between, all three wearing bright smiles and eyes crinkled as they stare in the camera. Two side by side of a certain friend with orange hair, that she met when she was crying in a library, from her trip to Tokyo where she spent last New Years Eve.

There is one with her brother and her, one aged six and the other almost ten, cheeks smudged from chocolate and both having terrible haircuts that they'll get teased about relentlessly as they hug each other clumsily and smile for the camera.

Two big windows stretch across the other wall, the curtains moved to the sides and allowing the sunrays to seep inside along with the view of the park across the street and the market next to it, there is a lower shelf set up underneath the windows with a record player on top and filled with miscellaneous items like records, CDs, books, more candles and magazines.

The windows are wide open letting in the fresh morning air in, the birds chirp and there is laughter heard from kids heading to school so early in the morning.

On the wall next to the windows, there is a drawing framed.

It's her. The girl with smiles made out of rusty nails and little sparks of electricity coming from empty eye sockets. That's her place now. Only all of the moss covered parts, the rusty nails, the loose bolts and screws that she hid for so long are covered by marigolds, violets and daisies which daintily envelop each crevice, make each loose bolt stronger and replace missing pieces that aren't coming back.

She is whole now.

#san x reader #choi san x reader #mingi x reader #ateez angst #ateez x reader

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nightghoul381 · 6 days

Text

Ellis Twilight~ Main Route Chapter 4 Premium Avatar Challenge

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: Ellis' sprite at the beginning is a bit unsettling

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Ellis: “How happy are you right now?”

I answered the question posed to me from the twilit-light with a big smile.

Kate: “I feel like my life could end right now!”

Ellis: “…I see.”

Ellis: “Then, how about I end it?”

(Eh…?)

Suddenly, cold ripples spread across my dreamy heart, as if a drop of darkness had fallen.

(End it…)

(My life?... He’s kidding, right?)

I couldn’t tell from the tone of his voice whether he was joking or serious, so I tried to focus on Ellis’ expression.

However, his face was obscured by the illumination of the setting sun and I couldn’t see it.

The strange feeling I had the night when we met came back to me.

It was as if the person who was laughing next to me just moments ago was a different person than the one in front of me—I had a strange feeling in my chest.

Kate: “Ellis…?”

At that moment, the sun completely set behind the building and the light suddenly disappeared—

Ellis: “mm?”

Ellis and I were swallowed up by the same shadow.

Then, I finally was able to see his expression.

Ellis: “…Kate? Is something wrong?”

(Oh it’s… it’s Ellis as usual.)

Ellis was smiling the same smile I knew.

Kate: “Hehe… please don’t make such a joke all of a sudden. I was shocked.”

Kate: “Right now, I’m so happy I don’t care if my life ends…”

Kate: “But tomorrow might be happier, so it’s okay.”

Ellis: “…I see.”

Kate: “I should return to the castle to properly report on my first mission.”

Kate: “Also, I have to thank you, Ellis, for making me so happy.”

Ellis: “Me?”

Kate: “Please tell me about what you like, Ellis. Then I can make you happy tomorrow.”

Ellis: “…”

Ellis’ eyes widened a little in surprise, then he smiled softly.

Ellis: “…Yeah, thanks.”

Ellis: “But Kate, the formal language has come back.”

Kate: “Huh?...Oh, right.”

(Just now, he seemed like a different person… I guess I just got defensive.)

(The reason I felt that way was because I was fooled by the twilight.)

Kate: “So, Um… Can you tell me about what you like, Ellis?”

Ellis: “I like looking for a delicious restaurant… I guess.”

Ellis: “If I know a lot of different shots, I can introduce them to a lot of people and make them happy.”

As I had learned over the last two days, Ellis gave a familiar answer.

(I guess I could say it seems like Ellis, but…)

Kate: “Is there something you do to make yourself happy, regardless of other people’s happiness?”

Ellis: “—No.”

(Eh…)

He didn’t seem to think or hesitate even for a moment.

Ellis: “What I want to do is help others.”

Kate: “Right, okay…”

He stated it clearly and I nodded, even though I was confused.

Considering his actions, it was a natural response.

(But—Is there nothing he wants to do for himself, not for anyone else…)

Perhaps something happened that made him want to be of service to others so strongly.

(If we stay together like this, maybe someday you’ll tell me.)

(If that day comes, I’ll be happy.)

Anyway… What I want to do now is thank Ellis for taking me to the play I wanted to see.

Kate: “So, what’s your favorite food?”

Ellis: “I’ll eat anything… but I especially like buttery toast and cranberry jam.”

Kate: “Hehe, I like that too. I’ll make a note of it.”

Ellis: “Oh, and I also liked the baguettes from the shop you had recommended, Kate.”

(Ellis likes toast with lots of butter, and cranberry jam.)

(And the baguette from the shop I recommended… huh?)

Kate: “Ellis… did you just answer in a way that would make it easier for me to thank you?”

Ellis: “I didn’t…. It’s all true.”

Ellis: “I was happy when you told me earlier that you wanted to make me happy.”

Ellis was smiling as if to reassure me.

The last light of day is sucked into the horizon, and the light of the street lamps emerges from the gloom.

Even the beguiling remnants of the twilight sky were completely swallowed by darkness.

(For some reason, it suddenly got dark.)

My anxiety grew as the darkness approached, and I walked a little faster.

Ellis: “…”

Suddenly, slender, supple fingertips touched my hand.

Kate: “Ellis…?”

Ellis: “We’re lovers who have proven our love, so let’s hold hands and go home.”

Kate: “Lovers?”

(That’s right…)

Kate: “…like from Bill’s show, right?”

Ellis: “Exactly.”

The fingertips that touched me entwined with my hand, wrapping around me as if to protect me from the darkness of the night.

Ellis: “If you don’t like it, please let me know… But if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep connected like this.”

Kate: “…Why?”

Ellis: “So that you won’t get anxious.”

The way Ellis held my hand was gentle, almost soothing.

Just a moment ago, during the show, he reassured me when I was anxious.

Ellis: “…You don’t like it?”

Kate: “Uh…”

There’s no way I wouldn’t be happy about the kindness shown just for me.

(I can’t imagine not liking something like this.)

Kate: “No… it’s okay.”

Ellis: “Hmm, good.”

The warmth of our connected hands felt so good that my heart began beating fast.

Ellis: “I thought this earlier today too, but your hands are so small, Kate.”

Kate: “Is that so? Maybe your hands are just big.”

Ellis: “I see, I’m big.”

The innocent conversation was somehow funny and laughter naturally flowed between us.

(…it’s strange.)

(When I’m with Ellis, my heart races but I also feel at peace.)

Kate: “I should have asked you sooner about the things you like, Ellis?”

Ellis: “Why?”

Kate: “If I had gone shopping while the store was open, I could have said thank you tomorrow morning.”

Ellis: “… I quite like holding hands with you.”

Kate: “Huh…?”

Ellis: “As a thank you, this might be fine.”

My grip tightened, and my heartbeat became faster again.

Kate: “I don’t think it’s enough to thank you… for the theater tickets…”

Ellis: “Really? I don’t think so.”

Ellis: “… You don’t have to be in such a hurry.”

Ellis: “There’s still time until the promised month is up.”

Ellis: “Me too… I’ll do my best to make you even happier.”

Whispers like sweet, sweet jam and the warmth of palms pressed together.

I walked down the street at night with thoughts like that filling my head.

Leaving behind the memories of twilight.

Next Chapter

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains translation #ikevil translation #ellis twilight #ikevil ellis #ikevil ellis twilight #ikemen villains ellis #ikemen villains ellis twilight #ellis twilight main route

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

Text

II ║ Buckskin

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ << Part 1: Palomino | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 3: Dapple Grey >> }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: It's an eventful first day on the trail, to say the least.

Warnings: Flirting, yearning, insecurities, sexual tension, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, sexual innuendoes, inappropriate thoughts of a saddle horn (I'm sorry), masturbation (m and f), language, mention of food, mention of breakup, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6.8k

Notes: All of you have literally blown me away with your thirst (affectionate) for cowboy Jack, thank you for encouraging me to be as self-indulgent as I want with this fic 🥰 I hope this was worth the wait, I had a blast writing this part! Picks up immediately after Part 1.

Buckskin: A colour that resembles tanned deerskin. A buckskin horse has a tan or gold coloured coat with black points - mane, tail, and lower legs.

Day 1

‘I hear you were meant to come with someone.’

You arch an eyebrow and quip drily. ‘No secrets on this ranch, huh?’

Jack gives you an apologetic tip of the hat. ‘Sorry, you’ve met Champ - he’s not exactly discreet. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’

Your fears that you would run out of conversation within the first hour of the day proved unfounded. Jack is an attentive guide, his experience and knowledge of the area obvious as he leads you deeper into the mountains. He tells you about the local geography, points out native trees and flora to you when he notices your gaze lingering in interest, and entertains your questions about the ranch and the people in it.

The morning passes as quickly as the temperature rises, and soon you both shed your jackets, stopping briefly so Jack can affix the loose items to one of Bourbon’s saddle bags. He rolls up the sleeves of his plaid shirt before hopping back into the saddle.

You try not to stare at the way his forearms flex with the movement.

You want to live in the moment and all that crap, but you soon succumb to the temptation and pull out your phone to take panoramic videos of the stupendous vistas. Sweeping from left to right, the camera takes in grassy knolls, patches of wildflowers in full bloom, clear skies and the ever-looming presence of the Bighorn Mountains.

It’s not your fault that Jack just happens to be in the tail end of all your videos. He even turns his head just in time in one of them, granting you a perfect shot of his profile.

If anything, he’s in the way of the views. How dare he.

The timing works out according to Jack’s plans. Just as the heat starts becoming overbearing, a formidable line of trees comes into view after you crest the steepest incline of your journey so far.

The old pine forest envelops you in a balmy coolness, and you sigh at the earthy scent of leaves and bark as Scotch continues sure-footedly on the soft woodland path. Filtered through the treetops, the midday sun loses its harshness, instead throwing dappled beams under the horses’ hooves.

You’re a city girl at heart, but if you’re not careful, you can really get used to this.

After a no-frills lunch - a hearty baguette sandwich stuffed to the brim with ham, cheese and leafy greens, and an apple to finish - you want to press on, but Jack insists on a half-hour break so that you can stretch out your knees and hips, knowing that you would pay for it the next day if you didn’t.

The afternoon leg of the ride has just resumed when Jack brings up the subject.

You realise you’ve fallen quiet a tad too long to be considered comfortable, so you compensate by flashing him a reassuring smile. ‘No, no, it’s fine. My ex-boyfriend and I booked this trip together. It was supposed to be a little getaway for my birthday.’

‘I’m sorry.’

You shake your head. ‘Don’t be. To be honest, it would’ve been boring with him here. He would’ve whinged about the horses smelling and we definitely couldn’t have gone any faster than a trot. He doesn’t ride.’

Jack chuckles. ‘Sounds like a keeper, whatever possessed you to leave him?’

‘I wish I did - he left me.’

‘Pardon my language, but he sounds like a fuckin' idiot.��

Your laugh rings in the quiet of the woods, and he looks pleased at your reaction, his warm eyes resting on you easily. Since it’s only fair that he should share something with you too, you ask conversationally, ‘What about you, cowboy? Do you have some sad sob story that brought you to the Statesman?’

You should’ve guessed, by the way his lips purse, and the smallest dip in his smile. But what comes out of his mouth in a quiet rasp still stuns you.

‘My wife - she died eight and a half years ago.’

The blood literally drains out of your face. Of course - you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t put your big foot into your bigger mouth in front of someone you’re about to spend the next seven days with.

‘I’m sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to unsettle you -’

‘Oh god,’ you blurt out, brows knitted together in distress and stumbling over your words. ‘Why are you apologising to me? I’m a complete idiot. I’m so sorry, that was so insensitive of me -’

‘Darlin’ -’

‘I shouldn’t have phrased it that way, I didn’t mean to upset you -’

‘Darlin’, just let me -’

‘- I swear I didn’t mean it, Jack, please forgive me -’

Firm fingers close around your right wrist, and when he calls your name, your eyes snap to his, jolted out of your ramble. A gentle thumb brushes your pulse point and he smiles at you. ‘You run your mouth at a gallop, don’t you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ you answer in a small voice.

‘There's nothin' to apologise for. You didn’t know, and the joke would’ve landed with anyone else,’ he comforts you.

He lets go of you slowly, as if not to spook you, and you duck your head. ‘I’m still so sorry, Jack.’

His knee bumps into yours, startling you, and your stirrup irons clink sweetly when they touch. You didn’t realise he’s pulled in so close into you. It’s oddly intimate, riding this close to someone else - close enough to trade secrets.

‘Please, darlin’, don’t be. Eight and a half years is a very long time ago. I’ve been dating casually for the last few, actually,’ he confides in you with a sheepish smile, which goes a long way to set you at ease. ‘But it’s hard to meet people when there are about five single women who live in a three-hour radius from the ranch.’

‘No Tinder around here?’

His brow furrows below his hat. ‘Tinder - what?’

‘Tinder. The online dating app?’ you repeat. At his shrug, you tease, ‘Not big on technology, are we?’

Winding the reins around the saddle horn, he holds up one finger at you in a silent wait a second, while fishing for something in one of his shirt pockets, which he presents to you with a ta-da.

‘Um, Jack… what’s that?’

‘I’ve been told that it’s an iPhone,’ he replies, turning the last word slowly on his tongue, as if it sits uncomfortably. At your incredulous look, he asks, ‘What’s wrong with it?’

You take it from him, looking it over with a snicker. ‘It’s literally held together by scotch tape. Did you pick it up from the side of the road after it fell out of someone else’s car?’

His fingers brush yours when he takes it back, sticking his nose up imperiously. ‘I don’t need a smartphone, or Tinder. I do things the old-fashioned way.’

You bite your lip, amused. ‘Oh? And what might that be?’

Jack winks at you. ‘I pick up women at a bar - the closest one is two hours’ drive away.’

‘Two hours?’

‘If I don’t pick up anyone, I have to sleep in my car since it’s too far to drive back. It’s a surprisingly effective incentive.’

You study him closely, but you don’t know him well enough to judge if he’s joking or not. ‘You cannot be serious, cowboy.’

‘Gotta keep those time-honoured traditions alive, darlin’,’ he replies, happy keeping you guessing.

‘That’s ridiculous. I’ll teach you how to use Tinder, it’ll be fun!’ you insist. ‘It will also save you a ton of gas money.’

‘How? There’s no signal in the mountains.’

‘What about at the Halfway House?’

He begrudgingly admits, ‘Fine, there is wifi there. And you’re the guest, so technically, I can’t say no to you.’

You don’t hear the ‘you’re the guest’ and ‘technically’ though. Your heart is pounding at this cowboy telling you that he can’t say no to you.

Before you’ve recovered, he asks, ‘What about you? Are you ready to get back into the saddle, so to speak?’

You let your eyes linger over him, and your lips twitch. ‘Yeah - I’m beginning to think that I am.’

In the summer, the Statesman leads pack trips into the mountains every week. Jack and Tequila look after the guests on alternate, usually with a backup rider or two, depending on the size of the groups. While the routes are not set in stone, they set up makeshift campsites at certain spots every summer to make logistics easier, which are dismantled in the fall when tourist season winds down.

Jack glances at his watch as the lakeside camp comes into view. Perfect. There’s still a couple of hours until dinnertime.

This particular camp has a stone fire pit and a pile of already chopped logs kept dry under a tarp. Wooden posts have been hammered into the ground for holding saddles and tack. A bale of hay for the horses has been strung up in a net, hanging from a nearby tree, which was delivered earlier in the day by Tequila.

Your knees protest when your feet hit the ground, and you wince at the tightness in the joints. It doesn’t escape Jack’s notice, and he asks, ‘You alright, darlin’?’

You wave away his concerns. ‘Just a bit stiff, that’s all.’

‘You’ll need to do a lot of stretching tonight, or you’ll really feel it tomorrow.’

You’re distracted, unbuckling Scotch’s girth as you reply offhandedly, ‘Yes, sir.’

Jack’s head whips towards you so quickly he nearly pulls his neck. You’re not paying him any heed though - you’re balancing on your tiptoes to grab the saddle with both hands, your shirt riding up, baring the small of your back. You gently drag the saddle and the sweaty pad underneath off Scotch.

The thud with which the saddle lands on the wooden post shakes Jack out of his thoughts. He clears his throat and busies himself with untacking Whiskey.

‘I was thinking we could have a swim before dinner,’ he suggests, pointing behind him. ‘There’s a lake just beyond the trees, I think we could all do with a cool down and then a shower, including the horses.’

‘They like water?’ you ask, surprised.

Jack joins you on the opposite side of the post with Whiskey’s tack. ‘These three are basically fish, but with more legs and hair.’

You hang Scotch’s bridle on the edge of the post, one hand on your hip, and lament, ‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit, though.’

He really shouldn’t have, but the words come out without going through his brain. ‘Don’t you wear underwear, darlin’?’

You give him a look that has the tips of his ears turning red under his hat. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know, cowboy.’

Jack gapes at you, the rug pulled from underneath his boots too quickly to wrap his head around it. You let him flounder for just a few moments before you put him out of his misery, breaking into a chortle. ‘I’m messing with you - of course I do!’

Jack shakes his head, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. With a chuckle, he watches you walk away to help with unloading Bourbon.

It looks like he will have to keep his wits about him this week.

The grass is long and soft under your bare feet, finally allowed to breathe after more than seven hours in the saddle today. The short walk to the lake is already doing you good, you can feel your back and hip muscles stretching and loosening.

You giggle when the horses spot the lake, and with excited neighs, they start at a canter to race each other to the water, leaving you and Jack behind.

‘They’re ridiculous,’ you say fondly, glancing at Jack, who’s also taken off his boots.

‘They know the good life,’ he quips.

You stop by the edge of the lake, under the shade of a tree with low branches. Jack hangs his towel on one of them, and you follow suit, then your hands waver over the hem of your shirt, fingers curling into your palms. You don’t remember the last time anyone saw you in your underwear other than your ex. Even though you’ve shaved and exfoliated in the comfort of your lodge last night, and you’re actually wearing a matching set of underwear - just in case, you told yourself - you hesitate.

Thankfully, Jack doesn’t seem to pick up on your awkwardness. In fact, he’s not looking your way at all - he’s watching as the horses splash in the shallows.

The hat comes off first. You haven’t seen him without it yet, he was wearing it even at dinner last night. A large hand rakes through the roots of his hair, leaving a dishevelled, sweaty mess in its wake. His dark hair is cropped short, but from the way the stray wisps coil against his forehead, you can tell that it would grow long into thick curls if allowed to do so.

His plaid shirt is next, the small buttons undone in quick succession under his nimble fingers, until it hangs open and loose over a firm chest and soft stomach. With a smooth roll of his shoulders, the sweat-stained shirt falls to the ground and your jaw drops.

You know you’re staring disrespectfully, but mother of god you’d have to fling yourself, fully clothed, into the water to stop yourself, and that would be a tad dramatic - even for you.

He’s tanned all over, his forearms darker, presumably as he usually rides with his sleeves rolled up. His frame is broad - so broad you’d barely be able to wrap your arms around him if you tried. You can see the sweat dotting his skin, salty beads sliding down the contours of his back. The subtle firmness of his body speaks to the physical nature of his job, long hours in the saddle, riding and wrangling over days and years.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of eyes on you. Snapping your mouth shut, you can only bear to briefly glance at Jack with an apologetic half-smile.

Busted.

He winks at you, his big hands hovering over the ridiculous flask-shaped belt buckle you haven’t yet had the chance to quiz him about. The lines of his arms have no business being so defined. Is it just you or is he flexing under your scrutiny?

Finally, he rasps, ‘You’re makin’ me blush, darlin’.’

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, feeling your cheeks burn as you spin around to give him some privacy.

Jack grins to himself, standing taller from the way you’re looking at him. He makes short work of his jeans and heads to the lake in his boxers, leaving you to disrobe. ‘I’ll see you in the water when you’re ready then.’

Diving in, Jack swims into the middle of the lake with easy strokes, sighing deeply as the cold water brings down his body temperature. Breaking the surface, he runs his fingers through his hair to push it back from his face, and takes stock of Bourbon and Whiskey on the other side of the lake, while Scotch rolls on the grassy bank, scratching his back.

He picks up on a quiet ripple of the water behind him, and he wades around at the small yelp you let out. You’re swimming in his direction, a beam lighting up your face. ‘It’s so cold - it feels amazing!’

Jack smiles back, paddling on the spot. ‘It’s the only lake on our route, so you better enjoy it, darlin’.’

You take your time, drifting through the water in a lazy breaststroke, which allows you to admire the views as you swim. The surface of the lake is a perfect mirror of the late afternoon sky, surrounded by lush grass that Scotch and Whiskey are now grazing on. You’re not a particularly strong swimmer, and you become winded after a few laps around the perimeter. Spotting Jack taking a break, you join him.

The slopes of his strong shoulders bob above the waterline, his wet hair slicked back, and he smiles at you. ‘Tired?’

You huff a laugh. ‘Let’s put it this way. The last time I went to the gym, Tinder hadn’t been invented yet.’

‘I couldn’t tell at all. You’ve done well, darlin’,’ he compliments you.

His praise goes straight to your head like champagne on an empty stomach, and you hope it doesn’t show. You shrug nonchalantly and jest, ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, cowboy. The real test is whether I can get up tomorrow.’

Kicking your legs, you propel yourself upwards, your eyes slipping close as you come to float weightlessly on your back, soothing the ache in your muscles. The sun is warm on your skin, and you leisurely glide your arms and feet through the water to stay adrift. Your ears submerged, it drowns out the noises of the mountains - the birdsong, the rustle of trees, the horses. You listen to your own breathing and the trickle of moving water.

It’s strangely still. Has Jack swum off?

You tilt your face to the right, the water cool on your cheek, and open your eyes to find him looking straight at you.

‘What?’ you ask, somewhat self-consciously.

His gaze skims not so subtly across your floating form, before returning to your face. He shrugs casually, ‘Nothing, you just look very - comfortable.’

The way the word rolls off his tongue sends a shiver down your spine.

Not that he’s interested in you. You have to be real with yourself - he can’t be. He’s way out of your league, and then by some distance. A man who looks like that doesn’t go for girls like you. He’s just been flirting with you because that’s what cowboys do. It’s part of the dude ranch experience, how they get customers coming back - you know how it is.

You swallow thickly, and you don’t miss the way it catches his stare. The tension that had flared up during the hat fitting yesterday rears its head again. Your lips part in anticipation as he drifts closer to you -

- when something heavy knocks hard into your left leg, throwing you off balance and sending you plummeting into the water.

‘Oh my god what was that?’ you screech, flailing about in panic, rubbing water from your eyes.

Jack almost looks amused at your reaction. ‘Don’t worry, darlin’, it was probably just a fish.’

You watch the lake for signs of life, but you cannot see beyond the dark surface. ‘Probably a fish? What do you mean by probably?’

Even the horses are watching the commotion. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bourbon standing on the edge of the lake, water dripping from his mouth as you disturbed him mid-drink, ears pricked forward in curiosity.

You feel another powerful underwater current of disturbance near your feet as you paddle, and in genuine fear, you scream and splash clumsily in Jack’s direction until you’ve clambered onto him, your legs curling around his waist instinctively. He sinks briefly from the sudden weight of you before he regains his composure, treading water to keep you both above the water, hands gripping your hips to steady you.

‘Whoa, easy there, darlin’ - you ok?’

‘How did the fish get into the lake?’

Jack’s mouth opens and shuts, and opens again in absolute bewilderment. ‘I beg your pardon?’

You ask louder. ‘How did the fish get into the lake?’

Jack is torn. Are you really asking him about fish when you’re crowded up against him, all wet and slippery curves? Your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, your breasts - barely contained in a lacy black bra - so soft on his chest?

You seem completely oblivious to your physical proximity to him, pressing on, ‘Did it walk into the lake from the nearest river? Did it fly? How could there be fish in a lake that is completely surrounded by dry land? And that felt bigger than a fish. If it’s not a fish, what is it? It’s preposterous -’

Reaching up, Jack slips one hand behind your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, thumb brushing your cheek to get your attention. ‘Darlin’!’

You stop abruptly, blinking at him as your alarm recedes, chest rising and falling rapidly.

‘It was just a fish, I promise,’ he breaks the silence with a reassuring smile. ‘They don’t bite.’

Oh god. You’ve been ranting about fish - out of all things - like a stark raving lunatic.

You wince, realisation dawning on you that you've basically sunk your claws into his broad shoulders. You slowly release your grip, and despite his best attempt to hide it, you catch the small flinch that flickers across his face.

‘I’m so sorry, you must think I’m insane,’ you say finally, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment.

Jack grinds his teeth as his stare drops to your mouth, when you suddenly slip in his grasp. His hands catch you by the upper thighs to keep you above the water, his cock fucking twitching as one of your small hands grabs the back of his neck on reflex to right yourself, the other landing on his chest. Your noses knock together, and he prays that you don’t feel his heart beating out of his rib cage under your palm.

His words come out in such a husky slur that they’re barely intelligible. ‘You know I don’t think that, darlin’.’

He feels your fingers curl into the nape of his neck, your eyes unguarded as you watch him in surprise. ‘Oh?’

Jesus Christ. You have no poker face whatsoever. He’s not proud of it but that fucking turns him on. There’s something so open and untouched about your honesty, which he doesn’t deserve -

‘Jack?’

He clears his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘Yes, darlin’?’

‘Can you get me out of the water? Please?’

He smiles - and he hopes you don’t see the strain in it. ‘Alright, hang on tight, now.’

It’s not easy to swim with his arms full of you, one hand on your middle to secure you in place so he doesn’t give away his throbbing erection. But by some miracle, he makes it, and when the water is waist-high, he releases you carefully to ensure you don’t brush against his front. He swallows dryly as you wade towards the bank, your bare skin emerging from the lake, inch by inch.

Crossing your arms, you give him a small smile. ‘I hope I didn't completely freak you out, cowboy.’

If only you knew how far from the truth that is.

Jack tries his best to keep his focus on your face, resisting the urge to follow the droplets of water sliding down your body when you shift your weight from one leg to another, the lovely swell of your hip popping.

He needs to calm the fuck down.

So he tries to winks at you, though it probably comes across as a grimace. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head about it, darlin’. I’ll just - do some swimming and I’ll be right back.’

You turn to leave, one last look tossed over your shoulder, and he has to snap himself out of it, plunging back into the water so he doesn’t watch you go like some deviant.

He swims lengths, from one end of the lake to the other, for Christ knows how long until his mind clears and the strain in his boxers eases. Judging by the position of the sun, he should fill up the portable shower for you and head back to camp so you can clean up while he makes a start with dinner.

Scrubbing himself dry with his towel, Jack grabs the portable shower - essentially a bag with a handle so it can be hung from a tree, fitted with a detachable shower head - and dunks it into the water until it’s full. His clothes in one hand, the shower bag in his other, he whistles for the horses to follow him, walking back to camp with his towel slung low on his waist.

When it comes into view, he calls out, ‘Alright, darlin’, it’s shower time -’

He looks up and his words die on his tongue.

You haven’t bothered changing into clean clothes - the shirt you were wearing is now tied around your waist like a sarong, and he can see your soaked bra through the white tank top you were wearing underneath the shirt during the day. You’re standing at the wooden post hovering over Scotch’s saddle, gently running a washcloth over the seat to clean the sweat and grime from the leather -

And your other hand is wrapped firmly around the base of the saddle horn.

His cock fucking lurches at the sight.

You choose that moment to meet his eyes and ask, ‘Did you have a good swim?’

He has to physically dislodge his tongue, stuck to the roof of his mouth, to answer you, ‘It was fine. You want to take a shower now, or -?’

‘Yes sure, once I finish cleaning the saddle.’

Dropping his clothes in a pile on the ground, he reminds you, ‘I told you, darlin’, you really don’t have to -’

You cut him off with a smile. ‘And I told you - I want to.’

He swallows at the word want. ‘You’re the most impervious guest I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, ma’am.’

You shoot him a cheeky grin, and it only makes him harder.

He usually doesn’t bother with the portable shower in the mountains, preferring a quick scrub in the river instead, but he needs an excuse to get away from you right now. Scratching the back of his neck, he stammers, ‘I’m - uh - I’m going to take a shower first then, if you don’t mind.’

The look of surprise you send his way has him hesitating. ‘Oh, but Ginger said that you -’

‘What?’ he prompts when you stop abruptly.

You shake your head and turn back to your task at hand. ‘Never mind. Enjoy, cowboy.’

If only you knew.

He grabs a bar of soap from a saddle bag and practically sprints out of the campsite and into the forest, deep enough that he can no longer see or hear you and the horses. Finding a private spot surrounded by bushes, he hangs up the portable shower and secures the shower head by slotting it into a fork of a branch, then he turns the valve to get the water flowing.

Towel and boxers hitting the ground, his hard cock springs free, and he steps underneath the weak water stream, finally wrapping his hand around himself with a low gasp.

It’s been too fucking long.

Lathering the soap between his rough palms, he starts working his fist over his cock, the other hand flat on the rough tree bark, steadying himself as he hunches over, gritting his teeth to stop from groaning aloud. He can’t remember the last time he even bothered seeking out pleasure - alone or with anyone else.

It was supposed to be another week on the job. A rowdy trip with old regulars and typical Kingsman hijinks. Heavy drinking, all-night poker games and painful hangovers. Safe, predictable.

It wasn’t supposed to be you, with your wicked sense of humour and soft curves and just a bit of hurt lurking under the surface of your easy smile. The way you look at him - he’s forgotten how his blood could thrum under his skin and roar in his ears.

It doesn’t take long - embarrassing really - before he feels his balls draw up and his whole body pull taut in tension. He thinks of your small hand wrapped around the leather saddle horn when he lets go, a deep moan in his chest, cum spurting thick and fast over his fingers, panting as he watches it drip slowly down his wrist and forearm.

He runs his other hand down his face. Fuck. It’s going to be a long week.

The portable shower is a surprisingly nice way to end the day. By the time you’ve shampooed and washed off the smell of horses and leather from your skin, the sun has dipped and the evening chill is creeping in. You rub your hair dry as best as you can without the creature comforts of a hairdryer, shimmy into cozy sweatpants and a hoodie, then make your way back to camp.

The sky is turning violet, the sparse clouds glowing pink on the underside. The horses are tucking into their supper, and you check if they’ve dried their coats in the sun, in case they need a towelling down. Satisfied that they don’t, you bid them good night and carry on towards the warmth of the fire pit.

At the sound of your footsteps, Jack looks up, the golden flames softening his features. He’s sitting on a log, a chopping board balanced on his lap as he cuts up mushrooms. A frying pan sits on a grill over the pit, the smell of caramelising onion sweet in the air.

‘I hope you like omelette,’ he says.

‘Perfect,’ you sigh when you take a seat on the log that he left out for you, your feet needing the rest. ‘Anything I can help with?’

Jack gives you a playful scowl, leaning forward to scrape the mushrooms into the frying pan. ‘Now, what did I say about guests helping with things?’

‘That you like it?’ you poke fun with a shrug.

‘Such insolence,’ he teases, stirring the vegetables with a wooden spoon. ‘If you must, you can help slice and butter the bread, we’ll toast it in the pan later.’

The quiet lull between you is comfortable, punctuated by the snap of burning logs and the sizzle of the pan. You cut the baguette in neat diagonals and try not to overthink it, but you can’t help being conscious of the fact that you’re basically wearing pyjamas, with not a stitch of makeup on, in the presence of someone as handsome as this cowboy. You cast your eyes over him briefly. He looks comfortable in a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater, his hair still wet from his shower.

He catches you staring - how many times has it been today? - and he smiles at you like he doesn’t see anything wrong with you.

The omelette is deliciously cooked, barely wobbly in the middle, seasoned just right and topped with fresh parsley. The toasted bread, which Jack tops with tomatoes and basil, fills the hole in your belly left by the day’s long ride.

Over the course of the dinner, the sky loses all colour. The darkness consumes everything but the immediate circle of the pit, warded off by the flickering fire. Save for the dizzying starscape that looks like it’s been carelessly splattered onto black canvas by a silver-dipped paintbrush, all is cloaked in the cover of night, even the horses are just distant sounds in the dim.

You try to take the dirty plates and cutlery, but Jack jumps onto his feet and physically restrains you by pushing you down into your seat. You don’t have to look to know his big palms easily span your entire shoulders, his fingers grazing your collarbone as he chides, ‘Don’t you dare, darlin’. But if you don’t mind, you could lay out the bedding while I wash up.’

Keen to move about at least a little bit after the big dinner, you find the plushly padded sleeping bags in a neat pile, and after a moment’s consideration, you roll out one on each side of the pit. There are also two camping pillows already inflated, and an extra blanket each. You roll the log you were sitting on right up against your sleeping bag as a backrest - you can use the support. You’re making a nest for yourself when Jack comes back and lays out the clean plates to dry.

He chuckles at the comfortable sight you make. ‘You look ready for bed. Or would you like a nightcap?’

You grin. ‘Nightcap sounds good.’

‘You like whiskey?’

‘Only if it’s Statesman brewed,’ you wink.

‘Flattery will get you everywhere, darlin’,’ he laughs and grabs the whiskey from a saddle bag. The cork pops with a velvety echo, and Jack makes a face of satisfaction at the sound. ‘I don’t have glasses, do you mind if we share the bottle?’

You shake your head and pat the space next to you on your sleeping bag. He takes a seat on the other end, a respectable distance between you, legs bent at the knees. He hands you the bottle. ‘Ladies first.’

You don’t know a lot about whiskey, but this one goes down smoothly and pools warmly in your full belly. Relaxation seeps into your bones as the alcohol works its way through your system. You pass it to Jack as you sag against the log.

‘So, how would you rate your first day?’ asks Jack casually, taking a sip.

‘What, like, out of ten?’ you quip.

‘If you like,’ he chuckles.

‘Don’t let it get to your head, cowboy - but it’s pretty close to ten.’

Jack blows a low whistle. ‘I’m afraid it’s all downhill from here, darlin’. I exhausted all my tricks today.’

You laugh, which echoes loudly in the stillness of the night, when he gives the bottle to you again. ‘You know, it’s so quiet out here I can hear it. It’s not an absence of sound, I can actually hear it.’

‘Hard to come by in the city, huh?’

Tilting your face upwards, you marvel at how big the sky is here. ‘You don’t really see stars in the city either.’

‘Do you know your constellations?’

‘Can’t say I do.’

He takes the bottle when you offer it to him. ‘There’s a telescope at the Halfway House, we can really get into it there.’

You peer at him. ‘You’re just a nerd under that dashing cowboy exterior, aren’t you?’

‘Can’t say I’ve been called a nerd before,’ he chuckles, then sends a roguish grin your way. ‘So you think I’m dashing?’

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. ‘Don’t fish for compliments, cowboy. It’s unbecoming.’

‘I think you’re drunk, darlin’. I should stop you now.’

You grab the bottle by the neck and take a swig. ‘Shut up, I’m not.’

‘You don’t want to be hungover tomorrow. We’ll be riding through some of the best views of the trip,’ warns Jack. ‘Did you bring a proper camera, or are you an Instagram kinda girl?’

You cock your head to one side. ‘You’ve heard of Instagram? I’m impressed.’

‘I don’t use it, but I take photos for the Statesman Instagram account. Tequila does the uploading and hashtags.’ He makes a face at the last word, like it tastes funny.

‘How? The camera lens on your phone is cracked!’

‘I use a real camera,’ he retorts in jest.

‘Fancy,’ you tease. ‘Can I look through your photos?’

He shrugs a bit reluctantly. ‘They’re nothin' special.’

You nudge him in the side with your elbow. ‘C’mon cowboy, don’t be shy.’

Peering at you from under his dark lashes, he gives you a lopsided smile. ‘As I said, can’t say no to you, darlin’.’

The heat that flashes across your face has nothing to do with the fire or the whiskey.

Rummaging through one of the saddle bags, Jack pulls out a bulky digital SLR camera and hands it to you before sitting down again, this time closer to you, shoulder to shoulder. You can almost taste the whiskey on his exhale as he watches you switch on the camera and start flipping through the photos on the small screen.

As if to manage your expectations, he says almost bashfully, ‘It’s just a secondhand camera I bought off a guest a few years back. Never took lessons or anything, it’s mostly point and shoot.’

His insecurity is endearing. You give him a pat on the knee and a playful smirk. ‘My bark is worse than my bite. I’ll be gentle with you, cowboy.’

Jack watches over your shoulder, scooting in as you go deeper into the archives, his arm on the log behind you so that you feel his chest against your back. When you stop to take a closer look at a photo, he chimes in to tell you something about the shot, fingers brushing aside yours to zoom in, pointing out details not immediately obvious. The well-composed pictures are mostly of scenery and guests, and you can tell that he has a particular knack for shooting in tricky lighting. Your breath catches at a shot of Whiskey, a magnificent sunset in the backdrop.

You turn towards him. He’s so close that you can see every soft line on his face. ‘I actually work in the creative field, and I’m sorry to break it to you, cowboy - your stuff is really good.’

‘You don’t have to say that,’ he huffs, clearly embarrassed, bringing the bottle to his lips.

You wink. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not flattering you or anything. I’m sure your ego doesn’t need any more stroking.’

He chokes suddenly, his body knocking into you, amber drops of whiskey trickling down his chin before he swipes at it with the back of his hand. His eyes are dark, pinning you with a look you can’t quite decipher. His words come out in the deepest, smokiest baritone. ‘I wouldn’t say no if you offered to stroke it, darlin’.’

There it is again. The pendulum that’s been swinging between the two of you since the moment this cowboy knocked on your door. It runs you off your feet one moment and then him the next, neither of you finding solid ground with each other. The back-and-forth has you grasping for straws one minute and him thrown off balance the next.

It shouldn’t excite you this much.

You grab the bottle from him, not caring that your fingers scrape deliberately over his, making him shiver. You take a big gulp, eyes watering at the burn of the alcohol, but you need the liquid courage to deliver your next shot. ‘Are you talking about your ego or something else, Jack?’

You feel rather than see the shudder that runs through him at the sound of his name on your lips. The way his knuckles turn white on his knees, his nostrils flare before taking a sharp intake of air has you holding your breath. His reaction thrills and confounds you at the same time. He can’t possibly want you - can he?

He keeps his gaze on you as he licks his bottom lip and plucks both the bottle and camera from your hands. You jump when he brushes the crook of his index finger under your chin, and you can’t read his suddenly shuttered expression. ‘Get some sleep, darlin’. Tomorrow will be a long day.’

You don’t say another word as you watch him go.

Of course you can’t sleep. You’re thinking about Jack’s body pressed up against yours in the water. The skim of his fingertips when you pass the bottle to and fro. His breath hitting your cheek while he leans in close to point out something on the camera.

Tossing and turning, you don’t know how much time has passed, but Jack eventually makes it back to his sleeping bag, just yards from you. You listen to him getting in quietly, fabrics shifting as he settles, until everything falls still.

You twist around to look behind you. The embers are burning low, barely throwing enough light to see beyond his back, slowly rising and falling. He seems to be sleeping.

You can risk it, right? You’ll be quick. You’ve been wanting release for hours, even before the tipsy, fireside exchange. It’s been months since you’ve even wanted this at all… probably the first time after the breakup.

The whiskey in you makes you reckless.

You slide your hand under the elastic band of your sweatpants and into your panties. You’re already slippery and sensitive, and your mouth parts in a wordless whimper as you trace a finger through your folds. Jack’s all the way on the other side of the fire, but now that you’ve known the weight of him against your side and the scent of whiskey on his lips, it doesn’t matter.

Dipping one finger into your pussy, you smear your clit with your own arousal and rub yourself with two fingers. There’s no time for finesse, it’s messy and desperate. You haven’t touched yourself for even a minute before you cum, back arched and the blanket twisted in your grasp as the tension in your body snaps. The release leaves you both satisfied and not, the whole thing over too quickly for the endorphins to reach your head.

Panting into the crook of your elbow over your lips, you just hope you’ve been quiet enough.

But you haven’t.

As you fall silent, Jack lies wide awake, cock heavy and aching between his legs. He digs his nails into his palms and steels himself for a long, sleepless night.

More notes: I haven't quite decided yet, but I'm thinking of doing one part on each day of the trip, which means there will be at least 6 more parts coming. I haven't sketched out anything beyond the 3rd and 4th parts though, so we'll see! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs would be very much appreciated as always! I'm always up for a good screeching about cowboy Jack 🥰

Horsey notes (optional reading): It's important to take care of tack, especially leather tack, which can be very expensive, especially if they're custom fit. Tack that isn't cleaned and conditioned properly can easily crack and break. Leather saddles and bridles should be sponge cleaned to remove sweat and dirt, and then saddle soap should be applied to moisturise the leather. I still remember the most dreaded test for me in Pony Club exams was taking the bridle apart for cleaning, then having to reassemble it!

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #kingsman golden circle #kingsman fanfiction

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